#and Sarah doesn’t know if she should be intimidated or fall in love immediately

[punksarahreese]

Trees | Bloodletting

Nosdecember day 10 | @neworleansspecial

Occult!au; April and Sarah go on a walk and meet two individuals Sarah was not expecting

***

"April," Sarah’s voice carried a little whine as she skipped a little to catch up with the Faerie, "Where are we going?"

"An adventure," that’s all April had been telling her since she showed up at the cottage that morning. Sarah had tried to protest, citing the fact that she had a painting to finish, but she couldn’t argue for very long. April looked so excited, for whatever reason, and Sarah didn’t have the heart to tell her no. It didn’t help that an invisible hand had quickly found the small of her back, gently nudging her towards the door until Sarah took the hint.

Life was weird with a ghost roommate who always tried to mother her. Not that she would complain too much because Natalie was quite literally her lifesaver. Still, she did tend to get pushy when she thought Sarah was spending a little too much time inside. She didn’t want her to wallow in her depression, which she understood, but the fact that the ghost couldn’t leave the general riverbank area or stay corporeal all the time meant she couldn’t drag Sarah outside too often.

That’s where April came in. The Faerie had immediately taken Sarah under her wing and made it a goal to keep her safe. It was in her blood to heal people, after all, so of course she was going to do her best to make sure Sarah was happy. Even if she couldn’t mend her trauma, her and Natalie could do their best to help the human make some happier memories.

"I really need to-" Sarah stopped when she saw what was in front of them. She had never been this far into the forest, she couldn’t have, because this was a whole new feat she had never come across. Nestled near the hillside was a large old house, exterior looking a little worse for wear but the grounds blooming with a rather impressive garden. Ivy and grapevines snaked up the brickwork, evidence of nature passively trying to take back its land.

"Woah."

"Impressed?" April grinned, "Not mine, but I help keep the garden and its spirits happy."

"It’s gorgeous," Sarah told her sincerely, admiring a monarch butterfly as it fluttered past her to land on a nearby lilac tree. The whole yard was full of lilacs, clearly not from the area originally; whoever lived there must really love the sweet flowers.

"April?"

A soft, accented voice tore their attention from the flora in front of them. April turned, braids bouncing against her shoulder as she searched for the owner of the voice. A tiny, musical giggle was heard at their confusion. That was something Sarah missed; the ability to find humour in tiny things.

"Up!"

April’s gaze drifted in the direction she was told, quickly landing on a small figure perched in a nearby oak tree. The sun obstructed Sarah’s vision but she figured her companion could see just fine. She must have been able to, because her smile was almost audible in her reply.

"Tia," she relaxed when she realized who the person was, "What are you doing up there?"

"Watching. You appear to have a shadow, you know."

"Who? Sarah?"

A sound of disagreement and the rustle of leaves preceded her words, "Nuh-uh. Not the human, she’s fine."

The human. So whoever was up there must be some type of other creature, Sarah noted. She wasn’t even fazed at that point, having completely adjusted to the amount of supernatural activity within the forest. It was quite the shock in the beginning but Sarah wasn’t one to judge; besides, she was a guest in their territory anyway.

"Tia, are you going to tell me?"

"You know who he is," the answer was dismissive, "May I come meet her?"

"What would your mother say?" April’s tone was teasing, making the girl in the tree scoff. She was obviously a child, though very well spoken and somehow sounding authoritative. The way April spoke with her was familiar, but she didn’t think this girl was a Seelie child, since April had introduced her to most of the court who wanted to meet her ages ago.

"Mama doesn’t mind. Besides, you’re here."

April rolled her eyes, "I’m pretty sure that’s the one thing she would mind, given the history. That being said, it’s your funeral."

"Hm," the leaves rustled loudly again and there was a flash of wind in front of them, "Never had one of those, sounds like an experience."

Somehow whoever Sarah had been expecting to be the owner of the voice was not this child. She looked no older than ten, with long blonde ringlets spilling over her shoulders and a smug look on her face. She held herself with a confidence that was rare for someone so young and that alone told Sarah she was probably older than she appeared. It was the eyes that shocked Sarah the most though, blood red hue glinting in the sunlight.

"My name is Estia," the child gave a small half-bow in greeting, "You’re pretty."

Sarah was taken aback but forced a smile in reply, she seemed sweet even if her eyes were unnerving. She glanced at April in silent question but then turned back to the girl, "Sarah. Um... thank you."

"She knows?" The question was directed at the faerie, who had zoned out slightly as she was gazing past them both. Sarah was also a bit distracted, still absorbing this new person’s presence but also fixated on Estia’s previous words.

A shadow? Who was he? How did April know him?

"About you? No. Before you ask, yes she knows about the Fair folk. Ghosts and werewolves too."

"Covering all the bases but me and mama? Rude."

April scoffed, "Please, I just haven’t had time to ask your mother about it. I know how she feels about outsiders and, unlike some people, I can’t get away with being disrespectful."

"This one is pretty, mama will like her," Estia nodded surely at Sarah, "Any guesses on what I am?"

Sarah was a little confused, wondering who this child’s mother was for April to appear vaguely scared of her. Besides, Estia’s last comment stuck in her head. Something told her it was in her best interest for this woman to like her, whoever she was.

"Uh," she studied the girl’s features for a second but her first guess was ringing in her mind, "Vampire?"

"Oh she’s smart," the child grinned and showed off her tiny but razor sharp fangs, "I like you, Sarah."

"Oh, um... good?"

