#actually had a dream the other day that something unexpected happens in the loop

[karlyboyyy]

Do y’all ever think about how if Lu Guang finally breaks the time loop and saves Cheng Xiaoshi, the initial sense of accomplishment and peace will most likely be overcome with a lifetime of intense paranoia and anxiety because he’s deathly afraid that maybe it’s not actually over, maybe someone or something is still after them, or maybe there’s just a random tragic accident waiting to happen at any point in the future, or maybe he and Cheng Xiaoshi and Qiao Ling are destined to live a quiet life from now on, but the problem is that he’s never lived past this moment before and has no idea how to cope with simply living like a normal person and so the fear of the unknown slowly drives him mad? Because I do 😌

[fandomscombine]

Maybe This Time

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

BG: Aaron Hotchner has been a constant in your life since university and as you both journey in your prosecutor career. But what happens when he has been given the opportunity of his dreams to be part of the BAU on the other side of the country? How will your dynamic change? Especially when feelings are put into the mix. 

Fluff part for now, before the angst. Enjoy the build up, young Hotch and obliviousness to feelings.

A/N: First ever Aaron Hotchner fic since something clicked in my brain and this man has me in a chokehold. Okay when I started writing this, I was at the beginning of Season 4 of Criminal Minds after a year long hiatus (aka didn’t have Disney+), so please excuse if it’s a bit out of character and that it doesn’t align with canon. No Haley and Jack. Let me know what you think!

Inspired by the song Maybe This Time by Sarah G and a line from Ugly Betty lol.

WC: 1428

>>>GENERAL MASTERLIST<<<

>>>CRIMINAL MINDS MASTERLIST<<<

The problem with having a constant is that you don’t realize how much it means to you until something threatens it to change it. 

You’re coming up to two years working at the prosecutor’s office, the feeling of helping people and solving cases is what fuels you. Though you admit, there are days where this isn’t enough to block out the misogynistic atmosphere of the office. In all honesty, you don’t think you would have lasted as long in such an environment if it weren’t for Aaron Hotchner.

What started as an academic rivalry turned into being inseparable. Nerds with an overwhelming drive to fix the world. It was actually Aaron who offered the olive branch - admitting that while the constant competition and pettiness helped him be the best self on paper, was straining his mental and physical well-being. Turns out you both have a lot in common - same taste in literature and surprisingly dead-pan humor. The man’s ability to drop unexpected one-liners is beyond you, only to be topped by his laugh albeit rare. 

A genuine Aaron Hotchner chuckle easily fills an entire room as if you’re floating on a cloud - a laugh that is quite the opposite to what he just left out.

“What?” 

“Yes! Can you believe it?” Aaron exclaims, releasing his hold on your shoulders. “There’s an opening at the Behavioural Analysis Unit - nothing permanent yet but they’re looking into a pool for the perfect candidate and I’ve been shortlisted!” 

~

The training program at the BAU lasted 3 months and in that span, the excitement during the first few weeks had you and Aaron in constant communication despite him being across the country in Quantico. But as the weeks went on, the calls dwindled until there were none at all.

You were proud of your best friend, you truly are - having found an advancement in his career. Though you can’t shake off the empty feeling in your chest. You catch your mind often thinking about him lately - more than a friend should.

What is happening to you?

Aaron has been more than grateful to have this opportunity. Working under the mentorship of the BAU founders, Aaron knew coming in that the cases would be grueling. He's barely gotten a good 8 hours of sleep since he’s arrived but the nightly calls with you updating about his day was the only thing keeping him on powering through, channeling back to your school rival days. Well, at least then he would get to see your face daily - now all he has is the photo he has in his wallet.

“Suck it, Hotchner! Bow down to your superior!” 

“Never!”

“Says the Magna Cum Laude to the Summa Cum Laude. Face it - it’s in writing for the world to see!” You teased, it was always a blast to have Aaron red.  There was no way you were gonna let this down and Aaron knew that - charging at you before you could finish.

“Y/N L/N is smarter than Aaron Hotch-NERRRRRRRR!” Aaron picking you up and spinning caught you by surprise - hands instinctively looping around his neck. 

Neither of you notice the clicking of a camera, too enclosed in your own little world. 

“You’re one lucky man.” The comment breaks Aaron from his trance. 

“Sir?”

“Your girlfriend, I notice you step out and look at it whenever you’re stressed” Rossi says matter of factly, patting Aaron’s shoulder. One doesn’t have to be a profiler to notice that yearning on Aaron’s face. “You know the job takes a toll on everyone and it’s rare to see the lightness after a while.”

Aaron didn’t know how to react, his stare continued even after his boss had left. Girlfriend. His brain had momentarily stopped working when he heard of the word. Someone had thought you were his girlfriend - he didn’t correct them, and it felt good. 

~

Ever since Rossi’s comment, Aaron has been teetering back and forth about his recent discovery about himself. Because that’s the thing about you being a constant in his life, he had grouped his feelings for you and categorized them under ‘best friend’, effectively blinding himself from the evolution of his feelings. 

How can he be a good profiler when he can’t even read his own emotions? Does she even feel the same way? 

But that’s not even the biggest elephant in the room.

“Congratulations!” Hugging him tightly, your next words are muffled by his chest. “I know you've wanted this for so long.” Tilting your head up to meet his eyes, “I’m so proud of you.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten it if you didn’t push me in sending my application.” Aaron’s hold on your waist tightens, not wanting to let you an inch away from him. Aaron has just gotten back from a 6-hour flight from Quantico, his body begging for rest but his heart aching for your presence. 

The longing of months apart running through his brain and the next thing he knows, his feet have taken him to your apartment at 2 in the morning instead.

“Aaron?” you called, breaking him from his trance. “What’s on your mind?”

Aaron could help but chuckle. Of course even when he showed up unannounced and woke you up in the dead of night. Your first concern was about him.

Coming from a strict family and being the oldest, having someone worry about him was uncommon. So when these moments arrive, it hits him with full force.

“Nothing…” He exhales, tucking the stray hairs behind your ear. Aaron hopes you don’t feel how shaky his hands are as he does so. 

You raise your brows at him.  Aaron might be a man of few words, but you’ve known him long enough to know when he is holding back.

He sighs, the room is quiet and any wrong move would break the balance. Aaron cups your cheek, glancing from your lips to your eyes. He steels himself to lay his discovery out in the open. “It’s just…you’re so captivatingly beautiful.”

Your eyes widen. Is he saying what you think he’s saying? Aaron has called you pretty in the past, but there was an air of playfulness then compared to this whispered statement.

With the tension increasing ten-fold with each word. “These past few months, I was working at my dream job yet I couldn’t feel the best because you weren’t by my side.  Each night I looked forward to hearing your voice, whether it’s about how your day went or what you thought about the latest movie. And it killed me inside when the calls stopped…”

Aaron gulped, pausing to blink back tears that threaten to fall. 

Reaching up to grab his hand, you placed a kiss on his palm. Silently urging him to carry on and to say ‘me too’.

“I felt so guilty… then one day my boss caught me staring at a picture of us. He said that I was lucky to have a lovely girlfriend as an anchor to help in this grueling job and… I didn’t correct him.”

“You didn’t correct him?”

“I didn’t.” Aaron was now looking at his feet- embarrassed, mentally preparing for the rejection that was to come for letting his mind wander to the possibility of something more with you. He had crossed the line and placed his heart in your hands. “ At first I didn’t know how to react, you are my best friend, my constant support. But at that moment, everything became clearer.” Aaron confessed, however your response may be he will accept even if it would be the last ever time he gets to hold you in his arms. “Y/N. You’re my best friend, my constant support and I adore you.”

A beat passes as you process his words. 

“I’m sorry to spring this on you considering the circumstances. I understand if you want to keep a distance and not want to see me again.” Aaron steps back, takes one last look at you before turning to pick up his bag and leave. 

But as his hand reaches the doorknob, he is abruptly turned and pushed against the door. His gasp of pain is muffled by the crashing of your lips. Aaron drops his bag and instinctively pulls you closer. Air to breathe and the doorknob pocking his back be damned.

You were the first to pull away just enough that your lips brush each other’s. “I know you’re leaving in five months. And I know everyone’s gonna say it’s a big mistake. And I’m gonna get my heart broken but maybe it’s worth it.”

[bonky-n-steeb]

call me when you want (ii)

summary || when you call a sex hotline with a need to be dominated you don’t expect to meet (or hear) someone as wonderful as James. but your life becomes a complicated mess as you already love your coworker, Bucky Barnes. however, you are unaware that they are actually the same person.

warnings || BDSM, Dom! Bucky Barnes, dom/sub dynamics, phone sex, dirty talk, identity porn, masturbation, sex toys, mention of spanking, praise kink. MINORS DNI.

I have decided to not do taglists anymore, so if you wished to be notified of my newest updates please follow @bonky-n-steeb-lib and turn on the notifications!

This chapter is a roller coaster… hope you like it ;)

series masterlist

The phone was going to slip out of his hand when he first realised whose voice it was on the other end.

He didn’t actually get it when he heard that meek little ‘hey!’ But when he heard the tone and the timber of ‘Hello James. I… ummm,,… I’m Maria!’ That very instant his whole world took a one eighty degree turn. It couldn’t be. He must be dreaming.

Every since Bucky had come back, he needed some semblance of control. Not just on his life, but a little on others too. It was like reclaiming the control once taken from him.

Bucky’s best friend might be Steve, but the one to know his secrets was Natasha. They both were two peas in a pod and both knew what the other had gone through. 

In the beginning, he had attended a few sex clubs to get rid of that itch. But the chances of being identified were too much.

But then, Nat had suggested this hotline and phone sex worked perfectly for Bucky. It was the perfect outlet for him and at the same time it wasn’t too personal. And all he had to do was use his imagination and buy another phone.

He had thought it was just another person he had to dom for the night when he first picked up your call. He cared for his subs, a lot, but only for the time he was their dom. He didn’t really know any one of them on a personal level.

But he knew this customer.

How could he not?

It was you.

He should’ve known something this unexpected was going happen the moment Natasha had told him ‘You’re going to get a very special surprise in few days.’ With a mischievous smirk, around a week back.

He had been very alert after that ominous message, expecting the worst to happen. But your call came like a train and threw him completely out of the loop.

When he saw you everyday in the office, you were very sweet and helpful. Always smiling and very hardworking. A little goofy at times, but he loved all of it.

He loved you.

It was a crazy feeling when he first realised it. Everyday he used to get up and get excited to meet you. After working out early morning, he used to give you a visit and wish you a good morning.

He didn’t actually realise that he was in love with you until one day you didn’t come to work and he was utterly upset that he won’t be seeing your happy smile.

Hearing you go all sweet for him was his craziest fantasy. And Natasha was a fairy godmother for making it come true. He had to thank her later.

He was incredibly hard as he heard you moan and call him sir. But he didn’t want to miss even one small sound made by you. Hearing you come for him was truly a moment he wasn’t going to forget.

He didn’t want the call to end, but at the same time he did want it to end so he could jerk off in peace. Once the call was done, he came in his hands in record breaking speed.

The only regret he had was that he couldn’t see you. Soon Bucky, soon, he told himself.

~~~

You impatiently tapped your legs as you waited outside the gym. You blew breath out of your teeth and steadied yourself. You can do this.. it’s not a big deal. Many people do it right?

It had been three days since your call, but you and James had started chatting. He was a really nice guy. Probably one of the best. And for your next session, Bucky had told you to buy toys. And from that second on, your anxiety was troubling you.

You hadn’t ever been to an adult shop before and you had no idea what to buy. Bucky had given you few recommendations, but they weren’t helping much.

You could buy toys online, but you didn’t want it to be reflected on your credit card. So you decided to approach the person who started this all, Nat. Now that’s what you were doing standing outside the gym.

Though Nat was your best friend, it still was going to be awkward to talk about this. You had prepared a mental speech but you weren’t sure if it was effective.

“Hey Nat!” You called out as Nat walked out the door. “Hello. What are you doing here?” You were honestly the last person she expected to see waiting for her.

She was clearly tired and was wearing workout clothes. It was better to talk later, you thought to yourself. “Ummm, Nat I…” your sentence derailed when you saw Bucky come out through the gym doors.

Bucky was dripping with sweat and the wet shirt was sticking to his body defining his muscles. You couldn’t help but think how you wanted to lick him clean.

“If you’re done ogling you can start speaking.” Nat sneakily whispered in your ear. You closed your open jaw; you had no idea when it opened but you were sure drooling for Bucky.

“Yeah about that.. I want to talk to you about something. But… first you freshen up and then we’ll talk. But do it quick” Nat gave you an inquisitive look but didn’t dig deep. “Okay boss!” She shouted as she walked away.

Now that left only you and Bucky standing in the corridor. “What are you doing here?” He asked with a pleasant smile. Bucky was good with the ladies once, he wasn’t sure he could say that now.

“Work.” You answered without missing a beat. “The answers you give me sometimes…” he said shaking his head, but he was more amused than annoyed. “Do you talk like this with just me or it’s a common thing.”

You just shrugged unsure about what to say. “Do you need any help?” Bucky knew exactly what you wanted Nat’s help for. Just yesterday he had told you to buy some toys and he was pretty sure what work you had with Nat.

He saw the way your face heated up and you quickly turned around to hide it. He shouldn’t have, but he really liked the way you were squirming. Oh, how he longed to have you squirming beneath him as he rammed his cock into you.

He was going to hell for this, for sure.

“No.. nothing. Just regular talks with Natasha.” Yeah, if regular talks included asking which dildo was the most pleasurable, your internal monologue was never ending. “You can ask for me anything, okay?”

Really? Then please fuck me!… No, sane people do not ask such things. Goddamn you and your horny brain. Get back on track. You just nodded, “Thank you Bucky.”

He smiled and boy, his lips were so beautiful you wanted to bite them. You had to call James tonight to get this edge off.

Gladly before you embarrassed yourself further, Nat came back. She was now wearing casual clothes and she slung her arm around you. “So what were you two talking about?”

“Nothing just regular talks with my friend.” Bucky smirked as he repeated your sentence. “Bye!” With a mock salute, he walked away.

“You should tell him you know? I fear one day you are going to burst with all your lovely dovey emotions.” You pulled her hand and walked into the elevator. “Where are we going?”

“Outside. I don’t want FRIDAY and Tony listening.” Nat narrowed her eyes with suspicion. “Is it about James?” She wiggled her perfect eyebrows.

You just nodded shyly. She nudged you with her elbow and you knew you’d never hear the end of this. “Soooo… did you like him? Is he that hot, sexy, mysterious, guy you needed in your life.”

“I don’t even know if he’s hot.” You said with such nonchalance as if you weren’t dying to talk to him again. “I can tell you he’s hot.” Your head snapped in her direction.

Did she know who James was? “Do you know him?” She just shook her shoulders and you didn’t know if that was an yes or a no.

“Are you his sub too?” You whispered in her ear. “No. I’m a dom myself. But wait, were you getting jealous?” You just rolled your eyes as you two finally walked out of that metal box.

“No. It’s nothing like that.” You said as you exited the stark tower. “Listen, I know I gave you that number myself but don’t get involved with him. Don’t start having feeling for an unknown man whose real name you don’t even know. Instead try telling Bucky.”

“I won’t fall for him. I already love someone else.” But you can love two people at a time. That annoying voice in your head chimed up. No no no, you won’t fall for James.

“I know and that’s why I’m telling you to talk to Bucky. He likes you too.” But what if he didn’t? You would make such a fool out of yourself and everyone would make fun of you. Bucky won’t even talk to you after that.

“You’re not playing fair Natasha, you gave me his number and now you’re telling me to not fall in love with him.” You chewed your bottom lip nervously.

“I just wanted you to get confident and stop thinking that the world would end if you do something you want to do. Just please talk to Bucky once.” You hadn’t expected her to plead you.

“Anyway, we’ll talk about my feeling later on but today I need your help for something else. James has asked me to buy some toys and therefore I need a good shop and a good recommendation and a good cheerleader by my side as I take that quest.”

“I’ll be your guide, your teacher, your friend, your cheerleader, your soulmate and anything else you need. So let’s go and raid those sexy dildos.”

You looked around with wide eyes to see if anyone heard her. “Meet me after work and we’ll go together, okay?” With a long sigh you agreed. “Okay.”

~~~

You chewed your bottom lip nervously as you waited for James to answer the call. He didn’t make you wait much and answered at the first ring.

“Hello!” Your nerves were eased a little after hearing his choppy tone. “Hey!” No matter how much you tried, Nat’s words were still ringing in your ear.

On the other hand, Bucky had been impatiently waiting for your call. Today he was going to tell you to fuck yourself on a dildo and he couldn’t wait to hear your needy moans.

But your voice didn’t seem as happy. Were you not satisfied with him? “What happened? Is everything okay?” He just hoped this won’t be your last call.

You loved that James could tell something was wrong with just an ‘hey’ from your side. “Can I tell you something James? It’s like… I know nothing about you. I’m not even sure if your real name is James or not. I know what I signed up for when calling you.

But it still feels so distant to not know anything about someone you trust so much. And I know I sound like a cranky baby, but maybe… this all is not made for me.”

“You don’t sound stupid at all. I’m so glad to be your dom, you have no idea. It’s my honour that you trust me, sweets. And yes, my real name is James. If I tell you something about myself that no one else knows, will you at least consider going ahead with this?

Your ears perked up at that. “Something that no one else knows? Really James? How many women have you told this to?” Bucky could hear your teasing tone.

“No one else. Just you baby girl. Promise.” You snuggle deeper into your bed. “Go ahead then, tell me!” You were excited to know his secret.

“My right nipple is pierced.” That one sentence was all it took to make you horny again. “Really? And no one knows? Like.. do you make your partner close their eyes during sex or something?” You giggled.

“I haven’t had sex after I got it and I don’t really walk naked on the street.” You didn’t know if he was saying the truth, but there was no harm in believing him. How would Bucky look with his nipple pierced?

Bucky had gotten it pierced as he wanted to have some autonomy over his body. It had been an impulsive decision but he didn’t regret it at all. And no one else knew about it, not even Steve. The tactical suits were thick enough to hide it.

“Tell me baby girl, what would you do with it?” Your pussy started dripping as you imagined all the scenarios. “I would lick it and bite it and pull it with my teeth, sir.”

Had god taken note of all your dirty fantasies and made James? “Such a naughty little kitten. But after you misbehave like that with me, I’d tie you up and spank your ass raw, you’d like it wouldn’t you?”

“Oh yes! I want you to do that so much. Fuck!” You were imagining yourself bent on Bucky’s thigh as he spanked you with his metal arm. “Hmm.. what toys have you got?”

You eyed the toys neatly laid down besides you. You and Nat had finally gone to the store and bought a few toys. The entire time you were just burning with embarrassment as Nat walked around the store as if she owned it.

“I’ve got a dildo, not too big not small either, I mean I bought a size I was comfortable with. And I got a vibrator, a bottle of lube… and a butt plug.” You honestly didn’t know why you had bought the butt plug but Nat had suggested and you’d obeyed.

“That’s an interesting range of toys. I wish I was there to see you fuck yourself on it. Today, we are just going to use the dildo.” You nodded excitedly despite knowing he won’t see you.

When you didn’t reply he asked you, “What’s your colour?” Without missing a beat you answered, “Green. Sir, so fucking green. Please!” Now you couldn’t wait to fuck yourself.

“My girl is so eager for me. But before that, I need you to prep yourself. Are you wet baby girl?” James sure had a way with words. “Yes sir. I’m very wet. And I’m already naked.”

You didn’t want to waste much time in removing your clothes. “Good girl!” The praise went straight to your pussy. “Take your middle and pointer finger and fuck yourself on them till your feel comfortable enough.”

Sitting with your back to the headboard, you spread your legs and started playing with yourself. You circled your clit before plunging your fingers into your weeping hole.

Bucky pulled his dick out of his boxers when he heard you moan. He didn’t want to finish himself any soon so he just slowly stroked it.

Soon after you felt like you were prepared for the dildo. “Sir, I need more!” Your voice was so needy, Bucky wanted to rush to your home and fuck you.

