#also i promise ill get around to writing an about me page soon

[bueckers-sturniolo]

the alchemy.

paige x fem!teammate! reader

word count: 2k!

warnings: uhhh, cursing? literally one suggestive-ish comment, if i think of anymore ill come back and lyk!

authors note: HIIII! this is my first time ever writing anything whatsoever, and i can’t tell if i genuinely enjoy or really hate this. you gotta start somewhere though, right? 🤔🤔🤔

go read part two here!

this happens once every few lifetimes; these chemicals hit me like white wine…

you and paige were inseparable. it didn’t go unnoticed by fans, not by any means. you were a year younger than paige, you started playing for uconn her sophomore year. as soon as this was announced, paige followed you on everything, immediately commenting on any post the uconn instagram page made about you, commenting something along the lines of just saying your name in all caps with a bunch of emojis, or even, when she was feeling bold, “Theres our girl! 🤩🙌 (or, ‘my girl’ if she was feeling silly that day),” and even on your own, individual posts about yourself, she’d like and comment some form of encouragement or a subtle compliment just to hype you up, as she does the rest of the team.

she couldn’t deny her nearly unbearable attraction toward the minute she first had laid eyes on you. even if it was over a tiny screen. the first time she saw you was when geno had shown the team videos of you playing and explained to them who you are, where you’re from, what position you play, and all other things they should know. you were around 5’10, and you were a point guard. you had gotten a scholarship to uconn, and obviously, you took it up. the first time paige physically saw you play, she knew you two would become close. not only working together on the court, during games and practices, but also, off of the court.

and you guys did. by the time the season started, you were sure you guys were unstoppable. every practice, you guys were fully locked in, becoming an outstanding duo together. that is, until, she got a tibial plateau fracture. she sat out a whopping 19 games after her surgery, and it was sad to see. she was such a powerful player, and now one of your best friends. games and practices didn’t feel nearly as good without her, but she made you promise that you’d work everyday to improve your already very strong talent, to play for ‘the both of you,’ as she said. she’d come to practices, games, and even just to your personal training sessions to provide some form of support.

what if I told you I’m back? the hospital was a drag, worst sleep that I ever had, I circled you on a map; I havent come around in so long, but im coming back so strong.

as soon as paige was cleared by doctors to begin playing again, she worked several hours, every single day. she came back as a fucking beast. since the day she got cleared and started working her ass off, she earned the nickname ‘sniper’ from you. your nickname for her was ‘killer,’ which, is kinda where she got the idea for sniper. you both were very powerful point guards. every day since she came back, you were amazed by just how hard she was working to get back up to her already impressive level of skill. and as time went on, she got even better than before. from the wise words of your guys’ coach, geno, she literally ‘came back better than she was when she was named player of the year.’

so when I touch down, call the amateurs and cut ‘em from the team, ditch the clowns, get the crown. baby, im the one to beat. cause the sign on your heart said it’s still reserved for me. honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?

one night, after a practice, you guys are sitting on your couch, scrolling on your phones in the living room of your apartment. she was over there often. you didn’t live in a dorm, but she did, so this is where you typically hung out. you didn’t get a dorm, for mainly one reason, living on campus is expensive. you personally thought that if you were gonna pay so much to live somewhere, might as well be somewhere bigger than the dorms at uconn. your parents somehow agreed, and helped you through paying for it your first few years. you’re now a junior, and paige is a senior. though, she was technically going into her junior year of playing basketball, but it was her last year as a uconn ‘student.’ over the past several months, it’s been…. flirty, to say the least. you’ve always been not ‘just friends,’ but, you never talked about it. it was just ‘normal’ to you guys. you had talked about to kk once, and the conversation didn’t really help. at all. not in the fucking slightest.

“well, i mean… yeah, we all notice it. she just…. acts so different around you…? it’s not a bad difference, per se… it’s just like, why the fuck is she so nice to you? she’s constantly like… on her knees praising you. it’s crazy, lowkey. but none of us wanna say that, so we kinda just have accepted it all season.” kk says, finally looking up from her phone at me, sitting on the edge of her bed, giving her a ‘please help me’ look.

i stare at her for a few seconds, then sigh. is it actually different? does she really do that, or is kk just exaggerating, like she always does?

“kk, i don’t- i don’t know, dude. i don’t notice it. it’s just- like-“ kk interrupts me, knowing i couldn’t find the words to explain what i was feeling, “normal to you?”

i nod, putting my face in my hands and letting out another sigh. “yeah, i get that. but, also… like, how do you not notice it? it’s like- remember that guy she said she had a crush on, like- 7 months ago or some shit?” she said, sighing.

“yeah, why?” i say, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion on where the fuck she could possibly be going with this.

“she literally flirted with you more than she flirted with him. then, she rejected him, and said there was ‘no reason behind it….’ is that not suspiscious to you? in that one picture of you guys and the weird ass dude she apparently liked, she’s leaning closer to you than she is him? does that not even slightly spark a tad bit of suspiscion?” kk says, getting frustrated that im not seeing her point here.

“i mean- no? i didn’t even notice it, kk.” I say, shaking my head in disbelief. “exactly my point,” kk says, sitting up to really try to get her point across. “she acts like she’s in love with you, and heaven forbid you notice it even slightly. i could name so many things that just, like- we have all noticed, and paige knows we’ve noticed. like, that time that one bitch was pushing you on the court the entire game, and paige eventually got pissed off and pushed her back off of you, then got a fucking technical foul over it…? or, how about when she gets drunk, she literally is all over you. like, hugging you, holding you, falling asleep on the couch with you literally on top of her? is that not somehow making you just use that little brain in your head?” kk says, and i just stare in thought. maybe she was right. maybe it is more than a close friendship.

you snap out of your thoughts as paige says your name, looking over at her. “yeah?” you say, trying to seem cool.

“are you okay? you just spaced out for like…. 10 minutes…” paige says, turning her phone off sitting her it down on her chest. “oh, yeah,” I say, chuckling. that’s fucking embarrassing, you thought. but why wouldn’t she notice it? she notices everything about you.

“y’know… you did really good today,” paige says smiling at you. you smile too, looking down at your hands, “thanks. you literally always do good, so. no point in boosting your ego any more than it already is.” you say, looking back up to meet her gaze.

“i call you killer for a reason, you know that, right? you’re fucking phenomenal.” and she meant it. you were a goddess, in her eyes. if there was any person closest to heaven on this earth. it’s you. everything about you. she couldn’t get enough of you, and if it was up to her, she’d show you just how perfect you are to her. you smile, shaking your head in disbelief. “you’re insane.”

“im literally complimenting you, idiot- how does this make me insane,” paige says, laughing. you shrug, shaking your head. “you know, you’re my bestfriend, right? like, the best, best-friend i’ve ever had? ” paige says, after a few seconds of silence. you look back up, your gaze softening, your big grin also softening into a sweet smile. kk was right, you thought. you knew what that was. you knew what she meant. she is in love.

hey, you. what if I told you we’re cool? that child’s play back in school is forgiven under my rule. i havent come around in so long, but I’m making a come-back to where I belong.

you sit in your room in silence, staring at the ceiling. you keep replaying things in your mind, things she’s said. things she’s done. you knew you liked girls, you knew you liked paige. but, at what cost? did your whole friendship form from the attraction you guys had from the start? was this random to her? were you guys ever going to talk about it? this whole situation is ridiculous. right now, paige is visiting her family in minnesota. you’ve met them before, and you loved her little brother, drew, like your own brother. he was precious to you. but, this time you didn’t go, you had to stay back and practice. which, sounds ridiculous to paige given that you’re already the best player in the world to her. but, you knew you’d been slacking on practicing and certain skills you were supposed to be good at. you didn’t want to let her down. or the team, of course. but, paige specifically.

these bloakes warm the benches, we’ve been on a winning streak. (s)he jokes that it’s heroin but this time with an ‘e.’

today, you guys had a game. you were always pretty hard on yourself, but, today was worse. paige noticed this, quickly. as she always does. right before halftime, you shoot a three. you make it, but, it still was kinda sloppy. not all of your shots were sloppy, of course. but, today you felt like shit and were on your period. you didn’t feel great, and you were pissed off that the girl guarding you was on your ass all damn game. the girl in question was no other than kate martin, who was always on your ass specifically, when you guys played iowa. it was infuriating, and not to mention that you kept getting fouls called on you by a ref who clearly doesn’t realize that kate won’t stay off of your case. as soon as half-time hits, you walk over to the bench, muttering a ‘holy fucking shit’ under your breath. you sit down, paige immediately following after you, sitting beside you.

“hey, killer…. it’s okay, i promise. you’re doing so, so good.” paige says, leaning closer to you trying to reassure you in a soft, gentle tone.

“doesnt feel like it.” you say, grumpily, grabbing your water and taking a drink of it. “i know, but hey,” she says, smiling. “you’re fuckin’ killing it. if it makes you feel any better, you scored and knocked her down because of how close she was to you, maybe she’ll back off. but…” she says, pausing. “do not get a tech because of her.” you look over at her, slowly nodding. “yeah, im trying. but, the next time she gets in my face, i’m knocking her to the fucking ground again.” you say, quietly. paige smiles, “no being too aggressive… i mean, yes, be aggressive. but, no techs.”

“yeah, yeah. okay, idiot face. i’ll try.” you say and paige smiles wider, shaking her head.

as the game continues, we’re up by a solid two points. youre now in the last 45 seconds of the game. iowa has the ball, clark scores a 3 on paige. of fucking course, you think.

kk gets the rebound, and we get the ball, finally. with now only 30 seconds left, you’re panicking. you’re losing by one damn point. geno calls a time out out to the ref, the ref granting him this and you all huddle over. paige leans over to you, mumbling a, “you’ve got this, killer. im leaving this up to you. you won’t let me down.” you smile, nodding. she smiles at you for a few seconds. she is so whipped, and it’s obvious. you’re addicting. you’re like heroin, but with a fucking ‘e,’ paige thinks.

shirts off, and your friends lift you up over their heads. beer sticking to the floor, cheers chanted, cause they said, “there was no chance, tryna be the greatest in the league.” where’s the trophy? (s)he just comes runnin’ over to me.

as the game resumes, the ball is passed to paige. 15 seconds. the time is ticking, so, so fast. paige does a pump fake, immediately passing the ball to you. you catch it, turning slightly so you can dribble around martin, who’s still on your ass. you nearly lose the ball. you’re wasting too much time time, you think. you glance up at the clock. 5 seconds. you try to think fast, then quickly preform a fake pass to paige, then as soon as kate turns her attention toward paige, you shoot directly behind the point the three-point line, and you make it. the buzzer sounds. you look over at the score counters, wondering if it’s able to be counted. they announce it is, and you feel like you’ve never been happier than in that damn moment. your entire team is screaming, all of the fans in the bleachers standing up and cheering. you place your hands on your knees, leaning down and panting while smiling. that’s when you see paige, her shirt is lifted up so her stomach is showing, still cheering. smiling ear to ear, she suddenly runs over to you from across the court. she hugs you, picking you up and spinning you around.

this type of shit only happens once every few lifetimes. who are you to deny your love for her any longer? who are you to fight the general chemistry between you two? who are you to fight the alchemy?

a/n: RAHHHHHH I HOPE YOU LOVED IT IM SORRY IF IT SUCKS ASS!!!! IF YOURE READING THIS RN I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

[baugottabekiddingme]

welcome to my page ⋆⭒˚.⋆

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my name is josephine quinn, and i’m an agent at the BAU, or behavioral analysis unit at the FBI headquarters in quantico, virginia.

i’ve been an agent for coming up on a year now, and i figured it would be cool to document some of the things that happen in my day 2 day.

my official title is “supervisory special agent dr. josephine quinn”, but that’s ridiculously obnoxious, so the team just calls me quinn or q, you can too if you’d like.

i’ll probably talk about my team a lot on here, so here’s a glimpse at who i work with-

☆ aaron hotchner (hotch)

- super scary unit chief (not rly)

☆ david rossi

- the BAU’s italian dad (owns a mansion)

☆ spencer reid (spence)

- boyfriend (literally), literal genius, loml

☆ derek morgan

- my big brother (not literally, but might as well be)

☆ emily prentiss (em)

- if the BAU had a cat, it would be em

☆ jennifer jareau (jj/jayj)

- media liaison, other loml (don’t tell will or spence)

☆ penelope garcia (pen)

- sister from another mister, keeps me sane

for the most part, i’ll refer to my team as their last name (unless i specified a nickname for them, but it can be interchangeable)

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okay i promise ill shut up soon, but before i do im gonna tell you a little more about who i am and how i got here.

like i said earlier, im a doctor (crazy flex ik). i got my PhD in psychology and masters in criminal justice from dartmouth university, and then i went to cornell for my masters in cyber criminology.

my ‘area of expertise’ at the BAU (as i like to call it) is crime scene investigations and anger retaliatory/anger excitation unsubs.

im 24 (“how’d u get ur degrees so early?” you may be asking. high school credit classes, summer classes, and testing out of certain requirements), i live in quantico (obviously) and i love writing/reading poetry, listening to music, and going to concerts when i can. also also also i mentioned already but im dating spencer reid, so i’ll probably talk about him a lot cause he’s a walking bragging right.

thanks for letting me talk your ear off, feel free to ask any questions if you have em.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ • ┈ ☆ ┈ • ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ disclaimer!

this blog is, of course, a work of fiction. everything that’s discussed on here is completely made up and posted as a character. this account is in no way affiliated with the criminal minds franchise or the actual BAU. there may be discussion of ‘cases’ (again, complete fiction/loosely based on a real case from years ago). obviously if this was all real, it would be insanely illegal to talk about recent/active cases. some canon stuff from the show will be shifted around to fit the au, but for the most part this takes place around seasons 3-4. all pictures are from pinterest. it’s an au, so some things may not align with how they are in real life. have fun, get lost in the story, and play along. have fun <3

tw

posts may contain description of swearing, gore, trauma, and loose relation to real criminal cases. please read at your own discretion, and enjoy

[samhaininthemembrane]

I know it's been said before but I wanted to make my own post about it.

When you think of someone you care about in a positive way, tell them! If you think to say I love you, just do it! If something reminds you of someone in a positive way, share it with them!

I struggle a lot with feeling like I'm a ghost in my own life and that I have no affect on the world around me. This gets mitigated by reminders that I do in fact matter to other people and they do remember me!

(Not that memory is tied to morality, forgetting and memory problems are not evil and malicious just because remembering is a good thing!)

Other people tend to appreciate it too, especially if you are specific about it. I have a habit of giving very detailed, specific compliments and I tend to compliment on things that aren't usually complimented.

A lot of times, people will be flustered at first because they are not used to that sort of unabashed sincerity, and sometimes they might shirk away because they are insecure about it, but I think it's still worth it to say the thing.

🖤

A while back, a friend of mine confided in me that she admired my body hair and how confident I was about it. I was wearing a sleeveless top and a skirt so it was super visible and I just...didn't care if people could see it because I wasnt trying to hide it. She found it so inspiring because she has PCOS and has struggled all her life with her own body hair and her confidence about it, so seeing me be that way made her more confident about her own.

I think about that basically every time I'm getting ready to hang out with her. I now try to make an effort to have visible body hair every time I see her in person.

🖤

Another instance, I complimented a friends nose. I have a thing about noses, seeing as it's the most defining and overlooked feature of the face. He was flustered about it at first, then mentioned with a smile that no one had ever complimented his nose before. So I started going into the specific aspects of why his nose looks good and he had a big smile on his face.

I know both of my examples are of complimenting body things, but as a general rule try to avoid complimenting parts of someone's body unless you know them really well and that they'd be okay with it!

If you're gonna compliment people you dont know well, compliment either

Something they chose (like clothing, hobbies, makeup, etc)

Something they do or have done (like a craft project, or a joke they made, or some sort of accomplishment they've made)

Also, If you know the person well enough to know what they would want more reinforcement on, try to make an effort to point out specific things about that thing!

Artist friend has been trying to improve their backgrounds in their work? Compliment aspects of the background you like!

Person really likes to infodump about their latest hyperfocus, but gets embarrassed and shuts themselves down? Talk about how you like their passion for things and give examples of when their info dumping actually taught you something or made you appreciate something more.

Friend trying out a new clothing style? Point out specific aspects of that clothing style that are appealing and send examples you see online to them for ideas.

Your buddy likes to send you links to stuff but is nervous that they're annoying you? Bring up the fact that the things they send tend to be really good things, appeal to you, and you like that they think of you when they see that stuff!

I know a lot of trans folk (I am an enby myself, just not medically transitioning) and getting compliments that align with their gender tend to be a solid thing.

One of my friends, who is a genderfluid trans man, will send me some of his thirst trap pictures (that's just the friendship we have), and I will generally compliment his belly hair, or his jawline, or his muscles, or other masc coded traits specifically. I'm not pandering, as I do genuinely like those things, but I do try to bring them up.

🖤

I also try to make an effort to compliment when people have customized assistive equipment. Like, if someone has a pretty cane, I'm gonna tell them! Society treats assistive equipment as these incredibly clinical, hindering things when they're really not, and that causes people to resist getting them when assistive equipment could really help! I'm definitely cripplepunk on main here.

Just...let people know you're thinking of them and you like it! Love is not a finite resource!! Dont be afraid of being too forward or giving weird compliments, because the weirdness means they're more genuine!

🎃🖤

Please let me know if there are any trigger tags I should add to this, I'm not really sure what should be included. I tried to break up the text to be more ADHD friendly, since I'm a pretty long winded person.

[ahoy-robin]

Just a Cold

Robin x reader (girlfriend!reader but i don’t use she/her)

Reader comes down with a cold but everything is better when the best girlfriend anyone could ask for, Robin, shows up.

927 words

a/n: this is my first time writing something that isn’t a headcannon? so congrats to me? yay? but also i have so far to go but this is fun. also writing about being sick while being sick? that's crazy

A knock on your door pulls you out of a light nap. You turn your head to face the door, seeing your girlfriend leaning against the frame.

“Hey bubs. How ya’ feeling?” Robin loudly whispers as she walks over, places her bag on the floor and sits at the foot of your bed. Dramatically you turn your head away and throw your arms over your face.

“I’m diseased!” you cry, although muffled.

“You are not ‘diseased’, Y/N. You have a cold.” Robin laughs pulling your arms down to see your face.

“You don’t know that, what if I have some new mutated virus and I’m going to infect the whole planet?” you insist and Robin nods along entertaining your ideas.

“Poor Y/N, do you want me to call Steve’s little science children to come run experiments on you?” she jokes cupping your face with her hand.

“I guess not, no need in spreading my disease to them too.” You push your self up to sit against your headboard.

Skipping school was not a normal occurrence for you. The day before when you weren’t there, Robin was distraught and called you immediately during a free period. So today Robin came over to your house as soon as school let out. You hated not seeing your girlfriend the last few days due to your illness and she held the same sentiment.

“I brought your schoolwork. And you can use my notes if you want, but I know you think my handwriting is sloppy” she jokes. Robin hands you a folder of your papers and her notebook.

“That’s only because your pretty brain works too fast for you hand to keep up. It means your like supes smart, babe.” you ramble flipping through the pages of her book.

“‘Supes smart?’” she mocks your choice of words knowing it’s probably all the flu meds talking.

“Robin, you know like 4 languages? You’re like a genius in my book” you look at her in all seriousness. Robin blushes and looks away, eyes wandering around your room.

She gets up from the bed and wanders to your bookshelf to admire your knickknacks and pictures. This was a habit of hers. Sometimes you’d rearrange things to see if she’d notice or hide little messages for her to find.

“Ya’ gonna look through my stuff every time you come over?”, glancing up from your papers, you see her hunched over, smiling in front of your shelves.

“Just this picture...” she picks up an intricate metal frame that holds a picture from your childhood.

“I love this one, you look so cute. You still smile like this when you get really excited.” She brings the picture over to the bed.