April clearly found the human’s confusion amusing and she gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. Before anyone could continue the conversation, the creaking of a heavy door made them all turn to the big house.

"Estia, what are you doing?"

Sarah couldn’t help but stare when she saw the owner of the stern yet beautiful voice. She had a similar accent to the child’s, her low tone somehow soothing despite the vaguely hostile look in her eyes. Which were, just as Sarah expected, as red as fresh blood. Her dark blonde hair was pulled back in a half twist, some loose curls tumbling over her bare shoulders. That was where Sarah got shamefully distracted, her gaze lingering on the pale, scarred skin of the woman’s collarbones. Really it was at the fault of her dress, a rather dramatic red number that fell off her shoulders deliberately. Whoever this woman was, she was undoubtedly a vampire like Estia; one of status, if Sarah had to guess.

"Mama!" Estia was across the yard and at the front door in seconds. Her own gown was casual in comparison to her mother’s, a flowing royal blue fabric that had a high neckline, which was clearly to hide the bite marks on the child’s jugular.

"April brought a new friend," she explained proudly and Sarah realized she immediately sounded much more like the child she appeared to be. However old the young vampire was, she reverted to a more vulnerable state around her mum. It made Sarah’s heart ache a bit, especially upon watching as the woman smoothed down her daughter’s curls and helped her untangle a leaf from her sleeve. She missed her mother, that familiar comfort was something she didn’t appreciate until it was gone.

"Did she?"

"Ava," April met the vampire’s sharp gaze with her own cat-like stare, "She’s not a threat. She lives with Nat and she means no harm in our forest."

"Oh, your little ghost got a roommate?" The woman, Ava, chuckled as if the thought amused her. She seemed a bit rude but first impressions weren’t everything, so Sarah tried to be optimistic. She did still flinch a little when those bright eyes fell on her again, though.

In a split second she was in front of Sarah, moving with the inhuman speed that her daughter also possessed. Estia had remained on the front step, watching stoically as her mother gave the human a once over. Sarah tried to pretend that she wasn’t holding her breath, which was hard because she knew her companions had excellent hearing.

"Ava Bekker," she was a bit surprised when a hand was held out to her, followed by a laugh at Sarah’s hesitation, “I won’t bite you.”

“Oh, um…” Sarah took her hand and tried not to flinch again at how cold her touch was, “Sarah Reese. Nice to meet you.”

The way Ava observed her, with an unreadable expression and a tiny smirk made Sarah a bit concerned. She wasn’t uncomfortable per se, she knew April wouldn’t put her in any danger, but the whole situation was odd. The vampire’s original hostility had slowly melted away and she no longer stared at Sarah as if she was a threat to her or her daughter.

“She’s cute,” Ava mused to the Faerie beside them, “Where’d you find this one?”

“I told you, she lives with Natalie. Got thrown into our world unexpectedly but we’ve grown quite fond of her.”

“Oh,” the blonde shot Sarah a look of playful pity, “You poor thing, stuck with two of the most chatty creatures in this forest.”

“Hey,” Sarah was surprised when April had no qualms with playfully shoving the vampire’s shoulder, “She likes us.”

“I do,” Sarah promised softly, a bit distracted as she once again caught herself staring at the mass amount of scarring along Ava’s porcelain skin. Her neck and upper chest had the worst of it, bite marks and what looked like jagged knife wounds healed into white marks. The biggest scar was a big gash right across where her carotid would be, which must have been fatal by the looks of it. Her wrists were covered by the sheer material of her sleeves but Sarah caught a glimpse of quite a few more marks lining both sides of her forearm. Whatever she had experienced must have happened before her death, since as far as Sarah knew vampires couldn’t scar. Nevertheless, whatever Ava had gone through it looked like a lot.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when an ice cold hand found her face, fingers curling under her chin to lift her gaze. Sarah was too scared to shy away but the touch, while gentle, burned like dry ice. The other woman didn’t look angry, only amusement sparkling in her eyes as she hummed.

“Curious one, aren’t you?”

“I- sorry.”

Ava chuckled, her thumb trailing gently along Sarah’s jawline before she let go of her face, “You’re fine.”

“Mama,” Estia’s voice once again brought everyone’s attention away from the current encounter, “Wolves are on their way.”

Ava sighed, “Child has better hearing than even me. The pups are bringing us some food, so we mustn’t stay out any longer. Besides, someone is supposed to be practicing.”

“Ma!” the child whined, “I am literally dead, I have all the time in the world to learn whatever language you want.”

“Yes, but Latin is just as dead and still waits for no one. Off you go.”

Estia huffed and looked at Sarah, “Can you visit another time? I wanna know what human life is like now!”

Sarah looked at the other vampire for an answer, since she didn’t want to intrude or anything. Ava smiled at her with surprising warmth, her fangs showing proudly, “If Sarah wishes to pay us a visit then she is welcome. Might give her some peace and quiet away from all the faerie antics.”

“I heard that.”

“Well, it was also directed at your shadow,” Ava replied to April, “Who needs to work on his sneaking skills.”

Following her gaze, Sarah spotted a black cat watching them angrily from a tree. The same black cat who sat on her windowsill every night, watching and never moving until dawn. She had been unnerved but had assumed it was a stray at first. She even left a bowl of Autumn’s food out for the cat, but had only been met by hostile green eyes and a hiss. Judging by Ava’s words, he was not actually a cat. Which was even more unsettling; April and Natalie would have some explaining to do.