“Take the toy baby girl. Lube it up well and fuck yourself with it. Imagine it’s me as I fuck you while you’re tied up. And all you’re allowed to do is sing for me.”

You did as Bucky said and pressed in the toy with a loud moan. “Sir… I..” the toy filled you so perfectly, inch by inch was pure heaven. You closed your eyes and just enjoyed the stretch.

“You like it don’t you, my kitten?” Bucky could hear every little moan and sigh you made. He started jerking himself faster and he couldn’t help but groan out.

“Sir… are you touching yourself too?” You heard a loud curse before the answer. “Yes. How can I not when you’re making such sweet sounds for me?”

You were making him do it, was an excellent boost for your confidence. Taking the end in your hand, you started earnestly fucking yourself with it. And the only thing you imagined was Bucky fucking you as he came back after working out.

But no matter what you did, you wanted him close. You wanted him to run his hands on you and you wanted him to hold you close after this was done. You wanted James to… Did you want James or did you want Bucky? Was Natasha right?

Before you could overthink, the coil in your belly tightened, “I… I’m close.” Bucky’s grunts weren’t helping you any to stave off your orgasm. “God, you’re so perfect for me. I’d fuck you till you come again and again and only when you’re dizzy with pleasure I’d come in you.”

“Please.. please let me cum sir!” Bucky was close himself. “Who do you belong too? Whose baby girl are you?” You loved and hated that he was prolonging it.

“Yours!”

“Come for me.”

Both of your orgasmed at the same time. Your legs closed around your hand as they shook with the intensity of it and you arched your back. It felt better than heaven, better than ecstasy.

Bucky came so hard he was almost going to crush the phone in his hand. But before he could speak to you, the door to his bedroom opened and Steve fucking Rogers walked in.

“So I was thinki…. Woahhh!” Steve shouted as he saw Bucky laying in his bed in the puddle of his own cum with his hand still on his dick and his phone clutched tightly with the other hand.

“What the fuck Steve! Get out!” James shouted so loudly that you had to take the phone away from your ear. Steve?

“I’m so sorry! It was just my idiot roommate.” Bucky sighed as Steve left just as quickly as he came. “It’s alright!” James and Steve…?

Your brain couldn’t help but think that in Avengers tower, Bucky and Steve did share a suite. And now that you paid attention, James voice sounded a bit familiar.

“Do I know you?” You flat out asked. “Umm, yeah. I’m James! And we just almost had sex.” Bucky tried deflecting your question. “I probably sound like an idiot, but your voice seems familiar to someone I know and well, I know a James and Steve too who are roommates.”

“First, I don’t know who you are and second, I’m pretty sure I’m not who you think I am.” lies lies lies. Bucky was sitting on a throne of sin.

“Yeah… it would be so awkward if you were someone I knew. Especially the guy I’m thinking.” Bucky eyebrows furrowed. “Why don’t you want me to be that James guy?”

“It’s just complicated. Anyway today was fun. Thank you sir!” You just wanted to end this call. “You’re welcome. Take care of yourself. Bye.” With a small goodbye, you hung.

You shouldn’t have done this. It was a stupid move to call this guy and an even stupider move to start liking him and the stupidest move of the century was to love Bucky. This wasn’t going to end how you thought it would.

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

alphabet boy II

SYNOPSIS: college AU. Armin, your brilliant tutor, invites you over to his house for some studying. Naturally, you're nervous and he seems to be giving you a reason to be.

PAIRING: SCUMBAG!Tutor Armin x FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: half edited, noncon/dubcon, fingering, non-penetrative sexual content. gaslighting, manipulating,

A/N: really need the motivation to write again and I've been slacking on my multi-parters so here's a somewhat highly anticipated one. Armin fuckers, this is for you. non-Armin fuckers, I hope this converts you

WORD COUNT: 2.0k

II. I.

“You’re not paying attention.”

You feel his voice right by the shell of your ear, and the proximity nearly makes you reel back in surprise but you manage to catch yourself.

“S-sorry” You apologize, wishing you didn’t stutter.

The thing is you’re just really out of your element. This is the first time you’ve been to Armin’s house for personal tutoring, and it was hard to focus on the material when his presence was so distracting.

It wasn’t like you were fantasizing about him or anything [well…]-you always tried to banish those thoughts as soon as it came. But still, being alone with an attractive boy with a disarming charm was causing some jitters. You felt like a shy middle schooler, on edge and jittery.

The last tutoring session in the library when he [basically] called you stupid plagued your mind. The memory of him feeling up your thighs lived in your head rent-free.

“Let’s take a break.” He sighs. Your heart drops at the noise of disappointment but you suppose it’s what you deserve.

You push your laptop lightly aside on the table, the bleak light straining your eyes, and ask for the bathroom. You just wanted to freshen up and be alone for a few seconds. The bathroom is meticulously clean, something even you knew was unexpected for a boy. You looked at yourself through the spotless mirror, scrutinizing every flaw.

You sigh, fiddling with your dress collar. Why you had tried dressing pretty for a boy so out of your league, he may as well be in Mars--you didn’t know.

When you return, there is a tall glass of lemonade waiting for you.

“Thought you might be thirsty.”

It’s a simple gesture that makes you blush so you thank him earnestly. Like the gentleman he is, he assures you it’s no problem. Not wanting to prolong the awkward silence, you compliment his apartment, “This is a really nice place. So much light and space.”

You’re babbling but he engages you regardless, and you two are mindlessly discussing the benefits of living at off-campus housing over dorming. His words are pleasant but there’s a sinking feeling within you as you notice he’s bored. Or maybe distracted was a better word.

“So, do you have a boyfriend? Or anyone you’re seeing?”

You nearly choke at the question uttered through a buttery voice.

“Oh um, not really.”

“Not really?”

You made a mental note to answer in definitives. Armin seemed the type to snuff out anything he reasoned as half-truths.

“No. I uh, don’t have a boyfriend.” And then you clarified a pin-drop later, “And I’m not seeing anyone either.”

The blond hums a playful tune that’s vaguely nostalgic.

“Have you ever had a boyfriend?”

You don’t understand the point of this line of incessant questioning, and can’t calm your heart rate.

“I-um, I don’t-“

Taking one look at your serious face, eyes rimmed with worry and cheeks pink, he laughs. It’s a startling sound like bell chimes.

“Relax. I just wanted to know if you had any experience.”

The sentence flies out of your mouth before you can even ponder it: “What do you mean by experience?”

It’s not his fault if he can’t hide the feral grin that crosses his mouth right at that moment. You can’t discern his expression as you’re staring at anywhere but him, so you don’t notice the uncontained excitement that glimmers in cerulean eyes.

“Let’s move to the couch. You’ll be more comfortable there.”

You think about saying that you’re fine wherever you are and didn’t really feel like changing positions, but he’s already striding towards the couch. So you start packing up the materials, before a clear voice calls out to you, “It’s okay. You don’t have to bring all that. Just bring your flashcards.”

You hoped that wouldn’t mean he’d quiz you, but that’s exactly what he meant to do.

“Law of diminishing returns.”

“Wait! I know that one!” You brightly exclaimed, “ Uhh..it gives way to the catch-up effect which means poor countries tend to grow more rapidly and they’ll one day essentially catch up with wealthier economies.”

The blond ran his hand through his hair before sighing. You could feel your heart drop. You were sure you were right. Was your answer wrong enough to cause exasperation?

“Stick with the formal definition next time. I didn’t ask for the theory based on the law.”

You pouted, and Armin couldn’t help but relish in how eagerly you sought his approval, like a puppy performing tricks to appease their master.

“You should sit closer. Can you even see the word?”

You moved closer to him, knees knocking into each other. He looks down at the completed set.

“Well, you didn’t do as bad as I expected.” Ouch. But maybe he meant it as a compliment?

“But,” the corners of his mouth curled, “I’d say you’re still struggling.” Never mind.

“T-this is a new chapter though. I don’t think we’ve even gone over it in class.”

Blue eyes narrow, and you wonder if he’s going to give the well-meaning spiel about how staying ahead was the only way to keep up. That mantra may work for someone with high ambitions and an extremely good work ethic but you were no well-oiled machine. You had other classes too!

“Why are you so defensive?”

Your eyes widen in surprise at the question, spoken so softly and casually, you almost miss the disdained lilt.

“Oh uh-“

“Listen to me. I quizzed you so I’m able to assert your skill level. And your response to my assertion is that it’s something you haven’t gone over in class yet. Do those things relate to each other at all?”

Meekly, you shift your attention to the rug.

“Answer me.”

“N-no”, you squeaked.

“And what have I always told you? The only way to keep up is to-“

“Stay ahead.” You finished, “I’m sorry, I just-“

“Did I say you could interrupt me?”

You could feel the blood rushing to your ears, unsure when the atmosphere had shifted. Your heartbeat was beating rapidly and you could feel your body go warm.

He sighed, and placed a hand over over your folded ones, squeezing your palms.

“You know I’m just looking out for you right? It almost feels like you don’t care-“

“No!” You exclaim, “I-I do.” Heat pools into your cheeks once you realize your grave mistake, “I-I’m sorry for interrupting you.”

The blond smiles radiantly and it nearly melts away all of your worries…until he opens his mouth to deliver another damning remark.

“You know, with your looks…you don’t really even have to graduate. Maybe choose an easy major and then get some rich husband to take care of you.” There’s a distinct lack of humor in his tone as if he wholeheartedly believed every word he was saying.

Your eyebrows furrow in blatant confusion, and in the back of your mind, danger signs are flashing at the back of your head. Your thighs are growing warmer. Oh no, this could not be happening right now.

“That’s what most girls’ dreams are anyways.” He inspects his spotless nails, “You chose this class because Ackerman’s attractive right? That’s why his class has such a high drop rate…silly girls join, not understanding how harsh of a grader he is.”

You open your mouth to defend yourself but the next inflammatory remark he spews almost sends you to shock, “Though I bet, if you got on your knees for him, you’d be getting an A on those finals.” He laughs as if he was saying something particularly amusing, an undercurrent of spite coloring his words, “You wouldn’t even need me as your tutor.”

There are a million things on the tip of your tongue but no voice to speak them out. You want to ask him why he’s been so weirdly invasive, what his weird hang-up with professor Ackerman was, and of course, the casual sexism was really throwing you in a loop. Still, you have no doubt Armin could beat you to a bloody pulp several times over in a verbal lashing, and your mind was too fragile to deal with this.

You’ll sign up for a new tutor or better yet no tutor. You’ll get over your social anxiety and join a study group. You’ll go to all of Professor Ackerman’s office hours. Anything had to be better than this. You’re giving yourself this pep talk in your head but there’s no denying that your legs feel warm, and the self-improvement speech is withering away in your mind as it seeks to instead process how Armin fucking Arltert is touching you right now.

He pins you against the cushions, one hand locking both of your wrists. You’re shaking but your pupils are blown out wide.

He smirks, “There’s an excellent stress reliever for studying you know.”

You limp in his hold but the cocky attitude behind his words brings you back. You thrash under him, earning an annoyed growl from the blond.

“I’ve been so fucking patient with you, you know? Planning out your study guides, sharing my notes with you, proofreading homework, going over the mock exams—don’t you think I deserve a little compensation?”

“I-I’m sorry.”

He's right. He's right. Armin actually has done so much for you. Maybe it was too easy to take for granted because of how efficient he was, and how he acted like it was nothing. But right now, nothing really was everything.

He smiles. Yeah, this is who you were. Add just a little bit of pressure and you crumble. That flash of bravery from before was nothing but a petulant outburst from a child who didn’t know any better.

Armin coos, “Isn’t it a little embarrassing to be a virgin at your age?”

With unbridled precision, while he’s still holding your lower body down with the weight of his legs, he unbuckles his belt and ties it around your strained wrists. Red fills your face, and like always, you’re struggling to find the right words to respond. To say anything at all. Most of all, you can feel a wetness building at your core.

“I know the way you look at me, you know.” He kisses the dip of your neck, slender fingers splayed from under your shirt, “I know you’re into this.”

And because he is a scientist who must have evidence to back up his hypothesis, his hands find themselves under the waistband of your floral skirt that you foolishly wore, pushing the cure pastel underwear aside. You’re writhing in his grasp but maybe not as much as you should be, but it’s not your fault your movements are sluggish right?

“You have such a funny habit of not deleting your windows and keeping your bookmarks open.”

You freeze.

“This entire time I thought you were some prudish virgin even though you dress like a whore. Someone with who I had to be gentle. But all that fucking porn you read? Nasty. Is that why you need help in this class?” He punctuates slowly, "Because you're wasting your brain for something else?"

Immediately, you remember how you left your laptop on the table. You remember how many times he used your computer to double-check the notes, and you trustingly let him, forgetting that despite deleting your tabs, the hidden windows of steamy erotica were not yet erased out of their existence. Embarrassment violently paints your body.

He doesn’t wait or care for your response as he starts a vigorous assault on your clit with his slender finger, rubbing up and down in a vicious manner. The second finger prods at your entrance, feeling a tight cavern despite the amount of slick collected. Your eyes roll back in pleasure-is this what being with someone is like?

Stop. Get a hold of yourself. Why are you so fucking horny right now? It doesn’t matter what Armin said about you or how he called you out for the fiction you’ve read, because this is real life. But Christ, it’s Armin, the boy you’ve had a crush on since the moment he explained to you what a marginal abasement curve was. Stupidly handsome Armin with a gentle voice and too-blue oceanic eyes. Stupidly handsome Armin who coerced you into being under him.

You’re so fucking warm and tight, and Armin can’t wait to sink himself inside of you, can’t wait to humiliate you further. With nimble fingers he untied the ribbons of your dress like you were a Christmas present, groping your soft mounds and marking up your collarbone with teeth and tongue. Crystalline tears roll down the side of your face. You really shouldn’t be crying when you’re this wet.

“So fucking funny how you can’t look at me in the eye when we have a conversation but you read the filthiest fucking smut I’ve ever seen.”

taglist: @candy-hime

[plainlo-inthemorning]

A little written-in-the-middle-of-the-night Loki fic snippet that just grew another leg. TVA Loki + Lokane. Rating T.

(First part is here)

Shine a Light, part II

The tempad feels hot and slippery in his palm as he stalks down the hallway, quickly putting distance between himself and the hunter he left unconscious amidst overturned chairs and tables in the canteen.

The mess had already been there, leftovers from workers rushing panicked to man their stations. He had simply added one more touch.

Tiny droplets of sweat bead his brow and blood has started seeping though the tear in his crumbled shirt.

The fabric is clinging wetly to his bicep, but in the mayhem unfolding around him, nobody gives him a second glance.

For the first time, he is thankful at least to be wearing the anonymous uniform dictated by the oppressors.

He reaches the kill me kind of room again and shuts the door behind him.

You were meant to cause suffering and death.

You’re a cosmic mistake.

You were meant to die at the hands of the mad titan.

Lies.

All lies.

Still projected on the wall is the paused image of a lost memory of his unfulfilled fate.

He sees himself, Thor and her on the barren planet with the black soil. The man he never became is lying on the ground, Thor cradling him.

She watches them both in shock.

It resonates in his bones. He has to go there.

He has to reach his brother at this precise, excruciatingly rare moment of heroism. His act of heroism.

Before the scheming and deceit poison their bond once more in an endless loop of disappointment.

In this moment, all is forgiven. Thor will listen and help. A different path will branch.

And he has to go to her.

It is ludicrous, this riddle, yet the truth of it presses hard on his chest.

On the grainy roll of film, he saved her life and her eyes bore into his with such intensity, his acute need still reverberates like an echo between the walls of the kill me kind of room.

The smell of lilacs lingers.

What will happen when he faces his own self on the timeline, he can’t imagine. Also, he gives it little thought at this late stage with universal logic already suspended as it is. Hopefully he can reason with the man he was meant to be.

He has had quite enough of being his own past, present and future selves’ worst enemy.

And so he pushes the buttons on the tempad.

//

Something is very wrong.

The sky is too blue, the distant sound of waves lapping calmly at a shore is misplaced.

He has emerged from the door onto a quiet gravel road lined with tall grass and low pines. A single, white wooden house stands to his left, surrounded by a lawn dotted with wildflowers. The sun is warm on his back.

This is Midgard, he is sure of it.

How could he shoot past his destination so spectacularly?

He is about to scroll down the list of numbers and names on the tiny screen of the tempad when he notices a man approaching. Old, walking leisurely with a round, short-legged dog much the same white color as the mortal’s own wispy hair.

The latter starts a little when he spots Loki.

And then he does the most unexpected thing and speaks his name.

Loki’s name.

He almost drops the tempad (no! Not again) and the old one grins good-naturedly. “Hold on to your fancy phone there. Far away, were we?”

Loki only just about stops himself from shaking the man by his shoulders. His fists clench uncontrollably.

“What year is this?! How do you know my name?”

His voice sounds shrill, feverish, and unsurprisingly the eyes in the lined face before him go wide with puzzlement and … something else.

“Loki, what on Earth? Are you quite alright?”

Shock washing over him, Loki staggers back. H-how?

But the man is closing the gap between them, oozing concern. “Have you - are you drunk?” he asks incredulously.

He reaches out.

What is happening?

Loki shies away from the touch, his mind spinning.

Forcibly gathering his composure, he straightens and wills his words to come out steady. “No, I’m okay. Apologies. A bad joke”.

He smiles reassuringly. It takes more effort than parting an ocean.

The dog is sniffing insistently at his ankles.

The man looks him over with suspicion but the worry is subsiding. “Okay, then… no harm, no foul. You know, sometimes these peculiar ‘jokes’ of yours can make a neighbor all kinds of slightly worried”.

Neighbor?

“Most understandably, won’t happen again. Sorry to have bothered you”. Loki cuts him off smoothly. “Have a nice day”. He nods and turns before hysteria can creep into his voice.

“In case you need it for your punchline, the year is 2016”, the man calls over his shoulder as he shuffles away, pulling the reluctant dog after him.

Loki’s blood runs cold. 2016. Oh, this is so wrong. Three years wrong.

Did he hit another button at the last minute? He had been clutching the tempad so hard the edges cut into his fingers.

He curses his own impatience. Tech savvy indeed.

Holding up the blasted piece of TVA wizardry, he tries to enter a new series of numbers when his name rings out again.

And again, he almost jumps. But this time, his heart stays in his throat.

//

“Loki? What are you doing out here? I’ve been looking all over for you”.

Her voice reaches him from the porch of the white house. She is skipping lightly down the steps, the screen doors left open behind her. Music drifts into the garden from somewhere inside.

She is crossing the lawn. He is no longer breathing.

Her long auburn hair is tied back in a ponytail, and she is wearing a light blue summer dress. Her feet are bare.

Absurdly, he notes that she looks more tanned than the last time he saw her through the visor of the destroyer in the desert. A year and a lifetime ago. To him.

His grip on whatever reality he’s been clinging to since New York is seriously faltering.

She is beaming. He cannot move a muscle.

She comes all the way up to him and without pause wraps her slender arms around his neck. He can feel the warmth of her body through his shirt, smell the perfume of her skin. She smells of … -

“Where did you go, handsome?” She smiles playfully.

“Pepper called earlier to say that she actually got Tony out of the door on time, if you can believe it, so they’ll be here any minute. And her and I agreed that you two hotheads are going to play nice tonight, okay?”

She is teasing him but he hardly understands the words she’s saying. It makes no sense.

And then, before he can begin to form a response, she stands on tiptoes and kisses him and the world falls away.

Reflexively, he puts his arms around her, drawing her close to him. She moans happily. He leans into the kiss, not knowing what he’s doing other than that he never wants to stop.

Her mouth is soft and warm and new and familiar all at the same time, and the way her fingers curl in his hair sends electricity shooting down his spine.

It should be all anguish and tragic confusion, like before in the castle beyond time, but it is not.

It feels more right that anything he can remember since before his fall from the Bifrost, more real and yet more magical than his recent journeys into mystery.

Then it’s over all too soon and she draws away.