It’s a picture of you standing on a beach with an ear-to-ear smile. You have a big hat on and a pail in your hand. Tilting the frame for you to see, she uses her other hand to poke your cheek. You roll your eyes and dismiss her antics.

“Yeah I was like 6, and little did I know, right after this picture was taken I got knocked on my ass by a couple of puny waves”

“Still” she stands to put the frame back on your shelf “it’s very cute”.

Robins grabs her bag and brings it to the bed. Sitting on the bed, she knocks down a few of your tissues and squishes in real close to you.

“Along with your homework, I brought us a couple of movies from work. Ya’ know the kind you like that are so bad they’re good?” Robin rambles as she pulls various movies out her bag.

“Woah woah woah wait, Robin. I appreciate the gesture, but you can’t hang out here? You’ll get sick and I don't want you to get sick.” you grab her hands in your with concern.

“No no, y/n, I won’t get sick. I promise. I have an immune system of steel.” She kisses your hands and locks eyes with you in reassurance.

“Promise?” you furrow your brows to look serious.

“I swear. Although in the slight, and I mean very slight, chance that I get sick, you’ll get to take care of me. So it’s basically a win-win.”

You roll your eyes and ultimately agree to her plan. (robin 100% got sick the next week. of course you took the opportunity to say “i told you so”. nevertheless, you took care of your lovely sick girlfriend.)

You trudge to your living room with your comforter wrapped around you. Robin grabbed the movies and your tissue box before following you to the couch. Robin’s quick with setting up the first movie. When she sits down on the couch you let her get comfortable before you lay on your side, head in her lap.

“I can’t guarantee I won’t fall asleep” you mumble as the movie opens.

“It’s ok bubs, I planned on spending all day here, sleep as long as you need” she brushes her fingers over your head gently.

Your face warms at her comment. With the gentle head stroking and the movie lightly playing in the background, you fall asleep quite easily.

“No way, that guy looks just like Steve, I gotta play this movie at the store. Don’t you th-” her sentence is interrupted by your small snores. She quickly lowers her voice and the volume of the TV. Knowing she’ll probably be here a while, Robin shifts as much as she can without waking you in order to get comfortable and settles in to take a nap as well.

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Friday 13 June 1834

7 55

10 25

a kiss last night fine morning F61° at 8 ¼  - breakfast at 9 ¼ to 10 ¼ - out at 11 ¼ -  ½ hour at the cathedral – all new-done-up white and clean – crypt not to be seen  full of stone from France for the new west tower - the cathedral all built of stone from Caen in Normandy - the tombs of Edward the blue prince and Henry iv government sometime ago promised to repair, as all the private tombs are undergoing repair by subscription - the choir looks  light and white and cold, the old oak wainscoting and tabernacle work being all taken away and merely the stone work screen (small Gothic arches glazed) remaining - the old altar screen is also removed and replaced by a stone one of the handsome Gothic work, but unfortunately not straight-topped and consequently looking ill and out of keeping with all around - it rises in steps from the ends to the centre, and is a sad disgrace to the taste of Mr Austin (I think the man said) the architect - all strangers observe and abuse it, and everybody sees the error now it is too late -  sauntered about the city - then to the John Dean walk, or Dunge Hill, or mound or tumulus thrown up by the Danes, just within the old fortification wall of the city - there is now a winding quickwood-fenced-off walk winding to the top (480 ft high) of the tumulus on which is erected a column commemorating Mr ........ under whose mayoralty and chiefly at whose expense the walks seem to have been laid out, and recording that they are now made over to the public the corporation having allotted £60 per annum to keep them  up - they cover about 6 acres - the walk shaded with limes is  1130ft. long and 13ft. broad - the terrace is 1840ft. long by 12 wide  - Canterbury is a nice clean looking town with good shops and the Fountain is an excellent Inn - sauntered to the remain of the old castle - merely part of the dungeon keep reaming now a coal-magazine - home at 1 10 – tired –somehow I do not get up my strength – lay on the sofa till off from Canterbury at 2 5 and alighted at the Ship Inn Dover (now Worthington who succeeded Charles Wright about 4 months ago) at 4 ¼ - dressed or rather washed hands etc wrote the above of today – rain more or less almost all the way from Canterbury and rainy afternoon and evening - dinner at 6 ¼ in an hour - wrote and sent at 9  3 pages to my aunt Shibden – account of our arrival - Sarah to bottle the cowslip wine immediately -  Miss W- will write to her aunt from Paris - no letters to be sent to her but those from her sister or from Washington and none to me but from W- or Mr Parker, all Miss W-s’ too, to be directed to me at no. 27 rue Saint V- till I give my aunt another address -  M. Audoin will forward the letters from rue Saint V- will write to my aunt as soon as we have fixed the day for leaving Paris and can give her another address - tea at 9 in ½ hour - then went to bed – fine day till after 2pm afterwards rainy, more or less, afternoon and evening – F65° now at 10 pm

[mldrgrl]

Broken Things 17/24

by: mldrgrl Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall See Chapter 1 for summary and notes

November approaches quickly.  The surveyor is due to arrive in only a handful of weeks.  The horses are coming along just fine with their training.  Mulder’s relationship with Katherine feels like it’s moving forward at a pleasant pace.  Just before the last weekend of the month, he asks her if he might accompany her into town that Friday.

“Of course,” she says.  “But, you don’t need to ask.”

“You might have plans with your friends and I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“I would like to call on Susannah and Monica and Doctor Black, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t welcome to join me.”

“Then, I will accept your invitation.”

“My invitation?  You invited yourself.”

“Did I?”

Probably the only thing he finds more delightful than when she raises her eyebrow at him is when she rolls her eyes at him.

He asks if she’d like to attempt to drive the wagon into town, but she declines.  She feels that she’s only just mastered the carriage and has not had any wagon lessons yet.  She’s more than happy to have him drive them.

Their first stop is the mercantile.  Susannah rushes out to greet them and pulls Katherine inside by looping her arm through hers.

“We’ve got the prettiest new fabric in that will suit you so well,” she says.  “I’ve been hoping you’d come by and held it just for you.”

“John,” Mulder greets, as he enters the store.

“Mulder, what timing.  The denim trousers you ordered arrived just this week.”

“Thank you, I’ll take them now if you’ll wrap them.”

“Already done.”

“Katherine has our supply list, but it looks like your wife has absconded with her.”

“Yes, she’s been waiting for her to come in.”

“I’ll just take a look at the catalog in the meantime, I may have a few other things to order.”

“Certainly.”  John slides the thick book of merchandise across the counter to Mulder.  “We saw Melvin ride through town a few weeks ago and take Doctor Black back with him to the ranch.  Heard you had taken a tumble from a wagon.”

“Just a little shoulder damage.  That does remind me, if you have any liniment, I’ll take a couple tins off you.”

“We’ve got Sloan’s.  The oil.”

“That’s fine, two bottles.  No, make it three.  I’ll bring one to the Doc.”

“He said Katherine patched you right up and did about as good of job with it as he would’ve done.”

“I guess if I had to compare the two, I much prefer the bedside manner of my wife.”

Mulder chuckles as John blushes and fumbles with the bottles of liniment.  He’s saved from any further conversation of his shoulder when Katherine appears with Susannah and some bolts of cotton fabric with a blue paisley pattern.

“Kate, you have our list?” Mulder asks.

“Oh, yes.”  She opens the little drawstring bag at her wrist and gives John the paper.

“Now that Katherine’s taken over from Melvin, you don’t have to translate his hieroglyphics any longer.”

“Yes, lovely handwriting.”  John nods and then starts to collect items from the list, all business.

“I was just needling your wife about that Sunday dinner get-together we promised,” Susannah says.  “You be sure not to keep her so busy she can’t do some proper visiting.”

“She is more than free to ride out at any time to come calling, but it has been a bit hectic lately.”

“Oh, we heard about your fall.  Doctor Black said Katherine did all the doctoring for him and he didn’t lift a finger.”

“It was a mild concussion and a shoulder dislocation,” Katherine explains.  “Just required a re-set of the shoulder and a good deal of rest.”

“John, put in for five of these undershirts here on page 67.  Kate, is there anything you might want from Montgomery Ward?”

“I don’t know.”

“Take a gander and put in for whatever you find with John.  I’m going to head across the way to the lumber mill just for a few minutes.”

“Alright.”

Mulder leaves Katherine at the mercantile and goes across the road to the mill.  It’s a noisy place with a lot of sawing and yelling and hammering.  The smell of sawdust is everywhere.  The air is thick with it and Mulder can swear he feels it clinging to him as soon as he gets within five feet of the place.

“Mr. Hartwell,” he shouts, waving his hat to get the foreman’s attention.

Mr. Hartwell leaves the saw he’s working with stuck in the lumber he’s cutting and takes his gloves off to shake hands.  “Mr. Mulder, good to see you,” he says.

“I’m soon to be in need of some lumber.”

“Oh?”

“I took over Old Man Goodwin’s plot and I’ve got a surveyor coming out a little more than a week from now.  He’s supposed to get me some plans for a bigger barn, new stables, and we’ll be doing a new bunkhouse and expanding the house eventually.”

“Is that right?  When might you be needing your order?”

“I hope to break ground by winter.  At least on the corral.  I’ve been clearing trees on the property and we can recycle some of what we’ve already got.  You still have a record on the build on my current plot?”

“I reckon so.”

“Let’s start with that same amount.  I’m about to run down to the bank.  I’ll tell Mr. Skinner you’ll be giving him an estimate and he can advance anything you need and I’ll take what I can get by let’s say, mid-December?”

“Well alright then.”  Mr. Hartwell nods.

“I’ll also be in the market to hire labor, so if you have anyone in mind you can point my way, I’d be most grateful.”

“I’ll ask around.”

“Thank you.”

The two men shake hands again and Mulder heads back to the mercantile.  John Jr. is loading up the wagon with their purchases.  He gives Mulder a wave.

“How are things with your sweetheart?” Mulder asks, helping to load the last of the crates from the porch.

John Jr. sighs.  “She broke off with me a couple weeks ago.”

“Well, now, that’s a shame.”

“She said I was boring and then the next day she was holding hands with Luke Doggett.”

“That the Sheriff’s boy?”

“Yes, Sir.  I can’t even be mad over it because Luke’s a nice guy.”

“Be patient.  You’re a hard worker and you’re not boring at all, you’re stable, like your father.  You’ll find a great girl one day that’ll appreciate that.”

“Naw, I think I’m done with girls for awhile.  I’m gonna save up and get a horse.”

“Well, horses are good too.  When you’re ready to buy, you come see me.  I’ll give you a good deal.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Mulder chuckles to himself as he walks away from John Jr. and goes back into the mercantile.  Katherine gives him a smile that makes him want to wrap his arms around her.  He puts his hand at the small of her back instead.

“Ready?” he asks.

Katherine and Susannah say their goodbyes.  Mulder helps his wife up into the wagon seat and then they head to the bank.  He leaves Katherine at the line to the teller’s window and waves to Skinner who motions him into the office.

“I wanted to let you know that we’re moving forward on the expansion,” Mulder tells him.  “Mr. Hartwell should be coming by with an estimate for lumber.  I told him to speak with you and you’d arrange to advance him anything he might need.”

“I can do that.”

“I also, uh…”  Mulder turns his hat over in his hands for a few moments and then he glances out into the foyer of the bank before he shuts the door to Skinner’s office for a bit of privacy.  “If you can get word to my lawyers through the branch in Fort Worth that I’d like to update my will, I would appreciate it.”

“Certainly, if that’s what you want.”

“I’m sure I’ll need an update of my account holdings, so whatever they need they can have time to put it together.”

“What brought this on, if I may ask?”

“Had a fall from a wagon a few weeks ago.  Nothing drastic, mind you, it just got me thinking and I’d like to make sure that if...well, if anything should happen, there’s no question of what my wishes are.”

“Your wife would be protected, by law.”

“Not well enough.  I want to make damn sure the ranch will stay with her, and I want to make sure Melvin will be taken care of as well.”

“I’ll get word and if anything comes back from your lawyers, I will let you know.”

“Thank you.”

“Does she even know?  Who she really married?  How much you’re worth?”

“No.”

“You might want to tell her sometime.”

“When the time is right.”

↭

Katherine feels more confident this time when she pays the mortgage.  The teller is polite, calls her Mrs. Mulder, slides the card to her that she needs to sign with a fountain pen and she doesn’t hesitate this time to write Katherine Mulder next to the date.

She’s finished before Mulder is done speaking with Mr. Skinner, so she waits for him outside by the wagon.  She’s never really gotten a good look at the town before.  The row of businesses stretches long and wide.  If the bank is the end point, the mercantile is the start.  In between there’s a sawmill, a blacksmith, the saloon, an icehouse, a cafe, a flour mill, a bath house, a meeting house, the sheriff’s office, a barber, a boarding house, a livery, a laundry, and the house of ill repute, as Mulder referred to it.

She knows there’s a church somewhere and a school, but they must be hidden in the outskirts of the town.  Doctor Black must have his practice somewhere off the main road as well.  Monica had said she lives off the road that veers left from the bank and she wonders how many other homes are out there and where everyone lives.  The Byers may make their home as part of their store, but presumably Mr. Skinner does not sleep in the bank.  And she remembers that Susannah said he had a wife.

Mulder comes outside and stands next to her.  “When I first got here about the only things that existed were the mercantile and the saloon,” he says.  “Sometimes it seems like all this just sprang up overnight.”

“Susannah was telling me today that a Wells Fargo office is coming in next year.”

“Long overdue for that, if you ask me.  Nearest place to send a telegram is either Abilene or Fort Worth, depending on where you’re at.”

“How many folks live here?”

“I can’t say I know for sure.  If I were to wager a guess, maybe fifty or so in town.  There’s a lot of ranches around these parts that do their business here, so if you consider them to be part of the town, there’s got to be at least another hundred.”

“It’s strange, but I grew up in a city of twenty thousand people and it always felt very small to me.  But, standing here, on a street you can probably walk up and back in a quarter of an hour, it feels enormous.”

“Well, they say everything is bigger in Texas.”

“I have heard that.”

“Where to now, fair Kate?”

“Where does the Doctor live?”

“Up that way behind the boardinghouse.”

“I’d like to drop in on Monica first then, since the Doc is on the way back.”

Katherine takes Mulder’s hand to climb into the wagon and he drives them down the road, over a short bridge, and then past a grove of trees.  A house appears as soon as they clear the trees, like an island in a sea of bluebonnets.

“Goodness,” Katherine says.  “Monica said you can’t miss it.”

The rumble of the wagon must have alerted her friend.  Monica comes out to the porch, wiping her hands on a dishrag.  She waves and jumps down the steps to greet them as they come down the lane.

“I hope you don’t mind us dropping in,” Katherine says as she climbs down from the wagon.  “We were in town so I wanted to say hello.”

“Are you kidding?  I’m thrilled.”  Monica hugs Katherine hard and keeps an arm around her shoulders as she waves to Mulder.  “I’ve got cornbread in the oven that’ll be done soon.  You’ll stay and have a cut before I bring dinner out to John, won’t you?”

“Well, that sounds too good to pass up,” Mulder answers.

“Come on in.”

The Doggett residence is similar to the ranch house.  There’s a dogtrot that runs from the front to the back, but the left side of the house is all kitchen and dining area, presumably bedrooms are on the right.  Monica offers them chairs at the table and then checks on the cornbread.  Mulder holds a chair out for Katherine as she loosens her hat and removes her gloves, but he doesn’t sit down right away.  He moves over to a breakfront along the wall and runs his hand over the smooth wood.

“This is a beauty,” he says.

“My boy built that,” Monica answers, proudly.

“The Sheriff did this?”

“No, our son Luke.  I swear he was swinging a hammer before he could toddle.”

Mulder nods and continues to run his hand down the side and across the front.  “How old might Luke be?”

“Fifteen.  Just had a birthday on the 13th of October.”

“That’s funny, we have the same birthday.”

“Your birthday was the 13th?” Katherine asks.  She’s mildly embarrassed that she had no idea her own husband’s birthday had passed.

“I didn’t even remember myself until just now.”

“What year were you born?” Monica asks.

“1861.”

Monica closes her eyes and tilts her head for a few moments.  “You’re a three,” she says, with a brief nod.

“A three?”

“Yes, in numerology.  Your life path number is a three.  It means you like to inspire others and make them smile.  But, if you feel you’ve been misinterpreted you can become sullen and withdrawn.”

“Is that right?”  Mulder grins as he looks at Katherine and she raises her eyebrow.  “But, I thought I was blue and red.  Now I’m a number?”

“Oh, you told him about his aura?”  Monica beams.

“I um…”  Katherine can feel the heat rising to her cheeks as though she were caught gossipping.  Mulder must sense her discomfort for he finally sits down beside her and takes her hand before hanging his hat on his bent knee.

“One day I’d like to hear all about it,” he says, squeezing Katherine’s hand.  “I was just wondering though, Mrs. Doggett-”

“Oh, call me Monica, please.”

“Monica, that’s really high quality work your boy does.  How would you feel about letting him come out this winter and work on an expansion out at my ranch?  I’d pay him, of course.”

“I’d have to speak with my husband about it, but I’m sure Luke would be thrilled at the prospect.  He’s been at us to quit school for the last few years.”

“Oh, but he can’t quit school,” Katherine says.

“Well, most of the kids around here quit by the age of twelve.  They’re needed at their farms or ranches.  Luke’s been the oldest in the schoolhouse for the last two years and he’s been pretty anxious to move on.  John wouldn’t let him since we don’t have a farm and he’s certainly not going to allow his son to take on a job at the saloon, which is about the only place that’d hire a boy his age.”

“I’m going to be looking to hire quite a few men starting next month or so,” Mulder says.  “There’s plenty of room in the bunkhouse for him and I’ll see to it he comes home for the week’s end.  Your husband is welcome to ride out any time to check in.”

“I would keep my eye on him as well, if you’re at all concerned about that,” Katherine adds.

“Oh.”  Monica puts her hand on Katherine’s arm and smiles.  “I don’t doubt that.  My, what a lovely ring!”

“Thank you.”  Katherine runs her thumb along the side of her ring band with her thumb.  “My husband got it for me.”

They spend the next half of an hour with Monica Doggett, sharing a slice of cornbread and chatting amicably.  Mulder asks her more about this numerology thing and she happily shares with him more about his life path based on his birth date.  When it’s time for them to take their leave, Mulder offers to drive Monica to the Sheriff’s office, but she says she would much rather walk.  It’s just about her only time to herself and she enjoys it.

They ride back up into town and Mulder passes the bank to go down a smaller road behind the north side of the town.  He points out a house up the ways with a sign hanging at the front that simply says ‘DOC’ etched in wood.

For some reason, Katherine feels nervous on the way up to the doctor’s porch.  She knows she already made a good impression on the doctor, but still wonders if that was just politeness.  The doctors she knew from nurse’s training were mercurial.  Someone bearing a compliment one day could come bearing condescension the next, or worse.  

Mulder opens the door to usher her inside.  Doctor Black peeks out from behind a curtain and smiles broadly.

“Just my luck,” the doctor says.  “I’ve just set a broken bone and could surely use your assistance while I mix a plaster.”

“Of course,” Katherine says.  She immediately takes her gloves off and hands them to Mulder.  

There’s a young boy perched at the edge of the exam table, no more than five or six, sniffling and sullen.  Katherine moves to him and right away she can see that his left wrist is broken.  She smiles at him and takes a gentle hold on his arm, cradling his wrist in her hands so the doctor can get to work on mixing a plaster.

“My name is Katherine,” she says to the boy.  “Who might you be?”

“Joey Skinner.”

“Is Walter Skinner your father, son?” Mulder asks.  

Joey nods and then wipes his nose with the back of his good hand.

“Has anyone gone to fetch Mr. Skinner?” Mulder asks Doctor Black.  “I could run over to the bank right now.”

“Yes, why don’t you do that.”  Doctor Black nods to Mulder and then hands Katherine a roll of gauze.  “I trust you can wrap up that wrist.”