“We really must go,” Ava continued, before glancing at Sarah for a moment. She went over to one of her lilac trees, skirt flowing dramatically in the wind her speed created. A deft hand broke off a bunch of flowers at the stem, returning to Sarah in seconds. The human looked at her questioningly, instinctively holding her breath when Ava got closer.

The vampire leaned towards her, cold fingers brushing over her cheek as she tucked the stem of lilacs behind Sarah’s ear. The light purple flowers blended into her curls, filling her senses with their strong scent.

“I promise I won’t hurt you,” was murmured in her ear and Sarah had to pretend she wasn’t blushing like mad when the woman pulled back.

“Mama?” Estia was bouncing on her heels, obviously waiting for Ava to follow before she went into the big house. Ava nodded at her, bidding Sarah goodbye and saying the same to April. In moments both vampires had disappeared back into the house, which somehow looked completely uninhabited. That probably had something to do with the fact that its owners were undead, but Sarah tried not to think about that too hard.

“Enchanting isn’t she?” April teased, having noticed Sarah’s panicked and shy reactions to the other woman, “Home time?”

Sarah recovered enough to nod, hand brushing through her hair to feel if the lilacs were still there. She followed April absentmindedly, thoughts still pinned on the gorgeous but intimidating vampire and how her low voice in Sarah’s ear had shamefully made her stomach flutter.

[inkandpen22]

The Princess and The Pogue (pt. 6)

Pairing: JJ x Female!Reader  / Topper x Female!Reader  

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Swearing, mild smut, fluff, angst, mentions of abuse (wow a lot) 

Part Summary: The aftermath of the bonfire is pushing you to your limit. Meanwhile, JJ is slowly losing himself in his grief. 

Masterlist

You and Topper meet your friends at the Ocean Club for lunch as arranged over text after the chaos at the Boneyard. You, Rafe, Rhett, Kelce, and Topper are all gathered around the table on the patio of the club. Despite looking put-together, you're all discombobulated in the head. All of your Kook friends are startled, to say the least by the events. More than half of them have never been close to a gun and all of them share a hatred of Pogues. 

Your brother Rhett invited his "friend" Crystal.  She's been fawning after him since their freshman year. They hooked up one time and she was practically picking out an engagement ring. She hangs around Rhett, Rafe, and all of their friends, hoping one of them would show a slight bit of interest. Her bottle black hair and bottle tan scream more New Jersey than OBX, but she throws on a Lily Politzer dress calls herself a Kook. She's always been low-key intimidated by you and envious even. She wants your title of the Princess of the OBX, but she struggles to get past being an associate. In summary, Crystal thinks acting like a stuck-up brat is how to be a Kook. She's delusional.

"Last night was unreal,” Kelce exhales deeply as he leans back in his chair. 

“You know how Pogues can be,” Topper remarks bitterly, placing his arm across your shoulders. 

"Where were you last night?" Rafe questions your brother from down the table. 

"My dad had me in Charleston on business," Rhett explains with a roll of his eyes. 

Crystal places her hand on Rhett's arm, giving it a supportive squeeze. The sight nearly makes you gag. Never in a million years will you call her your sister-in-law. 

"Lucky you," Kelce chuckles. 

"Yeah you really dodged a bullet," Rafe makes a pun. 

"Nice Rafe," Topper nods his head slowly, giving his friend a disapproving look. 

You toss around bits of lettuce around your salad, not exactly hungry. You wouldn't be here right now if Topper didn't already say you two were coming. It's not that you dislike your friends. You just don't feel like a review of last night and a Pogue roast session. Topper notices your lack of voice and interest in the group. He rubs his thumb over your shoulder, gaining your attention. You offer him a weak smile, your mind elsewhere. 

“At least Maybank has what’s coming to him. Apparently, the police are looking for him," Crystal announces to the table. 

Your fork slips from your hand accidentally, causing everyone to stare at you. “Wait, what?!" You glance between the girl and Topper to see if it's true. Topper doesn't react despite seeing your worried expression. Did Topper already know this? Did he not tell you? 

Rafe frowns at your reaction and his flicker to Topper before he answers. “Yeah, people told their parents what happened and the parents reported the incident to the police," he explains hesitantly. 

"As they should!” Crystal adds with a scoff of disgust, wearing a smug expression. “Who knows what that good-for-nothing white trash would’ve done to us if given the chance!" She justifies from across the table. 

“Oh my God, shut the fuck up, Crystal!” You snap. 

Everyone's jaws drop, astounded that such a vile sentence could come from your lips. 

“Ugh! Excuse me?!” Crystal gasps. 

You lean forward in your chair, turning your body to face the entitled girl. 

“What? Are you deaf all of a sudden?" You wear a mocking grin. "Wouldn’t be surprised with your big loud fucking mouth going constantly!” 

“What’s up your ass Whitfield?!” She fires back, drawing the attention of some other patrons. 

“Your piece of shit attitude!” You bark. 

"Ohh," Kelce drags out. 

"Wow," Rafe struggles to hide his amusement. 

Topper places a warning hand on your shoulder which you shake off. 

“Why are you defending him? He pulled a gun on Topper! On you!” Crystal reminds you in a shout. 

“I know that, Genius! Considering I was on the other side of said gun!” You hiss between your teeth. 

“Then what possible justification is there for what he did?" She huffs. "JJ Maybank is insane! A trash Pogue!” 

You slap your palms against the table, making everything raddle. “No, he’s not!” 

"Y/N!" Your brother warns. "Remember where you are!" 