His arms are suddenly much too empty and he almost reaches for her again, craving her touch.

For a fleeting heartbeat, his soul had no longer felt torn apart to the point of forgetting he’d ever been whole.

The chaos had crumbled in on itself like a bad dream.

He is surprised he still knows what peace of mind feels like after what has happened to him since arriving at the TVA.

But now she looks at him with alarm in those beautiful brown eyes and he is crudely reminded that he is an intruder in her reality.

What she thought she saw, she clearly no longer recognizes.

It takes him all of three stupidly long seconds to remember that she said his name. That he’s wearing his own face and not a disguise.

That she knew him immediately, just like the old man.

She kissed him.

Too many impossible possibilities and the thunderous sound of his own heartbeat (surely she can hear it too) blur his vision.

He’s only vaguely aware that he is stepping towards her, trying to say something without the faintest idea of what’s going to come out of his mouth.

If it’ll even be words.

Her eyes dart over his clothes, his face.

“Loki, what - Why are you dressed like that? Have you been gone? Is that … blood?”

She retreats further, fear building.

“Jane, I-“

Her name rolls of his tongue with a sweet-tasting intimacy like he has said it a thousand times before.

But he doesn’t get to dwell on this, nor gather his thoughts to say anything else before something abruptly lifts him off the ground and hurls his body across the road.

“How dare you touch her, beast?!”

Immediately as his back connects with the rough gravel, someone is there, a knee pushing him down, fingers closing around his throat. A sharp object presses against his chin.

There is a dangerous, unhinged growl as his attacker breathes hotly in his ear. “You will die for this!”

The man is strong and somehow blocking Loki’s own magic, but he still manages to twist his head -

And looks right up into his own eyes, nearly black with rage.

//

“Speak! What are you??”

The man with a face exactly like his presses the tip of his blade closer to Loki’s left eye. “You will show yourself right now or -“

Gathering his magic tightly around him (focus!), Loki pushes back, hard.

With a surge of energy, their bodies are separated, and the other version of him lands heavily in the middle of the road some meters away.

Both of them are on their feet with the fluid movements of two panthers ready to pounce, the other now in full armor.

He has to leave, right now, even if means leaving her which is a catastrophe that might either kill him or make him try to kill his other self if he stays here another minute.

This timeline is clearly not his own.

It cannot be.

Arm outstretched to ward off his furious twin with a shield of magic, he tries to work the tempad with one hand.

“Well, well, what do we have here?”

A booming voice above their heads.

“You know, when Jane pressed the panic button just now, I thought we had an actual emergency. Not that you were preparing a little dinner show for us, Reindeer Games. Gotta be honest though, this doppelgänger stunt was never my favorite -“

“Stark!”

The variant - for he must be a variant - angrily interrupts the man in the metal suit hovering in the air.

Of course, Loki remembers him all too clearly.

What has it been, less than a week since he threw him, or a version of him, out the window of the glass tower?

“This is not my creation”, the variant hisses with venom dripping from every word. “I caught him assaulting Jane. Kissing her”.

“What?!”

Stark focuses all his attention (and one of his iron fists) on Loki. A metallic humming rises steadily from inside the suit.

“A man on a suicide mission then. Boy, did you smooch the wrong wizard’s baby-mama. He may look all domesticated and cute now, but I assure you he’s still all kinds of crazy. In fact-”.

“Hey!”

“What?”

“I know it’s asking a lot, of you in particular, Stark, but could we possibly save the personal insults till we have dealt with this right here?”

Wait, just wait.

Damn it, he can’t tap in the destination on the tempad without looking at it.

Green smoke is swirling around the hands of his other self. He knows what’s coming.

“This is your last warning, devil! I will not have you hiding behind my face as I -“

“This is my face! I’m you, you fool! Bigger things are at large here and-“ Loki falters, his silver tongue failing once more with rising predictability within what seems a disconcertingly short period of time.

Although he honestly can’t tell anymore.

“Please, take a minute -“

He can’t help but shout, sounding hopelessly desperate.

In another life, he might have felt humiliated, but letting pride dictate his emotions is no longer a luxury he can afford to indulge.

Still, the silence that follows his outburst is not nearly as long as he needs it to be.

The variant stares blankly at him, mouth slightly ajar, but Stark recovers easily, his voice now icy.

“Yeah, dude, that one might have worked better if you’d put on a clean shirt. Time to fess up real quick or we’ll have to-“

Drawing what might become his last breath, Loki looks away and down at the tempad. He presses the button. No more time to double check.

“What the?!”

Both Stark and the variant visibly flinch as the door appears.

He quickly makes for it. “I - I’m sorry. Truly, I am”. He looks to their stunned faces before turning to his exit.

Out of the corner of his eye, he registers the variant move (he has to be a variant). His mouth twists in an ugly snarl and two familiar daggers are appearing by his sides.

Before the door snaps completely shut, Loki sees Jane run up to the man and grab his arm.

“Love, no, don’t!”

He sees the slight bump under her dress that he didn’t notice before.

And then the scene disappears and he’s gone.

Part III

[avasghost]

When We Drown Update #2

[image description: a pale blue photo of a rocky cliff, and a boy at the edge in the distance, standing on a pile of rocks and looking down. in white serif font in the centre, reads “when we drown: update two” / end id]

wip intro here. first writing update here. 

DISCLAIMER: this is my original work, please do not plagiarize in any way.

hi everyone! it’s been a while since i did a writing update (time is fast) and i’ve written quite a lot! up until about a week ago i was in a really, really bad writing slump (which lasted like,,, four months) and so that’s why there hasn’t been a crane anatomy update for a ages because (: i haven’t been writing it (:

i don’t know if i mentioned this in the first update, but this book is now non-linear which has been an ~adventure! the non-linear plotline is kind of freeing because i can just pick a scene i want to write from any time in april’s life and just ... write it? i don’t have to follow the years chronologically. i try to create some kind of causal thread between the scenes but i don’t know how well that’s working out lmao. since WWD follows an entire life story with the protagonist looking back on it and remembering her life, i try to make her memory of one event trigger the memory of the next event, and usually they’re linked by either emotion or information.

current word count: 13,228

so when we drown is officially longer than crane anatomy now, despite being the side project! fun.

anyway lets get into the chapters because i have nothing else to say. tw for death, and other trigger warnings are before the individual chapters!

excerpts under the cut.

chapter 5: faces

[image description: a birds eye view of a forest of snowy pine trees. above the trees in black serif font reads “chapter 5: faces” / end id]

this is a very short chapter (a page and a half) which is a flash forward to when april and elena live together in a cabin in the woods sometime in their late forties. elena is asleep in an armchair and april stokes the fireplace, and then goes outside and sees elias’s ghost and then it dissapears (tbh,,, i think a lot of the chapters will be like this oops) this is the second ghost sighting in the book, but at the point when april is 48 it’s almost a regular occurrence! i might end up moving it to later in the book eventually, since i might want the ghost sightings to be in linear order if nothing else is, to keep the main thread of the book in order.

I closed the door of the woodstove, and glanced over my shoulder to see if Elena had been woken by the clanging of metal. She stirred slightly, a familiar face in her nightmare, an unfamiliar face in a familiar dream. Two fingers clenched against the armrest, then became limp again. Half of me wanted her to wake up, to see me, to speak to me, to see the fire bouncing in the grate and be happy for warmth. But again, she needed rest. She needed to be alone for a while, even if that was just in her head. She’d seen her fair share of fire.

also its snowing in november and its british columbia and i know this is unrealistic but! aesthetics are more important than logic we all know that.

[image description: blurry pine trees and a light snow falling in front of them, with a ridge of snow along the bottom. white serif text in the centre reads “The snow-tipped pines that cupped the cabin sagged under the weight of unexpected snowfall. Their fallen needles jotted the snow. The sky was white, spotless, like an expanse of faraway ocean or the inside of a crystal ball.” / end id]

The snow-tipped pines that cupped the cabin sagged under the weight of unexpected snowfall. Their fallen needles jotted the snow. The sky was white, spotless, like an expanse of faraway ocean or the inside of a crystal ball. No birds flitted between the branches, no foxes slunk between the pines. All was still. All was white. I was alone.

and the ghost is seen then disappears as usual and april goes inside again.

You were gone by the time I reached the door again, by the time I stepped inside and Elena stirred in her armchair, by the time I had stepped out of my shoes and gone to stoke the fire again, which was already starting to dwindle.

i like having elias referred to as “you” because its like april is telling the story to him, but he’s not there, so she’s talking to herself, which is very in character for her to do.

chapter 6: the party

[image description: a slope of pine trees with a grassy field at the bottom. mist shrouds the trees in the distance. a dirt path leads through the grass towards a cabin. in the top right corner, reads “chapter 6: the party” / end id]

chapter 6 follows the day before elena’s fifteenth birthday, and then her party the next day. this is a traumatic time for april because she decides she should mention her first elias sighting at the party. obviously people think she’s crazy and so you can guess how that turns out (aka april goes home and cries because she’s a soft bean)

elena has a cool tree in her backyard apparently!! this seems to be a running theme.

Dribbles of leftover sunlight sifted through the branches of the elm tree that ribbed the sky, its roots furrowing the lawn like varicose veins.

i will admit i didn’t finish this chapter and haven’t written most of the party scene yet so i will probably update on the rest of it in my next update (if i’ve written it by then which i probably won’t have but! we’ll see.)

chapter 7: sacred ground

[image description: the ocean stretching into the distance, with small waves. a blurry girl with long brown hair stands in front of it, facing the water. in the middle in white serif font reads “chapter 7: sacred ground” / end id]

the aftermath of the first elias sighting, when april goes and tries to talk to elena about it. i actually don’t know if this or the party comes first and the non-linearness might be catching up to me oops but we’ll just pretend everything makes sense okay <3 

first she tries to decide who to talk to about it and her options are quite limited. she picks elena because she’ll probably take her seriously, and then goes to her house in a state of shock.

I considered my options. Elena: the calm one, either pretending to be wise or really wise. Magnolia: probably less stupid than she made herself out to be. My mother: still crying over a tragedy of five years ago and a tragedy of fifteen years ago and the tragedy of a lifetime wasted in crowded cult meetings and stark bedrooms, tears always falling, thoughts either always whirlwinding or too dead to pay attention to. I found myself winding up the jittery pathway to Elena’s house, or maybe it was me that was jittery. Maybe it was me, who made the world blurry like this. Maybe it was me who was seeing things, not those things drifting into my line of vision and then falling out of sight. The pearly birches jagged the edges of the valley, their leaves chartreuse in the wind-rustled sunlight.

and then elena rejects her plight and april returns to where she saw elias. turns out elena isn’t as accepting of april’s hallucinations as she was supposed to be! here’s a bit of dialogue i generated from that incorrect quote generator that seems fitting for this moment!

April: Bad things keep happening to me, like I have bad luck or something.

Elena: April, you don't have bad luck. The reason bad things happen to you is because you're a dumbass.

this IS april and this IS elena how does this generator know what my book is about!! anyway back to excerpts:

I ran back to where I had seen you, all slow wonderment vanished, and found the place where my old footsteps in the sand looped around. I knew you wouldn’t be there, I wasn’t surprised that you didn’t appear again, your face bobbing in a rice paper mist. I wasn’t surprised that Elena didn’t chase me out, eyes drained of tears, to apologize. And I wasn’t surprised that from that point forward, I thought of that place as sacred.

chapter 8: always falling

[image description: a blurred black-and-white close-up image of water falling. white serif font in the center reads “always falling: chapter 8″ / end id]

tw: death, drowning, blood, fantasizing about drowning

eight-year-old april and magnolia visit a waterfall with magnolia’s parents. feat. april’s dog, august!

The waterfall coiled down the cliff face, cracking the surface of the river like a thousand strands of thunder. I could hardly hear Magnolia’s parents shouting something up ahead, their voices lost in the blare of water.

shortly after:

When I heard suspension bridge, I pictured one from old fairytales I read: wooden, burlap ropes for railings. A thirty percent chance of falling in. I was reassured by the stability, but August shivered at the way it jilted underfoot. He had never walked on ground that shifted under his feet, maybe it was an earthquake, maybe the ground was breaking in.

and here’s sweet eight-year-old April fantasizing about what it would be like to drown. If you think that’s foreshadowing no it isn’t 👁👁

[image description: a slightly grainy photo, half water and half sky, both tinted turquoise. a hand lifts out of the water toward the sky. above the hand in white serif font, reads “What it would feel like to drown, water snagging in my lungs, sharp stones shattering my ribcage until the entire river turned to blood. Being sucked by the current until someone finally found my body, far from where I lost it.” / end id]

I stared over the edge, tried to pierce the thick buzz of mist that separated me from what would be the teeth of my fall. I imagined the bridge giving way, like it always did in the stories I read. One end breaking, the ropes snapping, the entire bridge swinging into the bottomless river. What it would feel like to drown, water snagging in my lungs, sharp stones shattering my ribcage until the entire river turned to blood. Being sucked by the current until someone finally found my body, far from where I lost it. Maybe it would be an old fisherman, hauling a girl in with the day’s catch, or his frail wife, who would faint on the spot at the sight of a dead child, bloodied and mangled and already tearing apart.

they cross the suspension bridge, and august unfortunately falls in! this is just a bit of april’s childhood trauma and i wish i didn’t have to cause her this pain but i do i’m sorry 😭

chapter 9: dead letters

[image description: a close up sheet of paper with a few lines of cursive writing across it. a fountain pen lies across the page. in the bottom right hand corner, a black serif font reads “chapter 9: dead letters” / end id]

a very young april and elias get caught in a hailstorm then go inside and find letters from their father, who they never met because he still lives in the cult their mother escaped from the day april was born. their mother tries to hide the letters from them but! these children do not relent. 

We tracked through the colourful forest in autumn, our rubber boots tore trails through the scattered maple leaves. Pronged pinecones crackled under my heels as I chased you, threading between the trees.

I was eight, you were faster but I managed to keep up all the same. A haze of rain sizzled on my skin, but rain didn’t phase me back then. I didn’t mind the water droplets that pearled down my neck into the hem of my bright yellow rain jacket.

they escape from the hailstorm and find their mother in the kitchen making tea (rare!) 

When we tripped over the doorframe and found ourselves panting in the kitchen, the kettle wheezed and mother emerged from her bedroom to take it off. The scent of green tea wafted through the air as she poured it, steaming, into a ceramic teacup with a crack veining down the side.

april tries to take one of the letters but her mother stops her. later during the night, she and elias get out of bed and read the letters and it turns out their father left the cult as well, and wants to meet up with them. april wants to meet him, but elias is bitter about it and doesn’t really even consider him their father because he was never there for them. 

chapter 10: frostbite

[image description: two pale hands reach towards the sky, in front of a blurry indigo background. in the top left corner, white serif font reads “chapter 10: frostbite” / end id]

tw: freezing to death

there are those weird times when their mom tells stories about her life. these incidents never end well but happen occasionally! she tells april about a time when her and a few other cult members were in the mountains and one of them froze to death. at this point april is around fifteen (which is where the main plot of the book is at right now)

She cut off there, blanched, stared out the window at the sun-speckled backyard, but I could fill in the rest of the details myself: skin a cold stone blue, frostbite jittering through the lungs and spine like a poison, eating everything slowly. Lying in the snow, letting the cold overcome them. Dead before morning. I wanted to ask if they buried the body, dug a grave of snow that would be melted by spring, or just left the corpse lying in the snow for someone else to find, or be eaten by a wolf pack, or to deteriorate, and haunt those lonely slopes forever.

afterwards, april goes outside (yes its snowing again 😭 as someone who dislikes snow i sure write about it a lot) 

On those days, my desperation to leave the house rose to a high and I would slide into a pair of ragged sneakers and a cable-knit sweater and push out into the cold. Once vibrant green leaves now greyed with frost, a snowfall months early but not unwelcome. Striking before the trees had the chance to shed their leaves. Frost brittled the branches of the oaks so I could snap them without an effort, not that I wanted to snap them. The concrete of the road was spined with ice that made it look like the ground was caving in, icicles barbed the eaves of our house like jagged teeth. Sometimes I thumbed snow into my mouth like a child, hoping no one was watching a seventeen-year-old eat snow, and let it blot my tongue and dribble down my throat. The cold shock to my system helped clear my mind of whatever mother had been talking about, helped me cope with the pain I shouldn’t have been feeling in the first place.

aaannd that’s everything i’ve written so far! this has been the worst writing slump of my life and i’m not too happy with most of the stuff i’ve written lately, but hopefully that clears up so i can update y’all again soon!

- ava

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[datawyrms]

Changed Hunt

For Phic Phight 2021! (not completely finished but AAAAfinshnowwww) lowkey Dannymay Day 2 Portal, as well

"That portal is awesome!" Sam says. "Would be so cool if it worked."

Danny goes down into the lab that night to try a few things—it doesn't quite go as he planned.(aka a no one knows au) (Dey’s prompt!)

Danny really wished Sam and Tucker had stayed a bit longer that day. With them around, maybe he wouldn’t have wandered in that portal like an idiot. In his own defense, how could he have known that little panel in there had been an on switch? Who’d put that inside a reality tearing portal device? Jack and Maddie Fenton, apparently. He was just lucky the thing hadn’t killed him! Or at least, managed to overdo it to the point he...survived somehow? He hadn’t really decided what that portal had done exactly. Waking in a pained heap, bathed in a haunting green glow from the now active portal was confusing enough. Looking up and seeing a stranger in the reflective panel nearby just made it worse. Of course he didn’t take it well, or know what to think. If he’d become a ghost, his parents would freak. Fixing their portal by turning into some...evil human hating creature probably wasn't in the plan. At least his terror somehow managed to get him to become human again. Heartbeat and everything. He hoped it had just been a weird one off, or he’d imagined it from trauma. Until he started falling through things. He died so hard  that he got his life back? The portal only managed to kill half of him? He was dead but ‘imitating humans’ was his specialty? Some human that just got to use his ‘soul’ or whatever to be a ghost early? Sam and Tucker might have had guesses- but he knew one thing right away. Whatever happened, he wasn’t all human anymore. He couldn’t tell them. What if they decided that was just too weird? What if they blamed themselves for not being there- thought they’d killed him? It wasn’t worth the risk. Besides, he couldn’t let Mom and Dad find out, so he’d be trying to hide any of the new weirdness anyway. Might as well just always do it. Maybe the weird new abilities would just go away. They hadn’t. They just forced him to think about it to keep both feet on the ground. He could deal.

Until other ghosts started showing up. Ghosts that actually knew how to be ghosts, terrifying powers and all. Ghosts that seemed to know what he was. He’d nearly jumped out of his skin when a green woman in a hairnet tapped him on the shoulder and asked who ‘changed the menu’. There was a lot of screaming and running away at that, considering she was floating and well. Obviously some sort of dead person. Freaky Fenton attracts freaky ghosts. Of course. She didn’t buy his claim of not knowing why the menu wasn’t exactly the same as fifty years ago (why would he? That’s a lot of years!) and thought setting ovens on fire and throwing them at him was a fair answer! So apparently Mom and Dad were totally right about ghosts being completely terrifying monsters that he should run away from very quickly. Which he did. He only ran into two walls he meant to go through, even. Just more reasons to never, ever tell anyone he might be like that crazed ghost lady. Mom and Dad proving their inventions actually did work sometimes was just icing on the ‘i’m so screwed’ cake. Ghosts exist, they fought one, and the school got shuttered for a week from excessive damage via flying appliance. Fun.

It was dumb to pretend that was a one off thing. It was stupid to think he could keep hiding what happened that day. Even if it felt safer, even if he just wanted to keep denying the portal was open so she could keep pretending it hadn’t done anything to him. Maybe if someone knew, he wouldn’t be hopelessly trapped by a huge glowing robot. Running didn’t work on this one like it did the older ghost lady. He tried, he really did, but the self proclaimed hunter kept tracking him down. Even when he transformed into the strange ghost version of himself he failed to dissuade the robot. Punching metal still hurt as a ghost, and so did getting pelted with little missiles. So much for intangibility being an advantage.