“Certainly.”  She deftly holds Joey’s arm with one hand and uses her thumb to pin the edge of the gauze down and begins to wrap.  “Joey, you tell me if this hurts, okay?”

“Okay.”

“So, how did this happen?”

“I was playing tag with Grace and Emma and Isaac and I was ‘It’ and I was running and I tripped on a rock and I felled down and my hand hurted real bad.  Grace yelled for Miss Holly and Miss Holly bringed me to the doc.”

“Well, I think you’re a very brave boy and we’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

“Now,” Doctor Black says, rolling a small table over with a bowl of milky liquid and wrappings.  “Joey, this might feel a little cold, but you do your best to hold still, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Excellent wrapping,” the doctor tells Katherine.  “Would you like to do the plaster?”

Katherine nods and the doctor moves the table to her side so she can work.  She runs the wrapping through the liquid and winds it around Joey’s small wrist and arm, moving methodically.  She has experience with setting and wrapping broken bones, but never on a child.  She’s cautious, but tries to be quick for Joey’s sake.  Doctor Black provides her with a few short instructions as she goes.

“Beautiful work,” Doctor Black says when Katherine is wiping her hands dry.  “Joey, is there any pain in your wrist now or in your arm.”

“It’s kinda itchy.”

“Yes, it might be, but you can’t scratch right now, I’m sorry.  We’re going to let it dry and when it’s done it’ll be hard as a rock and keep your wrist in place so it can heal.”

Joey’s bottom lip begins to tremble.  “Is it gonna be on my arm forever and ever?”

Katherine puts her arm around Joey and rubs his shoulder.  “Not forever, sweetheart, just a few weeks is all.  And the doctor will probably check on it a time or two to make sure it’s healing properly.”

“That’s right,” Doctor Black says.

“Joey!?  Joey!?”  Walter Skinner bursts through the door with Mulder behind him.

“Hi, Daddy.”

“Joey.”  Mr. Skinner rushes over and for a moment, Katherine is afraid he’s going to grab the boy up in a fit of panic before the cast sets.  

“Everything’s alright,” Katherine says.

“What happened, son?”

“I was playing tag…”

As soon as Joey starts up with his story again, Katherine slips away from the exam table to go to Mulder.  “He okay?” Mulder asks.

“It wasn’t a bad break.”

“Good.”  He pulls Katherine’s gloves from his pocket and hands them to her.

Doctor Black comes up to the two of them and he and Mulder shake hands.  Mulder gives him the extra bottle of liniment he bought at the mercantile and the doctor thanks him.

“Looks as though your shoulder’s healed nicely,” Doctor Black says.

“Yes, well, I happened to have a very strict nursemaid to see me through.”  Mulder chuckles and Katherine demurs a little.

“If you think you could spare your wife for a few days a month, I’d be happy to have the help here.”

“Oh, I really couldn’t,” Katherine answers.

“Why couldn’t you?” Mulder asks.

“Well, there’s just so much to do.  And the expansion is coming up, so…”

“I’m sure we can work something out.”  Mulder nods to the doctor and at Katherine.  “Good skills should never go to waste.”

Katherine is all but rendered speechless.  She doesn’t know if she’s shocked or grateful or why she should even be so surprised.  Mulder’s the only man she’s ever known that doesn’t seem to want to control her in some way, who seems to want her to have independence as much as she wants it.  And she doesn’t just think he’s putting on airs of a generous husband in front of the doctor.  She believes that he means what he says.

“We’ll talk it over,” she says.

“Joey.”  Mulder produces a quarter and walks over and hands it to the boy.  “Next time you’re in the Byers mercantile, you tell Mr. Byers you want a bag of his best penny candy.”

“Gee, thank you, Sir!”

After they leave the doctor’s place and get back into the wagon, Katherine sits close to Mulder and holds his arm as he drives.  “Did you know Mr. Skinner had a boy?” she asks.

“Hell, until a few weeks ago, I didn’t even know he had a wife.  He doesn’t talk much.”

“I think that minor panic may have caused him to lose what little hair he’s got left.”

Mulder roars with laughter.

[marvelfans4blm]

Marvel Fans 4 BLM - Rules and FAQ!

What is Marvel Fans 4 BLM?

Marvel Fans 4 BLM is a charity auction where fans offer works in exchange for donations. Our focus is to raise money for various Black Lives Matter organizations as well as focus on creating content for Black Marvel characters. 

Who is allowed to participate?

All fans from any and all Marvel fandoms are welcome! We ask that if you are under 18, you do not offer or request explicit rated content.

How does it work?

Creators sign up to offer their works. Bidders then pledge donation amounts in auction-style. The winning bidder donates their pledged amount to a charity; once that donation is confirmed, the creator starts, uh, creating!

What is the schedule?

Monday 15 June - Sunday 28 June: Creator Sign Ups

Monday 29 June - Sunday 5 July: Browsing Week

Monday 6 July - Sunday 12 July: Auction Week

Sunday 19 July: Proof of Donations Due

Sunday 15 November: Check-In

Sunday 31 January 2021: Fanworks Due

More FAQ, Rules, and Resources under the cut! 

What items are acceptable for creators to offer?

All creations should be centered around one or more canon Black characters in any Marvel fandom (movies, comics, TV - any Marvel adaptations!). Other characters are welcome to join the fun, as long as they are not the main focus. Shipping and Gen content alike are welcome! Creations accepted are:

- Fanfic

- Digital art (original art, moodboards, manips, edits, etc.)

- Physical art (artworks, crafts, merch, etc.)

- Podfic

- Fan vids

- Translations

- Fan labor (beta work, sensitivity reading, culture-picking, fact checking, SPAG editing, etc.)

If you’d like to offer something not listed, feel free to ask.

I wanna be a creator! Tell me more!

More details will be shared at each stage, but here’s an outline to get you started! 

Creator sign-ups run from Monday 15 June to Sunday 28 June. You’ll sign up via a Google form and there you can specify what type of fanwork(s) you are offering with some relevant details like characters, pairings, and content you are willing to create in addition to other notes for bidders to see!

As well as fundraising for important causes, this event is intended to create new content for our favorite Black Marvel characters. With that in mind, we will not accept any previously published or created works. The exception to this is physical goods and crafts. 

After the auction closes, we will put you in touch with the highest bidder and from there you two work together to create something great! Once you have your bidder’s prompt, you’ll have until 31 January 2021 to complete your work for them. We’ll have a check-in on 15 November but it’s up to you to follow through by the 2021 deadline. Unfortunately, failure to complete by the deadline will mean you will be unable to participate in future events - until you meet your obligation to your bidder.

You can offer up to three works for auction, but please be honest and respect your limits. We want both creators and bidders to end with a complete work and enjoy the process! For physical goods, it is up to you and your bidder to decide how to handle shipping - keep this in mind when setting your starting bidding price. 

After posting, you can tag us in and any works that follow our rules will be included in our AO3 collection and featured on our Tumblr! 

I wanna be a bidder! Tell me more!

From 29 June through 5 July, you will be able to view all items up for bid, as well as check out each creator’s other works to get a feel for what they can do. You may also reach out to contact individual creators if you have questions. We recommend that if you have a specific idea in mind, or a rarepair, or something the creator has never done before, that you reach out and confirm they will be able to fulfil your request before you bid on them.

From 6 July through 12 July, bidding will be open. All bids will be placed in US dollars, with a $5 minimum starting bid and a $2 minimum incremental bid. Bidding will not be anonymous. Group bids are welcome. 

You may bid on as many items as you like, but please keep in mind that you cannot retract a bid, so make sure you can commit to donating the amount(s) that you bid. You may donate to any of our approved organizations listed below, or ask the mods for approval to donate to another cause that is working towards BLM goals.

For physical fanworks, whether or not your final bid includes shipping will be up to the creator. Once we receive confirmation of the donation, we’re no longer responsible for communication between creators and bidders. Be aware that for physical fanworks, creators will need your address to send you the item. If you aren’t comfortable giving out personal information, we suggest you bid on other auctions instead.

Once the auction is over, we will confirm the final amount for your winning bid(s); do not donate until you receive this confirmation. As soon as we have proof of your donation (pdf receipt that shows date, organization, and amount, all other info can be redacted) we will put you in touch with your creator. At this point, it is up to the two of you to work out how you’d like to proceed to ensure that the bid is fulfilled by 31 January 2021.

If you don’t hear from your creator after we connect you, please reach out to them yourself! If it has been a couple of months and you haven’t heard from them at all despite your efforts to get in touch, let us know and we’ll try to contact your creator on your behalf or help you assess the situation. Unfortunately, there’s always an inherent risk that a creator may fall through for various reasons. If this happens, we hope that knowing that you donated money to support an amazing cause will lessen the disappointment of not receiving a promised fanwork.

Remember that this event is designed to create content for Black Marvel characters, so please be sure to keep your requested works aligned with our Content & Conduct guidelines.

What charities will be supported?

We want participants to feel connected to where their efforts are going. There are multiple organizations linked in our Resources section below, along with master list sites that are updated regularly as new donation opportunities arise.

Creators will be allowed to specify up to three sites that they’d like their winning bidder to support with their donation. Any of the sites or organizations linked in our Resources section are acceptable. Creators can also decline to list a preference, and their winning bidder will be permitted to donate to any of the sites or organizations linked in our Resources section.

We are also open to suggestions! Other donation opportunities requested by the creator and vetted by the mods will be welcome.

Can I sign up to provide more than one offering? Can I sign up as a creator and a bidder? Can I bid on more than one offering? 

The answer to all of these is an enthusiastic yes! Creators can make up to three offerings. Just be sure not to spread yourself too thin; we want everyone to have a successful participation. Do not agree to participate, either as a creator or a bidder, unless you are absolutely committed to following through.

Content & Conduct

This event is designed to spotlight Black characters in a positive way. This doesn’t mean we require fluff, smiles, and happy endings, but it does mean that for this event, we require that you think critically about what you are presenting and how that representation fits within the larger context of the way fandom treats characters of color.

All creations must be centered around one or more canon Black characters, meaning they must be the main focus of the story, artwork, etc. They should not be sidelined in favor of other characters, and if there is any shipping (which is not required, Gen creations are more than welcome) they should be in the main pairing.

This event is designed specifically to support BLM and therefore we expect all participants and creations to align with the values of the movement. To that end, we ask that you do not create or request fanworks that celebrate law enforcement or the military. This is not the appropriate event for a cop AU or similar. For characters canonically affiliated with law enforcement or the military, be critical of how those institutions are portrayed, as well as how BIPOC are treated by and within those institutions.

Some additional points to keep in mind:

- Some Marvel characters have canonical physical, mental, and emotional disabilities - including invisible ones like chronic pain and mental illness. These should be treated respectfully, with due diligence given to portraying their lived experience.

- No perpetrating anti-Black stereotypes or tropes.

- No sympathetically portrayed Hydra or other Nazi analogues.

- No explicit or romantically portrayed non-con.

- No sexual/romantic relationships between adult and minor characters.

- No sexual/romantic relationships between family members.

- All content shared publicly should be tagged appropriately and thoroughly. 

Any offerings or creations that do not adhere to these guidelines will not be promoted on any of our social media platforms, and may affect your ability to participate in future events.

Resources

Creating: 

Writing With Color blogs, recs, & resources

Sam Wilson Birthday Bang resource page

Guide for non-Black authors writing Black characters

Common Microaggressions

Stereotyped vs Nuanced Characters and Audience Perception

Donations: 

Black Lives Matters carrd

Say Their Names carrd

BLM card master list

Homeless Black Trans women fund

Who are the mods?

@a-majesti, @awesomesnafu, @gavilansblog, @samstevebuckyhq, and @thundercakes22​ are your friendly mods. We bonded together over our love for Sam Wilson, and are amongst the mods & organizers for a variety of Sam Wilson-centric spaces, including the Sam Wilson Birthday Bang, SamSteve Small Gifts, SamSteveLove on Twitter, and the Sam Wilson Appreciation discord.

I have another question!

No problem, we’d love to hear from you! Email us (marvelfans4blm at gmail) or send us an ask here on Tumblr.

**Mod note: Thank you so much to @fandomtrumpshate and @marveltrumpshate for generously sharing their resources!

[floatinginwords]

Saved by the Devil (3/?) - Tommy Shelby

Summary: You deal with the aftermath of Eden club and an angry Sabini

Paring: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (not romantic..yet)

A/n: This chapter was very hard and long to write but im glad i got it done to share with you all. I have some cool plans for the next chapter and i promise theres actually gonna be alot of Tommy in the next chapter. so yay.

It wasn’t too long after the fight and gunshot scare when the Eden decide to finally close for the night. Leaving you, Trinity, and the rest of the workers left with a mess to clean. You can see Alastair giving you looks as the men staring from before lean in and whisper in his ear.

 “Those men are kiss assess to Sabini. They’ll say anything to get on his goes side.” Trinity whispers as the two of you sweep shards of glass and garbage off the floor.

 You can feel their eyes on your back as you worked. You stay silent the rest of night, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself. But as you and Trinity clock out for the night, Alastair’s calls out for you. Trinity eyes widen with panic. You straighten your back as you walk toward the man.

 “Ill be out here waiting.” Trinity calls out to you.

 Alastair arms are folded across his chest, bags under his eyes forming from the long night, and his hair disheveled. You never really had any relationship with Alastair. You knew him who he was, of course. Second to Sabini, runs the club and anything else Sabini didn’t want to deal with. He was loyal to the man, so there was no doubt in your mind that he told Sabini about tonight. 

“(y/n), I just wanted to tell you that Sabini is gonna want to see you in three days. The diner at twelve,” He doesn’t make eye contact as he speaks, “I’ve also told Sabini about tonight. Your name came up.”

 “What do you mean?” You tilt your head to the side, ignoring the feeling of your blood turning cold.

 “Some guys said they saw you speaking to Thomas Shelby.”

 You open your mouth to speak but Alastair beats you to it. “It doesn’t matter what it was about. Or even if its true. You know I gotta report this shit. Boys saw you and said it looked like you knew each other… I’m just giving you a heads up.”

He walks away with nothing more to add to the conversation.

“Goodnight Alastair.” You say.

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

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

Trinity the good friend that she is waits outside, walking around in circles anxiously waiting for you. When the door open and you walk out, she sighs and her shoulders finally relax.

 “Are you okay? What happened in there?” She questions.

 You loop your arms through hers and lead her down the sidewalk. You lean towards her ear as soon as your far enough from the club.

 “He’s gonna fucking kill me.” You whisper through gritted teeth and tears threatening to fall.

 “What, why?” Trinity stops looking at you in confusion and fear.

And you tell her what Alastair just told you and how now you have to meet up with Sabini himself.

 “You said it was nothing though.” Trinity says.

 You stay silent.

“(y/n), it was nothing, right? You don’t know him.” She asks you.

You continue with your silence. Trinity’s eyebrows raise and her jaw drops.

“Are you serious?”

“It was just,” You struggle to find the right words, “business. That Asylum I was in, he got me out.” You explain.

“Why would he do that?”

You swallow a lump in your throat, “He wanted information on my father…”

A pause in the air. You take a deep breath and stare at your friend. Her eyes huge and full of fear.

“Some men said they saw me and Shelby talking. We looked liked we knew each other. Sabini won’t take that well. And you know he believes his guys over everything.”

“So you lie your ass off.” Trinity declares, her voice trembling as she tries to sound strong. 

 You nod hearing her words. But deep inside you had a bad feeling. You seem to never escape the dangers of death or some sort of imprisonment. You head goes back Mr. Shelby’s words from earlier.

“Its funny, for someone who longs for freedom you sure have a way of getting yourself trapped all the time.”

 You wonder if he says shit like that cause he knows its gonna hurt. You never told the man about your desire for freedom. You knew from that one meeting in that visitors room he was analyzing you as were you to him. Only you got nothing from him and he seemed to get more than he let on.

 “I’ll let you know how it goes tomorrow.” You tell Trinity.

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

You walk into an a very lit room with dining tables and chairs all around. It looked like a place you’d have brunch at. A place around this time which looked to be noon, would be crowed. But only one man sat with his back towards you. Sabini was reading the newspaper, flipping the pages harshly. It looked to you like he was only reading the headlines. He glances up noticing another presence near him.

“(Y/N), sit. “He gestures to the seat right next to him. The air is tense around him and as you sit, faking a smile.

He takes a moment to speak. “Do you wanna hear a story?”

“You don’t have to play games with me Sabini. What happened?” You cross you legs as you put a cigarette in your mouth.

“How long have you known Thomas Shelby?”

You light the cigarette and puff out a stream of smoke in the air. “Never heard of him.”

“The man you were talking to last night.”

“I talked to a lot of men last night.” You add.

“The one who caused a commotion in the club.” He grinds his teeth and narrowing his eyes, not liking the game you’re playing.

“I don’t know Sabini, I think he asked me for a drink or something.”

Sabini leans forward in the chair, lightly touching your knee. You hold the urge to cringe and slap his hand away.

“I don’t believe you.” He says and he leans back, grabbing his newspaper pretending to read it again. His eyebrow twitches as he does.

You stay silent, knowing that anything you say would just make matters worse. You hold the cigarette out in front of you no longer wanting to smoke.

“I had someone look through some of Blue Hills Records. Your father put donations every year to place to secure you staying there. The month you get out Thomas fuckin Shelby puts a donation. A fuckin big one. Tell me, did he buy you to be his whore?”

He looks up from the paper again and stares at you intently. He sighs.

“I won’t kill you (Y/N) but you gotta go. Get out of my fucking territory and make sure I don’t see your face again. Cause if I do I wont hesitate.” He says.

You nod. Not trusting your voice to stay even.

He holds up three fingers. “You got three days to disappear.” He waves his hand for you to go. You don’t waste no time in doing so. Letting the cigarette drop on the floor on your way out. 

You head back to your apartment and the first thing you do is cry. You absolutely had no place to go. The only friend you had was Trinity and she lived in Sabini’s territory. One conversation landed you jobless and homeless with a death threat hanging over your head by a single thread. You curse yourself from ever talking to him. The conversation not even 3 minutes wasn’t worth all this damage.

The phone rings across your room. You don’t want to talk but know it must be Trinity. You pick it up and sure enough its her, worried as hell. You tell her every detail that happened, letting your anxieties fumble through the phone to your friend.

“I might have a fried who can take you in. She just moved into a house and she’s far from anything of Sabinis.” You hear Trinity say

“Okay, okay great. Can you call her up?” Your shoulders relaxing little by little with this new piece of hope.

“Yes, of course. Ill call her now!”

“Wait, what’s her name?”

“Ada Thorne, beautiful soul. I think you’ll get along lovely with her.” 

Read pt.4

Tags

@captivatedbycillianmurphy

[pastelfeatheredmask]

fanfic writer question game! tagged by @granny-griffin

Names: Pastel, my writing pseud is FeatheredMask (and we don't talk about my old usernames)

Fandoms: BNHA is my current brainrot with a dash of KNY, but I wrote for ML and BSD when I was into those. Got a couple small fandom interests on the side. I've been roleplaying Hetalia for some years, but haven't written much for it.

Where You Post: Ao3. I used to post to FFN, but transitioned over to Ao3 some years ago for a new page in my writing journey. I got told on FFN to take my gore fic elsewhere, and, well, I did.

Most Popular Oneshot (by kudos): Hanahaki Folk Remedy - I've always wanted to write hanahaki, but I'm not a fan of pining and my love always veers queerplatonic rather than romantic. I was inspired by some people in NWA talking about non-romantic hanahaki, and I wrote this pretty fast to achieve my dream of writing hanahaki for once.

Most Popular Multichapter (by kudos): An Explosion of Gold to Fill the Cracks - oh lordy, it's my blind!Katsuki longfic! This was my first BNHA fic, and it started off as some good ol' self-indulgent torture nonsense, and moved quickly to Katsuki being a BAMF. I was so inspired after watching seasons 1+2 of BNHA that I wanted to get right to writing something. Nobody told me that Katsuki gets kidnapped in season 3 until AFTER I had written a couple chapters of this. My chronic illness was flaring when I wrote most of this, and I couldn't really do much more than sit around and write, so yeah.