You don't give a shit about where you are! If this girl continues to run her mouth, you're going to do a lot worse than yell. 

“What? What is it about him, huh?" Crystal presses with a wicked smirk. "A charity thing? Wealthy guilt? Rooting for the underdog?” 

“Crystal!” Rafe barks her name defensively. 

“What?” The girl giggles. "It's true, isn't it? She's got a thing for the bottom feeder!" 

“Back off!” Topper warns her, finally backing you up. He may agree with her, but once she starts making digs at you he doesn't hesitate to put her in her place. 

Then, a lightbulb snaps on in her head. “Oh wait... or is it that you have the hots for him? Have you officially run out of guys on this side of the island? You a Pogue whore now?” She laughs mockingly. 

Having enough of her, you impulsively pick up your full glass of white wine and toss it in her face. She gasps as the liquid covers her, her mouth in the shape of an "O." The boys' jaws hit the table as all they can do is watch you toss your drink at her white tube top. 

"Y/N!" Topper utters your name in shock. This is nothing like you. You never lose your cool. You're always the calm and put together one of your friends. 

"You bitch!" Crystal nearly cries. "This is designer!" 

You groan, tossing your head back. "Oh my God! Get over yourself!" 

“JJ Maybank should be sent to jail with his dad and if he rotted in there I doubt anyone would miss him!” Crystal remarks with a snarky smirk. 

That's it! Without a second thought, you fly up from your chair, causing it to toss backward onto the floor. You leap across the full table, reaching your arms out for the girl. Kelce and Rafe move out the way as Crystal screams. Glasses and silverware fall off the table onto the wood-paneled floor patio floor. Topper moves quickly to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you back, but not before you get a good slap across her face. 

“Woah, Woah, Woah there!” He pants, struggling to get a good hold on you. 

“Let me go!” You scream, wiggling in his arms. 

“Nope, not letting you get arrested today,” he grunts, stepping backward away from the table. 

“You crazy whore!” Crystal yells, holding her cheek. 

 “You’re calling me a whore? That’s ironic considering your name is Crystal! You were practically named for the corner, bitch!” You fire back, tossing up your middle fingers at her while Topper drags you toward the exit. 

“Damn!” Kelce laughs, covering his mouth to hide it. 

You don't care who's watching. Crystal had this coming a long time ago and she's pushed your patience to its limit the moment she touched JJ. She'll know now to never speak of him. 

“Fuck you, Y/N!” Crystal screams one last time. 

Rhett grabs her arm, quietly begging for her to stop. He's certainly pissed at your impolite actions and will likely run to tell your parents. 

“No thanks! I’m not into insecure, loudmouth, prostitutes!” You snap out one final dig before Topper gets you out the door. 

You never noticed Pope cleaning a table just yards away, you were pretty preoccupied. He watched in awe as you quite literally flew across the table and slapped a girl because she spoke wrongly about JJ. After Pope saw you with Topper, he wasn't sure what to think. He was just as confused by your relationship as JJ. The turn of events he's just witnessed sealed the deal in his mind, you're in love with JJ, whether you know it or not. 

________________________________

After his shift at the Club, Pope immediately went to John B's, knowing that's where his friends would be waiting to go out on the HMS Pogue. 

“You guys! You’ll never believe what happened at work today!” He rushes out as he jogs down the dock. 

“All the Kooks got swallowed up by the ocean?” JJ remarks bitterly in a grumble as he lounges on the front of the boat in his swim trunks

“No!” He pants as he slows to a stop. “Y/N and Crystal got into this huge fight!” 

“What?!” John B gasps. 

“What do you mean? Is she okay?!” Kiara questions as she helps Pope onto the boat. 

“Yeah, yeah, she’s fine, but it was insane!" Pope laughs in amazement. 

“What about?” Sarah inquires, eager to learn more. 

“JJ!" Pope explains with the utmost enthusiasm. "Crystal was talking shit and the next thing I know Y/N throws her drink in her face and jumps at her. She slaps the hell out of her! Topper literally had to carry her out!” 

“Holy shit,” John B mutters, wide-eyed. 

“God I would’ve paid big bucks to see that,” Kiara chuckles. 

“I can’t even envision Y/N doing something like that,” Sarah shakes her head in disbelief. 

“I know, she’s usually so polite, calm, civilized," Kiara lists. 

“You should’ve seen her guys. It was so badass. Lesson learned, don’t piss of Y/N!" Pope settles down on the bench beside Kiara. 

“It was over me?” JJ finally voices quietly. 

Pope hums. “Crystal wouldn’t stop and Y/N told her to “shut the fuck up.” 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard Y/N swear,” Sarah admits. 

 “That’s because she rarely does,” John B adds. 

“So she’s not pissed at me?” JJ questions, his tone steady and expressionless. 

“Based on how she was going to claw a girl’s eyes out in your defense, I vote no,” Pope determines. 

JJ stands up in a rush, moving to hop down into the boat. “Well, where did she go after that? Did Topper take her home or did she-" 

“She went looking for you,” you call out from the opposite end of the dock. 

Everyone's heads snap in your direction. All of their eyes are wide with surprise. They all smile, honestly glad to see you. JJ, however, just stares blankly with an unreadable reaction. 

“Hi JJ,” you greet timidly, doing your best to smile but you fall short. 

The boy never breaks his eye contact with you as he jumps off the boat. He marches toward you and you're not sure what to expect. You haven't spoken since last night and you wouldn't exactly call that a conversation. "What do you want? Come to gloat?" He sasses. 