“You’re lucky that you’re a rare creature, whelp. Otherwise I’d be disappointed by how little effort hunting you took.”

Great, flame head thought he was a disappointing freak. More pressing was the net the ghost had shot at him that he couldn’t struggle free of. Even drawing on his weird ghost side wouldn’t let him phase through it. “Pretty sure you can’t hunt endangered species!” He redoubled his effort as the ghost picked up the net, trying to trick himself that his swinging was making him feel ill, not the terror of being carried off by some monster that came through the portal just to hunt him down.

“Hah! If I didn’t take you ghost child, someone else would simply end you.” The blank green eyes stared into his own as the machine pulled him up higher. “You should be grateful to be part of my collection.”

Danny gulped, unsure if he should keep his attention on his captor or the fact they were getting closer to the swirling portal. “How about no thanks? Since you’re such a good samaritan and all. You can just let me go and forget all about uh...this.” Why couldn’t he just squeeze out of the net, or make the rest of him all weird like when his legs decided to vanish sometimes? Pulling with his gloved hands wasn’t working, and the glow just grew  brighter as the lump in his throat got thicker. “Please? You already said I was weak, if you let me go I’ll be stronger next time!” Okay, it was a stupid plea but he’d try anything right now to not get dragged to some ghost world.

“I’m not a catch and release sort of hunter.” The ghost chuckled as his prey shrank back with the denial.

“How can you be the ‘Greatest’ hunter if you just go after kids, huh?” Begging wasn’t working, so maybe getting him angry? He couldn’t go through there, what if being on the other side made him more like this thing, or the other weird green monsters? “More like lamest hunter.”

“Oh you’ll see the sort of creatures I normally hunt, ghost child. Once you join them.” Skulker shook the net hard, rattling what little bravado Danny had managed to gather up right back out of him.

So much for that hope. “This has got to be a mistake, just let me go!” The ghost didn’t answer him, and he couldn’t help closing his eyes when the mechanical monster fired up a jetpack and flew through that portal. It wasn’t as cold as he feared it would be, it wasn’t like the void of space. Just as green as the portal, still a swirling background to everything. He swore he saw faces and doors, but couldn’t keep looking for long. The combined movement of being dragged along with the spinning energy was stomach churning enough, and he had to deal with the fact he didn’t know anything about this place. Even if this ghost decided to let him go, where would he go? Was there even anything to navigate with? He certainly didn’t see anything useful like stars. Would all this green stuff just soak into him and make him not want to find home? Nothing here made sense! It was easier to curl up instead of struggling with the net to stretch out, and the stupid ghost couldn’t see how the tears welled in his eyes as he struggled not to cry.

He should have been braver, should have tried to watch more, but it’d been too much. The crunch of metal against stone jarred him out of his silent self berating, just to be even more confused. He was on an island? That just floated, because islands did that here. Islands that had forests on them, that grew out of what looked like rock. Sure, okay. At least it was a bit of a distraction from the fact he was trapped by some evil robot in a completely different reality! Well. It had been. Seeing the fact the ghost lived in some weird stone skull jutting out of a mountain made him snort despite himself.

“You said my puns were bad, and you live in that thing?” He was pretty sure the green mohawk monster was Skull-something anyway. Mostly tuned it out after he kept repeating the ‘greatest hunter’ bit. “Ghost Zone’s Greatest Halloween Decoration’s a more fitting title.”

“For a terrified whelp, you are very chatty.”

“I think I looped around from terrified when I saw how doomed I am.” He was just joking. Totally. He wasn’t goofing around to try and fend off the engulfing panic of never getting home, nope. Absolutely not. He tried to pay attention to the strange ‘skull mountain house thing’, but the fact it reminded him more like a zoo inside wasn’t helping. Massive, monstrous glowing ghosts leering out and snapping as they passed, smaller sorts that didn’t even look up and several empty cages stained green was not calming his nerves. He couldn’t even describe some ghosts, being such a confusing jumble of parts that didn’t remind him of anything. All he could tell was robo-hunter probably didn’t have any willing guests. Unwilling guests that looked far, far more powerful than anything he could dream of trying. He was so, so doomed. To the point that being tossed roughly in a similar cage was almost a relief so he wasn’t right beside the ghost anymore.

First task was struggling free of the no longer glowing net (deactivated somehow? weird.) which wasn’t too hard, but just left him in his freaky ghost form, in a cage, in the middle of who knew where. The Ghost Zone, that’s what they kept calling it. Not Earth. Fantastic! That’s enough to get a C-, but not enough to get him out of this cage. Reaching through the bars was out, the unexpected shock had him rubbing his hand and grumbling to how having some invisible field between the bars was just unfair. At least let him see it before hurting him more. Now what? Grasping that feeling that let him walk through walls wasn’t letting him through the cage floor, just like how the net wouldn’t let him out.  Floating just reminded him of getting dragged here. So that was it. Why did he have to get stupid dying powers? They didn’t even do anything useful!

Stressing out and not finding a way out was an exhausting way to spend a few hours. He kept thinking of new problems, like he didn’t have enough already. When the robot wandered past, he almost grabbed the bars to get closer. “Hey! Screw head!”

The ghost actually looked at him, the stern face looking more confused than anything.

“Yeah you! You know I’m gonna like, starve to death in here, right?” Danny had no idea how he was managing to say something he was very terrified of coming true like it was a joke. “Kind of a waste, don’t ya think?”

“You will be fine, ghost child. Your pleas for freedom won’t fool me.”

“Wanna bet? Maybe we’re so rare because we all starve to death in this dumb ghost world or whatever.” That and there probably weren’t too many people dumb enough to get shocked to...sort of death. “That and like, you’re some freaky machine man, you probably don’t know anything about eating to start with.”

Skulker kept staring at him, as if doing that would suddenly reveal all his secrets. “Well I prefer live specimens, but I suppose I could always do with another rug.”

Oh gross! “Seriously? Do I look like rug material to you?”

“Wall art?”

Yup, he was gagging now. The very idea a ghost would want to do that just made his spine want to shake right out of him with disgust. “I’d be way out of place, all of the other ghosts here look like animals! You’ll just gross all your hunter buddies out.” Maybe if he pretended to be some know it all like Jazz the ghost would...reconsider making him into wall art? Uurk. What was his life that he even needed to think that?

At least that got the metal monster pondering, massive hand scratching at his chin. “I do wonder if your pelt would only show half of your nature.”

“How about we don’t test that and say we did.” He’d seen some of the knives on the way in and did not want any of them near him thank you very much. Not that he had much of a choice- oh man he really, really did not want to learn why Sam hated the fur industry this way. “Pretty sure I’d just die. More. Or something.”

“Oh, but you’ve seen the other pelts on the way in. They’ve still got enough of a spark to not melt to nothing ghost child. I’m not that sloppy.”

Oh so he could be barely aware wall art. Even better!  What would he do, skin him alive or just crush him? Both? “Humans don’t melt.” It was all he could think of blathering out. Don’t think about what the terrifying ghost guy can do Fenton, just don’t.

“True...unfortunately I don’t have another subject to test on.”

Score one for being a unique sort of freaky ghost kid. Maybe. “Soooo how about you just bring me back and rethink the whole uh. Hunting me thing.”

That just got Skulker laughing. “Not a chance whelp.”

“I’m not a whelp! I don’t even fit in with all your monster-things!” It had annoyed him, really. The other ghosts didn’t really...talk? “I’m not some animal!” 

More chuckling, as if amused by a puppy chasing its tail. “Of course you are, with that stench of the human world on you.”

“You think I smell. With what nose, metalhead?”

“None of your business. Not to fear, any ghost here can tell you’re a hybrid. That human body you insist on wearing can be felt even when you’re in a superior form.”

Oh, was this a ghosts thinking humans were animals thing? Or was this a ghosts are kinda racist to different ghosts thing. Was there a difference? He probably should have paid more attention in civics. “Yeah well that ‘human body’ needs food.” He wasn’t even going to touch the idea that he was ‘wearing’ his own body, eeeeugh.

“I’ll figure out a solution to your hybrid failings, child. I won’t let a prize go that easily.”

Greeeeeeat.

[catbountry]

Glancing over some of my older essays on politics, I’m kind of struck how, despite them not being written that long ago, I feel like I come across as a dumbass, or at least like somebody who thinks they’re much smarter than they actually are. And it’s weird, because most of my views are roughly the same; rather, it’s that I feel the way that they’re articulated comes across as too... I don’t know, smarmy? Smug, maybe? Lacking nuance. Blunt. Like I’m talking down to people. Obviously, this was never my intention, but it’s weird how something that was written while in my early 30′s somehow makes me wince a little... as I rapidly approach being smack-dab in the middle of my 30′s. God, I’ve been in my 30′s for almost 5 whole years now, fuck, where does the time go?

I think being able to come out of the other side of the Trump presidency in one piece has kind of helped add some much-needed perspective, at least for myself. I think the hypothesis that a lot of people who voted for Trump were desperate for some kind of change was proven correct when he failed to be re-elected due to his bungling of COVID, which, funnily (or not) enough, he almost could have looked like he was doing the right thing when he initially wanted to close the U.S. borders... except he’d been trying to restrict travel and close borders so often that of course nobody took such a suggestion seriously. And even if they had? Rich people still would have brought it over, because as we all know, rich people can just get away with all kinds of shit. Of course, once it actually hit, Trump really couldn’t handle the idea of looking weak at all, so instead, it was downplayed, joked about, not taken seriously, even though he’d been briefed that it was going to be really, really bad. And when he got it, and in private thought he was going to die? Well, once he beat it, of course he had to say it wasn’t so bad... even though it killed almost a thousand times more people than the 9/11 terrorist attacks. Most of them were seniors. I think that, as well as a general fatigue and disappointment over the lack of swamp-draining from those who weren’t fanatical devotees, probably sealed his fate. I admit, I wasn’t very sure Biden really had much of a chance for a long time... until COVID happened. But hey, at least we got our stimmy from Trump, right lads?

I’m still fully convinced that Trump never intended to win, and that his run was done purely for ego and financial gain, but his ability to effortlessly bait the media, as well as his unexpected exposing of the sham we all knew presidential elections to be, wound up rocketing him to success. Trump will no doubt go down as one of the most successful conmen in American history, one so slick he wound up conning his way all the way into the White House. The whole thing was like if The Producers was a presidential campaign, fascism included. Granted, I don’t think Trump was ever a true fascist; I think he wanted to be a dictator, but the actual job of being President was a drag. The cult of personality he accrued, however, was the biggest source of narcissistic supply that he’d ever experienced in his entire life. Hell, just being the literal President, the most important person in the entire fucking world, is a hell of a high that I don’t think he’ll ever really be able to reclaim. Trump’s going to be chasing that dragon for the rest of his life. Having “President” in front of your name is a lot nicer than actually, you know, having to be the President. I mean, look at how quickly Obama went gray. A lot of people are convinced Trump will run again in 2024, and I don’t doubt it, but unless something happens that completely throws us for a loop, I don’t see him being able to recreate the, er, “magic” of 2016. Everyone getting to see that, not only was his fanbase capable of having embarrassing public meltdowns just like the le epic triggered snowflake lib Hilary supporters, but that their meltdowns were even more embarrassing, and that they all looked like a bunch of fucking English soccer hooligans during the Capitol siege... well, I think that’s going to put off the swing voters, as well as the moderate Republicans.

Also, that Twitter knock-off founded by Trump’s aide, Gettr, being flooded by gay furries posting Sonic the Hedgehog foot porn? Feels like classic 4chan-style raiding. I approve. It almost feels like we’re healing, even if it’s just a little bit.

But what the fuck did we even learn from all this? What did I learn from this?

I don’t know. It feels like over the time I’ve been on Tumblr, what was once SJW became woke, and being woke has become very normal; so normal, in fact, that fucking massive corporations that use slave labor overseas will change their Twitter icons to rainbow every June because The Gays have become a safe, marketable demographic. On one hand, it’s nice to know that, at least in what I guess is considered the western world, LGBT people are more accepted now than they ever have been. On the other... god, it feels so cynical, doesn’t it? This is all very stream of consciousness, here. I don’t write very much on here since, surprise surprise, Tumblr’s been kind of dead since the porn ban. I still see people post, but it used to be that I couldn’t refresh my dash without seeing dozens of new posts. Now it feels like I refresh my dash and I’d be lucky to see a new post there an hour later. This is why I’m on Discord more. It feels like I have more productive conversations than I ever could on Tumblr or Twitter. Twitter is just... god. It’s like all the worst parts of Tumblr without the parts that made it fun aside from a few memes.

Sorry, I got off track there. The point I was going to make before is that, while I am still very firmly anti-censorship, I’ve managed to put myself in a position where it no longer feels like the stakes are so high. I can relax. I don’t have to feel like I’m on the defense the whole time as somebody grills me over some slip-up. I don’t use Twitter that much. When I do post something in response to somebody, I feel like I instantly regret it. I posted in response to some dumbass spreading a rumor that 4chan’s favorite Simpson’s meme about Sneed’s Feed and Seed is secretly ableist, and I got a response from some dude with an Umaru-chan avatar telling me how he’s proudly racist because he and his friends call each other slurs? Like bro, you’re posting cringe, you’re going to lose subscriber-

I don’t know what I’ve learned yet. Maybe that social media sucks and that chatrooms with friends are the superior way to communicate online. I tried out Telnet recently to go into some random IRC, that was neat. It just feels nice to not have to get into a fucking argument every fucking day over shit that doesn’t matter as much as people thinks it does, to not have to hear about every fucking time the President sneezes or farts. It’s not that there’s no longer anything to worry about; there is. I’d really like to see fellow lefties go after the handful of massive corporations that control the majority of the online experience, who censor not just all the racist white dude grifters in suits who all look suspiciously similar to one another, but us as well. I want to see us raise a bigger stink about the web being santized, sterlized, and gentrified to be friendlier to corporations who only want your precious data and eyeballs. Maybe without the constant distraction of Bad Orange Man, we could make that happen. Maybe.

Or maybe fucking Dream will breathe again and all the fucking children will piss their pants and clog up Twitter, fuck these kids, get off my internet, GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

[itsmalachitenow]

BAT001- Down the Rabbit Hole

BAT001 – Case #0212403, taken from the files of Office 31 of the Gotham City Police Department 

Statement of Alice Pleasance, regarding her close encounter with one Jervis Tetch.

-STATEMENT BEGINS-

I know. I know, okay? You don’t have to tell me. I know I don’t match the picture on my driver’s license. I’ve been meaning to get it redone. But when you’ve been missing for a month and a half, a lot of things you mean to get done get piled up, and it takes awhile to deal with them. If the hair dye and piercings bother you that much, I can just leave.

…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just…all of this has been awful for me. I think coming in and saying what happened, getting it all put down on paper, will help me process it. At least, that’s what my therapist says. You’ll have to bear with me. A lot of it is blurry now.

So….here we go. From the top.

It started with a hole in the road.

It was February 13th. …I don’t actually remember which day I disappeared, but that was apparently the last time anyone had seen me, so that’s what we’re going with. I remember feeling…sad. Lonely. You know that feeling when you see couples walking around everywhere and you’re single? Yeah. That’s it.

I was heading home. I work…worked at…a division of Wayne Enterprises. I was a secretary. I can’t do it anymore, though, after what that bastard did to me. But we’ll get to that.

I was taking a different route from usual. I thought I’d pick up some takeout on the way home, maybe a tub of ice cream, really treat myself, you know? To hell with valentine’s day and to hell with romance. Who needs love, right?

And…I guess part of me was hoping I’d find something interesting. Something to brighten up my day.

I turned down the street corner and was debating what I’d order from Dragon Palace when I saw the hole.

Now…you have to understand. This was a big hole. It was big enough to take up the entire street. I wondered if there was some kind of renovation going on with the sewers or repaving the road, but there wasn’t any kind of construction equipment or signs anywhere.

…but there was a stuffed rabbit.

It was a battered old thing. I think it used to be white, but now it was more of a dingy yellow color, with patches of fur scuffed off. Honestly, I got a creepy vibe from it. I remember staring into its big glass eyes and wondering if the kid who’d dropped it was better off for losing it.

And then it moved.

Not on its own, of course. I’m not an idiot. Something…tugged it, towards the hole, and it skidded across the pavement until the tugging stopped.

By that point, I was ready to get the hell out of there and go home the usual way. This is Gotham. I knew something fishy was going on, and I didn’t want any part in it. So I tried to turn around…

…and stopped.

Maybe that’s the wrong way to say it. I guess I should say, something stopped me from turning.

I could still move my feet, my arms, my head! But whatever had grabbed me wasn’t letting me do anything with them.

I saw the rabbit skitter a few feet forward again.

But this time, some force pulled me after it. It was…like someone wrapped a rope around me, and was pulling it like they were pulling the stuffed toy.

By that point, I was wondering if I was dreaming. I had to be, right? Even then, I recognized the similarities to that story—Alice in Wonderland? I know this is Gotham, and things are weird in Gotham, but girls named Alice don’t just chase a toy rabbit into a hole that spawned in the middle of the street. They don’t!

But it kept going. The rabbit would move, and then I’d move. It would move, then I would move. Until eventually the rabbit disappeared down the pit, and I was standing at the very edge of it.

My heart was beating so hard I could hear it, watching that stuffed toy fall into the darkness. I remember listening for it, waiting to hear it hit the ground…

…but somehow, some part of me knew that I wouldn’t.

I tried to fight back. But whatever was pulling me didn’t like that, and it gave one more hard yank. The next thing I knew, I was tumbling down, down, down into the dark.

This is where it all gets blurry for me. So…sorry in advance, I guess.

I was screaming. I remember that much, even though everything after the fall is…murky. I was screaming my head off as I fell down that pit. But somehow, the landing didn’t kill me. I hit something soft…mushrooms? Were they mushrooms? I think they were.

But now the rabbit was back in sight, and now I could see what was moving it. There was a bright red string attached to it, and it was pulling the thing along.

And now there was a bright red string attached to me, coming out of my chest, and it was pulling me right along after it.

I don’t remember how long I ran. It was a very long hallway, with twists and turns…I remember doors. But I didn’t give them so much as a second glance. I wouldn’t have, even if I weren’t struggling to keep my balance with the thread pulling me along. Some part of me knew…that they weren’t for me. Does that make sense?

Whatever. The doors don’t matter. The hallway doesn’t matter—it eventually gave way to…all these bright colors. It seemed like the landscape was changing itself around me. I remember flowers bigger than me, ones that waved to me as I passed them, I remember a technicolor forest…

…but we didn’t stop until we reached the tea party.

It was a huge table, about twenty feet long, covered in all kinds of teapots and cups. There were a few people sitting there. But…it was wrong. The whole thing was wrong.

A man and an older woman were seated across from eachother, drinking tea and chattering about something I couldn’t hear. But none of their movements were on their own—they had red string, the same kind that was attached to me, wrapped around all their limbs. Like puppets…they were like human puppets, being guided through the motions, with half-lidded and glassy eyes.

And sitting between the two of them was a man. That bastard—Jervis Tetch. I know his name now, but at the time I just thought he looked like the Mad Hatter had stepped straight out of the storybook. His fingers were entwined in red string, and he was playing cat’s cradle with them. Do you know that game? The one where you take a large loop of string and make shapes with it? That’s what he was doing—staring intently at his fingers as he moved the string and contorted it.

…and then he looked at me.

He stopped his hands, and the others at the table stopped what they were doing. They just…hung there, like marionettes. Lifeless.

Those huge red eyes were boring into me. He said my name, like a question. “Alice?” He tilted his head at me, like a kid might do at an unexpected toy.

I didn’t say anything. At least, I don’t think I did. I didn’t understand anything that was going on.

And then he smiled at me. That smile…it was horrible to look at. It curled across his face, wider than any human’s should be, with more teeth than any human should have. And what he said next, I remember more clearly than anything else in that horrible place.

“Your hair wants cutting.”