Favorite Story I’ve Written: Sakura Trees Blossom Every Year - my fae fic! I really loved weaving in all the magical elements, had a lot of fun making so many characters fae, and the training camp arc was an absolute joy to come up with and write! All the scenes around Setsuna's death and bringing her body back to camp -- oh god I made myself love Setsuna!

Fic You Were Nervous To Post: cleaning a blank gravestone - reincarnated!Oboro. DID/OSDD is a kind of a touchy, controversial subject. I'm not writing it from a stereotypical view or even a research-heavy psychology standpoint. It's mostly my own experiences, a smattering of research, and a touch of magical fantasy. I always worry that it's not accurate enough or that someone will get offended by the portrayal of DID/OSDD, especially in the chapters I've been working on recently, where I've been writing with more of a horror tone. This fic has become very personal to me as I navigate my own plurality through it, and the research/planning for it is actively triggering something in my head to fight me, so all that makes me more and more nervous about the reception to each new chapter.

How Do You Choose Your Titles: I'll pick a few words or a concept from the first few chapters I've already written and start bouncing ideas around. I'll make a whole list of potential titles around one or two things I absolutely want to be part of the title, and I'll pick one from those. Sometimes I'll just slap on a song lyric without much thought and then busy my head in my hands when I realize it's stuck there.

Do You Outline? So much. So many bullet points.

Complete: Book 1: Sakura Trees Blossom Every Year, Feed, Forfeit Every Drop, Promised Future, Test Flight, Please Wake Up, and some older stuff.

In Progress: UHHHHHHHH

Coming Soon: Working on the next chapters of Holding Beautiful Things In Phantom Hands, ch2 of Swim in Starry Skies, ch11 or Wicked World, ch20 of cleaning a blank gravestone! probably gonna post ch3 of Holding Beautiful Things later

Not Started: So, for outlined and have a few hundred words written but nothing's posted, I have an izukacchako dragon rider au, izukacchako mermay, Good Parent Overhaul, Izuku-Katsuki quirk swap, vigi!Izuku with OFA!Ochaco, Midnight in HP-verse, and OFA!Oboro

Upcoming Work You’re Most Excited About: my Oboro fics tbh. Swim in Starry Skies is really scratching the itch to write my space au and fin folk, and I can't wait for the reveals in blank gravestone that are coming up. I've been foreshadowing them, but I really hope they're still good surprises! My vampire!Oboro fic, I'm also excited for, but honestly, it needs a little more outlining before I write the juicy part.

Tagging: @twelvefrogsinatrenchcoat @wishiwereabird @kittytrek @catlady5001 @starcloud-nova

[jalapeno-princess]

Through His Eyes

(Y’all, look at the deep v-neck in the suit might as well take it off Tuan)

Mark Tuan X Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Genre: Adorable fluff (tiny bit of angst and insecurities) oh and a couple mentions of body praise (and a couple descriptions of sex but very few)

Summary: Mark being the most supportive, patient, understanding and golden-hearted boyfriend we all deserve.

A/N: So, I wrote this in less than twenty minutes. I was on instagram and I began scrolling through my explore page and stumbled across a few girls who I think are so pretty and I began picking apart my entire being and I started to think so low about myself and I hate degrading myself so much because of what I see on social media so I ended up writing a quick little imagine based on what I just went through and ugh, what I would do to have a boyfriend like Mark in this story (or just like Mark in general I can feel it in my ass that he’s like this towards the lucky person who ends up receiving his love @ God...When? Hahahaha) anyways, I just want to let you all know that you are all beautiful in your own ways and the right person will love you just the way you are! I need to keep reminding that to myself. Enjoy!

“Hey Mark?”

After a hectic week of work with both of your schedules colliding, you and your boyfriend Mark finally had a day off where you could spend your time together doing whatever it is your hearts desired. Today, since you were both exhausted from the many hours of overtime you completed, Mark suggested that you’d just laze around your shared apartment doing your own things while basking in each other’s presence.

You were currently propped up on your bed, leaning against the headboard scrolling through your social media accounts while he was sat in between your legs, his head was heavy against your chest while he played the latest installment of call of duty, but it didn’t matter. You loved having him so close to you and your heart fluttered each time he looked up at you and nonverbally hinted towards wanting a kiss.

Although a small part of you wanted to do something a little more romantic like go to the beach and watch the sunset or dress up for a night on the town, you loved being in an environment where you could be yourself without having to worry about what others thought about you. You also enjoyed the alone time with your boyfriend. Even if the two of you live together, you hardly got to see him other than right before you went to bed.

He hummed gently in curiosity at your sudden call of his name, but continued to flick at the controller angrily. A small giggle fell from your lips at his tiny little grunt when he got killed in the game. For someone who was extremely soft spoken and gentle, he was a completely different person while playing video games. It’s as if the only time Mark would ever get mad was whenever he had a game console in his hands. You took a deep breath, afraid of his reaction after past experience of being in a situation like this and finally placed your phone in front of him.

“Do you think she’s pretty?”

You may not have been able to see him since the position the two of you were sitting in prevented you from doing so, but you’ve been dating Mark for long enough to know that he probably took a quick glance because he did not stop shooting at the bad guys at all.

“Hmm—She’s alright.”

He continued to play the game as if you didn’t just ask him what he thought about another girl and you couldn’t help but grow curious. You thought this girl was extremely pretty, and by the many comments she got on the photo, you knew many people agreed with you. However, hearing that Mark didn’t think much of her to even bat an eye at her photo made your cheeks warm.

From time to time, you’d find yourself wondering if Mark ever regretted getting in to a relationship with you. When he first asked you to be his girlfriend almost three years ago, you thought he was just playing around with you. But he made it painfully obvious that he harbored feelings for you and reminded you every single day that he loved you with his entire being.

No matter how many times he would compliment you not only on your beauty, but on your personality, intelligence and your heart, you still felt extremely insecure and always compared yourself to the girls you’d see on Instagram. At one point, Mark took away your phone to get you to stop obsessing over other woman you’d see on social media because he hated that you thought so low of yourself. It was hard for him as your boyfriend hearing you degrade yourself because he thought the world of you.

He tried his best to be patient with you and he knew that insecurities were normal because there were a couple of things he wished he could change about himself too. Yet, it always upset him hearing that you wish you could look like these girls whom he was sure heavily edited their photos before posting them and he had a feeling they didn’t look like that in real life. A few minutes later, you returned your phone back in to his face and asked about a different girl.

“What about her? What do you think about her?” He released a sigh before shrugging. Mark tried his best to not get angry on you or take out his frustrations on you nor did the two of you ever really have any arguments in the duration of your relationship; but if you did ever disagree it was on the topic of how you looked.

Sometimes Mark would blame your insecurities on himself; was he not complementing you enough? Was he not showing love to your body the right way while the two of you would have sex? Did he say something to make you feel like you weren’t pretty? He could never put his finger on it. All he could do was sit there and listen to you complain about things he knew weren’t true because he didn’t want fights to break out for something so minuscule and not worth fighting for.

“I don’t think about her. Now, this level is going to need all my attention babe, so give me a few minutes without any interruptions please?”

You nodded in agreement; but you felt bad for doing this to him. You couldn’t help it. It wasn’t like you enjoyed doing this. Who wanted to hear what their boyfriend had to say about other women? What girl in their right minds would continue to pester their boyfriend about whether or not he thought another girl was pretty? Deep down, you wished you weren’t so insecure; you wish you could look at another girl and think “Hey, she’s pretty. But so am I.”

But you couldn’t. That wasn’t who you were. If a girl had a nice body, you’d find reasons to hate on yours. Every time you’d look at a model, you wondered if they had a body Mark would prefer his significant other to have. If she had nicely shaped brows, you wondered if Mark disliked your thick, bushy ones. If she had a petite frame, you’d beat yourself up in thinking that Mark would rather have a girlfriend who was smaller than your busty and more voluptuous body.

It took you a while to come to the conclusion, but you had a mental illness and you despised yourself for allowing society to make you feel as if you weren’t beautiful. When you realized Mark succeeded and moved on to the next level, you tapped his shoulder gently and waited for him to turn around.

“Okay, last one I promise. Don’t you think she’s extremely pretty?”

Your boyfriend’s eye roll didn’t go unnoticed to you and you couldn’t stop the scoff that emerged from the back of your throat.

“Mark, I think you need to get your eyes checked. Every girl that I showed you are practically goddesses. You know, you don’t have to lie for my sake. I would rather you tell me the truth so I can work on myself and change for the better—“

“But that’s the thing y/n, you don’t have to change at all. I’m not lying for your sake. I’d be lying if I said I found any of those girls relatively pretty and you wanna know why? I completely desensitized myself towards any other girl the day I met you. You are the most beautiful girl that I have ever seen and no—I know what you are going to say. I’m not just saying that because you’re my girlfriend, I’m saying it because it’s the truth. You are so fucking beautiful y/n. Some nights I’ll stay up just looking at you in awe of how beautiful you are. Everything you claim to hate about yourself, I love profusely. Your smile could light up an entire room with how bright and contagious it is. Your nose is so cute, your dimples are so pretty, your brows; you always talk about how much you hate them but baby so many girls would kill to have them. Your cheekbones are so well defined, your eyes have this sparkle in them especially when you talk about the things that you love and don’t even get me started on your lips.”

He turned his body completely and was sitting on your lap at this point. His high pitched laughter filled the room as soon as he saw a tear fall from your cheek. One thing about Mark, although he was a man of little words but of many actions is that when he did speak, each and every word pulled on your heartstrings in the most captivating way. He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before cupping both of your cheeks in his hands.

“Your heart must be so big, that there wasn’t enough room to fit it in your beautiful body that God had to put some of it in your lips. Your lips are the perfect shade of pink and they’re so soft and I love how they feel against mine. Whenever we kiss, I’m telling you, I feel butterflies swarming in my stomach every single time—look at what you’ve done to me baby. I’m a fucking ball of cheese when it comes to you but it’s because I love you so much and I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. I um—I also particularly enjoy the way your lips look and feel when they’re wrapped around my cock—what? You said to be honest here y/n it’s the truth. Fine, but I’m serious.”

His lips softly ghosted over yours before he finally stole a few fleeting kisses. No matter how many times the two of you would kiss, you were never able to pull away. You would proudly admit with no hesitation that you were addicted to Mark’s lips and you loved how they were always so sweet and melded perfectly with yours; like honey.

“Fuck, and your body was perfectly crafted. You always say you hate how thick your thighs are, but if I’m being honest, I love how thick they are baby. I think they are so luscious and they feel so good wrapped around my waist as I bottom in to you or when I eat out this pretty little pussy of yours, they’re like my own personal ear muffs. You have the most insane curves that every single thing you wear looks amazing on you. You could be wearing one of my baggy shirts or one of my hoodies that practically swallow you whole and I will always want to rip it off of you. You have the prettiest titties; they’re so huge, so plump and so perky. Loving on them is one of my favorite parts of sex: I particularly like gliding my dick in and out of them, but I also like seeing your nipples harden whenever I pinch and twist at them or when I bring one of your breasts in my mouth. And shit, whenever you wear low cut tops, I have to prevent myself from fucking you senseless no matter where we are. Oh, and your ass is a masterpiece. I love how it bounces against by cock whenever I take you from the back, I enjoy slapping them when you’re naughty and fuck, massaging both your cheeks is a dream. Wow, I’m surprised you didn’t hit me like you normally would whenever I talk about how fucking sexy your body is—and I spoke too soon.” He rubbed the part of his shoulder where you shoved him all but gently and took your hands in his.

“Not only are you beautiful on the outside, but you are exceedingly beautiful on the inside to and a girl like that is rare to find. I’m sorry if I don’t remind you enough of how perfect I think you are or how much I love you, but I think the entire world of you baby. You’re it for me. You’re my person, my soulmate y/n. You’re the only girl I ever look at and want to look at for the rest of my life. So stop showing me these random women you find on twitter or instagram because you’re going to get the same response out of me every single time—wait. There is a girl I find very attractive. Give me your phone.”

You furrowed your brows and didn’t even try to hide your disappointment at his sudden change of heart. He literally just told you you’re the only girl in the world to him yet he says there’s someone else he thinks is good looking. Right as you’re about to make a comment, he hands you back your phone and you playfully roll your eyes when you see your profile.

“Damn, she’s a beauty isn’t she? Now that’s a fucking goddess, I just got hard looking at her. You think she’d respond to me if I sent her a DM?” You were quick to shove him off of you but you pushed him down on the bed and hovered over him.

“I’m sorry for always bothering you about these things Mark. I’ll try my best to stop comparing myself to other people. But I hope you know that I’m extremely grateful for all that you do and say to try and get me to learn to love myself. Don’t think you don’t compliment me enough, in fact I think you are too generous with your sweet words. I’m the stubborn one who refuses to accept it but I’ll work on it. I love you Mark, so much. I really don’t deserve you.” You stole a chaste kiss from his lips before he pulled you down so that you were chest to chest with him and snaked his arms around your waist.

“Don’t say that, you deserved the entire universe babe, and I plan on giving it to you. Now that I told you just how beautiful you are, what do you think about getting a physical demonstration? And then maybe later, you could show me just how grateful you are for me while on your knees as I shove this dick down your throat—oh, you’re gonna pay for that. I never understand why you aren’t this physical when we make love. Get back over here y/n! I’m going to make sure you can’t walk for the rest of the week once I’m done with you.”

[morceid]

Buttery, Tear-stained, and Perfect

SPENCER REID X DEREK MORGAN

Summary: Derek comforts Spencer after the untimely death of his mother

Word count: 1164

Category: whump

Content Warnings: major character death, grief

A/N: thank you @jemilys​ for helping me decide if this should be a moreid fic or dad spencer fic. ily 💋

Spencer Reid loved sending letters to his mother. He bought vintage style stationary just for her. For him it was just some stationary, but to Diana, it was everything. It was like a secret sign of trust that reassured Diana that she was getting letters from her son. From the only person that still truly cared for her through her mental illness.

Spencer much preferred talking through letters than over the phone. There were certain things you could portray through writing that you just couldn’t over the phone. And even though Spencer’s eidetic memory would keep him from forgetting, the sight of the permanent words on paper meant so much to him. It would keep Diana alive not only in his memory, but also through her trembling but flowy handwriting.

Lately, the letters became less and less. It wasn’t unusual for her to do so especially considering her declining condition. Then one day, they were in New Jersey for a case. It was rough for everyone. They had been there for a week trying to search for the unsub. Sometimes if Spencer was on a case for this long he would ask his building manager to send the letter to wherever he was, but the thought hadn’t crossed his mind yet.

Until she was walking into the New Jersey police precinct.

“Mrs. Boswell? What are you doing here?”             

“Spencer. You received some mail recently and they said they were gonna call you but I think it might be better if you heard this from me, I just-”

Almost as if on cue, Spencer’s phone started ringing.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Boswell, I have to take this, it’s the facility my mom is at.”

As Spencer put the phone up to his ear, he heard the beginning of the fateful message. He had thought of it and studied it for years. From the day he admitted her. Sometimes he spent entire nights reading over the message and memorizing it. It was the message the clinic sent to you when your loved one passed away. It had been a frequently asked question as to what the message about the death of a loved one would sound like from the clinic and Spencer dreaded the day he would get it since he was 18.

“Hello, this is an automated voice message for DR SPENCER REID,” the computerized voice spewed. “We regret to inform you that patient number 81256813, DIANA REID has passed. WE send our love to you and your former loved one. Call this number for more info. 1-800…”

The voice became clouded in Spencer’s mind by his own thoughts. It hadn’t even hit him that Derek had walked out of the area they had set up and was now calling his name. His mind swam with thoughts of “Who am I without my mom?” and “how could she be gone?” and finally “So that’s why Mrs. Boswell is here. They sent all of her belongings.” but that was the quietest thought of them all.

Before Spencer could control himself he was stumbling backward and into the arms of his coworker. He felt himself about to drift from consciousness and when he woke up he was still in Derek’s arms. Derek nor his unit chief knew why Spencer had passed out until they talked to Mrs. Boswell. Hotch ordered Derek to take Spencer back to the hotel room and to let him settle, at least until he woke up.

Spencer was curled up into Derek’s side and his tears had been streaming down his face, onto Derek’s black button up. He planned on keeping his eyes closed for a little while longer, just to savor the moment, but there was a knock on the door that penetrated the silence and made Spencer sit up fast.

“The door is unlocked, Hotch.” Derek called, putting his arm onto Spencer’s shoulder and pulling the pale man back to his body.

Hotch opened the door and walked in holding the box of mail Mrs. Boswell had when she had entered the police station. He set it on the edge of bed and pat Spencer’s knee in his odd, dad-like way.

“Sorry to hear about your mother. You don’t have to work the rest of the case if you don’t want to.”

“Thanks, Hotch.”

Hotch left the room as soon as he had entered, leaving Spencer and Derek to talk.

Spencer, still sitting in Derek’s lap, leaned forward and opened the box. Tears spilled from his eyes again and he pulled out her old scrapbook. Derek still had an arm around him and the two flipped through the pages together. There were occasional chuckles from Derek who was laughing at the pictures of Spencer when he was little.

“You know what my favorite thing is in here?” Spencer flipped to a page nearer to the front of the book, around the college age pages. “Her peach cobbler recipe. It was so simple, but she made it every year on my birthday, without fail. It’s just peaches, box cake mix, and butter, but it’s the best thing i’ve ever eaten in my life.”

Spencer turned towards Derek and realized how close they were. He felt Derek’s warm breath ghost over his lips and saw every single fleck of sincerity in his eyes. They glistened despite the dark molasses color they were. He closed the small distance between them with his lips and moved his right hand from the leather bound book to Derek’s chin. He pulled him by the chin just a little bit so Derek’s lips would part much like his mother did when she was making sure he was listening.

As soon as Derek let Spencer’s tongue enter his mouth Spencer pulled away.

“I- I’m sorry I just- ah- let’s just get back to the book. I- uh, I used to beg my mom to laminate the recipe because she would always get it covered in butter. But I guess now it’s covered in tears.” Spencer chuckled through his last words but his tears were coming out faster, harder, and more plentiful than they had before.

“Hey, kid,” Derek took Spencer’s cheek in his hand, forcing Spencer to look at him. “Don’t be sorry. And don’t say anything about me just being empathetic. Because I have wanted to do that for such a long time, and if you noticed I didn’t pull away. You’re sitting in my lap for christs’ sake! Come here.”

Derek closed the distance once again, this time getting a proper feeling of the kiss. Spencer tasted of every single sweet thing in existence, along with a slight saltiness from his tears. His lips were like pillows on a bed he could lie on for hours. Derek felt his own eyes prick with tears of happiness as he pulled away.

“When we get home from this case, I promise you, I will make you that peach cobbler.”

“Really?”

“Of course, Spencer. This recipe is buttery, tear-stained, and perfect.”

[seimeinotaka]

A beautiful gift for a beautiful flower: the Legendary Sword (Vil X MC fic)

It is still the 9th, so I’m still on time to upload a fic to celebrate Vil’s birthday. I wanted to give something he would love, so here it is, given and made with him and Ann in mind. Maybe one day I’ll upload Ann giving him also his so-wanted list hehe. But for now, I hope this will do!

Thanks to polyphenols@AO3 for beta-reading this!

-

This is a story from a young prince who lived in a faraway land.

~ ° ~

Vil had just returned from his afternoon walk as he crossed the now empty lounge, devoid of any of the birthday tables and balloons for his own celebration, as expected for it was the day after. Well, it was empty except for the lone presence of Ramshackle dorm’s prefect, Ann Hawthorne, and Vil’s almost professional headache.

“Vil-senpai, here!” the young girl said as she handed Vil a thick-looking envelope, with a purple ribbon on top.