“Okay, that’s our cue!” John B announces, starting up the engine. 

“Yep! We'll catch you guys later!” Pope rushes out. 

“Good to see you Y/N!” Sarah adds.

The Pogues desert JJ, leaving you two to work out your problems. JJ doesn't even turn around or react in the slightest as John B hurries the boat away. An ounce of you wonders if it's because he wants to stay, to talk to you. 

Your eyes flicker down to his chest and torso. The bruises you saw last night as a tad more healed, but still, look awful. Now that his body is more exposed, you start to notice more marks and cuts all over his arms, chest, ribcage. The sight makes your heart sink. Without thought, you place your hand on JJ's stomach. "Did Top do this?" You worry. JJ's muscles clench under your touch. The feeling of your fingertips glide across his bare torso makes him go weak in the knees. 

"No, got into a fight with a bobcat. You should see the bobcat," he smirks slightly, making light of the situation. 

Your face falls as your eyes meet his. "Don't joke-" 

"Sorry!" He steps back. "Can't take you seriously when everything you say is a lie," he scoffs. 

Your brows scrunch together in confusion. "What are you even saying right now?!" 

"It was all bullshit!" He snaps. "All of it! Everything you said! You're no different than the rest of them!" He exhales deeply, taking a moment to stare at you. He immediately regrets yelling considering how guilty he felt after what he did last night. Yet, JJ's hurt and he's pent up these emotions for days now. They're driving him nuts. "You lie, cheat, you take what you want when you want it no matter the consequences or who you hurt!" 

"I never lied to you, JJ!" You defend, equally as passionate as him. "Every fucking word was true!" JJ's brows rise slightly at your use of language. It appearing so foreign coming from your mouth. You sigh, "Jesus, JJ you can be so oblivious sometimes!" You turn on your heels, marching back down the dock toward the yard. 

"At least I'm not playing both sides of the fence! I know what I want and where I belong!" JJ fires. 

You whip your head over your shoulder and stomp back toward him. "You freaking psycho!" 

"Psycho! How am I a psycho?" JJ laughs, astonished. 

"You pulled a gun!" You remind him. 

"He was drowning me, Y/N!" JJ screams, getting in your face. You swallow hard. Despite the intensity of your arguing, you can't help but feel a rush of satisfaction having JJ so close again. JJ looks to the side, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. "I'm not gonna be your little plaything while you wait on Topper of all people to fuck you again," he shakes his head, meeting your gaze again. "I won't do it." 

Your lips part, not believing the words coming from him right now. "Fuck you, JJ," you hiss between your teeth before turning again to walk away. JJ stays where he is and watches you stomp away. A part of him wants to beg you to stay, the other tells himself that you deserve everything he's saying. 

You come to a slow stop as your mind races. You're Y/N Whitfield, you don't have to take this shit, especially from JJ Maybank of all people. You spin on your heels and JJ glances up as you do. "For someone so smart you're an idiot!" You clench your jaw. "Topper is my best friend, that's it!" You reason. "Whatever Sarah told you, that was before I met you! He could never be you!" 

JJ simply stares at you blankly. The silence kills you. One minute he won't shut up and the next he stands there like an idiot. 

"The way I feel when I'm with Topper..." you sigh, unsure how to describe it. You're not entirely what to call it. "It's comfortable, sure, but it's not anything glorious. There's no excitement there, just a sense of security from knowing each other for so long." You hesitate to continue, but since you'll probably never speak again, you might as well lay everything out on the table right? "You don't even have to touch me, your glance is enough to make me feel alive. When I went to bed, I thought of you. When I woke up, I thought of you. You're... you're it for me, JJ. I can't imagine there's anything better than when I'm with you. But... I guess we already fucked it up didn't we?" 

There's a pause between shots and you prepare to walk away from JJ forever. Then, something in him sets off and he starts rushing up to you. Startled, you begin to shuffle back. 

"What are you doing?" You question, placing a hesitant hand up. 

"Showing you how much of an idiot I really am," he replies swiftly as he brings his hands up to cup your face. 

He pauses for a second, looking at you with hooded eyes. You lose all capability of breathing, melting into his hands. You glance down at his parted lips, waiting for what's next. JJ smashing his lips to yours hungrily. Without hesitation, you reciprocate the action, combing your fingers through the hair on the back of his neck.

 You meant every word. Being with Topper can be great and there's so much history there. Yet, being with JJ is entirely different. It's new. It's organic. It's what keeps you awake at night in the best way. You imagine exploring every inch of his body and never letting go. 

JJ breaks from you, pressing his lips to your forehead as his eyes fall shut. "I'm so sorry, Baby, for everything!" He whispers against your cheek before planting a kiss there. 

"Me too," you reply. 

He pulls back, meeting your gaze. "I don't think you're a slut." 

You laugh, "I sure hope not!"  

"You're too good for me," he shakes his head as he still wonders if this is all in his imagination. 

"Quite the opposite actually," you debate. 

"No, don't say that." He shakes his head frantically, hating it when you speak badly about yourself. "You're everything to me!" 

You place your hands over his on your cheek and plant a kiss on his palm, making JJ totally simp for you. 

"Do you... would you maybe wanna have a little hot tub night?" The boy asks nervously, still kinda unsure of himself when it comes to you. 

"I'd love that," you smile, wanting to spend every moment with him from this day forever. 

_____________________________

Settling in the hot tub, JJ tugs at the rim of your panties, pulling you to sit across his lap. You drape your arms on his shoulders, resting your forehead against his. 