He never did, though. Cut my hair, I mean. In fact, I think my hair was his favorite thing about me—the way he’d coo to me as he brushed it…he ended up putting those same strings on me that those other people had. I couldn’t fight back—he was stronger than I was, especially once the strings were on. My limbs just…stopped working.

The rest of it is mostly a fever dream. We had tea parties and played croquet and ran about, all with me in some hideous Alice dress and parroting the things he wanted me to say. I begged him to let me go, of course. But he’d just tut and tap my nose. Something about me being ‘naughty’. Oh, I could’ve killed him.

None of it felt real. It was…it was bad. That’s the only way I can think to summarize it. Icky. Not right. Wrong. Jesus—listening to myself is painful. Any of those words, amplified a hundred times, wouldn’t be enough to describe the sensation that went on down there, down in ‘Wonderland.’

I saw him kill a man down there. Or maybe the man was already dead. Either way, when the Hatter took a pair of scissors out of his coat and cut the threads holding him up, he didn’t try to get back up again. The Hatter just shook his head, and I watched the dead-eyed man sink down into the floor like quicksand. How many others had he done that to??

Toys. We were all toys, to be discarded when we were too broken to be fun anymore.

There were dozens of people down there.

Not just anyone, either—some of them…some of them I recognized. Cheryl Reed, an older woman who worked in the same building as me—she was down there too, dressed up all in red and crowing for decapitation. She didn’t recognize me, even when I pleaded her to. Or maybe she was just pretending. When the Hatter stomped his foot and demanded we ‘stop that nonsense’, neither of us felt like fighting back.

Neither of us wanted to end up like that man on the floor.

…thinking back…I don’t think all of us were tied up. There was a man who was…different. I know he was different, because he could walk around on his own. No strings. And I never saw the Hatter dress him. Instead of the gaudy colorful clothes he put us in, this person was walking around in a drab brown business suit. He was…tall, yes, he was tall. Taller than the Hatter by at least a foot or two. Brown hair. Glasses…a very sharp chin.

He’d show up sometimes. The Hatter would get very excited when he came to the table, and he made me curtsey to him the first time he came. Introduced him as…J…something. It was a J name. Jonah? James? I guess it doesn’t matter. The name the Hatter gave him was ‘the March Hare’. Whoever he was, the March Hare made it very clear that he wasn’t interested in helping me, or any of us. He’d sit down and talk to the Hatter. I could never follow the conversation, or remember it clearly. …always something about ‘spirals’, I think.

But the important bit here is that the March Hare could leave.

He had a pair of scissors in his pocket, and he’d just….cut through the air, tear a large dark hole into reality, and step through it. The Hatter would stitch it back together with the same red thread he used on the rest of us, though the closed rip would eventually fade into nothing.

It’s how I escaped.

See, most of the time he would take me with him wherever he was going or whatever game he was playing. I was his favorite that way. But everyone else, he’d have them doing something on their own without him having to constantly keep an eye on them. I guess you could call it ‘autopilot’.

After some romp with the Walrus and the Carpenter, we were coming back to the tea table, and I saw a chance at salvation. The Hatter’s scissors weren’t in his pocket anymore—they were laying there, on the floor, just under the tablecloth. He must have dropped them! I knew I had to act fast—who knew when I’d get another chance?

I brought up some fake inconsistency—that the Carpenter had a limb loose, or something like that. I remember how agitated he got. Insisting to me that no, the Carpenter did not have a loose limb, all the strings were still tightly in place. But I kept insisting, and he actually started to doubt himself to the point where he finally buckled and was going to go back and check. He tried to bring me along, but I huffed and said my feet were tired, I wanted to sit down and drink my tea and eat my biscuits.

Normally he would’ve scolded me and made me come along anyway, but I think by that point I’d stressed him out enough that he just let me sit as he hurried off, and for the first time in what felt like years, I was alone again.

It took…a lot of effort, to move on my own. It’s probably the hardest thing I’d ever done. But I managed to pull against the strings, to bend down, to pick up the scissors. And I cut myself free.

The minute the blades cut through the first strand of thread, I knew I’d made a mistake. He’d felt it. And he was coming back. Fortunately, with my arm free, it was much easier to get the rest of the string off of me.

I almost didn’t get out. By the time I was off my strings, the Hatter was practically flying back towards me, angrier than I’d ever seen him. He was screaming at me, screaming at me to stop, that he’d punish me if I went any further.

I tried swinging the scissors through the air, and I almost sobbed when nothing was happening. No portal was appearing, no salvation was coming…I was going to be a doll forever, or until he decided he was done with me.

But then, a thought drifted through my mind. It was something one of my old lecturers at university had said. The gist of it isn’t really important here—but I remembered the phrase ‘fabric of reality.’

When I was thinking of that phrase, suddenly I felt the blade of the scissors catch on something, and I was quick to pull it down. Like you’d tear through a sheet of fabric in your way.

Just before he could grab hold of me, I dove into the hole I’d made.

And then I woke up.

…well…I woke up on the pavement, with paramedics and a crowd gathered around me, along with reporters. The missing Alice Pleasance, returned home in strange clothes, and…you know the rest. Read the newspaper articles if you really want a rehash of that. Honestly, lying there on the street, I thought it really was a dream, that maybe I’d just gotten hit by a car or something and blacked out….but there’s a problem with that. One, I’d been missing for a month and a half, and two, I still had the Hatter’s scissors. I’m leaving them with you. Lord knows I don’t want them. And maybe they’ll help in your investigation.

I cut my hair. It was the first thing I did once I was out of the hospital. I threw out most of my old clothes, all of them were too close to the costumes he had me in for my liking. And every time I looked in the mirror, I saw Alice. Sweet, sassy, stupid Alice, from the books. …I can’t even think of those books now without feeling sick.

I had to quit my job. I can’t focus for long periods anymore, no matter how hard I try. I just lose track of the time, and all of a sudden it’s four hours later than when I last checked. Most of the time, I just stay in nowadays.

…and that’s not all…

Sometimes, when I look around outside…I can see red strings everywhere. Covering everyone. Guiding them. Controlling them. It’s not real. I know it’s not real. And most of the time, I can blink a few times or rub my eyes, and the strings will be gone.

Jervis Tetch…that monster…he ruined my life.

I don’t know how you’d go about capturing someone like that.

But I really hope this helps you catch him.

Archivist Notes: The scissors Ms. Pleasance included with her statement are now in artifact storage, awaiting inspection. If what Ms. Pleasance says is true, this marks the first documented case where someone’s ever escaped from Jervis Tetch—alive, anyway, instead of lying dead in some back alley as if they’d dropped from the sky.

One other thing to note is the description of the ‘March Hare.’ It might be a stretch, but it aligns very closely with a missing person’s report that’s currently ongoing. The case of one Jonathan Crane, missing for at least a year, and appearing in proximity to dangerous individuals. Something to look in to.

-END DOCUMENT-

[emwritesfootball]

Proud of You | Roman Bürki

An unexpected addition to @footballffbarbiex‘s Big Screen Writing Challenge. (Amy, please don’t kill me for this. I was just looking for someone to write this very sad scene with and @lawsandother​ suggested Roman and I couldn’t say no. CC’ing @sunslittlesister​ so you can cry, too, Dana xx)

Taken from the Season 6, Episode 8 of Schitt’s Creek scenes between Ted and Alexis.

Word Count: 2,943 Warnings: angst (I cried writing this)

It felt so unrealistic to wake up next to him that she almost thought she was dreaming for a moment when she woke up from her mid-afternoon, post-sex nap. Roman had been in and out of her life for the last six years, but lately each visit seemed to bring a sense of dread that neither one of them could place. Timing had never been a strong suit when it came to their relationship, but they’d been trying like hell to make it work.

When he’d been at SC Freiburg, things had been a bit easier. The two-hour commute on the weekends or for special occasions felt like nothing and she always looked forward to those Fridays or Mondays off work so she could have just one more day with him. Then came Dortmund, or ‘the beginning of the end’ as she had started to think of these last five years. The distance added five hours to her drive, and in the beginning, it was worth it. She still got almost two days with him, but each time she left the pit in her stomach grew. For two years, they saw each other twice a month; then once a month for a year. Now, he only came to visit her when he got a call-up to the national team or when he came back to Münsingen for a holiday break, the latter of which seemed to happen more often as he hadn’t gotten a call-up since 2018. 

“You’re awake,” Roman mumbled, his eyes still closed but he could feel her presence as if she were a part of his own body.

“I am,” she confirmed, lifting up his tattooed arm so she could tuck herself into his side. She pressed a kiss to his chest, sighing contentedly.

“Did we switch places?” Roman joked, his chest rising and falling as he chuckled. “Usually I’m the one up before you.”

“Just wanted to surprise you, I guess,” she answered, feeling guilty at the lie that so easily fell from her lips. I couldn’t sleep knowing you have to leave me tonight.

She had stayed up for the half-hour that he’d napped, replaying their relationship over and over, all the good and the bad moments on a loop until she couldn’t take it anymore. The worst part about it all was that he had come to surprise her this time, but she was the one who had to be realistic.

She’d been working on a logo for a new up-and-coming local shop set to open soon - the newest in a long line of new clientele that had steadily started hiring her one-woman graphic design company - when she’d heard a rhythmic knock on the door. Thinking nothing of it, she set down her pen and walked over to the door of her studio, shocked but elated to find Roman on the other side.

“Oh, my god, Roman!” She’d squealed, jumping into his arms for a tight embrace. She hadn’t seen him in almost eight months and words couldn’t describe how good it felt to see his face after so long. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to surprise you,” he said, smiling shyly.

She hadn’t expected it to feel this awkward. After all, they were still in a relationship...just one that happened to be almost 700 kilometers away and one where they stopped FaceTiming as often as they used to. “Oh my god, uhm, hi!” She said brightly, taking his face in her hands and kissing him deeply.

“Hi,” he mumbled when the kiss ended, reaching into his back and pulling out a Steiff bear wearing a t-shirt. “Sorry, there were limited options at the hotel gift shop.”

“Mehr Bier, bitte!” She read, laughing at the words. “So sweet.” Not quite sure what to say, she pulled him in for another hug. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too,” Roman murmured, burying his face in the crook of her neck and inhaling her scent that he’d missed these last eight months. 

“Wait…” she paused, putting the pieces together, “there’s no break for months. What are you doing here?”

Roman looked away, wishing for a brief moment that he hadn’t fallen in love with such a perceptive woman, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. “I picked up a small injury in the match on Friday, so I was told to take a long weekend.”

Her brow furrowed as she did the math. “But today’s Sunday. How come you didn’t get here until,” she paused, checking her watch, “half-past noon today?”

“Well, I was supposed to be here yesterday morning, but I had some unforeseen car troubles.” Roman cringed, remembering the incident. “Got a flat within the first two hours of my drive, so I had to get my car repaired, which took longer than expected. Then, something happened with my engine that required an overnight repair and I didn’t make it out here until now.”

“That’s okay,” she cooed, running her fingers over the beard he’d been growing for ages now. “So, how long do we actually have, then?”

Roman sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Just today.”

“Oh, wow, okay. Enough about your car troubles, then.” She took his hand and dragged him over to her bed, kneeling on it as she wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders.

“I just want to be with you and catch up and talk,” he said, leaning down to capture her lips in his before he laid her down on the bed and covered her body with his.

There had been no other way to describe what he’d done with her except that he’d made love to her. His love for her was in every kiss that he place on her body; every word from his lips and every caress across her skin. When he’d asked if they could cuddle afterwards as he pulled her into his side and subsequently fell asleep, a part of her couldn’t help wondering just what the future held. 

“You still with me, Schatz?” Roman asked, nudging her playfully to get her attention.

“Yeah, sorry,” she replied, clearing her throat as he brought her out of her head once again. “Got distracted, is all.” When she looked over at him, the look on her face had her stomach dropping. “Is everything okay?”

Roman took a deep inhale, steadying himself for what he was about to say; no matter how many times he’d rehearsed it in his head, it still pained him to say it. “I just..thought that it was important that we have this conversation in person.”

Her heart started to race, and for a moment all she could hear was the blood pounding in her ears as it pumped through her veins. “Roman, are you breaking up with me?”

“No,” he answered quickly, shaking his head. “That’s the last thing I want to do.” He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into him, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

“Oh, thank god.” She breathed a sigh of relief, tracing the tattoo on his pec. “Then, what is it?”

“I don’t remember when we last talked about this, but my contract with Dortmund is up at the end of this year and the managers want to talk to me about re-signing.”

“Wow,” she said, stunned. Of course she was well aware of how good he was, regardless of how long it had been since he’d gotten a National Team call-up. He was a key player for Dortmund, starting almost every match, and even though she cringed every time the ball came his way, she tried to watch all of his appearances whether he knew it or not. “How long would your new contract last?”

“The foreseeable future. Five years at minimum is what we discussed, provided I don’t have any major injuries. We even talked about the possibility of me retiring with the club, but that’s at least a decade away if things go my way.”

She cursed in Swiss-tinted German, the unexpectedness of it all hitting her like a punch to the gut. Tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked them back, hoping Roman hadn’t seen them. “That’s a long time,” she said when she’d regained her composure, trying desperately to find some small bit of hope to cling onto.

“Yeah…”Roman agreed, trailing off. “I just… I keep waiting for things to get easier for us.”

“So, uh, what are you gonna tell them?” She asked, placing a hand on his forearm as some modicum of reassurance.

“I- I don’t know. I was hoping that the drive to you would clear my head and show me the right answer, but-” he took her hand in one of his, focusing on that so he wouldn’t have to look her in the eye, “seeing you? I don’t wanna lose this.” He took her hand and placed it over the tattoo on his chest so she could feel his heartbeat under her fingertips.

“Okay, so what do we do?” She asked, her brain already switching into work-mode trying to figure it all out. “Do I just pack up my life and move to Dortmund with you?”

“Or I move back here,” Roman said, and she could already hear the melancholy in his voice.

“And turn down the opportunity to finish out your career at a great club before you move onto the next chapter of your life,” she finished for him, the heavy feeling in her heart returning.

Roman sighed, running a hand over his scruff and then through his hair, not knowing what to do. “I was hoping that we’d have the weekend to talk it over, figure it out, formulate a plan, but then-”

“Your car, I know,” she replied, unable to keep the bitterness out of her tone. A lump was starting to form in her throat and she knew the tears were going to start falling very soon, and she knew that if they did, she wouldn’t be able to stop them until she was all cried out. “I’m gonna need a minute to think about this…”

“There has to be a way through this.” Roman felt like he was pleading now, hanging on to the one reason outside of family he came back to Münsingen. 

She gave him a sad, watery smile, taking his face in her hands and giving him a soft kiss. “I liked this a whole lot better before we started talking.”

“Me, too.”

- - -

She took a walk while Roman showered, accidentally wandering into the café they’d met at six years before. It wasn’t often that she came to this café as everywhere she looked seemed to remind her of them and the time they’d spent here together. 

The same person who’d waited on them the very first time all those years ago was still behind the counter, greeting her the moment she walked in. “I haven’t seen you around here in awhile,” the old woman said, giving her a warm smile.

“I haven’t had much reason to be back here in awhile,” she answered, taking a seat at one of the stools at the bar area. “I just needed to get out and...clear my head.”

The woman nodded solemnly, pouring a cold glass of water. “Is everything okay?”

“I don't know.” It was an honest answer, but one she hadn’t voiced until now, the words sounding odd coming out of her mouth. She ordered her usual, her mind wandering back to the very first time she’d met Roman here. 

The old woman said her name a few times, finally getting her out of her reverie. “Here’s your order,” she said, nudging the cup toward her.

“Do you ever have those days where you wonder why things can’t just be easier?” The question was out of her mouth before she could even stop it, but thankfully there wasn’t anyone else but her and the old woman in the cafe. 

“Why? What’s wrong?”

Those three words opened up a flood of emotions and before she knew it, she was pouring her heart out to the woman behind the counter. She wasn’t sure if the woman knew who she was talking about - with a population of a little more than 11 000, Münsingen was on the larger side of municipalities, but with only a handful of well-known professional footballers, she couldn’t be sure. 

By the time she walked out of the cafe, she knew what she was going to do.

- - -

Roman double-checked the address on his phone for what felt like the hundredth time, but he knew he had it right. He stood outside, adjusting his suit and tie one final time as he took in the sign for the café. There had been a weird feeling in his gut from the moment she’d left to the moment he’d received her text telling him to meet her here at this address at 7pm. 

The little bell at the top of the door jingled as he entered, signalling his arrival. Roman turned the corner to find the café completely empty, save for his girl in the centre of the room, ‘their’ booth adorned with candles and wine. Jazz music was playing softly over the speaker, and Roman couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“What is all this?” He asked, his gaze roaming over her. She was dressed in one of his favourite dresses on her, and Roman felt awestruck in her presence.

“Sit,” she said, gesturing to ‘his’ side of the booth as she took her own seat opposite him.

“Did you close down the whole café?” Roman tried to make conversation, unsure of what to do next.

She lifted a shoulder in a partial shrug. “I’ll leave that to your imagination.”

Just then, the old woman came over. Roman felt like he was back in that café seeing the woman he now called his girlfriend for the first time, familiarity shocking him unexpectedly. “So, the set menu for tonight is mozzarella sticks, four-cheese lasagna, and a blueberry cheesecake for dessert.”

“That’s a lot of dairy,” Roman balked but couldn’t hide the fact that he was very hungry and it all sounded appetizing.

“All your cheat-day favourites,” she said as the woman walked away. 

Roman’s chest tightened at the gesture that subtly hinted how well she knew him. The crossroads they were at now was just a bump in the road he kept internally repeating to himself, hoping he’d start to believe it soon. “So…” he started, clearing his throat. A part of him didn’t want to do this now before they’d even eaten, but he’d be remiss if he didn’t at least say something.

She said, the words for him, though, and time seemed to stop. “You can’t move back here, Roman. You’ve been offered the job of your dreams and there’s no turning back now. Just think of all the trophies you can bring to Dortmund. Maybe you’ll even get another national team call-up before you retire. You’ve got so much to accomplish in Germany and I don’t want to hold you back.”

“What about you?” Roman asked. He felt like he was grasping at straws, but he needed to know that she was going to be okay without him even if it broke him. “What are you gonna do?”

“I can’t move with you, Roman.”

“I wouldn’t let you even if you tried. You’re building something special here with your graphic design business, and you deserve to see where it takes you.” Roman swallowed past the lump in his throat, reaching across the table for her hand. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m so proud of you.” She played with his fingers, trying to steady her emotions. “I’d like to think that we helped each other get here.”

Roman’s other hand came up, taking her chin between his thumb and index finger so she could look at him as he said with certainty, “I know we did.”

“And when you drive back to Dortmund tomorrow, I want you to know how grateful I am to have met you.” 

“I don’t think I’m ever going to meet another woman who made me feel the way that you do.” Roman’s eyes searched hers. He needed her to know that he spoke the truth. Losing her would be the biggest loss of his life, but on some level he’d known that this was going to be the last trip he made to see her the moment he’d turned onto her street and this confirmed it.

“I’m sure there’ll be some other woman...somewhere.” She tried to make a joke but it fell flat, the thought of Roman moving on to someone new making her want to cry.

Finally defeated, Roman sighed. “Can’t say that we didn’t try.”

Six, almost seven, years. That was how long the two of them had supported the other, through good and bad. There had been some rough patches and more than a few fights, but they’d always come back from them stronger than ever. 

“I love you, Roman,” she whispered, releasing his hand.

“I love you, too.”

Roman leaned in and she did, too, their lips meeting in soft kiss goodbye that said all they couldn’t say with words.

With tears in her eyes, she stood up and Roman instinctively shifted over so that she could come sit next to him in the booth. He put an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into him. Reaching over, Roman grabbed his wine glass and gesticulated a toast. “To us.”

She did the same, looking over at him as their glasses clinked together.

“To us.”

[nellie-elizabeth]

Grey's Anatomy: All Tomorrow's Parties/The Center Won't Hold (17x01/02)

Scout is indeed a cute name but it was weird that they just looped around to the original name that we'd all already heard! But whatever. Adorable. As for the rest of the episode(s)? Let's take a look!