The unexpected gift made him raise an eyebrow. “Potato, my birthday was yesterday and you were here, with your usual birthday interviews for the School’s News Section. You even took a picture of me. Did you somehow not know it was my birthday yesterday and made a last-minute gift to excuse yourself?”

Ann rolled her eyes and made a mocking grin. “Haha, how funny, there is no way in hell I can make this in one night. I had actually brought it with me, but well, I wanted you to read it, and I didn’t want to take up your time at your birthday party. I mean, you didn’t read Rook-senpai’s poems either, so it was fair that I handed you this now.”

Vague curiosity in his eyes, because he wasn’t really interested, just a little, Vil opened the envelope and took out a large stack of papers bound together with a purple thread. The words “Legendary Sword” could be read on the first page, and with a quick glance, Vil realized it was a script with some pictures in between.

~ ° ~ 

Long ago in the hidden remains of the Araceae Kingdom lived a beautiful young man, with brilliant cold amethyst eyes and delicate flawless skin. His hair was silky golden and he blinded everyone with his appearance. Every day, he devoted himself to his studies, from arts to economics, languages and science. In the afternoon he would train his body, fencing, wrestling, running, horse riding. He worked harder than anyone, never complaining, as he pushed himself day after day.

However, he was feared and scorned, for he was the scion of the wretched Zantedeschia household, Schwartz Zantedeschia. His family had ruled the kingdom with an iron fist, and had seized control of every other kingdom under the sun.

Shedding blood, many fought the Zantedeschia until one day a brave hero, wielding a mythical sword, was able to dethrone the cursed family and their household vanished from history. The hero, coming from the Leiron family, the rulers of the Lilium Kingdom that everyone had dismissed as negligible, was of pure heart and as the chosen hero, he was able to vanquish the evil.

However, the Zantedeschia weren’t completely destroyed and each heir was carefully trained in hopes of achieving their dream.

Before Schwartz, no one had been as successful nor had anyone worked as hard, and he was the only one to cast off from the shadows to fulfill his mission, leaving his homeland in shambles behind him.

To regain their former glory, and extract revenge, that was the reason for his journey.

~ ° ~ 

“A villain protagonist, really? This is your gift to me?” Vil took his eyes off the script for a moment to give Ann a dismissive and insulted glare.

Unamused, the girl rolled her eyes as she pushed the script closer to his face. “Keep reading, Vil-senpai.”

Vil kept his penetrating and heavy stare on her, though the young girl didn’t even flinch, probably used to his flair for the dramatic. However, the actor kept on reading.

~ ° ~ 

To fulfill his quest for revenge, he would need to seize the mythical sword Durendal, which had been the fall of his family. The next chosen holder would be Weiss Leiron, the heir of the Lilium Kingdom, adored by everyone for his purity. As soon as he turned of age, he would become the legitimate owner of Durendal.

Prince Schwartz had known of Weiss, meeting him long ago when he hid his identity to get to know the faces of his enemies. Even now, he was painfully aware, Weiss was beloved by every creature in the land, his affable nature charming everyone in spite of his failings. During that time, Schwartz came to learn that his own nature scared others, finding himself pushed away even if his true name hadn’t been revealed. His beauty alienated everyone he had met and his stoic personality was found distrustful by many, no matter what he did or said.

Thus for years, he couldn’t help but to grow deep resentment in his heart, jealousy taking root like a bloody, poisonous flower. So for Schwartz, this quest meant also his own reassurance of his worth to the world that had shunned him.

~ ° ~

“Do you enjoy making me upset?” Vil squinted as he kept on re-reading the last line, his frown growing deeper and deeper with every word.

“Do I look like I’m enjoying this?” Ann replied with a not so concealed smarmy smile.

“Your suspicious gaze makes me wonder if you are secretly a sadist. You’re not even trying to flatter me in the slightest, and of all people, you had to put him as the hero again. Really, you have a morbid sense of humor.”

“Who says Neige is the hero?”

“I am obviously Schwartz, as the narration clearly describes me. That would mean Neige can only be Weiss. Stop playing around, you aren’t fooling me.” Vil let out a long sigh. “At this rate, I’m going to have you list 200 beautiful things about me instead.”

“Please finish reading the thing, Vil-senpai? Do you judge books on the first page?”

Vil sighed again, gently shaking his head as his eyes went back to the papers in his hands.

~ ° ~ 

To aid him on his quest, Prince Schwartz had been sent with two trusted knights serving the Zantedeschia, the bow master Vert and the young knight Violett. Vert was a self-proclaimed defender of beauty and followed Schwartz wherever he would go. Violett had a tense relationship with Schwartz, feeling constricted by Schwartz’s rules and strictness, and with a promise of freedom after this journey. Whatever their goals were, they would protect him with their lives, as his travel would grow more dangerous the further he went. Prince Weiss had seven renowned knights and no matter Prince Schwartz’s prowess in combat and magic, it would be safer for him to be accompanied. The Araceae Kingdom was also on the northern end of the continent, hidden behind a harsh tundra and treacherous mountains, and Schwartz’s safety was to be prioritized.

As the prince and his knights traveled south, to reach the center of the continent where Durendal was enshrined, they met a group of four travelers in peril, surrounded by foul beasts. Even if it was dangerous, as it could blow his cover, Schwartz and his knights went to their rescue. In gratitude, the brawler Azure, the thief Vermillion, the young lost researcher Ai and her magical talking cat Hai joined Schwartz on his travels south.

~ ° ~

“Why do I get vague videogame allusions from this?” Vil arched an eyebrow at the recent development.

“Well,” Ann replied with a shrug. “They are classes you find in RPGs. It would make sense for Schwartz to gather several comrades that can cover any weakness he might have.”

“Then? What is your class, Ann?” Vil turned to the girl, a mocking smirk dawning on his beautiful face. “I don’t think you’d be able to be a Healer here.”

Ann pursed her lips before reluctantly answering, “I am the very important NPC tagging along. You all can fight to protect me.”

“Fufufu, bold of Ai to wander alone with her talking cat who can barely manage a spell. I wonder if they will be of help.” With a dark chuckle, Vil resumed reading.

~ ° ~ 

Vermillion and Azure hailed from the Rosaceae Kingdom, a land not far away from Lilium and the shrine for Durendal. Originally a couple of bandits, they had initially attempted to trick Ai and her cat, lost travelers who had just survived a shipwreck and were looking for a way back to their homeland, the Asteraceae Empire on the other side of the world. However, after being saved by the same girl they wanted to rob, they decided to reform and help them reach a port. Being told of their quest to reach Lilium, the group tagged along unaware of Schwartz’s true intentions. They all believed he was a young man kidnapped and sent to Araceae who was trying to go back to his own land, Vermillion and Hai hoping they could snag a reward for their efforts.

To reach Lilium and the shrine, the group would need to cross a perilous desert, where the rays of the sun would be so merciless that the unprepared would easily die. Unaccustomed to such warm weather, Schwartz and Violett struggled with the inclemency of the climate, growing weaker with every step. However, Schwartz was not willing to abandon his mission, even at his own health’s peril, and he continued his trip until he grew gravely ill.

~ ° ~

“You’re not writing this right now, but one could think you were expecting me to question your abilities and you kindly decided to get some petty revenge on Schwartz,” Vil said flatly, as his eyes dangerously narrowed, throwing daggers at Ann.

“Excuse me, I would be incapable of doing that, Vil-senpai.”

“Have you forgotten the time your hand slipped and your fist casually connected with Rook’s jaw? Or the time you-”

“That was a legit reason to punch him, okay?” Ann pouted as she folded her arms in front of her. “And we don’t need to talk about other things, go on and keep reading.”

~ ° ~ 

Taking a detour, the group reached the land of Oleaceae in hopes of finding a doctor to treat Schwartz and Violett. In their search, they found a pair of young men running away from a large group of pursuers. Ill and weakened, Schwartz still led the party to defend and protect the men in need of help, learning that the people running away, a dancer by the name of Asfar and his servant Burtiqali had been wrongly accused of murdering Asfar’s father. Even if Asfar had chosen to distance himself from his father’s business, one of the largest spice traders in Oleaceae and the land, he was the heir to the family and people within the clan wanted to get rid of the father and son to claim the business for themselves.

After a narrow escape from Oleaceae, the group learned that Burtiqali was a proficient chemist, and he provided relief to Schwartz and Violett, in gratitude for helping them escape. With no place to go, Asfar and Burtiqali decided to travel with Schwartz, hoping to find a way to clear Asfar’s name if they reached Lilium and found the hero Weiss.

Meanwhile in the Lilium Kingdom, word of Schwartz’s quest reached the ears of Weiss.

“Someone sullied is not fit to be a hero, only those pure can be one. Envy, jealousy, those emotions are unbecoming. A hero is a beacon of hope, a model to follow, a paragon of virtue. Someone who is envious of the natural course of things is not fit to be a hero.”

Those were the words of the beloved hero, the next in line to inherit Durendal. He looked at the eyes of his loyal knights, seven brave men who would follow Weiss wherever he went, taking his word almost as if it came from the heavens. Anyone wishing to follow the right path would look closely at the Prince of Lilium, with his bright and kind features and no darkness in his eyes. For his sake, they would even shut their hearts, to do what was right.

If Schwartz was willing to attack the hero, they would prevent him from even touching a single strand of the hero’s hair. A villain must never win, and good will always defeat, vanquish evil. In these times of crisis, with the kingdom’s growing unrest year after year caused by the Zantedeschia, the populace was suffering. Inequality, famine, disease, they had been slowly creeping in Lilium, and Schwartz’s arrival would be the key to opening the forbidden box.

Thus, they needed to bring swift judgement to the villain trying to usurp power once more.

~ ° ~ 

“A paragon of virtue, the meaning of a hero,” Vil uttered those words, almost wounded.

“In my world, the origin of the word ‘Hero’ was one meaning Defender.”

“It’s the same as this world. Color me surprised, though, I wouldn’t put you as a reader.”

“How rude, senpai, even after all this time you still think the worst of me.” Ann pretended to sigh dramatically, though Vil just rolled his eyes. “You probably think I spend my time thinking of how to annoy you and picking my nose.”

He let out a chuckle, his now trademark sardonic smile aimed at her. “Given how much you neglect your appearance, would you blame me for believing it?”

~ ° ~ 

As they traveled, the burden of his secret mission weighed heavily on Schwartz’s shoulders, as he found himself growing attached to his companions. Keeping an aloof distance and not hiding his critical tongue and stoic and strict nature, he had assumed they would be simply people he would be using to achieve his goals. Schwartz had always been alone and feared by everyone, so he hadn’t expected anything else. The kind interaction of these people made him at times believe they could be friends, something he had once thought impossible.

After all, no one knew better than him that he was sullied with jealousy and anger, stains perhaps too deep in his soul to be the hero recognized by Durendal. After all, the legendary sword would only choose someone who was a hero and the more Schwartz looked at himself in the mirror, the further he traveled in his journey, the more he believed himself to be the villain, just as his ancestors before him.

~ ° ~ 

This time, Vil had no snappy retort or effusive reaction. Instead, he solemnly stared at the words in front of him, his lips pressed together into a thin line. He wouldn’t admit aloud that Schwartz’s feelings were hitting too close to home, the traces of his Overblot still lingering in his thoughts. His own failings caused his heart to be tainted with ink and even to his day, he struggled with his wish to be cast once as a hero, to prove he wasn’t the villain everyone appointed and believed he was.

His eyes briefly met Ann’s, before he diverted his gaze. He recalled the times she had called him several things, such as kind, that he, to this day, did not believe he was, and he wondered if there were some of those feelings portrayed in the script in his hands.

She didn’t say anything, as she quietly looked at him with a warm soft smile, in hopes that he kept on reading to find the answer he was suddenly seeking for.

~ ° ~

Just as the travelers arrived at the shrine where Durendal rested, Schwartz came to face his sworn enemy, Prince Weiss, the paragon of goodness and the hero of the land. He almost laughed maniacally, as the seven holy knights came to protect him. It would truly be a fight of good and evil, and for once he decided to unveil his ugly mask to the oblivious people who wrongly decided to accompany him.

~ ° ~ 

“Did you honestly write ‘Fighting scene goes here’?” Vil arched an eyebrow, with a dismissive and almost stunned glare at Ann, who simply blinked in return.

“Do I look like I know how those kind of fighting scenes normally go in a script?”

“Shouldn’t you know it? You ARE writing this after all.”

“You can make it up as you want.” Ann waved her hand nonchalantly, and Vil let out a groan. The nerve of the girl to leave out the most important part of the scene, and he thought of thousand ways to express his utter shock and frustration. Ann huffed. “If you really want it, you can pretend I wrote you kick Neige in the balls…Ah, but be careful with your heels, you might break his baby-making machine and that might give you trouble.”

“Baby. Making. Machine.”

“His dick, senpai. You break his dick.”

Vil’s blank expression was on her for a couple of seconds, before his line of sight was interrupted by her gently shoving the script toward his face.

~ ° ~ 

The knights defeated and Weiss wounded, Schwartz would lift his sword, deep in anger to decapitate his nemesis, at the protest of his friends. The anger of knowing that his family had been shunned for years for crimes they never committed, Schwartz finding himself damned for the only reason of being born under the Zantedeschia name fueled his fatal blow. As the sword fell like a guillotine, an arrow threw it away from its trajectory, his friends deciding to oppose him in a battle they knew they might lose. But they would face him because they knew what kind of person Schwartz truly was, cold and aloof, but secretly caring, and they didn’t want him to commit a heinous crime.

Somehow, his words reached Schwartz, horrified at the monster he had become. Falling on his knees, he threw away his magic tome and his sword, realizing he was no hero, he was the villain awaiting his execution. He would no longer be capable of wielding Durendal, no, the idea of wielding it was ridiculous from the very beginning. And to wound him further, his close knight Vert had picked up the Legendary Sword, handing it to a wounded Weiss, as he protected him from any harm on their escape.

“I was hoping you would recognize your own worth without needing external validation. You do not need Durendal. The wielder of Durendal is the one who shines like the sun, the most beautiful at heart. One day, you will surely be recognized, farewell, Schwartz, but my heart truly lies with Weiss, who is unclouded by sin and is as radiant as any star.”

Vert’s betrayal caused everyone to fall back, taking everyone by surprise. While Asfar, Burtiqali and Ai had caught grasp of Schwartz’s true intentions, they never realized Vert had sent a warning to Lilium. Tending their wounds, Schwartz finally explained the truth he had concealed.

Long ago, as a great war emerged, the Zantedeschia were one of many houses caught in the strife. Fighting to protect their territory and lending a hand to nearby lands, they grew in power, and lords of other lands deemed them too dangerous. While they hadn’t invaded other kingdoms, they were plagued by fear, and decided to vanquish them before they could do anything. And thus, they imparted their judgement and executed most of the royal family except for one who managed to escape, keeping the bloodline alive and hiding at the ends of the world.

They gave the honor to a random lowborn house, the Lilium, as they would make the better heroes for a loving fairytale. A chivalrous story of the good and weak defeating the evil and strong. Pinning all of their internal problems on the Zantedeschia, they decided it was for the best to brand them as the evil of the world, and thus it would be allowed to destroy them. Because Durendal happened to choose the prince of Lilium, they could embellish their tale which was no more than political machinations to benefit just a small few, while giving crumbs of justice to the unknowing folk.

And thus, with the passage of time, the world would know of the story of the evil Zantedeschia and the good Lilium and it became the truth for everyone. Except for the surviving bloodline of the Zantedeschia who relayed their truth to their successors, hoping that one day, they would finally be acquitted of something they never committed. And if Durendal chose any of them, then it would finally be proof that they weren’t the evil they were always thought to be.

“Did you want to wield Durendal for yourself or for your bloodline and your people?” Ai had posed this question to Schwartz, who had tried everything and had failed.

“For them, but also for myself, though it no longer matters. Someone like me isn’t meant to be a hero. Which Legendary Sword would choose a murderer driven by jealousy? Which kind of people would follow a hero tainted by anger, envy, and resentment? Weiss is as radiant as the sun, I am the cold moon doomed to die at every dawn.”

“I don’t believe you are the villain you have convinced yourself to be, nor is that one born a hero. If you still wish to try, there is still time for you to see if Durendal has rejected you.”

“Even if it doesn’t choose me, I want my clan’s name to be cleared for sins pinned on us.”

Because of Schwartz coming to Lilium, the official ceremony for Weiss to become the next wielder was rushed and would be before he was of age. It was also to quell people’s anger, as their issues in their land had become unbearable to wear and a hero would bring peace to the people, as Weiss truly believed with all of his heart. To bring light to cast away the shadows, he would take his place as the hero.

Apologizing for what he had done, Schwartz asked his friends if they would accompany in a final quest. If he were to be fought and executed, so be it, and if he was never to become Durendal’s wielder, so be it, but at least, he would want to denounce the infamy his family had been accused of. He would accept his death if it at least meant the truth was finally known, and with it the Zantedeschia would be no more. He was surprised when everyone decided to go on with the journey, everyone knowing what kind of man he was, and wishing to support him one last time.  Thus, Schwartz and his friends traveled to Lilium to set right what was wrong.

“I am Prince Schwartz Zantedeschia from the Araceae Kingdom and I have come to reclaim the innocence of my people, unjustly accused in the past of crimes they did not commit. If I have to fight the hero chosen by Durendal, so be it! But on this day, the truth shall be known!”

“I will not let you, Prince Schwartz,” Prince Weiss proclaimed. “The Zantedeschia have become the evil of this land, and will be purged once more. You even wanted to steal this holy blade, someone like you is unfit to be Durendal’s wielder.”

Prince Weiss fought Prince Schwartz, not letting him say anything else. And deeply wounded after so many battles, Prince Schwartz fell on his knee, the sign of his loss and imminent execution. With a heavy movement, Prince Weiss swung Durendal, only to find that it wouldn’t even touch one strand of Schwartz’s hair, falling to the ground and staying there unmoving no matter how hard Weiss tried to lift it.

For Durendal would never harm the wielder it had chosen.

Surprising everyone, Schwartz included, he found himself picking up the sword, glowing as beautifully as the sun, a sign it had picked his newfound hero. However, before anyone could rejoice, the flames of revolution stormed into place, as Schwartz and his friends had to flee Lilium.

~ ° ~ 

“And that’s when the first movie ends,” Ann chirped happily as Vil closed the script having finished reading it, “setting up the second one where Weiss goes batshit evil because he wasn’t the chosen hero as his land falls into shambles because of a revolution unfolding because the government was trash. Schwartz and his friends had to flee and embark on a journey to unfold a thousand year conspiracy and reveal the people behind the scenes of every tragedy. Burtiqali might or might not have to face the fact he kinda murdered Asfar’s dad and tried to set Asfar up but it blew up on him. Ai and Hai try to go back home, Violet has to reevaluate his relationship with Schwartz, tension between Vert and Scwhartz for the treason he committed, and Azure and Vermillion try to redeem themselves from their petty felonies while working as comic relief.”

Vil blinked for a moment before bursting out laughing for a couple of minutes. “A sequel, really? You even thought that far?”

“There are too many developments to fit in one movie. This isn’t a cash-grab sequel, it’s because the plot is too heavy to work in only one.”

“Pffft!” Vil couldn’t even stop himself from making that grin, between condescending and touched. “I didn’t know you had quite the imagination, I know you make a comic and you made your friends cry with it, but I didn’t expect a conspiracy for Legendary Sword. You truly never watched any of the films, the sword’s name is Excalibur by the way.”

“I knew the name, but Durendal fits better, duh. The meaning of Durendal’s name has been debated actually, but a common point is how it resists and endures. It was a sturdy sword, so of course it would endure, that is why it had to be the Legendary sword here.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow your obtuse logic, Ann.”