"Are you warm enough?" He whispers, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek. 

Hum as your eyes falls shut, pondering the closeness. 

"You're so soft and warm. You're like a human Pillow Pet," he comments with a slight snicker. 

"Excuse me?" You lift your head to look at him. 

"Minus the furry part," he elaborates. 

"You're such a goof." You laugh, placing your palm against his head and pushing it away playfully. 

"Only for you, Baby," JJ grins. 

You place a quick peck on his lips before shifting to move off of his lap. 

JJ pouts, letting out a minor whine. "Uh uh, don't leave." 

"I'm just grabbing my drink," you giggle at his childlike expression. As you take a sip from your beer, you can feel JJ watching you. You glance over your shoulder and sure enough, his eyes remain locked on your ass. "You're starring," you smirk. 

"You bet your amazing ass I am," he mumbles, reaching across the water and grabbing your ass, giving it a squeeze. 

"JJ!" You gasp, swatting his hand away. 

He tilts his head back, exposing his sharp jaw as he wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you back to him. "Couldn't help myself! It was practically begging for a squeeze." 

"Right..." You nod, straddling his lap. 

As an act of retaliation, you press your palm to the center of his boxers, making the boy jolt lightly from surprise. 

"Holy shit," he swallows hard. 

"Couldn't help myself, it was practically begging for it," you smirk, repeating his words. 

"You're too good to be true," he whispers, bringing his lips closer to yours. 

"Dido," you grin, leaning in to kiss him. 

_____________________

After pondering the bliss of you and JJ finally being reunited in the hot tub, you two make dinner together in the Chateau's kitchen. You two move in sync as you prepare the oh-so-difficult meal of pizza rolls. You share a place of them while cuddling watching Goonies. During it, JJ comes up with the idea that you two should be Andy and Brand for Halloween. It makes you smile and all warm inside to hear him making plans for two months from now. It makes you fully realize how much JJ sees a future with you. Somewhere before Goonies was over, you fell asleep in JJ's lap while he was playing with your hair. The last few days have worn on you emotionally, mentally, and physically. 

The Pogues came home and when they saw you and JJ on the couch, especially you, they quietly stayed outside. Except, John B lingered, smiling at the sight of his friend doting on you. He's never seen JJ be so gentle and patient in his life. 

“You’re different with her," John B whispers not to wake you. 

JJ glances up from observing you look at his friend with a satisfied smirk. “She makes me want to be better." His fingers comb through your Y/H/C locks, utterly content. 

“I think she’s really good for you,” John B nods in agreement.  

“She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I want to change, to be worthy of being with her," JJ confesses quietly as he returns his focus to you. 

"You two deserve each other," John B assures his friend. 

"You think?" JJ wonders, still unsure of his place in your life. 

John B snickers lightly. "I mean, she did leap across a table in front of all her friends and slap a girl to defend you." 

"Yeah she did, didn't she? Pretty badass," JJ chuckles, still amazed that you did that. 

"She loves you man," John B concludes with a shrug. 

"Really?" JJ narrows his eyes with curiosity at his friend. 

"Well, it's obvious isn't it?" John B laughs breathlessly with a crooked grin. 

"I thought it was all in my head," JJ confesses with a childish fall of his lips like he just learned some overwhelming news. 

"It's not," his friend shakes his head, happy to see his friend finally have some hope. "She looks at you the same way you look at her." 

JJ's brows scrunch together and he looks up at John B. "When you and Sarah said it to each other, how did you know it was the right time?" 

"You'll know. You'll feel it," he describes confidently.  

"What if I feel it now?" JJ asks softly, glancing down at you. 

"Then say it. Say it whenever you can, as often as you can," John B advises before stepping away quietly to give you two time. 

JJ sits with your head cradled in his lap. He's not eager to join his friends around the fire outside. He's content with you here with him, whether you're asleep or not. You're enough for him. You're everything to him. 

JJ leans down, planting a kiss to your temple, then gliding his lips down to your ear. "I love you, Y/N," he whispers while you sleep.  __________________________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @starkeythinker @bethii1 @thegunnerkelly@cc13723things@hockeybabe87 @jolomez 

[queenk00k]

red wine lips part 1 // rafe cameron

Warnings: alcohol, drug use, sexual content 

Word count: 2000

PART 2 NOW UPLOADED 

PART 3 NOW UPLOADED

FINAL PART NOW UPLOADED

fic idea from my ship with rafe from @socialwriter

moodboard idea from @harrysbbby

You were going to be late.

Correction: You and Rafe Cameron were going to be late, and it’s all his fault for hosting a party the night before, in what you assumed was an effort to impress you (which, by the way, didn’t work) and you were pissed.

You had overslept and Rafe, having been preoccupied with multiple bags, hadn’t slept at all.

“Rafe!” You yell. “We’re going to be late, and I will not have you turning up to this thing in anything less than a suit. Get dressed and hurry the fuck up!” You hop across the first-floor landing, pulling your heels on as you made a beeline for Rafe’s bedroom.

Not bothering to knock (when had you two had any manners towards each other anyway?), you push open the heavy wooden door to see Rafe bent over his dresser, half dressed in navy suit pants and an open white shirt. He’s surreptitiously cutting the last of the night���s supply into neat lines with his black AMEX card, tapping his foot absentmindedly.

“Keeping the party going, are we?” You ask, folding your arms across your satin clad chest.