Cons:

I a not a fan of Owen, I never really have been, so I especially resent being in a position where I feel like I need to be on his side. But Teddy? God, Teddy sucks, y'all. It's such a bummer. I loved her character once upon a time, but I don't really see a way forward from this where I can ever root for her again. Not only did she cheat on Owen, often, but when Owen gave her every opportunity to open up, when he tried to salvage something of their trust by giving her chance after chance to come clean, she still maintained her silence. Like, honestly, screw her for that. She gives Jo a whole speech about how she sabotaged her happiness because it was so unfamiliar to her, but no, I'm sorry, give me a break... remember that backstory where she was having an affair with her roommate's girlfriend who then died? And then all of this with Tom? She's a serial adulterer and not a good person.

Speaking of relationship woes... I maintain that Catherine Fox sucks. Without broader context, within this episode, it seems like it's a story about two people who hurt each other but love each other deeply, and I did like that Catherine actually used her words and apologized. But with the broader context? I just honestly don't get the affection between them. I don't believe in their love for one another. Stubborn pride is one thing, but the level of malice behind Catherine's actions? Not acceptable. Also, yes, Richard was wrong to hang out with a woman who was clearly interested in him, but this was during a time when he and Catherine were hardly speaking and basically separated, and I honestly think Catherine's behavior was way worse, over all! But even setting aside my dislike for Catherine... I just don't care about their romance!

I hope Levi gets a nice boyfriend right the fuck now, I'm sick of Nico haunting him. I want real resolution here. On the other hand, I'm glad to see that Levi still gets little subplots of his own. He's become an unexpected fave for me.

Gonna throw this out there right now: I hope Jackson and Jo are just friends and they don't do anything awkward with it from here. Please. Also, I thought Jackson and his girlfriend had already broken up, but then this episode showed a flash of them re-breaking up? Did I miss something?

While I appreciated the idea of jumping around in time to pre-Covid, through to the current situation, I also found moments of it a bit confusing, so I wanted to make a note of that as well.

Pros:

Amelia and Link are super cute! Fingers crossed this is the end of relationship drama for the both of them, because Scout is the perfect name for Atticus Lincoln's son, and they are the best Auntie and Uncle to Meredith's kids, and they're just genuinely sweet and seem happy together. While Amelia bothered me with a lot of her drama stuff with Owen, I think what we're seeing here is that her drama was feeding off of Owen's, and with a different partner the stress and pain and angst all just flow away! I'm on board the Amelia fan train at the moment! I loved how she did what she could to make up for missing Link's birthday.

Another formerly annoying character who becomes completely tolerable when in a happy relationship? Maggie! So cute! I love the long-distance thing, and I'm sure that'll cause problems, but for the moment it's absolutely adorable and I am all about it. Maggie deserves happiness. I even liked the scene with her and Catherine screaming out their frustrations, even though, as stated above, Catherine can fuck off.

I love the journey we're seeing with DeLuca. The intervention scene, with Carina so devastated and wanting to be there for her brother, and Meredith's words, asking him to fight for himself as hard as he fights for everyone else... that was all seriously so freakin' beautiful. And the girl that was being trafficked managed to get away, and was reunited with her family! Talk about a heartwarming development! Where we see Andrew now, he's doing better, he and Meredith are friendly if nothing else, and it's looking like he might be able to move past what happened and continue his successful career and a potential happy life.

While I don't want Jackson/Jo to be an actual thing, I loved the awkwardness of their little subplot here, it honestly made me so happy. Hilarious, truly. Jo is the funniest character on the show sometimes, so her crying into Jackson's mouth was honestly the most laugh-out-loud moment for me!

And the tear-jerker moment? Well, obviously when the two dads hugged in the hospital after one of them lost their son. They'd gotten into a knock-down-drag-out fight, but in that moment they were just two men in total solidarity. The fact that the kid died was so tragic, and I also thought it was a good moment of humanizing the Covid situation beyond just the basics of "wear a mask or else you're a dick." Those kids were STUPID to go to a party given the situation, but Covid didn't kill anyone, it was a fire that did that. And they were kids. At the end of the day, they should have been given the opportunity to grow up and do better. When the one dad was talking about how furious he was at his son for wasting his new kidney by going to a party, I really felt that. I have family members who are behaving irresponsibly during all of this, but that doesn't mean I think they deserve to die.

I liked Richard's plot, separate from the romance thing with Catherine, where he makes improvements at the hospital, comes into his own and regains authority after his medical issues from last year, and in the end gets to have Tom Koracick's job of Chief of Chiefs while Tom is demoted to just head of cardio!

I'm sure I'm missing someone, but I'm going to go ahead and turn to Meredith, now. Because wow! I really liked how Ellen Pompeo played this, the way she was cold and collected as she lost patient after patient to Covid, and had to tell family member after family member to come say goodbye. She has a breakdown in a supply closet (a Grey's Anatomy staple), and DeLuca helps her out. Throughout the episode, we see her really frazzled and rundown, but still trucking on, the way Meredith Grey does. And then... at the end of the episode, Dr. Hayes (dreamboat Irish doctor whose name I still had to look up), finds Meredith unconscious in the parking lot.

And Mer's on a beach. There's a figure in the distance, calling her name. It's... DEREK SHEPHERD! I don't care if this makes no sense and is ridiculous. If Izzy could have dream-sex with Ghost!Denny, let Meredith talk to her dead husband. Bring it on, I'm really excited to see what's next!

8/10

[mementomori-demimonde]

Hidden Scars

I - II - III - IV - V

Chapter 6

You decided to take a shower.

Miranda’s words, as always, swirl in your head - you kept hearing them throughout the whole night - and you just want to get some rest and get rid of the sensation of her hands on you, in your hair, her insistent touch, the bittersweet taste of her kisses on your lips. Sometimes, you feel like there’s something toxic on your skin that itches: a shower seems the best option to get rid of it… to get rid of her.

You hate that you let her get under your skin. You hate that she affects you so much even when she shouldn’t. You hate her that despite how badly she’s able to treat you, you still miss her at night, that you know, in a couple of days, you’ll be back at asking to join you to bed.

You hate it all, but you hate the sadness and the hurt that follows the most.

Because you know, somehow, she can shout and bite, and you also know that her threats are basically empty, but you can’t also pretend those words don’t hurt you at all.

Miranda is there, yet she’s far away; always around but so out of reach. Once upon a time, you thought something would come out of there, you thought that one day things would be clearer, but none of that is happening and you’re beginning to feel stuck.

When she’s in a good mood, being with Miranda is great, but when she’s in a foul one, well, it’s a whole different story - and after she’s made clear that nothing will ever come out from whatever is going on between you two - merely a kitten toy for her to play with when she feels like it - you don’t even see a future. What’s going to happen in a month, or in a week? Will you still be here, following orders, satisfying her request, without knowing why, nor if you’ll ever do something else in your life, besides existing and entertain your kidnapper in every way she sees fit?

Bowing your head low until your chin touches your chest, you exhale loudly and let the scalding hot water cascade above your head, rinsing the soap and some of your thoughts away. You imagine your hope for something more and your dream to walk out of that building with her, spiraling down in the drain and you laugh at yourself, not entirely sure if it’s just water streaming down your cheeks.

Perhaps if you’d paid more attention you would have noticed, beyond the steamed, blurry glass of the shower, the bathroom door opening; perhaps, if you hadn’t tried so hard to cover your pitiful sobs, you’d heard the ruffling noise of buttons opening, of zips pulled, of shoes dropped on the floor with the piles of discarded clothes already there; perhaps if you could’ve just owned up and act normal - and be normal in the first place - you wouldn’t be in this situation at all, simply living and taking what she gives you, no question asked, as Miranda said.

But you’re not: your eyes sting for the soap, your ears are too focused on registering your own whimpers over the water running, and you don’t acknowledge any of those things happening until you feel the cold air on your back as Miranda slides the shower door open.

You tense up immediately, furiously rubbing at your eyes to get rid of the soap and be able to look at her with some composure. Surely you don’t want to look weak and broken when you’ll tell her to leave or reply to one of her questions or complain about one of the challenges she’s planning to give you.

You’re expecting some vicious grips on your arm, you expect Miranda to pull you out, suddenly deciding your unnegotiated five minutes of hot water are over, you expect her to be her normal self, harsh and smug and unpredictable, yet none of that happens.

She is unpredictable, but not in her usual feral way. Because, instead of the expected violence, you feel her arms circling your waist, looping around your middle. You feel her body press against yours, her breasts flushed onto your back, and her skin is a different kind of warm compared to the water running over you both, now. You feel her lips resting almost purposelessly on your marked shoulder, then her cheek nuzzles in between your shoulder blades.

You’re taken off guards but that uncalled and unexpected show of affection, especially after you thought about your next encounter would’ve been a full display of the power she has over you, and so your arms drop slowly at your sides, hands balling up into two loose fists.

“I’m sorry.” She murmurs.

You wish you had the promptness to reach out and turn off the tap to hear her better, but those words are even more surprising than the rest.

“What?” You mumble, not even bothering to conceal your disbelief.

“I said that I’m sorry,” Miranda repeats with a sigh, and you helplessly follow her movement when, behind you, she begins to sway, “I get it: it’s my fault.”

You wish you also had the promptness to turn your head back and look into her eyes as she says so. Instead, you keep staring at the steam-coated tiles in front of you, unconsciously memorizing patterns that don’t really exist.

“Your fault?” You echo dumbly.

Miranda nods against your back.

“You can’t understand something you don’t know.” She whispers, you feel the tip of her nose drawing small circles on your dewed skin.

“You’re going to tell me what’s this all about?”

You almost believe her, for a moment. Then, when you dare to breathe, dare to let the thought of her actually apologizing and gathering the courage to make that longed-for promise of her trying to act better, vanish. The grip on your waist tightens, you can hear her breathing sharper into your wet hair.

“Of course not.” She replies with the familiar saccharine tone, but you can feel that her intentions are not as sweet as anybody else would think. “I’ll just be more patient with you.”

“What?” You blink in dismay, her elbows digging painfully into the hollow space of your waist for a moment before she untangles her arms from your, her hands settling on your hips, her fingers grasping with a bruising force.

On your back, you feel the pricking of her teeth over the smooth ridges of your scars. It stings a bit, but it only serves as a reminder.

“I’ll show you what will happen to you if you don’t listen to me and keep questioning what we’re doing and I’ll try to be very patient with you when you’ll start to complain.”

She spins you effortlessly, and now that your face is inches from hers, you can see yourself in the reflection of her eyes. Teeth bare, she’s grinning innocently when she lets you go, trapping you between the shower wall and her own body even without touching either - her presence is enough to discourage you from trying anything. She reaches behind you with both hands, presses her body against your own and you release a shuddering breath at the closeness, well knowing that, from there, only ugly things will happen.

You have very little time to react before she fists your hair, tugging once and with force, making you yelp, blinking rapidly as your face stands now under the direct scalding water, the ceiling blurred and cloudy beyond the showerhead.

You don’t know what she is doing with her other hand, but everything becomes clear when the water turns cold in a second - icy cold - and she keeps you under the stream with unfaltering strength when your stomach begins to spasm and your mouth open on its own volition. You shut your eyes tight, illegible complaints falling from your lips as you pant and splutter water.

You’re barely aware of the jerky movements of your hands and arms as you cling to her shoulders for balance - and to have something firm to hold on to while you feel like choking, dying in the cold, in the most horrible of ways.

Her other hand settles on the small of your back, keeping you flushed against her, keeping you upright and still.

“Relax.” Her voice is calm but easily reaches your ears above the cascade of water over your face. “It’s just the shock reaction, don’t fight it.”

You’re left there gasping for air like a goldfish, but her voice is anchoring and you focus on that, on the steady rise and fall of her chest against your own, spasming one, on the gentle rubs of her fingers on your loins. Slowly, you blink your eyes open, shivering due to the cold stream but able to bear it on your skin. You tilt your head to the side, wincing when you feel her tug tighten, and try to breathe through your nose, water and spit trailing down your chin as you empty your mouth.

“That’s it, clear your mind.” Miranda praises, her hot breath on your neck making you shiver even more. “You need to get used to cold temperatures. One can never know.”

The muscles in your neck protesting for the angle, you try to wiggle your head free, wincing at her fingers still entangled between your wet hair. The water still runs over your face and you’re still trying not to drown in it, your lungs burning painfully, begging for oxygen. You feel your stomach spasm one last time before she releases her fist and you stumble about, sure you would have fallen to your knees if Miranda hadn’t been there, squeezing you tight.

And what did she try to prove? Teaching how to control your body reaction in case you fall into a frozen lake? Or is it some torture she’s experimented on herself, inflicted by one of those enemies she fears? The next thing she’ll do, you can imagine, will be training your ability to hold your breath underwater, preferably at freezing temperatures - or boiling ones. Yes, but for what?

You cough up water from the back of your throat, but you cannot expand your chest fully, like you so desperately desire, because Miranda’s arms are crawling on your back, rubbing messy circles as she shushes you, suddenly all protective and indulgent.

“You dropped your guard.” She murmurs. Her head is tilted, her face is buried into your neck and wet hair and you desperately trying to breathe, eyes burning and tears streaming freely down your face, mixing with the water.

“What?” You manage to croak out, your throat stinging for all the useless spasming of your muscles in search of air. What does she mean? On what particular occasion? Right now? Three days ago when you let her jump on your back and pin you to the floor on your way to the kitchen? Two months ago when she kidnapped you in a dark alley?

“You knew I was coming for you, and yet you let me get close.” She says, her voice low and firm, but it doesn’t have any bite in it. She almost sounds… apologetic, but you know she’s not.

She’s talking about right now. When you were showering and thinking about her, and you noticed something was off and perceived Miranda’s presence and feared the outcome and yet did little or nothing to stop her.

“It was you, Miranda-” You blink, clearing your throat, and you sigh in relief when you notice you can breathe normally, without aching too much. “I guess I still want to talk about it." You sigh sharply. "I’m not scared. Whatever it is, I know you would never-”

“But I did hurt you in the past,” Miranda interjects, her ability to anticipate your thoughts leaving you once again speechless. Yes, you were about to say you're not fearing her because she would never really hurt you; you were about to blatantly lie. She knew and she stopped you, “I did hurt you already and I keep hurting you.” She doesn’t sound sorry as she says that, merely stating the truth. You can even hear her say that she’s doing all this for your own good, in your head.

Miranda turns off the water. You shiver against her.

“I'm aware.” Despite yourself, you relax in her hold, you slide your arms around her slender body when she starts to sway again, gently, the heat radiating from her body a welcome distraction from the freezing air hitting your back. “But it’s too late to be scared of you. I’m past that.”

Miranda sighs heavily in your hair. She swallows. You feel her hand crawling up your back, on the nape of your neck, her fingers grabbing your hair into her fist - she doesn’t tug, nor pull, but it’s possessive nonetheless.

“You mustn’t lower your guard, did you hear me?” She mumbles. “ You’ve learned a lot, but this might be my biggest failure.”

“What?” You almost sob, the word coming out squeezed as you rest your chin on top of her shoulder. Why are you so slow in getting the meaning of her words today? Has the cold water frozen your brain?

When she pushes you away, you hardly contain a whimper. You gather your arms close to your body, curling up on yourself as you try to cover as much skin as possible in the extreme attempt to stop shivering.

Miranda’s hands are on your face in an instant. She cups your head firmly, her fingers are cold against your cheeks. Her blue eyes are shimmering, boring into you with intent.

If you didn’t know better, you would say she was on the verge of crying.

“You mustn’t trust anybody.” She states, stressing every word.

You swallow, blinking rapidly but sustaining her gaze.

“You already know I trust you.”

In your head, you’ve just said something Miranda would be proud of. You imagined she would smile, praise you because that was exactly what she wanted to hear, that the world outside was a dangerous, vile place full of villains and threats while she is the only exception, the one who had saved you from a lame life, the only one who gives you a purpose.

Instead, Miranda frowns, her fingers pressing at either side of your head almost painfully. She clenches her jaw, and trembles with the effort.

“You mustn’t trust anybody.” She insists.

“Miranda, but it’s you-”

Her lips collide against yours and, just like the cold water, they steal your breath. Something within you, however, thaws out.

“Nobody.” She murmurs. “Especially me.”

Miranda leaves the room. Shivering, alone in the shower, you can’t do anything but listen to the water dripping by your feet.

[lambourngb]

Get me out of here - places to go when canon is complicated

It’s Day 3, time to celebrate those stories that I turn to when I can’t deal with canon, or when I don’t have the emotional energy to untangle all the emotions I have for what’s going on in canon. Alternative universes, the safe harbor for us. Below are a mix of rewrites of canon, remixes of canon, or out right not even set in Roswell- to fill every type distance you want from canon- from near to far.

The first story I’m reccing is a long one,- so pardon the very long review below.

my love is a life taker by @jocarthage (267,600) So one day, Jessi popped into discord to share a dream she had about timetravel and being able to save yourself in the past basically, particularly Alex getting to give his baby-self a hug, and we all went, “holy shit that’s a cool fic idea please write it!” and really reality sucks right now with quarantine and whatnot, so what better thing to do than follow a WIP? I can’t tell you how badly I needed to something to look forward to as I was staring down a milestone birthday with all my plans in tatters, and this story filled the void.

Okay- now about the actual story itself, the world building about time travel in this is incredible but easy to absorb. Jessi dumps you straight into the action in chapter 1 with Alex, at 28, assassinating an Iraqi intelligence agent in 2009 that averts a bomb that was planned on US forces. You learn so much about both the story-universe and Alex here- one, that even dressed in mask and killing someone, Alex is kind and uses morphine as an overdose and has arranged for his victim’s family to be compensated, you learn that time agents can only visit places they themselves have visited during that time, and Jesse Manes had dragged his son, who was ‘time aware’ to every place of war and ruin on the planet before he was 18 and that, Alex’s victim, even as he’s dying, recognizes what a shit childhood Alex had but that Alex doesn’t.

The next part is where Alex’s time crystal malfunctions, instead of returning him to 2018, it takes him to 1998 where an 8 year old Michael is getting beaten by his foster dad and Alex, out of his time line mysteriously, visible to only Michael, saves him, but only temporarily. We all know with abusers, until you’re out of the house, it’s just a matter of time before the next beating. However, with one act, Alex at 28 starts putting into action (even though he doesn’t recognize it at the time) the steps to save his own life as he works to save Michael from his childhood. Each mission, each jump through time, Alex meets Michael, always a year apart and only for 1000 seconds, or almost 17 minutes. Jessi takes you through some of the darkest points of US foreign policy, only as Alex takes control of his life, he also starts to change the missions, and change the world. The details of places, people, food, etc are authentic from the author’s experience, if you don’t click on the links at the end of the chapters and disappear down google-rabbit holes about the events in history, well- you’re made of stronger stuff than I am.  There are lots of heavy subjects discussed, but there’s always care and honesty behind the intent. The way Michael grows, the way Alex grows, and of course the journey to the present time when they could be together? It’s like pining on steroids but it’s so wonderful. I wish I could pull out one thing that I loved in particular in this story- but it’s impossible, only to say that I love that I could disappear completely within the confines of ‘my love is a life taker’ knowing that I would be kept safe by the author, that goodness prevails.


when I’m oceans away by @neapeaikea (28,000) this is a post-2008 shed canon-divergent AU where Alex Manes, after the best/worst night of his life bolts from Roswell and leaves Michael behind. 10 years later, on the hunt for a child conceived at Caulfield, Michael walks into a youth home in California and finds Alex. A few things, I love that this author writes an Alex who didn’t join the Air Force but still lost a leg, I don’t really enjoy disability erasure in modern AUs (I’m better at looking past that in historical or sci fi aus) . It’s pretty clear after five minutes that the connection between the two men is still there and strong despite anger, secrets and guilt. The teasing and flirting between them is great but so is the acceptance of baring their vulnerabilities. I loved the care they take with each other, and the tie in to an alien child is just so perfect.