“If you’ve read as much as you claim to have, you will concede that former heroes weren’t good-natured people. It was a term given to those humans who defied all odds to achieve something impossible. In fact, many of them were terrible people struggling with vices. It was with time, especially modern times, that the word hero morphed into what we see, the pure-hearted paragon of goodness.”

“I almost poisoned Neige. How many heroes kill their rival in a fit of jealousy?”

“I like reading, and I realized the most valuable heroes weren’t the ones who never did wrong, but the ones who faced their own weaknesses and demons, and at their lowest, they could go on. You aren’t born a hero, you become one. Durendal chose Schwartz because he was willing to live on with his resentment and envy and help others. Durendal recognized Schwartz’s struggles and the time and effort he had spent all his life, trying to live up to his own morals. He saved people he encountered because it was the right thing to do, even if it was at odds with his goals. Would you call a villain someone who helps others out of the wishes of their heart?”

Vil opened his mouth to refute everything she had said, but Ann lifted a hand, a sign she wasn’t even done.

“You didn’t harm Neige in the end, and you overblotted because you regretted what you were going to do. You had a moment of weakness because you bottled it all in and because you are human. But your weakness doesn’t define your worth, it’s how you deal with your failures and faults what does. I told you, didn’t I? You are a hero, Vil. And I thought of making a story for the hero you deserved to represent.”

“…You depicted what happened during the VDC. That is no original story,” he mumbled, though he wasn’t mocking her. In fact, he was saying it to try to confront his own mixed feelings, at how she had turned his own struggles in a story of him being the hero. To be seen at his worst, yet being given this…

“It stops being based on that at the end, and there’s still the sequel, don’t forget. I haven’t finished it, but it can be a future birthday gift, right? I am a no-name person, but I’m giving it to you so you can give it to a director or a producer or a big shot and tell him ‘Hey, I got this great idea for a movie’. Obviously, you are Schwartz, the description was there so no one would get funny ideas of casting Neige.”

“You have no idea how these things work. No one will take me seriously if I hand them this.”

“Then arrange for someone to hand it to them then, duh.”

Vil chuckled. “Of course, I might follow your whims, if you behave well. Though I can’t say I hated this gift, you’d better improve your written action scenes next time.” There was no way he was giving this to Adella.

With a bright smile, not knowing that her gift would never reach the light of any studio, Ann excused herself, not before waving at him as she disappeared from the corridor. Vil himself reached his own room, carefully closed the door and threw himself on his bed. The script was carefully held between his arms, as he sighed.

“What a naïve girl, no one would make this film,” he said to no one, disappointed.

Vil knew how the industry worked. Such a story as the one depicted in this tale deviated too much from the norm to become a mainstream film and the budget needed was too large for an independent studio. Thus, only Vil would know of this story, the story of Schwartz Zantedeschia.

Even so, he held the script tightly against his heart, as he closed his eyelids to hide the tears forming in his eyes.

-

This has a lot of Author’s notes to make things more understandable.

Every character’s name is, as you might have guessed, based on a particular color. The color designation was depending on the origin of the fairy tale. Schwartz (Vil), Weiss (Neige) and Violett (Epel) got the German names for the colors black, white and violet, respectively. Vert (Rook) is the only exception, his name coming from French for green, this is to highlight that in the end he is a traitor of sorts to Schwartz.

Azure (Deuce) and Vermillion (Ace)’s original story hails from England, so they got variants of blue and red. Aladdin was written by a Syrian author, so Asfur (Kalim) and Burtiqali (Jamil) are the Arabic words for yellow and orange. I don’t know Arabic, so I am not sure if that’s the proper way you’d spell those words in the English alphabet, so if you find any mistakes, please let me know. Finally, while Ann comes originally from England, her character Ai and Hai (Grim) are in a way from Japan, so they are the Japanese words for indigo and gray.

Every character’s last name comes from a particular flower. Schwartz’s comes from Zantedeschia, or the calla lily. The calla lily can be found in a purple color so deep it might even look black. In spite of its name, it is not a true lily, hence it comes from the Zantedeschia genus and from the Araceae family. In the language of flowers, it represents beauty (hence ‘calla’, beautiful in Greek), purity, holiness, faithfulness, rebirth and resurrection. Funny though, the flower IS poisonous because of course Vil gets a poisonous flower.  :^)

Meanwhile, Weiss’s Leiron is the Greek word people believe referred to the white Madonna lily, and his Kingdom’s name is Lilium, the Genus for the lily flowers. Lilies have different meanings, depending on the color. White ones represent virginity, purity and modesty, while yellow ones represent falsehood and gaiety and orange means hatred. It is used in funerals in the west and are actually poisonous as well.

The other kingdoms come from the family of the Roses (Heartslabyul people), Chrysanthemums (Ann and Grim), and Jasmine (Kalim and Jamil). Because the author of the story of Aladdin is from Syria, I picked the national flower from that country.

Also, it’s ok Vil, you can make it an anime, or you can blackmail Crowley for $$$ and make it your club’s pet project :^)  Ehehehe

It was longer than expected, but I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you for reading!

[i-did-not-mean-to]

School AU - Chapter 2

So, just to be thoroughly done with this experiment, here's Bilbo's POV of the same scene.

There it is :D It was worth a celebratory little story...:)

Love you all <3

“Go to school”, they said, “It will be fun”, they said.

Bilbo rolled his eyes at his own naïveté. Of course, it would not be fun to change schools in the middle of the year.

The headmaster, a fearsome old man with a face like a death mask, waved him out of the office before he could even protest; they had decided to put him into a class with all the other “maladjusted” kids.

He was not maladjusted; he was merely new in this school.

“You will be fine.” The gentle old man, his headteacher as far as he had understood, promised him and the mere fact that this was the kind of thing he needed to be told, did nothing to ease his nervousness.

“They got a new teacher already today and now you, really, what an exciting day for the class.” The man went prattling on and on. Bilbo had no interest in being a novelty and he felt increasingly like he was a sacrifice or chum about to be thrown into the cold water, figuratively, physical education was not on the program for a few days at least.

Small mercies.

The headteacher rapped his knuckles against a closed door and then just shoved his head in without waiting for the teacher to accept his brusque announcement. He informed her, quite casually Bilbo found, of the fact that there was a new student and shoved him into the classroom before just leaving.

Bilbo looked at the woman in front of him; her eyes were dreamy as if she had been torn from a particularly pleasant reverie and her mouth curved into a warm smile almost immediately.

She made an off-hand comment about how all the students were new to her and Bilbo felt less alone instantaneously; he had been afraid to find himself confronted with a hermetic group of people who had all grown up together and who had no interest in getting to know a pudgy youngster who talked too much.

The headteacher had called her “Kira” and Bilbo had already noticed that they went by their first names here, so he greeted her as politely as he could and enquired if he had not missed too much of her class.

It would be hard enough to stitch together what he had seen in his last school and what was expected here, he didn’t want to start by lagging behind right away.

“I’ll fill you in.” A voice called out and he flinched. Again, Miss Kira’s presence was a comfort and a rock, for she twitched as well, but probably not for the same reasons. Except if she was a pervert; she didn’t look like one.

Turning his head ever so slowly, Bilbo searched for the face that went with the most beautiful voice he had ever heard: deep and slightly gruff, it had rippled down Bilbo’s spine like a current of silk and pure electricity.

Please, let him be ugly as sin, please, he begged his guiding stars. He did not want another debacle, not on the first day of school, not in a new environment.

Of course, that had been too much to ask and the face belonging to the voice turned out to be just as charming. Figures!

Bilbo had thought of himself as a rather lucky kid for the longest time, until he realised that it was voices and faces like the one just a mere stone’s throw away from him that set his insides on fire.

Another boy was sitting next to “the voice” and he was now ousted with a hearty shove while Bilbo tried to shuffle those feet he hadn’t quite grown into yet along the narrow empty space between the benches. It would just serve him right if he landed straight on his face in front of that…being.

He looked much more like a man already than a boy, a fact the parts of Bilbo he had definitely grown into already noticed with vivid interest. Feeling the treacherous heat crawl up his neck and into his face, Bilbo approached the bench, getting his feet tangled in his rucksack as he sat down on the now empty chair.

The chair was disgustingly warm, but he didn’t mind; he couldn’t even tell with certainty that his own body was not on fire in this very second and he was the one making the scratched plastic melt.

Oh Lord, his own ass was the last thing he wanted to think about now when that face was so close to him that he could smell the fresh, slightly zesty smell of the dark hair surrounding it. Good, he had been mocked mercilessly in his old school for the way he wore his own hair, but it was really nothing compared to those luscious, dark waves…

BILBO! He called himself to order. His polite instincts kicked in and he rearranged his slack jaw into what he hoped would be a pleasant smile.

The boy frowned at him, a mask of guarded suspicion, and Bilbo’s heart immediately mellowed. Here was someone who had known hardship, he knew instinctively, and it made him redouble the brightness of his smile. Had he ever seen eyes that blue? They were hard and glistening like shards of ice, but Bilbo felt that they might warm up to summer lakes in time.

Not on your first day of school, he tried to remind himself, but it was already too late; his mouth had run dry, and his stomach twitched with that all too familiar twinge of admiration. He was a boy who knew simple pleasures: a sunny meadow, a good meal…and a face like that.

Clearing his throat, the other boy shoved over a piece of paper, filled with chicken scratch writing. As soon as he pried his watering eyes off the boy’s face though to glance at it, he retracted it again, slamming a solid forearm down on the page. “Might have some spelling mistakes.” The boy mumbled. Ah, the idiot class, Bilbo remembered, more interested than ever.

“My name is Bilbo.” He spoke gently, putting one finger on the edge of the page and trying to pull it loose from under the massive bulk of the other one’s arm. “Thorin.” He rumbled, sighing a little. “Really.”

“Yes, why wouldn’t it be your name?” Bilbo chuckled. “Mistress Kira didn’t believe me.” He explained in a low voice, finally letting go of the sheet and allowing Bilbo to read through the notes.

There were indeed one or two hasty mistakes, but Bilbo was astonished to find that Thorin seemed to have chronicled the class faithfully. “If you don’t…if…” He stammered and Bilbo looked up, thankful for the quality of the notes because he knew that he was not processing any of the explanations Thorin was providing in that low voice.

He sounded like rough skin on silk sheets, Bilbo thought, another painfully inappropriate thought.

“Hmmm, thank you, Thorin. These are some good notes.” Bilbo mumbled hazily, his heart giving a sudden jerk when a tiny, thin-lipped, careful smile started tugging at the corners of Thorin’s mouth. Pride and awkwardness mingled on his face and Bilbo was quick to reactivate his sunniest smile in return.

Mistress Kira seemed to have given up on her teaching meanwhile; she was engaged in a low conversation with an awkward blonde boy who seemed to have been drained of all colour. The burly boy who had made room for Bilbo said in a challenging tone that nobody liked them, and Bilbo felt Thorin stiffen beside him.

As he looked over, he could see those beautiful eyes grow ever harder and colder in genuine fright and, when they snapped for a second into his direction, Bilbo felt a shiver of apprehension rustle through him like the North wind blew the leaves off the barren branches.

Looking up, Bilbo once again felt like Miss Kira was a godsend, for he could read the same horrified incomprehension in her eyes that he felt surging within his chest. She looked positively indignant when the class challenged her on not screaming at them, and Bilbo could see her hands clench and unclench rhythmically.

“How do you feel about dwarves?” Bilbo whispered to Thorin to distract the boy from the pain setting his gaze aflame.

“Dwarves? Yeah, they’re cool.” Thorin tried to hide his confusion, but failed miserably, which made Bilbo chuckle.

“Thorin and I will do a presentation about dwarves!” Bilbo announced to the teacher who nodded, slowly, her gaze heavy and warm on their faces. Bilbo knew that she had understood his meaning: I am here, and I am ready to roll up my sleeves and be a part of this.

Thorin’s head whipped around, his eyes huge now and, for a second, Bilbo could see behind the carefully closed-off façade of a slightly constipated and very ill-tempered young man; he saw the kind of desperate hopefulness that never failed to break hearts. Had Miss Kira seen that as well?

“Will we?” Thorin asked. “We shall, your notes tell me that you’re a smart fellow. You can come over to my house if you want to and we can work on it…or…we can go to the library.” Bilbo could have swallowed his own tongue in embarrassment; he had been overzealous once again.

“I’d invite you to mine, but…there’s a lot of people.” Thorin replied with a small chuckle that betrayed discomfiture but also a good deal of genuine humour. How interesting it would be to see more of that, Bilbo thought.

“Sure, as you wish.” Bilbo shrugged. He caught Miss Kira’s eyes and realised that he had stared at Thorin with maybe a tad too much intensity…somehow, he felt like Miss Kira saw everything. As it should be. She was a teacher after all.

She was not teaching though, she was observing the class with calm, interested eyes, trying to get a feeling for the children within it. Only, they were barely children, Bilbo was almost certain that he was one of the younger ones.

It was a small-town school, maybe they mixed different ages, he did not know, but it felt strange, nonetheless.

He was curious who that Mister Smaug had been and why he could sense a hint of pain in his classmates’ voices when they spoke about him. Miss Kira had picked up on that as well, he saw, as her own eyes darkened, and her lips quivered.

Healthy anger flashed in her eyes when she repeated that this man was gone. I am here, Bilbo heard between the lines. She was. And so was he.

Bilbo wracked his brains to find something witty and funny to say to that wondrous boy next to him who had relapsed into brooding silence, as if the mere mention of their former teacher was enough to ruin his mood.

“Did he really hate you?” Bilbo found himself asking and immediately, he was met with a withering stare.

“Yes…Things have happened and my family and I…we’re not the best regarded in this town.” Again, that flash of mortification that made his face look like it was carved from stone.

“Well, I am a newcomer and I’ll make up my own mind.” Bilbo said reassuringly. “And I don’t feel like Miss Kira hates you.” He added with a soft smile.

“Yet.” A resignation too old and deep in one so young hit Bilbo square in the chest and his heart gave another painful twitch; had he been less mindful of common rules of decency, he would have put his small, pudgy hand on top of the broad, callused one resting just a few inches away.

A knock interrupted their conversation and another teacher rushed in. He was impossibly tall and intimated that he had been worried that Miss Kira had been slaughtered by the class. Weird, Bilbo thought, as far as he had understood, it had been the class who had been subjected to the abuse of their former teacher and not the other way around.

He had been so focused on Thorin’s shy smiles and overwhelming beauty that he had only half-listened to accounts of a damaged car. What was a damaged car compared to a damaged soul?

Even though she was considerably shorter than her colleague, Miss Kira interposed herself between him and the class, shielding them with her own body and this instinct of a woman reminded Bilbo so much of his own brave mother that it made him miss her even more.

“Asshole.” Thorin muttered under his breath with barely held-back indignation.

“Miss Kira didn’t believe him. Listen, she volunteered to stay here.” Bilbo tried to assuage the flaming, helpless anger in the other boy’s face. “They’ll not keep her for long if she’s to be exposed to us all the time.” Thorin prophesied darkly.

Bilbo had no idea what had happened here, but, hitherto, Miss Kira seemed perfectly fine. She was presently reading a book and chuckling to herself.

“Mistress Kira…” The shy blonde boy handed her a drawing he had made, and she gushed over it for a few minutes, slowly drawing out confessions from him: he was a good athlete, swift and enduring, but he was nowhere near Thorin’s or Dwalin’s level when it came to brute force.

Dwalin must be that other tall boy, Bilbo thought, eyeballing the dark-haired grump with interest.

“Do you not intend to give us something to do?” That very same person then asked the teacher gruffly.

“Can you not find something for yourself to do?” She gave back pleasantly and turned back to her book, but her fingers gripped the cover a little tighter than before.

“He didn’t mean no offense, Mistress. It’s just…Mister Smaug didn’t like to see us idle.” The smaller boy in the last row provided an explanation. Bilbo thought that he looked incredibly gentle and maybe just a little shy.

“I shall teach you during my teaching hours and I can teach you now if that is your desire. Nonetheless, I think we should go out into the courtyard and get some fresh air. As we’re all bound to be here, we might as well have some fun.” Miss Kira closed her book and shoved it back into her satchel before getting up.

“You want to take us out?” The blonde boy, Legolas, seemed thunderstruck.

“You’re almost grown-ups, are you a flight risk?” Miss Kira cocked one eyebrow and pointed at the door.

“Bilbo and me, we’ll see how we fare with you lot, won’t we?” She turned to him, and Bilbo blushed again, hadn’t that been his exact thought?

He nodded enthusiastically and sniggered when she gave him a discreet wink before tilting her head into Thorin’s direction. “Why don’t you all tell me something about you?” She asked.

Silence.

Bilbo was not about to tell her that he was an orphan and that he had changed schools after a deplorable incident with another boy at his last placement. Only a few months more and he’d be officially emancipated and grown-up.

Maybe, he’d leave school and everything behind and start a new life somewhere else…

“Why don’t you tell us how you ended up in this miserable place to try to teach those everyone has given up on?” Dwalin hissed with unveiled cockiness.

So, that was why he had been put in this class, Bilbo thought, the headmaster thought him damaged beyond repair.

The teacher seemed to hesitate, then she said quietly: “Things have happened…and it is true that I have not chosen you, but I’ll keep you.” She smiled. “If they offer you a normal class, you’ll say: Nay, I’ll stick with the dumbasses?”

Clearly, Dwalin was not about to believe her and again, Bilbo could feel Thorin tense up beside him as they stepped into the courtyard and moved towards a big tree in the middle.

“No, I will not say anything of that sort. I’ll say thank you very much, but no thank you.” Miss Kira’s voice was sharp-edged now. “And why is that?” The blustering air seemed to falter and Dwalin looked a little deflated now.

“Because I don’t hate you and no matter how much you try to get me to, Master Dwalin, I shan’t.” She shrugged and sat down against the tree, taking out her book again and continuing to read as if nothing had happened.

“She’s something.” Bilbo whipped around, had Thorin actually laughed? Yes, yes, he could clearly see a row of white teeth between the stretched lips that looked so sinfully inviting to him.

He also could see the rest of the boy now, even though looking at it was the single worst idea he had ever had in his whole life it seemed to him.

Thorin was tall, a good deal taller than himself and he looked as solid as the tree their teacher was leaning against now.

“All brawn, no brains.” Thorin muttered when he caught the appraising gaze of the new student.

“Yeah, that’s what you want people to believe so they’d feel less intimidated, huh?” Bilbo replied automatically before he could reign in his loose tongue. Thorin stiffened, rubbing the back of his neck absent-mindedly before admitting: “No, that’s what…”

“If you bring up that Smaug again.” Bilbo warned him and Thorin fell silent. Sitting down on the patch of lawn surrounding the tree, Bilbo patted the grass next to him and was pleasantly surprised when the other boy plopped down immediately, a little too close for comfort maybe.

“Miss Kira and me, we are thoroughly fed up with your former teacher already, aren’t we, Miss Kira?” Bilbo felt the need to make this clear and to stand up for his potential friend and definite crush.

“He sounds like a brute.” Miss Kira replied without looking up from her book, but Bilbo could see her mouth curl into a smile behind the pages.

“You know nothing about us.” Thorin mumbled under his breath, honest regret tinging his voice.

“Then tell me, what makes you all so terrible?” Bilbo gathered his courage and placed his open palm on the clenched fist of the boy sitting next to him. “I am just not nice. Blondie is shite at reading. Dwalin has brawls, quite a few of them. Bombur is just fat. Redhead is from the wrong side of the tracks.”

“You’re very nice.” Bilbo demurred, which got him a wide-eyed stare from Thorin. “You think so?”

Bilbo nodded. “Ah, we’re just the kind of people other self-respecting people don’t like to look at.” Dwalin interjected as he passed by with a wooden plank that had detached from one of the nearby benches.

“Look at?” Bilbo thought that maybe, they had switched codes and language somewhere in the middle of the conversation because he could not understand what was going on.

“We make people uncomfortable.” Thorin supplied softly, brushing his long hair out of his face and pressing his lips into a thin line. “Miss Kira, do you know what’s going on?” Bilbo asked helplessly, because yes, Thorin’s looks made him uncomfortable but certainly not in the way suggested here.