Rafe doesn’t reply immediately. Instead, he finishes what he was doing before you interrupted, snorting his line and wiping his nose as he turns around.

He smirks. “Looking good, Y/N. That dress would look better off you though.”

You roll your eyes. “Firstly, keep it in your pants, and secondly, you better not be thinking about bringing coke to the tour. We’re being classy today, Cameron,” you say, using the nickname only reserved for when you were annoyed at your long-time friend.

Rafe chuckles and starts buttoning his shirt, stepping towards you as his brows furrow in concentration. “I’ll behave.”

You look up at him incredulously.

“Promise,” he says. “I’ll just get drunk today. That’s what wine tastings are for, right?”

You figured him being drunk was the best-case scenario. At least you could guarantee the absence of Pogues – no fighting today.

“I’ll take it. Come on, we need to go. Our driver’s outside.”

You turn to leave, but Rafe grabs your wrist suddenly, holding you back. “Wait, wait.” Rafe’s blue eyes stare down at you intensely and, you’re ashamed to admit, you think they’re actually quite pretty. “I do really think you look nice today. Red’s your colour.”

There’s a brief pause as you wait for the usual sexual remark, but a beat passes without one and you’re pleasantly surprised.

“Thanks, Rafe,” you reply with a smile as you head out the door, but before you fully leave you pop your head back through the frame.

“Oh, and Rafe?”

“Mm?”

“Wear a red tie.” You wink before turning on your heel, swooping the dress behind you as you make your way downstairs.

There’s excited chatter amongst your group as your driver pulls up to the iron gates of the most prestigious winery in the Outer Banks and you gaze out the window at the vines spread out across the field.

The car comes to a stop and Rafe jumps out before you, impressing you by taking your hand and helping you step out of the vehicle onto the gravelled road. You look up at him and think to yourself how handsome he looks and, not to mention, how good you both look together in red.

You and Rafe first met as kids, when you were both left at the country club’s “kidZone” whilst your mums sipped champagne and got uncomfortably close to men who weren’t their husbands. Since then, your families were always close and you and Rafe became good friends, bonded by your love of two things: money and having a good time.

There was underlying sexual tension between the two of you since you were old enough to wear a bra and Rafe was old enough to notice, but neither of you had ever acted on it.

Sometimes the fun was left in the unknown, the untouched possibilities, the lingering gazes and suggestive comments.

“Like what you see?” Rafe teases, snapping you out of your reflective state.

You chuckle. “What if I do?” You walk away without giving Rafe a chance to reply, feeling his wandering eyes burn a hole in your back as you make sure to swing your hips in a way you know will have him distracted for the rest of the day.

Like you said – sometimes all the fun was in the chase.

Maybe this time he could catch you.

_______________________________________________________________

“So this one here is our flagship viognier – it’s a full bodied white wine, and because it’s been aged in oak like our chardonnay, it’s a very rich taste and you’ll be able to taste notes of vanilla,” the sommelier explains as he pours an annoyingly small amount of wine into your glass before moving onto Rafe’s next to you.

You notice he’s gone light on the wine as he’s serving to your group, clearly uncomfortable with the raucous group of barely legal 21-year-olds.

Rafe swirls the wine around his glass and says “how much for a bottle?”

You scoff. “You haven’t even tasted it yet. See if you like it first.”

“Don’t be so bossy, Y/N,” he replies before downing the wine in one gulp, much to the horror of your sommelier.

You quickly follow suit, taking a bit longer to savour the taste of the wine before you swallow completely. You actually enjoy this wine stuff, taking the time to learn about different types of grapes before you organised this trip for you, Rafe, Topper, Kelce and your group of girlfriends from college. You notice Rafe watching you as you tip your head back, his blue eyes following the curve of your neck, his jaw clenching as you swallow.

No prizes for guessing what he’s thinking about you swallowing instead.

After a few more glasses as you make your way down to the final bottle of wine, you feel yourself getting dizzier and your friends are speaking louder and louder until Rafe finds it necessary to bring his lips to your ear every time he wants to speak to you.

“You know, you and I….we could have some fun together,” Rafe says as he trails a finger up your thigh.

You slap his hand and move it off you, bringing your gaze to his face which is tantalizing close to yours, willing yourself not to bring your gaze to his lips which are stained ever so slightly with red.

“You said you were going to behave, Cameron,” you remind him, raising your eyebrows. “What are you doing?”

“What, I can’t treat my princess to something I know she’s been waiting for all these years?” Rafe looks at you expectantly. 

“Your princess?”

“You been cosying up to anyone else today?” Rafe points out, fingering the collar of his suit jacket that’s been draped over your bare shoulders at some point in the afternoon.

Fuck, he’s right.

“…I was cold,” you say, witty replies be damned.

“Mmhm.”

You stare at each other for a beat, before Rafe spins in his seat (almost toppling off) and faces the bar.

“How much is a bottle of the merlot?” He asks the sommelier.

You see the guy purse his lips.

“It’s our most expensive bottle.”

Rafe scoffs. “Weird price. How much is it?”

The sommelier furrows his brows and looks around the room, his gaze falling upon Topper and Kelce who were talking animatedly, their ties hanging loose around their necks.

“Where are your parents? Maybe you should wait for them to get here and they could pick something out for you?”

Oh boy, you think. Not difficult for you to predict how Rafe was going to react to that comment.

True to form, Rafe pushes back from the table and stands up, his jaw clenched and his large frame towering over the server, who at least has the common sense to look intimidated.

“Do you know who I am, bro?”