Crucibles (series) @ninswhimsy (9,000)- I’m cheating and naming both here, but obviously nin had her finger on the pulse of fandom, by writing crusade-set queer stories before The Old Guard ever boomed into a fandom from the movie. I was lucky enough to trade DMs over the ideas of holiness and the body, and how Alex would have treated himself, certain of his doomed soul, and how Michael would have responded in turn. It’s no secret I love everything Nin writes, but this series stuck in my mind. I will be drifting off to sleep, and think about Alex walking through the ancient city of Aleppo, ready to be done with his burden and Michael there with soft palms and scented oil, and boom! I reach for my kindle to re-read it.

no regrets if we walk this new road by @andrea-lyn (97,000) This author has written so many amazing AUs, some quite far away from canon events like her Mummy AU or her Avengers AU, but I have to say, I have a very soft-spot for this rewrite of season 1 for a lot of reasons. I mean, it’s 2020, so my appetite for Cop!Max is definitely at an all-time low, so the idea of exchanging his job with Kyle’s was extremely appealing. At least Kyle is a POC holding the badge, not a white man like our canon. Anyway, politics aside, this story is special to me for the scorching good Isobel/Kyle relationship that develops, the way Isobel sharpens herself into a lawyer (not an event planner) and how Michael rounds his own edges off in turn by becoming a teacher (and being secretly married).  Each deviation from canon made complete sense once you alter the way Rosa’s death affects the pod squad, and how they covered it up ripples out toward Liz, Kyle, etc. 


Layer on layer, down on down by @dotsayers (9,440) I love sci-fi tropes, especially time-loops, but they are incredibly hard to write (I know, I abandoned mine a while ago) so this story stands out because of just how well done the execution is and also the angst. Michael in a time loop about Caulfield, like how great/agonizing is that? The plot is so good, how it ties into Caulfield and why it happens in the first place, like wow.  The care, and the hurt, and the fatigue that Michael has in this story, oh you just want to wrap him in a blanket. There’s a tiny throwaway line about how one of the first things Michael learned to do in foster care was to make himself heavy and unmovable- and you instantly picture kid!Michael not wanting to be removed from a house - like my heart broke! The structure of the story, with the background of his just how much he loves Alex but how badly it hurts to see him die, really makes this study of 1x12 special. Along with all the angst, there’s tiny gallows humor lines, so am I weird, that I laughed through a couple of these scenes even as Michael kept dying?

Petty pace by @aewriting (11,600) Aewriting has a couple of stellar AUs, so trying to pick just one was difficult, but I rather feel this story is sadly underappreciated it (mind the tags). It was a remix of @iwontbeyourmedicine ‘s fantastic ‘Freaky Friday’, where the humans and aliens swap roles. Alex in the role of Michael basically was something I had never pictured until Ly wrote that story, and now feel utterly changed by it, especially with this backstory- the idea of Jesse Manes bringing a foster child home? Incredibly well done because there’s an off the charts level of menace in this story. The way Jesse watches Alex, who at first mistakes it for how a pedophile might size up a victim, but then catches on quickly that it’s so much worse in a lot of ways. And Alex is such a loner in the beginning, even as he reconnects with his pod siblings Liz and Maria, he’s still planning on keeping his head down and leaving Roswell far behind. Like freedom is literally the only thing he can conceive of for himself, no real dreams outside of that until Michael slips under his defenses. I probably could have saved this story for angst day- because the second half of the story, if you don’t sob while you read it, then I dunno. It’s helpful to read Ly’s story right afterward as a reminder that things do get better for Alex ten years later. In a lot of ways this story is sadder than canon (though there’s no murder of Rosa/4th alien), I’m comforted that at least Alex has Liz in the aftermath, alike in heartache in a way that Michael didn’t have because of the pact he and Max made about Isobel in canon.

Unexpected tidings by @bestillmyslashyheart (24,800) Another rewrite of canon, that explores a couple of very interesting questions, like what would it look like if Michael never made it back to Roswell as a kid but met Alex by chance in 2008? Imagine the cornerstone of the Lost Decade love affair revolving around the mundane questions of a long distance relationship that wasn’t built on the pain of the shed or Rosa’s death? Marlo writes an amazing take on this, that is both real and deep with the normal couple problems, before introducing that spanner in the works of oh yeah, aliens are real. With Michael on the east coast, and Alex finishing off his service in Roswell, Project Shepherd still entangles Alex with Liz bringing him in on the secret in hopes that with his hacker skills he can track down the third alien child that Max and Iz remember so they can warn him. As interesting as the current plot was, I found myself absolutely revitted the slow piecemeal reveals that Marlo doled out about Alex and Michael’s relationship over time. (I also while rereading this recently got very nostaglic for season 1 Alex who didn’t trust Jesse as far as he could toss him.) 

Don’t Punish Me For What I Feel by @winged-fool (3,600) Tarsus IV AU - another wonderful author with a catalog of great AUs, both sci-fi and dark, and honestly it was difficult to narrow it down to one. This story, well in 2009 I was a hard core Trek movie fan, so when I saw a trek-fusion story appear, I knew I would love it just on that basis. The thing is, this gave me Michael as the Captain, a surprisingly rare role for these space fusions, even though genius level repeat offender Jim Kirk and genius level repeat offender Michael Guerin seems pretty married in my mind as a connection. As a Tarsus-like story, all the tags are well earned by the story that Alex finally shares with Michael. It hit on so many levels, the hurt/comfort level for sure, but also to have a story where Michael is this stalwart protector of Alex was really nice to find. 

this isn’t the ‘holiday best friends championship’ by @usbournejez (6,090) alright to leave this on a lighter note, my final AU rec is this masterpiece by Kieran that was part of Malex Secret Santa gift fics- and what a gift it was to all of us! The way she writes established Malex is first-rate, because she always includes their canon-levels of snark/sharpness but it’s never directed at each other and that’s something I love. Here we have Alex, where we learn in just a few short lines, is a huge control freak but has the extremely big emotional handicap, and that’s his love/fondness/deserve to caretake Michael. Emotional cactus Alex who is soft for Michael? Love it. There are small drops of angsty backstory peppered in this, but really that just fuels just how sweet and wonderful the main theme of the story- which is Alex might hate the whole world at large, he loves, protects and worships Michael (and vice versa). As someone who can bake cookies, but that’s about it, I was still enthralled with the baking details and this story has never failed to encourage me to eat dessert before dinner basically. 

[hide-in-imagination]

“New Year’s Eve Is Okay (maybe even amazing)” - Simbar oneshot

The continuation of the Christmas oneshot you all asked for!!! ♡

Happy New Year, everyone ^^

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In her grandpa’s words, Christmas was for family. New Year’s Eve was for friends, your chosen family.  

Because family has always and will always be with you, he had told her once. New Years is to celebrate new things. The new people in your life.  

Yes, it sounded a little cheesy, and considering her history, Ámbar shouldn’t be very ecstatic about celebrating friendship, but she understood what he meant. She had always seen change as an opportunity for something new instead of something to be afraid of. And thank god for that mindset because she’d had to restart and do over a lot in her life. But now she was finally in a place where she felt accepted, and most importantly, fully comfortable with who she was, the friends she’d made along the way and the plans she had for the future.

And so, her tradition was to spend the New Years at some friend’s house or at a dance club, partying the night away and welcoming the new year dancing. It wasn’t that she was the kind of person who went ‘This is gonna be my year!’ or something and awaited midnight with vibrant excitement and twinkling eyes— She actually found it a little silly since every year always ended up being pretty much the same as the previous one and everyone she knew that made New Years resolutions never fulfilled any of them. But hey, it was a great excuse to get drunk, break free from all and any worries and dance and sing until her feet and throat were sore. As far as holidays went, that made New Years her unbeatable favorite. The only day better than that was her birthday.

This year, the pre-party was at her friend Emilia’s house, which consisted of about two hours of food and drinks before they all moved to a near club around eleven and waited for the stroke of midnight.

That was where Ámbar was right now, chatting with some friends in her dark blue shiny dress as she sipped from her drink. Normally, she would be checking the crowd, either here or at the club, looking for a handsome stranger to close the night with a flourish and then never see him again. But this year was different. This year, she wasn’t interested in any of that. Not because she’d gotten bored of the ‘good’ one-night stands which never quite managed to be ‘excellent.’ She could’ve carried on with that.

No, the reason was rather a person. A person that started with ‘S’ and ended with ‘imón, the unexpected friend of Luna who I can not stop thinking about.’

He hadn’t asked for her number that night at her grandpa’s Christmas dinner party, and she, stupidly, hadn’t done it either. Because, what if he got to know her better and decided she wasn’t his type? What if he turned out to be an awful guy and she ended up disappointed? She didn’t even know if he already had a girl he liked. Maybe she should just stay with the memory of one perfect night instead of risking it.  

Thoughts like that circled in her head on a loop until he left along with Luna and Matteo and she lost her chance. Later, surrounded by nothing but the solitude and quiet of her own apartment, she had regretted it immensely. She was Ámbar Smith; she was supposed to be braver than that.  

It’d been hard to sleep that night, between flashbacks that made her smile and the memory of their lingering stares when they said goodbye which wiped it right off.

Fortunately, her state of disappointment and self-loathing didn’t last too much, for the very next evening, she got a text saying:

‘You still haven’t managed to change my mind’  

Ámbar may had reacted a little too excitedly, doing what could only be described as a victory dance in her room. Which was ridiculous and so not warranted by a single text, but she really couldn’t help it. By the time she calmed down somewhat, she had two more texts.

‘Just a reminder in case you want to rectify that’

‘It’s Simón by the way’

Of course I know it’s you, her melted heart responded. Why did she find it so cute that he felt the need to clarify? She guessed it was just funny how he could act so confident and laid-back one minute and then shy and awkward in the next. Were they both part of him or did he hide one with the other? She didn’t really know him to know yet, but she found it endearing.

‘I’m guessing Luna gave you my number?’ She texted back, just to appear a little nonchalant. After all, contrary to what her attitude in the last five minutes may imply, she was not a twelve-year-old with a crush.

‘Maybe’ he replied.

He appeared as ‘writing’ for some time (during which her heart did not pound, thank you very much) as if he deleted and started again until he finally tapped sent.

‘She shouldn’t have?’

Now, Ámbar could’ve kept playing it cool and reply with something like “nah, it’s fine” or “I don’t mind either way”— that was probably the smartest move. But just as that night next to the snack table where her chest had ached at just the idea of him thinking that he was bothering her, she couldn’t bear to make him feel like that. So, she decided to be honest.

‘Actually… I think it’s the best thing she has done in a long time.’

 After that, they had talked every day. About many things, general topics like music, movies, TV shows, memes, funny videos… They’d talk about stuff that happened to them throughout the day, whether to vent (“The weather it’s way too hot, I’m melting here!”) or share something good (“A friend just got me the game I talked to you about!”)

Ámbar found herself laughing at every little joke he made, and she felt so happy whenever she made him laugh. She was a little embarrassed at how attentive she was to her phone, practically jumping at the smallest sound or vibration to check if it was a message from him. She got so disappointed when it wasn’t, but oh so very excited when it was. It was dumb and exaggerated, she knew it, but texting with Simón made her heart sing.

(And his ‘Goodnight, bonita’ might as well had made it explode.)

The voice notes didn’t take long in making an appearance (she may or may have not bookmarked some of his), and then there was that day Simón called her because he said he had his hands busy doing the dishes and so he couldn’t write.

Ámbar had told him that if he was busy then they could talk later (a stupid move considering how happy it made her to hear his voice and oh god, what if he hangs up now?) but Simón had replied that he’d put on earphones precisely for this reason and begged her to please save him from boredom while he washed his mountain of dishes. (He was not exaggerating; he had a big family).  

They’d talked for hours that day, long after he’d finished his task. They’d told each other stories of their lives and their families, shared dreams and goals they had in mind. She had laughed a lot and learned a lot about him, more than enough to completely erase her made-up story of the dedicated social worker and shape it into the passionate musician slash part-time waiter that he was. And yet she wanted to know more. Way more.

They didn’t talk about the kiss under the mistletoe in any of their conversations or made any plans about going out somewhere together. Ámbar didn’t know if she should bring it up or if it was too soon; they’d only been talking for a couple days after all. She’d probably seem too intense.

(“You are,” Emilia had told her the day prior, backing it up with the fact that in these few days she’d already memorized all of his band’s songs. It wasn’t her fault the songs were good. Or that his singing sounded so beautiful.)

Besides, Simón was making the most of spending time with his family now that they’d finally managed to arrive from London, and she herself had been meeting with different friends and co-workers around the city to exchange gifts and catch up, so maybe it wasn’t the best time to start anything either.

It didn’t stop her from wishing she could see him though.

He did ask her if she had plans for New Year’s Eve— a not so subtle question that made her smile because it meant he felt the same.  

Sadly, she had already made plans weeks ago to attend Emilia’s party along with many mutual and not mutual friends and ex college classmates. He said he too had planned to attend a friend’s party, and since he had pretty much helped organize the whole thing, he couldn’t not show up.  

Which brought Ámbar here, to the party with her friends, many guys hitting on her and she rejecting them all. She felt a little foolish, to be honest. It’s not like she was dating Simón or he had made any comment about them being exclusive or something. (And could someone be ‘exclusively talking to someone else’? Because that’s all they did. They were nothing. Seriously, it was laughable.) For all she knew, he could be sucking face with another girl right now at his party and here she was, dodging advances from hot guys.

They were handsome and smooth and the look in their eyes promised very fun things… but they weren’t Simón.

Ámbar felt very, very stupid.

 ---------------------------------

 Thirty minutes before midnight, Ámbar was singing along to the tunes the DJ played as the countdown steadily proceeded on the club’s wide screen. Thankfully, the place wasn’t as packed as a can of sardines since most people were either outside waiting for the fireworks display or at their homes waiting to hug their families so they could run out and join some party. That didn’t mean it was empty though, not in the slightest, but she could move from the bar and back without needing to elbow her way through, which was enough for her.

Many from the pre-party had already disappeared in the crowd, Emilia, the traitor, being the first, because “You may have put yourself in an imaginary leash but I’m free to do whatever I want, and what I want is for someone to do me.”

Ámbar would’ve defended herself but she’d asked Ramiro to be her kiss at midnight and that basically proved she was right. Ramiro was the closest thing she had to a male best friend; they’d known each other for years so she trusted him enough for it. Also, she knew he was just getting out of a toxic relationship, so he would not think of it as anything more than what it was.

To be honest, she wouldn’t kiss anyone, but she feared if she was standing alone by the time the clock stroke midnight, some drunk guy would jump her, so she thought it was better to prevent something like that from happening.

Simón had sent her a few texts every once in a while and a quick video of how the party was going over there.  

Good, she thought. So at least he remembers me in between sticking his tongue down other girls’ throats.

Yeah, by that point in the night and after her third glass of rum & coke, Ámbar had gotten pretty paranoid.

She’d responded briefly with emojis and by posting many Instagram stories of her own party. (If she happened to be with Ramiro in most of them, it was purely coincidental.)

“Who’s the guy?” Asked the aforementioned, looking at her phone’s screen over her shoulder. She was looking at a group selfie Simón had shared in his Stories to see if she could identify which of all those bitches was throwing herself at him right now. Her bet was on the curly-haired brunette with the tacky golden dress.

“None of your business,” she replied, locking her phone and putting it inside her bag.

“I’d say it is my business if you’re using me to make him jealous.”

She looked at him.

“Oh yeah, I’ve noticed,” he said, smiling very smugly.

“Shut up,” she said, and went to the bar for another drink.

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

 It was one minute to the New Year and with her fourth glass left empty somewhere and the energy from dancing in her veins, she was actually pretty pumped.  

That was until Ramiro went up to her and told her loud enough to be heard over the music—

“I’m gonna split up!”

Ámbar looked at him, taken aback. “W-what? But we agreed—”

“You’ll be fine!” He assured her and left her there to mix with the crowd. In seconds she couldn’t even see him anymore.

Ámbar scoffed. Thank you so much, friend.

He was right though; she didn’t need him. She was an independent woman who could take care of herself. She’d had to handle boy advances all her life; she could do it tonight too.

The excitement started growing in the crowd as the countdown on the screen marked 30 seconds. Some people ran to the bowls of grapes, ready to stuck 12 in their mouths as fast as they could. Some others prepared their party crackers and party horns. Those were pretty drunk.

Ámbar swallowed the piece of nougat in her mouth and readied herself to chant the countdown with the crowd.  

Ten!

There was a tap on her shoulder.

She rolled her eyes internally. Seriously? Already?

Nine!

She turned around to dispatch whatever guy that had come to bother her.

Eight!

Her heart skipped a beat.

Seven!

Simón smiled. Beautiful, timid, excited.

“Hi.”

Six!

Ámbar couldn’t comprehend, couldn’t even respond, only look at him and look at him and look at him because he was there and her heart was going to come out. 

Five!

He couldn’t stop looking at her either.

Four!

She knew that look. She’d seen it that night, when his eyes had searched hers for an answer.

Three!

There was more longing now, more eagerness, the question written on fire instead of a hopeful breeze.

Two!

She felt the same fire and more.

One!  

There was no need to ask.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

Simón held her face and kissed her.

Around them, the place roared with life, confetti fell like rain, but for Ámbar only his lips existed, only the softness of his hair as she drowned a hand in it, the leather of his jacket where she was holding onto him, the firmness of his body against hers, his hand sliding to her back to pull her closer.

The ceiling could’ve fallen down and she wouldn’t have let him go.

This time, she didn’t have to worry about stares or decorum. She didn’t have to pretend she didn’t want more, so she didn’t. She parted his lips and deepened the kiss, rejoicing in how he gripped her hips and kissed her harder. She wrapped her arms around his neck and took turns between letting him take whatever he wanted and pouring everything she felt into his mouth until neither could anymore breathe.

She didn’t know how long they were like that, only that they were left panting. They opened their eyes and time started moving again. All around them there were people dancing and singing, the music so loud it invited you to follow it.

Ámbar followed Simón instead, as he guided her by the hand to a more secluded place, far from the blaring speakers.

“How are you here?” She said in awe once they stopped. She’d think it was a dream if her lips didn’t still feel him, if it weren’t impossible for her body to simulate these many sensations.  

“You shared the name of the place many times on Instagram.”

She had. She could finally admit that she had been secretly hoping he would pick up on that. She was so glad he did.

“For a moment I thought I wasn’t gonna find you on time though,” he continued. “I got here minutes ago but there were so many people. Thankfully, your friend, the curly one, he saw me and pointed me in the right direction.”

Oh my god, Ramiro, I love you, you’re the best.  

“What about your party?” She asked.

He shrugged. “It’s not that far from here, just half an hour plus some walking. I could stay here for a while and then go back… Or I could just stay here with you, if you want me to.”

Somewhere, Ámbar was aware that that was a question, that he was hoping she’d want him to stay, but she couldn’t focus on that when she was almost out of air.  

“…Did you ride a bus for thirty minutes just to come kiss me at midnight?”

Simón averted his gaze and rubbed the back of his neck, looking embarrassed.

“Well… Actually, I took the subway. But it was really—”

She didn’t let him finish.

For the first time since they met, Ámbar kissed Simón not because of some tradition, not because of any excuse— Only because she wanted to.

Simón was surprised for a second before he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her back. Ámbar set to kiss him until it didn’t surprise him anymore, until he had no doubt that she was crazy about him, until he didn’t hesitate in front of her because she was wonderstruck just by him existing.  

They only parted far enough to look at each other. If her kiss didn’t fully convey it, he must have seen it in her eyes, because his arms didn’t let her go and a warm, happy smile grew on his face.

“So,” he said, nuzzling his nose to hers. “Any New Years’ resolutions?”

Ámbar thought about it, and for once, just this once, she chose to take a leap of faith.

“Ending the year like this wouldn’t be bad.”

She was scared of having said that because they only knew each other since some days ago and all her logic told her that most likely they’d only see each other for a month and then something would happen and they would never talk again. Pretending otherwise, actually thinking otherwise, was foolish; nothing more than hopeful thinking. It would only embarrass her later to know she said this.