“No idea, never seen more handsome teenagers in my life.” Miss Kira replied disinterestedly, her eyes still glued to her book. “Ah, I am not alone then. Are we in an alternate universe?” Bilbo replied, happy to have at least one other person here who was not part of this grotesque play of innuendo and stubborn misbelief.

“Have you seen my father?” Legolas spluttered and then pointed miserably at his scrawny frame hanging from a tree branch. “I have, what does that matter?” Now, Miss Kira looked up, questioning.

“We’re just…” Ori sighed. “You’re “just” nothing at all; you are what you are and, as far as I am concerned, there’s nothing wrong with that.” Miss Kira said with an air of finality and returned her attention to her book.

When the bell rang, Thorin gathered up his things and made to leave.

Bilbo wondered if he should say something; sucking on his lip, he searched for the right combination of words that would sound casual but also express how grateful he was for the care the other boy had taken today.

“Do you want to walk with me?” Thorin asked a particularly nice pebble sitting right next to Bilbo’s right foot.

Bilbo waited for a few seconds to see if the pebble would reply, after all, in a world where people would NOT want to look at Thorin it was about as probable that pebbles were alive and capable of speech.

“Or not…see you tomorrow.” Thorin mumbled hastily and turned away.

“Wait, wait…” Bilbo called out, not taking the time to put on his rucksack which now slapped painfully against his legs as he hastened after the tall, retreating figure. “I do, I do.” He exclaimed breathlessly.

“There are not that many roads around here…so…” Thorin explained sheepishly as they walked along the main road.

“Hey, idiot!” A stunning girl caught up to them, slinging her arms around Thorin’s neck and planting a wet kiss on his cheek. “How was the new teacher?” She asked as he slung his arm under her behind and lifted her apparently effortlessly up.

Mortification and a fierce jealousy rose in Bilbo. Of course, what had he expected? A boy that gorgeous would obviously have a girlfriend just as beautiful and boy oh boy, she was a marvel if ever Bilbo had seen one. Her hair was luscious and intricately braided and the way she laughed expectantly up at Thorin put the very sun to shame.

“We have a new student.” Thorin grumbled, still carrying the girl in one arm as if she weighed nothing at all.

Her radiant face turned to him, then edged sideways in a slow, deliberate motion. “Oh, he’s cute.” She half-whispered.

“Dís…” Thorin hissed warningly, and she lifted both her hands. “I’m just saying…Such a cute little nose and those warm, greenish eyes…” She purred into his ear.

Bilbo was scandalised to see Thorin pinch the girl in the thigh rather unceremoniously.

“Hi, I’m Dís.” She extended her hand to Bilbo over Thorin’s shoulder. Annoyance washed through Bilbo’s befuddled mind, not only was she stunning, no, she had to be nice and charming as well. So much for being a lucky boy.

“Bilbo…” He said, mustering up his polite smile that was just a tiny bit wobbly around the edges.

When he saw his street coming up, he muttered: “This is me. I’ll leave you with your girlfriend then, see you tomorrow.”

“Funny, I was about to say the same thing.” The girl grinned and plopped heavily onto the pavement when Thorin just let go of her. “Ouch, you idiotic moron of a…” She hissed and brought her fist down on his upper arm, which had next to no effect at all on the sturdy limb.

“That piece of wood remotely resembling a human is my brother.” She explained to Bilbo, and he could not suppress the sudden relief that, no doubt, showed on his face if her broad smile was anything to go by.

“He certainly looks sculpted.” Bilbo sighed and then, realising that he had said that out loud, he hurried towards his street. To his utter dismay, other footfalls seemed to follow his hasty retreat.

Damn!

“Hey, new boy, Bilbo, wait…” The girl, Bilbo realised, her voice a song and her steps a flurry of featherlight touches on the stony ground. “Wait, wait…So, you think my grumpy brother is cute, yeah?”

Her arm snaked into the crook of his as she sauntered alongside him, grinning up at him as if they had been friends forever. “He’s not really very dumb, he just likes to pretend he is, so people leave him alone.” She chattered on.

“I had figured as much, yeah.” Bilbo murmured, overwhelmed by the intrusive curiosity of the young girl.

“Leave him alone, Dís.” Thorin barked from behind, that note of utter mortification and humiliation making his voice sound even rougher and deeper than before. “You think he’s cute?” The girl whispered confidingly now.

“He’s…yeah, he’s cute.” Bilbo stammered under his breath, unable to withstand the onslaught of her good-humoured questioning. Did it even matter? It was obvious, everyone could see how fucking gorgeous that boy was.

“Want to go have an ice-cream with me and that cute brother of mine?” She invited him.

Bilbo looked at the house where his elderly cousin was certainly already waiting for him and then back at that glorious new classmate who just stood a few paces away, shuffling his feet awkwardly and skewering his bouncing sister with glares. It was good to make new friends, Bilbo told himself, it was what his cousin had encouraged him to do and if those friends turned out to be the most contrarily grumpy, awkwardly shy and blindingly handsome boy and his sister, who would fault poor Bilbo for it?

“Yeah sure, let me just…” Bilbo just threw his rucksack into the front yard and let Dís lead him back up the road.

@lordoftherazzles So, there's the second chapter with a bit more hurt than anticipated and a tiny bit of pining...If you're looking for me, I'm buried alive somewhere in the forest :S

[shining-red-diamond]

Shallow Waters (Part 1)

Words: 2.5k

Pairing: Hendery x Brittany (OC)

Rating: PG-15

Genre: fluff, some angst

Warnings: mentions of abandonment, illness, and 

A/N: Banner credits to @dearyongs

Summary: When Brittany met a merman named Hendery, little did she know her life was going to change. Not only do they fall in love, learn about each other’s worlds, and create a life for themselves; but there’s also a mystery surrounding Hendery that could potentially put both of their lives in danger.

-

Sipping on her strawberry lemonade, Brittany was zoned into her book. The summer sun brightened up the beach in her backyard, a gentle breeze kept the weather cool, and she was relaxed on her lounge chair on her porch. Brittany hummed a tune as she read, a habit she had ever since she was young. In her mind, it was offered as background music whenever she read one of her books.

Little did she know that her voice had caught the attention of a certain inhabitant of the ocean. Hendery had seen her and wanted to talk to Brittany since she moved to an isolated area in the Florida Keys about six months earlier. Multiple humans had come and gone to where he roamed, but something about Brittany reeled him as if she were a magnet for him. He was a little on the shy side, but he had finally worked up the courage to talk to her. Explaining that he was a merman would be difficult, but he hoped she would understand.

As soon as she had walked inside of her house with the empty glass in her hand, Hendery took advantage of her distraction to sneak onto her porch. He was intending on standing there to wait for her until he noticed the book she was reading. The cover had gold lettering centered at the top, and an elaborate picture of a human boy in round glasses trying to catch a small, spherical object while riding some sort of flying object was printed under the lettering. Hendery couldn’t read human writing, but from the cover he could tell it was an adventurous story. He quickly flipped through pages, but there were mostly words. Only a few pictures showed up on certain pages.

As soon as Brittany returned outside, she immediately jumped at the sight of a strange, young man with jet black hair standing on her porch and flipping through her book. The shock caused her to nearly drop her drink.

“Who are you?” she asked him, keeping a distance in her startled state. “What do you want?”

Hendery tried to speak, but he didn’t know how to speak human either. He’d picked up a few words here and there, but all he could do was make little squeals and dolphin sounds and use his body to explain what he was thinking. The only thing he could get out was his name.

“H-Hendery,” he introduced himself as he pointed at himself.

“Is that your name?” Brittany asked, and he nodded. “I’m Brittany.”

“Brittany,” Hendery repeated with a smile.

She noticed the book in his hands. “Oh, do you like Harry Potter? I’m rereading the series.”

“Can’t read.”

“Oh…” she paused before changing the subject. “May I ask where you came from?”

Hendery pointed to the ocean, but Brittany just chuckled. “Very funny.”

He used his body language to insist that he was from the ocean, and by the look of sincerity on his face Brittany could tell that he wasn’t joking.

“Oh, are you a sailor?” she raised an eyebrow. Hendery shook his head.

He then took the book out of her hands, set it on one of the lounge chairs and had her follow him to the beach.

“Dude, where are we going?”

Once her toes were touching the edge of the shoreline, Hendery stripped his shirt and shorts off before instructing her, “Wait.” Before she could say anything, he was dashing to the water before Olympic-style diving into the ocean. An iridescent glow where Hendery dove nearly blinded Brittany for a second before he dolphin-jumped out of the water again. A flash of purple where his legs should be had sparkled in the sunlight.

Brittany couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

A merman? A real merman?

She shut her eyes and pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. When she opened them, Hendery was sitting there on the beach, staring at her with confusion on his face.

Brittany could see his tail much clearer now. It was scaly, and each one was a beautiful purple and gold monochrome that also turned black in some angles. They faded into skin where the bases of his hips were.

“There’s no way this is real right now,” Brittany chuckled. “I must have hit my head. I’m dreaming.”

Hendery shook his head, and whispered, “Real.”

If she had already pinched herself once, she did it again but without this man knowing.

When she accepted that she wasn’t dreaming, she knelt down and asked, “May I touch them?”

Hendery had never been touched by a human much less any female creature. He hesitated a little, but he obliged. Taking her hand, he set to where he figured his shins would be.

“Gentle,” he begged.

“I will,” she promised.

Her fingertips carefully stroked his tail up and down, and the scales were smooth as a marble slab table with the exception of the gaps lining each one.

“Mermaids are real,” she whispered to herself.

“Yes,” Hendery replied.

Brittany faced him and promised, “I’ll keep it a secret if you want me to.”

“Please.”

“Okay. Can you turn human again? I can get you a towel to dry off with and something to eat if you’re hungry.”

Hendery nodded.

“I’ll be right back,” she said before rushing back into her house.

Lying there on his side, he watched as her slender legs carried her when she ran. Every inch of her was sketched into his brain: her flaming red hair, her eyes the color of the sea, and an hourglass figure like a mermaid’s. Hender was an observer, and as much as he watched her from afar some days, Brittany seemed like a kind person just from her actions. If she really was the most beautiful woman in the world to him, then it was definitely coming from her heart.

Brittany soon returned with a towel and his clothes that were abandoned on the beach, and he sat up a bit straighter. She helped him scoot away from the water to dry off properly. Hendery pat himself down, as he had done many times before with any absorbent cloth, and within a few seconds his tail split in a vertical line so delicately as clay being sliced in half with an invisible knife. His tail and scales melted into legs and feet, but Brittany quickly handed him his clothes before she saw too much.

“Thanks,” he smiled as she turned away to give him privacy as he dressed himself.

After Hendery was fully clothed, Brittany turned back around and asked him, “Would you like to come inside?”

“Inside?” he repeated.

“The house. I’m getting hungry, so I want to eat something for lunch.”

“Food?” Hendery’s eyes lit up as he smiled, showing off his sharp teeth.

Brittany nodded. She had heard of some merfolk having such sharp teeth, but her new friend’s teeth were like sharks. They nearly startled her as it was such a shock for her to see.

She breathed deeply to calm down. “What do you like?” she asked him as she guided him to her back porch.

“Fish.”

“Well, you’re in luck,” she smiled as she opened the door. “I’ve got plenty.”

Brittany’s house was the most beautiful thing Hendery had never seen in his life. It was all so clean and tidy with most of the furniture having a soft navy fabric on some of the human furniture. It was his first time inside of a human house, so he took in everything his eyes could see.

In the kitchen, there was a wooden table with six chairs, and a large kitchen island stood right in the center (he had seen human billboard ads kitchen ware of some place called “Home Depot”). Two metallic doors were built into one wall, and a sink was placed beneath a window. The cabinets were also a beautiful wooden, and Hendery was impressed at how clean Brittany kept it.

“Pretty,” he mumbled as he sat at the table.

“All I have is salmon,” Brittany interrupted his thoughts. “How do you like them? I just learned how to debone and prepare them.” She set out a wooden board on the island and placed three raw salmon fish on it.

Hendery looked at the fish for a few seconds before picking one up with his bare hands and chomping down on its head with his sharp teeth. He ripped the head off in the process, a few fish scales sprinkling onto the counter.

“That answers that question,” giggled Brittany. “Raw it is.”

As he ate, Brittany fixed herself a BLT sandwich and a glass of the remaining pink lemonade. She tore off a couple paper towels for her new friend and herself. Hendery raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“To clean off your hands and mouth,” she explained as she gave a small demonstration, and he nodded before continuing his lunch.

Brittany observed the way he was chowing down on the raw fish. It was as if he hadn’t eaten in a long time, and seeing how loosely the unbuttoned shirt hung on his body she could almost make out a couple of ribs poking out from his sides.

“Thanks,” Hendery said as he wiped his hands and mouth with the paper towel.

“You’re welcome,” she smiled. “Don’t worry about the scales. I’ll clean it up.”

Hendery nods. His eyes then casually wander around her house.

“It’s not much, but I like it.”

“Pretty,” the merman repeated himself from earlier, now poking at the faucet. He jumped when water automatically showered out.

Brittany chuckled as she tossed her empty plate into the sink. “You haven’t seen much of what humans do, have you?”

Hendery shook his head. “Little.”

“A little.” Brittany thought for a moment. She knew he couldn’t form full sentences, but she knew he was smart. Hendery was curious, and from the way he observed everything Brittany could tell he wanted to learn. A light bulb went off in her head.

“How about this?” she said. “I work in the mornings, but every afternoon you can come by and I’ll teach you how to read and talk.”

“Talk? Read?” Hendery’s eyes were lighting up. No human had ever offered to teach him to speak a language before. Sure, he understood hundreds of languages, but for whatever reason he lacked the ability to try to form a proper sentence. All he spoke to his friends were by different voice patterns and ocean soundwaves.

“Everything,” Brittany promised. “Just come knock on my back door and we’ll begin.”

Hendery nodded. Taking her hand in his, he pressed a gentle kiss to it. “Tomorrow?” he begged.

“Tomorrow.”

-

It was a Friday afternoon when Hendery began his reading and writing lessons with Brittany. She was an excellent teacher as her college degree was in elementary education, but she stuck with tutoring young children who needed phonics and spelling help in school. Hendery was no different from them in terms of learning the different phonics, vowels, and consonants. The first lesson was just the basics of the alphabet and what sound each one made. Flashcards with pictures and the letter, such as “M” for milk, were easy for Hendery to follow. The lessons did get harder with each lesson every day for about a month and a half, but Brittany taught him that practice and application are key in having the lessons stick in his brain. Of course, he got frustrated whenever he couldn’t get a syllable or pronounciation correct, but Brittany pushed him to do his best. Before long, Hendery was forming proper sentences to get his thoughts across to her.

“Okay, so as a final test,” Brittany concluded after their final lesson one Tuesday afternoon, “tell me about an adventure you’ve had in the ocean.”

“What story does Brittany want to hear?” Hendery asked. He had grown a habit of speaking in third person. Brittany had taught him first and third person point-of-view, but he liked speaking in third. She didn’t mind it a bit.

“Did you meet any other mermaids or mermen?”

Hendery shook his head as his smile dropped. “Hendery was abandoned when he was small.”

“What happened?” Brittany wasn’t expecting his answer to be so grim.

“He was too small and weak. His stomach couldn’t hold down anything his father gave him. Only fish.”

“Oh…” Her fingernails tapped on the table in a rhythm. “So, they just left you behind?”

He nodded again, but a grin came back to his face. “Hendery became friends with the sirens. They took him in, fed him, taught him to swim, hunt, and to communicate through sound.”

“Sirens?” Brittany repeated. “How many mythical creatures are out there that are real?”

“The Kraken is not real. The only octopus and squids that exist are only slightly taller than a human man.”

Brittany was now curious. She had only grown up hearing fairy tales about the mythological beings of the deep blue, but she always brushed them off as nothing more than stories. Now, that Hendery had entered into her life, she wanted to know which ones existed and which were hoaxes.

“Tell me more,” she begged as she pushed the notes for the lesson aside. “I want to know everything.”

“Is Brittany sure?” he teased. “There’s a lot of dangerous ones that could be harmful.”

“That’s what makes it exciting, and I know the perfect spot for us to talk.”

“Where?”

“Come with me,” she motioned with her finger, and Hendery followed her out the back door.

“But Hendery and Brittany have relaxed here already,” he whined.

Brittany giggled and took his hand. “Not here, silly. We have to walk and swim a little ways.”

Hendery got excited and held on to her hand tighter as she pulled him along. It was about a three minute walk before they came close to a pier stretching out in the ocean. The pier was nothing fancy, just a place where fishermen could come relax and catch a meal. Most of the time, it was empty mainly because it was a more isolated area. However, the two jumped into the water (Brittany had stripped her clothes off in the house, revealing a royal blue halter top bikini) and quietly swam underneath the bridge to avoid being noticed by two fishermen throwing their lines at the end of the pier.

Once they were far enough, the two of them crawled out of the water and onto the beach area. They decided to just naturally dry off in the sunshine, but it was a little chilly as the breeze kissed their skin.

“Hendery and the sun will keep you warm,” the merman offered, seemingly unbothered by the cool winds. Brittany just nodded in compliance and allowed him to wrap his arms around her waist as they sat down.

Leaning back against his chest, she immediately felt the warmth he gave off. Not only was the warmth nice and comfortable, but being held by her new friend likes this made her feel good inside. She could feel her cheeks turn as red as a firetruck, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted him to hold her forever, if he could. Hendery was discovering some new feelings for himself in that moment, and he knew deep down that he wanted to stay with his friend for as long as he lived.

“What does Brittany want to know?” Hendery asked, his voice cracking in shyness.

-

Tagging: @fantasywayv​ @ezralia-writes​ @queen-of-himbos​ @daybreakx​ @the32ndbeat​ @mafia-nct​ @philosopher-of-fandoms​ @neocitybyday​​  @dreamystuffers​ @jaekissd​ Let me know it you wanna be tagged or removed

[petersasteria]

My Angel - Tom Holland

Pairing: Tom x Osterfield!Reader

Requested? Yes! By @petersholland​​​​

Hamilrequest #37

“I may not live to see our glory...”

Since you’ve been gone, Tom has been struggling to be the perfect single father out there. He claimed that he didn’t need any help even though everyone can see that he needed it. Tom wanted to figure things out for himself and while that’s great, he knew it was okay to ask help from time to time. Although he knew this, he still refused to ask for help.

Your two children have been Tom’s top priority and it was hard for him to be a single father and an actor at the same time. Your youngest, Khalil, started kindergarten and your eldest, Megan, started year 3 and Tom didn’t want to ruin that especially when she told him that she loved every single second of school.

Today was one of those days where Tom felt like shit, because he missed Megan’s talent show and he accidentally threw Khalil’s ‘gift’ for him (which was just crumpled tinfoil covered in glue and blue glitter). He honestly didn’t know what to do, because you weren’t there to help him.

“Fuck deadly illnesses.” he said to himself out loud.

Tom couldn’t sleep so, he decided it’d be the best time to finally store away your things in the boxes he bought and labeled two months ago. He didn’t have the heart to put away your things before, because he knew he would break down as soon as he would open your closet.

Tom stood up from his desk and walked to the corner of the room where the boxes were stacked. He took the top one that was labelled “TO KEEP” in bold letters.

He set the box on the floor at his side of the bed. He walked to the closet and opened it with a heavy sigh. He took all of your clothes that were hung and threw them on the bed. Next, he grabbed your folded shirts and put them on the bed as well. He went back to close the closet but he stopped when he found a notebook that he’s never seen before. He took it and closed the closet.

He sat on the bed opened the notebook and read the first page: Y/N’s Thoughts.

He chuckled and flipped to the next page.

Note to self: Use this notebook to write down important stuff. It’s like a diary, but at the same time it isn’t. This might come in handy for marriage and parenting x

“Maybe she got this when we were engaged.” Tom said to himself as he flipped through every page. He found little anecdotes and a few marriage tips that you thought would help. He also found the recipe to his favorite dish and he remembered the time you cooked it for him.

He also found what you wrote after Megan was born. 

Note to self: Omg Tom and I are officially parents! This means it’s time to lose sleep. Tom and I got this under control, though. We have each other ALWAYS. Haz wished us luck and honestly? We’re going to need that. Charlotte was really happy that it was a girl, because it meant she won the bet between her and Haz. Can’t believe those two made a bet, but I love them. Future Y/N, make sure you do the same when they have kids x

Tom read this and didn’t try to hold back his tears. He flipped through more pages and he eventually reached the time Khalil was born. 

Note to self: Tom and I are parents again! Being a parent is tiring and draining, but I love it. I don’t know if Tom loves being a parent, but I think he does. He’s a great father and I have no doubt that he’ll be a great father to our son x

Tom smiled at that. There were times when he would doubt himself, but you would always be there to assure him that he’s doing an amazing job as a husband and father. It just hurts that you wouldn’t be there to remind him that anymore.

Tom flipped through more until he reached a letter addressed to him.

Dearest Tom,

By the time you read this letter, you know that I’m gone. We both know that I wouldn’t live that long as soon as we found out that I was sick. I just want to say thank you for keeping me happy especially on my final days when I felt that I was going to go already. 

You’re the best husband I could ever ask for. Seriously. I know you have your doubts, but please keep in mind that you’re the best husband and father. I will forever keep that on my mind and heart. The kids and I are so lucky to have you. Now that I’m gone, I trust you to take care of the kids.

I want you to raise them like we planned. Although I won’t be around to see them for all their successes and first milestones, I trust that you do whatever it is that’s good for them and will continue on doing so until they’re old enough to stand on their own.

This notebook can help you through anything and everything. There are some recipes here for you and the kids. There are also tips. 

Khalil hates broccoli. Slice the broccoli into tiny tiny pieces and put it in his food. Trust me. He won’t notice a thing. Keep it a secret between you and me, okay? Make sure he finishes his food, because we both know he doesn’t finish his food. Read him bedtime stories. If you go to the back part of this notebook, I made a schedule of his bedtime stories of what you should read on a specific day.

Megan loves going to the playground every Saturday morning. Take her there for at least an hour and a half. Watch her closely, okay? One time she pulled another girl’s hair when she didn’t get her turn at the swing. So please watch her. After that, take her out for ice cream. Her favorite ice cream flavor is strawberry. 

Keep Taco Tuesday alive, Tom. Cut up some fruits and pack it in their lunch. They love it. I suggest you cut up the fruits before you go to bed and put them in a Tupperware and put it in the fridge.

Tom, just because I left doesn’t mean that I want to. When it’s time to go, it’s time to go. Please know that if I live long, I’d spend it with all of you. But even if my time on Earth was cut short, I believe that even if without me by your side, the three of you will be able to withstand all the problems our family will face. I know you’re strong. I know you can push through anything, Spidey.

Always remember that you’re not alone. I will always be here in every decision you’ll make. From the moment I said my vows, I put my faith and trust into  whatever it is that’s good for your family and for our marriage.

I pray that the Lord will always guide you and keep you out of harm’s way. I also pray that you won’t forget that you live for our children now. You’re the anchor that keeps them steady.

Just because I’m gone doesn’t mean that my love for you is gone too. Don’t ever forget how much I love you. If you need a reminder of how much I love you, I kept my diary from before we started dating. It’s around the house somewhere. My embarrassing diary entries are written there about how much I love you and how much I freaked out when you asked me out when we were 17.

If you ever find someone that makes you and our children happy, go for it. You have my blessing. I’m not sure if I’m okay with it. Maybe I’ll be jealous or not. Depends HAHAHA! All jokes aside, I love you enough to let you be with someone new who makes you happy.

I will always love you and I only want what’s best for you and the kids. 

‘Til we meet again, love.

Forever yours, Y/N xx

-

The very next day, Tom went to visit your grave after taking the kids to school. He had your notebook with him when he got out of the car. He walked to your grave and sat in front of it in silence. He hasn’t been visiting, because of the pain. He saw a bouquet of fresh flowers and smiled.

“Harrison visited you, I see. You know, he misses you so much. He actually visited us last week. He said he missed the kids so he took them to the zoo.” Tom said.

“So, um, I know you’re listening. I found your notebook last night and it really helped me. Everything has been shit recently and your letter really helped me. I also did the fruits thing after reading your letter last night. It really saved some time this morning. No wonder you sleep late.” Tom chuckled.

“I just came here to tell you that I won’t let you down and I’ll do my best to be a single dad to our kids. Also, the dating someone new thing? I don’t think I’m going to be up for that. You and the kids are enough for me and I meant what I said when I told you that you’re the only one for me.”

“I really miss you, Y/N. The letter made me realize that it’s totally okay to move on, because I know you’ll be here by my side. It’s also reassuring that you still love me, because that’s enough for me to be strong.”

Tom stood up and brushed the dirt off his pants, “When we first started dating, I told you that you were my angel. You really are my angel, Y/N. Between you and me, you’re the real hero. I just play one.”

“I’ll see you soon, yeah? I promised your brother I’ll meet up with him at the park today to walk Tessa and Monty.” Tom smiled. “I love you.”

He walked back to the car and felt a gust of wind blow in his direction. He didn’t know if he was hallucinating or not, but he could’ve sworn he felt the wind embrace him and he could’ve sworn he smelled your perfume. It caused him to stop in his tracks and close his eyes to feel the moment that only lasted a few seconds, but to him it felt like minutes.

When it was gone, he opened his eyes and smiled to himself, because he knew it was you telling him and showing him that you loved him.

* * * *

this took me two days to write bc i wasn’t in the right state of mind to write some angst yesterday and yes, this was supposed to be out yesterday sksks

𝐓𝐎𝐌 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @abrielleholland​​​​​​​ @peachmaybnx​​​​​​​ @superheroesaremytea​​​​​​​ @ella-whyte

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @marvelousell​​​​​​​ @justasmisunderstoodasloki​​​​​​​ @rubberducky-jrr​​​​​​​ @petersholland​​​​​ @osterfieldnholland​​​​​ @miraclesoflove​

[squeeneyart]

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 16

AO3

Beta read as always is @thesnadger!

A week sure flies by.

Martin gets some of his thoughts sorted.

Nothing happened.

The sky was unchanged in every way but for the time that had passed. They had bid Evan a good night (“Oh, right, it’s evening now? Should probably give you some idea about time when we talk.”), and Martin stood at the front entrance to stare through the small window. It was grey and downright gloomy out there. Nothing new.

“D’you think Simon and that woman just wanted to mess with me?” Martin said. “Like, say some spooky stuff to make sure I stay quiet about the whole thing?”

“It’s possible,” Jon said, exhaustion clear in his voice. “But there’s still a sky, which is good news, I suppose.”

“And not everything is sky,” Sasha added helpfully. “That seems more Simon’s speed than getting rid of it.”

Tim stretched his arms above his head. “Either way, keep an eye out for a warning text before we all become professional skydivers.”

“At least I’ll have a job lined up?” He wanted to muster up some more concern but after a day of waiting the suspense had run out. If something was going to happen, there was nothing he could do. “Well, goodnight. And don’t stay here too late! You all won’t make it another day without getting proper sleep.”

His eye landed on Jon, who huffed a little. “Yes, yes, we’ll all get a proper rest. Unlike the others I don’t do coffee. Though, let me walk you out. I’d like to get another look at the sky.”

It wasn’t the smoothest transition to accompanying Martin outside, but lack of sleep didn’t make for good excuses. Martin nodded and walked out with Jon in tow.

Once outside, Jon folded his hands together and seemed to consider something. “I think I’m a bit of a broken record at this point, but I wanted to apologize for earlier. I had become concerned about the lack of response from Elias and wanted to get it all back to him before too long.”

Martin looked at him carefully. “So… you think it’ll be enough?”

“Yes. It might even be overkill, but now that I’ve promised multiple people to help fix things, it’s better to be safe than sorry.” Jon let his hands fall to his sides. “The apology still stands, though.”

“Well, with you staying longer I’m sure I’ll find a way to even out the apologies between us. There are always papers to scatter.” Martin smiled sheepishly and adjusted the bag hanging from his shoulder. “But it would be nice if you didn’t have something to apologize for in the first place.”

“Yes, I recognize that.” Jon rubbed his arm. “I’m trying. I hope that much is clear.”

Martin sighed, the final piece of irritation drifting away. “Yeah, I know. I do accept it, the apology. But maybe try to go without needing to? For like a day?”

Straightening, Jon nodded. “I can do that. Or try, at least.”

“That’s all I ask.” All of that out of the way, Martin relaxed. “I guess I’ll be going. Big day tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, it will be.”Jon stood there as if about to say something else, stopping himself several times. Finally, in earnest, he said, “I’ll… I’ll do as much as I can, to help.”

“See you tomorrow, then.”

As Martin walked away, he glanced back and saw that Jon had remained on the front steps, turning his gaze upward with a frown. If this had been a trick, Martin thought, it had done its job quite nicely. He almost regretted bringing it up to the others. They all shouldn’t have had to worry about nothing.

No, that wouldn’t have worked. One of them would’ve picked up on it. Sasha probably, though with that kind of intuition she also should’ve known better than to keep Naomi’s warning a secret from him.

But she apologized, and had only wanted to help. And she had been right about the results. There was no arguing that. It didn’t make it less upsetting, but putting it behind him wouldn’t be difficult. They were all going to be around each other, after all. Martin wanted to enjoy that.

He passed the place where he’d fallen. There was no sign of the event of course, no crack in the street or mark of a skull hitting concrete. No one had been there to witness it, either.

The sky was getting darker still, the street filling more and more with chill and emptiness. Ahead was the wooded cliffside that split his home away from the rest of town, and Martin dearly wished he had someone to walk home with.

--

The TV was on when he returned home. He slid off his jacket and damp boots by the door and stayed there in his wool socks. There was a numbness to his knees, a soreness to his throat that he couldn’t swallow away. It was getting colder outside, and the sea air always got worse as the year crept closer to winter.

Tea would fix it, once Mum was off to bed.

A sore throat meant talking less, which is what she preferred anyway. He nodded to her once in her chair, then went into dinner preparations. Something warm, something hearty, and something simple. He grabbed the container of beef stew and a cylinder of dinner roll dough from the fridge. Simple and, even better, fast.

Before long there were steaming bowls of meat and vegetables on the table with rolls for dipping. He thanked his past self for thinking ahead as he and his mother ate in silence.

She said nothing, did nothing but her usual routine. There was no going outside with the intense chill that had settled onto the beach. Instead, she went straight to bed without a word spoken.

A tingling in his throat kept him from uttering a single goodnight. He turned out her lamp and closed her door, returning to the kitchen to wash the dishes and make himself some tea with honey. While waiting for the water to boil, he checked his phone and saw a text from earlier.

Tim: got home alright?

Martin: sorry. yeah i made it fine

He hoped his response hadn’t come too late to be worrisome, but Tim responded rather quickly.

Tim: gotcha. no tumbles?

Martin: no nothing

Tim: good. ill let the others know

Tim: so i guess tomorrow is gonna be interesting. its a bit weird to get a project really started on a friday but i was thinking we could all get food afterwards tomorrow, maybe get some drinks

Tim: usually jon skips out on that sort of thing but on trips its easier to get him since he hates making food choices in new places

Tim: you in?

Martin’s thumbs twitched over the phone keyboard. When was the last time he bothered sitting in a restaurant instead of getting takeout? Or went to a bar?

He would have to get his mother settled in with dinner and everything. Her usual bedtime was early, but they were late workers so maybe it would be fine? Would it be fine? Would he be fine?

Shit, he needed to respond.

Martin: sure that would be nice. what time?

Tim: probably later evening, since we’ll be settling work stuff. thinkin 8 or 9 if that works

Martin: yeah that’s perfect actually

Tim: great, see you bright and early! 👍

Martin: have a good night!

Slumping against the counter, Martin looked over the short conversation a few times (perhaps more than a few) and then pocketed his phone.

This was fine. It was getting some food with some people. He would be fine.

The kettle whistled and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Tea, he was making tea for himself. So he did, adding honey and milk to his liking. It was too sweet for his mother or anyone else he knew, but this was for him.

He took the steaming mug in both hands and looked out the window. The sky was still there, as were the beach and crashing waves though he could barely see them. His house still stood around him with the lights on and heat running.

Savings were something he’d finally managed to have in the recent months after years of low-wage customer service positions. He and his mother could survive without income for a little while. Getting through the whole of winter would be a stretch, but his spending habits were fairly restrained and his mother’s medication would still be covered. In the meantime there were other avenues for making money, so this job wasn’t the end-all-be-all.

God, it had been nice though. Martin would hold onto the pay for as long as he could during the whole saving-Evan process, but after that he would have a lot to figure out.

Draining the rest of his mug, he rinsed it out and set it into the sink. The tea had done its job in soothing his throat. The extra warmth in his hands was a blessing as well. He wondered if Jon would be keeping warm at all, though he suspected the truth would be disappointing.

No matter. If the others were working there a while longer Jon would have to adjust to the weather eventually, or else deal with Martin pushing hot mugs of tea into his hands until he learned. Maybe he’d toss in a scarf to complete the set.

With one last glance out the kitchen window, he walked out into the hall and up the stairs, turning off each light as he went. Once in his room, Martin slipped into his pyjamas and reached into the drawer of his bedside table. His poetry notebook had gone ignored for several days, and that needed rectifying.

Where would he even start? The last page he’d written seemed like it was from years before, not a week. Now he had a whole swirl of worries about the future he hadn’t had to deal with since he was in school. Worries and fears and-

And a silly, one-sided thing that while completely hopeless was a nice thing to feel all the same. So just like school, except he had people to meet on a Friday night.

Looking out his window a final time, Martin sat in his bed, bent over his notebook, and began to write. It was clunky at first, the words getting stuck somewhere in his pen or his throat. Part of his mind kept drifting to his mobile on the bedside table, wondering if Tim was still available to talk a bit more about the day ahead. Tiny things to fill a text log, like food options or how Martin would meet up with them. For a moment he even considered asking Tim for Jon and Sasha’s numbers, in case of emergencies.

Better to have that conversation in person, he thought, pulling his attention back to the page. Soon after he was writing short couplets at a quick pace, scraps of rhyme and feeling, until he checked his phone and found an hour had passed. Sleep, he thought. He needed sleep.

It was almost disappointing to have the writing go by so quickly, but there was no helping it. The poetry notebook was placed neatly into its drawer, his glasses were set onto the table, and Martin, wrapped in a thick blanket, stared out into the night until his eyes were too heavy to hold open.

--

It wasn’t his alarm that woke him the next morning but his ringtone. When he checked the screen, he found notifications for several missed calls from Tim and hurried to answer.

“Tim? What’s-”

--

One by one, files and folders were packed into car trunks.

He’d wasted no time in getting there, booking it all the way across town, but when he arrived Martin could say nothing at all. Standing near the stairs, he could only watch as the three researchers marched out of the lighthouse with their work things.

Sasha kept the most calm of the three, nodding at Martin as she walked past him. Her fingers tapped furiously on the side of a box, nails making dents in the cardboard.

Something between misery and confusion pulled at Tim’s mouth. More than once Martin worried he would keel over with nausea, but he stayed upright as if out of spite. He met Martin’s eyes a couple of times with a friendly smile, but it never stuck for long.

Jon was stone faced, though his jaw kept clenching and unclenching. He had only looked at Martin once, keeping that neutral expression to the best of his ability but unable to mask his frustration. Whatever he wanted to say, it wouldn’t be said there.

Behind Martin, Peter Lukas stood with his hand gripping the railing, equal measures tired and irritated and making no attempt to hide how much he didn’t want to be there. No, none of them would be saying anything except their goodbyes.

“Thanks for having us,” Tim said, shaking Martin’s hand. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to have a quiet workplace again.”

“Right. Have a safe trip.” It was the easiest thing for Martin to say, his mind not yet caught up.

Tim backed away to join the others who simply waved or nodded their goodbyes. Something in Martin’s chest twisted

“Yes, I’m sure you’ve seen now that it’s a poor environment for multiple employees. The acoustics make it unbearable.” Peter smiled something empty. “Tell Elias I will be unavailable for communication for the next few weeks, at the least.”

Jon opened the door to his rental car and said, voice dripping with acid, “I’m sure we’ll speak with him very soon.”

“Perfect. Well, you’d best be going. Wouldn’t want to keep your workplace understaffed any longer.” With that, Peter glanced at Martin and jerked his chin to the front entrance before walking inside.

As Peter disappeared from sight, Sasha’s calm face twisted into furious determination. She nodded at Martin again, then stepped into the driver’s side of the rental and closed the door behind her. Tim sighed, holding up his phone and mouthing “later” before entering the passenger’s side.

Jon gave Martin a familiar look before slipping into his own car. Both vehicles left the lot, vanishing into the fog.

--

“What did I tell you? Academics,” Peter said, picking some lint off his sleeve. “Now, before I go, there are just a few things.”

It took all of Martin’s will not to drag his feet on the way to his desk. The folded table was gone, but dirty footprints littered his newly-mopped floor from where it had been. He focused on the different shoe sizes and shapes in the mud and slush.

"They certainly made a mess of the place, didn't they? You'll have to redo this floor, of course. The upstairs can wait until next week. Just keep to the usual schedule there."

His desk was still littered with papers he’d pushed aside before his nap the day before.

"You've fallen behind on paperwork as well. Understandable with all the blustering from those three, I really can’t imagine. Ah, well, it's nothing a few extra hours on the weekend won't take care of."

Martin dropped in the chair he’d sat in for months, overlooked by that crest and its ridiculous seal, eyes dead and glassy.

"Oh, and I’ve made some changes to your workload. It's all written down here.” Peter placed a piece of paper on the desk. “Pretty straightforward. I don't imagine that any of it will be a problem for you."

With a dull nod, Martin dragged the page toward himself without looking at it. An updated part of his work contract. More things for him to accomplish that weekend most likely, as if it was all a punishment.

Peter breathed in sharply through his nose and clapped his hands together, looking much more refreshed. “I did miss the sound of this place. I have other business, of course, so I’ll leave you to it, hm?”

Not waiting for a response, Peter strode away and out of the building with a decisive click of the door. Martin was left to himself in that wide, empty space, spending five, ten, fifteen minutes just staring at nothing.

Stupid. If their boss had meant for them to stay longer, they wouldn’t have gone through more extensive measures the day before. They should’ve known better than to make plans that were never going to happen.

Or he had just been so clearly desperate for help that they played it cool until it was time to get out.

No, that wasn’t fair (though he wasn’t ruling it out entirely). Tim’s invitation the night before would’ve just been cruel if that were the case, and Tim didn’t seem like the type to pull something so mean. And none of them seemed happy about Elias’ decision, especially with all of the work they’d put in. Sasha certainly wasn’t close to dropping anything.

And Jon had made a promise, even if he had a hard time keeping them.

Eventually, Martin looked down at the page in front of him.

--

Up and around he ran, panic and dizziness squeezing at his skull and threatening to pull him backward off his feet.

Stumbling into the upmost level of the lighthouse, Martin whispered through haggard breaths, “No, no, no, no-”

He hurried across the room, placing a hand on the dial and giving it a twist. “Evan? Evan, can you hear me?”

He waited for familiar voices with no success. Again, “Evan? It’s me, Martin. Peter left already, so just say something.”

A perfectly ordinary silence washed over him. He sank to the floor, his hand still brushing against the dial as if it made a difference. From his other hand fell a brand new set of panel instructions. An extra note was left at the bottom, something about the importance of proper lighthouse management to landbound ships.

Through the windows morning continued to break over the ocean, familiar cliffs just visible through the fog down below.