But then he smiled that beautiful smile of his and she decided it was worth it.

“I think the same thing.”

  Both danced and kissed until late into the night, and two days later, they had their first real date.

And at the end of the year, when holiday season came, Ámbar arrived with Simón at her granpa’s house, and their New Year’s resolution came true when they were, once again, each other’s kiss at midnight.  

  …

..

.

[thecassadilla]

A Scarf to Keep Him Warm

Pairing: New Dream/Rapunzel x Eugene

Word Count: 1,754/AO3

Summary: Rapunzel decides to take matters into her own hands when she notices that Eugene doesn’t have any wintertime accessories.

Author’s Note: Hi again! I still hate fall, but I wrote another New Dream fic so yay! I was able to write about a skill that Rapunzel and I both share in this one - knitting! Although this is a modern!AU, Rapunzel is a skilled knitter just like she is in the movie. Writing this fic made me want to knit something even though I’ve devoted all of my time to writing these days lol. Anyway, enjoy!!!

In the years since she’d met him, Rapunzel learned a lot about the man known as Eugene Fitzherbert. From his meticulous hair styling and grooming routine, to the way he took his coffee, and everything in-between.

But the one thing that she couldn’t quite understand was his lack of preparedness for the colder seasons. A chill formed in the air, and while Rapunzel had added a hat, gloves, and a scarf to her outdoor ensemble, Eugene hadn’t added anything. He simply wore a black leather jacket, his hands buried deep in the pockets when they were outside for a prolonged period of time. 

The first winter they spent together, Rapunzel kept making the foolish assumption that he’d eventually add those missing pieces to his wardrobe. But soon, the air grew warm, and there was no longer a need for such accessories, and the assumption changed. Her new assumption was that he had a high tolerance for cold weather. Nonetheless, their pea coats and leather jackets were traded in for shorts and tank tops. 

But the seasons are cyclical, and autumn eventually returned. On one particularly brisk October morning, Rapunzel and Eugene sat at his kitchen table, discussing the rapid change of weather.

“Just yesterday it was sixty-five degrees!” he griped, setting two steaming mugs of coffee onto the table. “Today? It’s forty degrees! Should I break out the shovel just in case there’s an unexpected blizzard tomorrow?”

“Stranger things have happened,” Rapunzel shrugged, cradling the mug between her hands and relishing in its warmth.

“I’m getting really tired of the seasons,” he moaned. “I want to move somewhere where the seasons never change. Somewhere tropical and sunny. I hate cold weather.”

“I see,” she remarked, furrowing her eyebrows together and placing her mug back on the table. She leaned back in her chair, pondering what he had just said, before proceeding with her query. “How come you never wear anything that keeps you warm?”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t exactly wear clothing that keeps you warm during winter,” she explained. “I feel like if you wore a scarf or gloves, then the cold would be more tolerable.”

He sat still for a moment before answering, his face softening. “I never really had those things when I was growing up. So I guess I never really thought about buying them as an adult?”

“Eugene,” she cooed, reaching out and taking his hands in her own. “That’s awful. No wonder why you can’t stand the changing seasons - you suffer every time you go outside because you’re cold.”

“It’s really not a big deal, Sunshine,” he promised, averting his eyes. He was trying to downplay the situation. “I’m used to it. I’ll survive this winter, just like I survived the past twenty-three winters: with a bit of complaining, and my trusty old leather jacket.”

Rapunzel was not satisfied with his response. Why would he want to continue to suffer when the solution was so simple? So, she decided it was time to take matters into her own hands. If he didn’t want to buy a scarf, she would make him one. It would be more expensive and labor-intensive than simply buying him a scarf, but it would be worth it.

Knitting was one of the many talents that she acquired, but never put to use. It wasn’t a particularly difficult hobby, and she was grateful that she’d finally be able to put her skills to work. The following day, she spent hours on the Internet, researching patterns and types of yarn before taking a trip to the craft store. She wandered for what felt like hours, picking up the supplies that she knew she needed - particularly, size eleven needles - and the supplies that she wanted. After consulting with the sales associate, and taking trips to a few other craft stores, she finally found the yarn she was looking for; skeins of dark grey cashmere. It would match his leather jacket, and it would be softer against his skin than wool. Finally satisfied, she returned home to her apartment and set off to work.

The pattern she chose was fairly simple, and nothing to fuss about; a simple two-by-two rib stitch pattern. She followed the pattern closely, casting on thirty-nine immaculate loops. Knit two, purl two, repeat. Row after row, she sat for hours under the soft glow of the floor lamp in her tiny, cozy living room. It was easy to keep going; her hands growing accustomed to the back and forth motion of the needles, and the constant pulling of the yarn. When she finally put the needles down and glanced at her cell phone, she realized exactly how much time had passed. Fifteen text messages from Eugene that had gone ignored. Instead of answering them she decided it would be easier to call him. He answered after a few rings.

“Hey, Sunshine,” he crooned, his voice low and gravelly.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“It’s alright,” he insisted, and he suddenly sounded much more awake than he did the minute before. “I dozed off on the couch. I’m glad you called, we didn’t get to talk much today.”

“Sorry about that,” she grimaced. “I was a little preoccupied.”

“No need to be sorry. You were busy.”

“I still should’ve checked in.”

“I’m just happy to hear your voice.” She could practically hear him smiling through the phone and she found herself blushing. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

“No,” she sighed, glancing down at the project in her lap. “I have plans after work. Tuesday for sure, though.”

“Okay,” he said, softly. “I think I’m gonna head off to bed now.”

“Same here. My eyes are starting to burn.”

“Goodnight, Sunshine. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she smiled. “Sleep well, Eugene.”

Though, instead of making it to her bedroom, she settled back into the chair and slept there, too tired to move.

When she got back from work the next day, she settled into the same routine. Knitting and purling under the glow of her lamp until she finally felt satisfied with the length of the scarf. She began to bind off, making sure that the edges were even and perfect. When she finished the very last stitch, she rolled her shoulders back, releasing the tension that had built up while she was working on her project. She stood up, dropped the needles onto the chair and brought the scarf over to the mirror. She draped it over her own shoulders and around her neck, trying to picture what it would look like on Eugene.

She eventually took it off, and gently folded it so it would easily fit into her oversized purse, as the best way to catch him off guard was to not put his gift in a gift bag. And for the rest of the evening, she twiddled her thumbs and hoped that the clock would move faster so she could finally give the scarf to him. 

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

Rapunzel was buzzing with excitement by the time she finally made it to Eugene’s apartment, and she knew that she wouldn’t be able to hide the scarf from him for long once she actually saw him. She knocked a few times before he answered.

He was already smiling when he opened the door. “Hey, Rapunzel.”

“Hi,” she said, walking into the tiny hallway. They shared a quick, but sweet ‘hello’ kiss before she shimmied out of her jacket and hung it on the coat rack. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

They had barely made it any further into his apartment before she nearly exploded with eagerness. “So, I have something for you,” she said, rocking back on her heels and clutching her purse in her hands. “Something I made.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded. “You have to close your eyes, though.”

“Okay,” he agreed, squeezing them shut.

“No peeking,” she warned.

He shook his head. “No peeking.”

Content with his promise, she reached into the bag and unraveled the scarf. Taking it in her hands, she dropped the purse on his coffee table and stepped closer to Eugene, balancing on her toes before loosely draping it around his neck. Her cold fingers gently brushed across his cheek as she created a single loop, adjusting it so each end of the scarf was even and flat against his chest. Smiling, she took a step back, satisfied with her work.

“Okay, you can open your eyes.”

He did as he was told, and his eyes immediately darted down to the unfamiliar object that had been placed around his neck. A small smile appeared on his face and he gingerly took one end of the scarf in his hands, admiring the soft texture and the perfect stitches.

“You made this? For me?” he asked, almost in disbelief.

She nodded, her own lips creeping upwards. “That’s why I couldn’t see you yesterday. I wanted to finish it.”

“I don’t know what to say, Rapunzel,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He couldn’t seem to peel his eyes away from her craftsmanship. “This is the most generous gift anyone has ever given me. Thank you.”

Before she could respond, he was pulling her into a hug, squeezing her as tightly as he could, and burying his face into her neck. “I didn’t want you to be cold this winter,” she explained.  

“I didn’t even know that you knew how to knit,” he remarked, his voice muffled.

“I never mentioned it. It’s been a long time since I knit anything.”

He finally pulled away enough to look at her face. “I still don’t know what to say. I’m in shock.”

“I’m just glad that you like it.”

“How could I not like it? It’s so beautiful and thoughtful.”

“I could make you gloves, too. And a hat, if you want. The only thing that I can’t make you is a sweater because of the sweater curse.”

He looked puzzled. “The sweater curse?”

“It’s an old superstition. If you knit your significant other a sweater before you’re married, then the relationship will end.”

“Don’t do that,” he laughed, waving his hands. “No curses here, please.”

“No curses,” she promised.

“Thank you again, Rapunzel. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“You shouldn’t have to suffer through the cold weather, and I wanted to make sure that you wouldn’t,” she smiled. “I’m just happy that you’re happy.”

Without any hesitation, he took her back in his arms, both of them as safe and warm as could be.

[charpaige]

my canon chenry fantasy

Here’s how I would’ve made Chenry canon. This is a little bit over 2,300 words to compensate for the slow burn they should’ve got.

For starters, I would’ve started their relationship in Season 3. I know, I know, what about starting it in Season 1? We’ll let Henry enjoy all of his little love trysts in the first two seasons since those were actually pretty important to his character growth. It also allowed Charlotte and Henry to really bond and have some really important conversations. So, we keep those.

But, one of my favorite tropes is when someone close to a superhero gets kidnapped and they realize how important that kidnapped person is to them.

I would’ve had Charlotte get kidnapped by a new villain. A female villain too, since we barely had any of those. She’d be like Rick Twittler in a way. Since she shows up unexpected and adds a level of seriousness that the show hadn’t possessed yet. Let’s call her Miss H.

And of course, Charlotte being kidnapped drives Henry crazy because hey, one of his best friends are missing and it seems like Schwoz and Ray aren’t doing enough to bring her back.

So, Henry decides to take matters into his own hands. And predictably, he fails miserably in his rescue attempt and ends up captured with Charlotte.

While waiting for Ray and Schwoz to rescue them, the two of them have some serious bonding for a few days. They talk about missing Oreo milkshakes, wonder about what happened to Jasper’s bucket collection, and dramatically fantasize about their youth like they’re knocking on death’s door.

When Captain Man finally makes it to where Charlotte and Henry are captured, they’re moved to a room by Miss H’s goons with a two-way mirror so they could see the showdown between Ray and Miss H. There’s a countdown for ten minutes in the room, but they have no idea what it does.

However, it seems like Captain Man does. Because he looks towards the mirror with concern while Miss H. gives her monologue about her villainous ways.

Henry and Charlotte watch the fight and look back and forth between that and the timer while freaking out together, and not knowing what to do. Once the timer hits the half-way mark, they unexpectedly reach for each other’s hand, squeezing a little too tight.

And then, in typical Captain Man fashion and for television like suspense, he manages to stop Miss H. and stop the timer with one second left to spare. Henry and Charlotte respond by immediately hugging each other and jumping for joy with huge smiles on their faces.

Unexpectedly, their faces are inches apart from all the excitement, they’re out of breath in a good way, and their hearts are racing from anxiety and jubilation. But their eyes meet like they’ve never met before and lean into a kiss.

But they don’t get to kiss since Captain Man barges in and makes them jump apart like they were doing something illegal.

From there, Henry and Charlotte have a hard time talking about the almost kissing incident. It’s a little awkward and they can’t even share a bowl of popcorn without fear of their hands touching.

But they eventually talk it out. It was all in the moment they say. It just felt right at the time they say. It doesn’t mean anything and they’re still best friends they convince themselves.

Everything is cool till Charlotte gets a boyfriend. Which, completely throws Henry for a loop because what the heck, who is this guy, and why does he think he’s good enough for Charlotte.

But Henry sees how happy he makes Charlotte, how well he treats her, and how annoyingly cute they look working on LIMP projects together. So, he lets them be and keeps his jealously to himself. But they still remain pretty close and everything is seemingly normal.

Until normalcy starts to go down the drain. Because Henry and Charlotte are closer than ever now that she has a boyfriend, which is weird. But knowing that Henry doesn’t have to deal with his feelings for his best friend makes their interactions a little better. And every time Charlotte shows up to work with her boyfriend with their hands laced together, Henry gets used to the small uneasiness in his stomach and smiles a little bigger because his bestie is happy.

But happiness might as well be a pair of black jeans since it fades over time. Suddenly, Henry gets a little frustrated that he has to watch Charlotte so happy while being a sidekick to a superhero is taking a toll on his mental health, school grades, and his ability to be a teenager.

But Henry keeps it to himself since he doesn’t want to feel like a bother with his problems. Until the Christmas episode that is.

I’d keep it the same as Season 5’s episode with Ray and Henry saving Christmas trees. Except Charlotte is throwing a small Christmas party at her place with some of her class friends and Henry was supposed to be there to take a breather from being Kid Danger.

But he’s Henry with a good heart. So, he has to save Christmas even though he’s kind of sick of saving everything and not being able to hang out with his friends.

Henry arrives late to the Christmas party after everyone’s left except Jasper’s passed out on the couch from drinking too much eggnog with gingerbread crumbs all over his face.

Charlotte gives Henry a cup of hot chocolate and they sit by the fireplace where Charlotte makes him spill the beans on how he’s been doing since they barely get to talk anymore.

He makes her go first since he knows Charlotte gets an ear full of talking men since she works in the Man Cave. She fills him on accelerated testing, joining the newspaper committee, and some crime tracking system she and Schwoz had been working on in the Man Cave.

However, he’s caught off guard when she reveals that she and her boyfriend broke up a while ago. Henry had been so busy and sleep-deprived he didn’t even notice them not eating lunch together, holding hands, and at the library together.

He wants to be nosey and ask a whole bunch of questions, but her answer to them wanting to be just friends sufficed enough.          

So, Henry finally got to rant and rave about how tired he is of being Kid Danger sometimes, how much his grades are suffering, and how much he misses being the Three Musketeers with Jasper and Charlotte. He manages to leave out the fact he has a massive crush on her.

Which is hard since she looks really pretty in her forest green sweater, a Santa hat headband, and her hair straightened for her yearly layered haircut.

Charlotte puts her hand over his and does what she does best, makes him feel better while telling him how to go about his next moves to get his life back. After the serious talk is over, they vibe and catch up and Jasper wakes up to join them like it’s old times.

Jasper says his goodbyes to Henry and Charlotte and dashes home to do a weird Christmas ritual with his mother. This leaves Henry and Charlotte awkwardly standing in the doorway and saying their goodbyes with a hug. They smile a little sheepish after they separate, but Charlotte’s eyes briefly glance upwards and slightly widen.

Henry follows her line of sight and notices the culprit of her gaze, mistletoe above the doorframe that had been forgotten.

Henry coughs awkwardly and quickly says goodnight in an attempt to get out of there as soon as possible. Except Charlotte reaches for him and stops him in his tracks.

She’s looking up at him like the last almost kissing incident and Henry just thickly swallows waiting for her next move.

“You know how much I hate breaking holiday traditions.” And Charlotte leans into him and kisses him on the cheek.

Henry knows he’s embarrassingly flushed and his mouth his probably slightly agape, because who is this version Charlotte and why was mistletoe only around on Christmas?

But he’s Henry, so he’s cool and suave (yeah, right), and he smiles and wishes her a good night.

He somehow floats his way home and doesn’t stop thinking about the kiss till he falls asleep.

But the cheek kiss suddenly freaks him out while he’s eating breakfast, because what the heck does it even mean??? Does she like him? Are they on the path to being more than friends? Or does Charlotte really just love holiday traditions and he’s a victim of circumstance?

All the thinking drives him crazy, so he finally turns to Jasper to ask about what any of it means. From the beginning when they almost kissed to now. And unsurprisingly, Jasper just shrugs and says, “I dunno.”

So, Henry remains really conscious about his crush on Charlotte and unsure if their best friendship is in danger (ha, get it? ‘cuz he’s Henry/Kid Danger, yeah okay it’s not funny) or worthy of something more.

It’s up in the air till they kiss in I Dream of Danger and become official. Instead of Charlotte being freaked out by the dreams because of her inability to see Henry in a romantic way, she’s freaked out because she’s afraid of their relationship changing.

They’ve been Henry and Charlotte. The best friends for the longest amount of time. A friend turned romantic relationships usually turn out well, but she’s worried about theirs going down in flames and losing her best friend for the rest of her life.

But Henry reassures her that everything between them is going to be fine whatever path their relationship takes. And they can talk about it later when she’s not feet away from a hungry lion.

So, he rescues her and they don’t kiss, but instead, she hugs him really tight for basically saving her life.

Later on, Henry walks her home since he’s afraid to let her out of his sight now. And they talk a little bit more about their feelings for each other and admit that their relationship has been on its ups and downs.

When they’re at Charlotte’s doorstep, they get awkward since they both got a lot off of their chests in a short amount of time.

Henry has his hands in his pockets. “So, yeah…” he trails off.

She anxiously laughed. “Yeah, so what now?”

“I don’t know. Should we try the whole boyfriend and girlfriend thing?” He’s looking at the ground when he says it since this is the most nervous he’s ever been in his whole life.

“Well, I like you and you like me, so I guess it makes sense?”

“You guess?” Henry laughs.

Charlotte playfully rolls her eyes at him. “You know what I mean.”

They smile really big at each other and banter a little more till the air gets serious again. The conversation truly feels like it’s at its end now, so Henry goes in for the final blow.

“Can I kiss you?” Henry has to ask because hey, we love consent.

Charlotte nods frantically while saying yes.

And then they kiss. It’s terse but sweet and they’re both in astonishment afterward, since wow, I just kissed my best friend and it was actually kind of great.

They awkwardly part ways after that but then we get separate scenes of how happy they are. We get to see Charlotte run upstairs to her bedroom to scream into her pillow in glee. And we get to see Henry jumping up and down in excitement and punching the air. And yeah, Chenry is canon at that point.

Chenry dates officially in front of the audience from the beginning of Season 4. The first episode from that season is Sick & Wired, so we open with Charlotte taking care of a sick Henry and her remaining by his side. Ray thinks they’re lying to hang out together since they’re dating, so he still convinces Jasper to wear a wire and blah blah blah, you’ve probably seen the episode.

And yeah, so imagine official Chenry for all of Season 4 and 5. They’re not super-duper romantic and always engaging in PDA since it’s a self-proclaimed ‘kid’s show’ and I want kids to know that you don’t have to always be kissing and all over each other to be in love or in a relationship.

So, we’d just occasionally see Henry and Charlotte holding hands while sitting on the couch, Henry’s arm around Charlotte’s shoulder, the two of them sharing food and drink, them smiling super big at each other in the background when other characters are talking.

The occasional kiss could involve forehead kisses, cheek kisses, and even hand kisses because those are so wholesome and underrated. Plus, I’d want there to be a running gag that Jasper never gets to see Henry and Charlotte kiss. Since, The Bucket Trap he really wanted to see them kiss, so what’s better than to not have them kiss. It’d also be for Jace and Riele’s sake too not gonna lie. Since I’m sure that’s awkward and people ship them enough in real life.

But yeah, Jasper only sees Chenry holding hands, long hugs, and other romantic shit. And in the last episode, they offer to kiss in front of him to appease him, but there’s a power outage as soon as they go in for it and Jasper misses the whole thing with a dramatic “Noooooo!”

Canon Chenry also means we get a prom episode where they look awesome in a matching tuxedo and dress. We get a Valentine’s episode that lets them go on a date. We’d get graduation day Chenry in their caps and gowns.

Matching costume Chenry for Halloween. Like, imagine the two of them wearing a peanut butter and jelly costume where they’re each a slice of smeared bread. And Jasper gets to be a milk carton and maybe his significant other could be a chocolate chip cookie. Idk, I’m just rambling at this point.

So, yeah, that’s all I got.