“Don’t answer that,” you warn him with a wave of your hand. “Better to just let him tell you.”

You had seen Rafe on power trips like this in the past when his influence has been questioned. It proves troublesome when whoever he’s talking to just isn’t having it, but usually you find it pretty hot.

Rafe places his hands on the counter and leans over to look the server in the eyes.

You do him a favour by holding his tie back, so it doesn’t take a dip in the cabernet sauvignon.

“I’m Rafe Cameron. Do you know who my father is? Yeah,” Rafe says as the sommelier gulps, “Ward Cameron. We basically own this island. Do you own an island?”

The server shakes his head in defeat.

“I didn’t think so,” Rafe says, standing up straight again and shooting you a brief smirk as you take your hand off his tie.

You figure he’s grateful.

“Now, my group and I here would like 10 bottles.”

The sommelier clears his throat before replying. “Of course, sir, which 10 bottles would you like?”

Rafe chuckles as he flashes his AMEX. “Oh no, you misunderstand. I want 10 bottles of every single wine you have.”

Your painted lips curl into a smile.

It was going to be a good afternoon.

_______________________________________________________________

Before you know it, you’re sitting next to Rafe at a table in the courtyard, your leg moving dangerously closer to his, his eyes grazing over your chest intermittently.

Topper is telling a story about his ex-girlfriend Sarah, who he insists he’s “completely over” (yeah right) and you’re barely listening, your eyes glazed over as you bring the crystal glass to your lips absentmindedly.

Hard to concentrate on anything when Rafe Cameron’s hand is inching closer up your thigh, pulling the satin fabric up with it until your leg is almost completely exposed to the cool afternoon air.

You’re thankful for two things.

One, the fact that you had the foresight to shave that morning.

And two, the biological blessing that was your ability to hide how completely and utterly turned on you are in that moment.

You start squirming in your seat, clearing your throat as you become increasingly aware of how flushed your cheeks feel, warmth pooling in your belly as you swallow thickly and turn to Rafe.

He looks at you expectantly and in a daring move, presses his lips to your neck softly.

Completely out of character for Rafe, it’s almost sweet and doesn’t do your state any favours as you squeeze your thighs together, wetness already starting to spread to your underwear.

Goddamnit, you think. You look up at Rafe through your long eyelashes, and bring your lips to his ear to whisper “I’m going to the bathroom.”

Rafe looks at you excitedly, and you figure it wouldn’t hurt (too much) to drag out the inevitable just that bit longer.

“Do not even think about following me,” you say as you stand up, praying your arousal hasn’t started to show on your dress. You picked a good day to wear satin, for goodness sake.

Rafe looks hurt as you walk into the ladies’ bathroom, not doubting that he will follow your wishes. He may be a sexual deviant but he’s not one to cross boundaries, especially yours.

You brace yourself on the porcelain sink, breathing heavily as you look at yourself in the mirror. You look frazzled and flushed, all because of Rafe.

You have an idea, and smirk to yourself as you prepare to leave.

You make your way out of the bathroom, walking slowly back to the group, stopping where only Rafe can see you.

You don’t have to wait long for Rafe to look up and catch your eye. It gives you some sort of satisfaction to see his face change from confusion to shock, and you know you’ve got him hooked.

You’re holding your red lace thong in your hand, winking as you stuff it discreetly into your clutch. You’ve never seen Rafe look so impressed.

Game on.

_______________________________________________________________ 

tag list my beautiful bbys: @letsgofullkook​ @stargazingstarkey​ @hoeforpankow​ @harrysbbby​ @ptersparkers​ @socialwriter​ @thatjohnd​ @ssjiara​ @jjsmentalpolaroids​ @bailspogue​ @jjmaybankx​ @jjtheangel​ @jjmeybank​ @drewstarkey​ @obx-direction-sos​ @sortagaysortahigh​ @pixelated-pogues​ @jjmbanks​ @ims0golden​ @obbx-tings​ @honeyycheek​ @softstarkey​ 

please let me know your thoughts and if you’d like a part 2!! (planning on it)

[butgilinsky]

the folder // rc

warning; a LOT of language, angst and not proofread but i think that’s it

summary; when the pogues bring you a folder of accusatory evidence, you’re left to believe that rafe has betrayed you in the worst way possible

word count; almost 4k

requested by a nonnie; Hey bby if you still take request can I request a rafe camero one where you think he’s cheating on you and he gets hurt that you think that

you didn’t know how to describe it. how do you describe the feeling you get when you’re positive you’re in the middle of feeling the biggest betrayal a person can feel? how do you look at your friends, who are all staring at you in anticipation, and tell them that your entire world felt like it was falling apart. 

you looked better than they expected originally. they expected you to lash out, screaming and crying until you physically ran out of breath. they expected to have to hold you back from throwing yourself into unhealthy habits. they figured you’d throw things or lunge for your phone. 

you didn’t do any of that. you sat in your spot, lips slightly parted in shock while your eyes glossed over. with your eyes blown big and wide and filled with confusion, you flipped through the stack of evidence in front of you. pictures, text messages, anything to get you to understand that you had given yourself to a man who did not respect you. 

a man who, supposedly, had been sneaking around your back. a man you thought you knew since you were the ripe age of 8 years old. 

you remembered moving to the outer banks. your first day on the island was intimidating. you had your hand wrapped tightly around your oldest brother’s, gripping onto his for dear life. the boy laughed down at you, using your eight year age difference to install some sort of comfort in you. 

you didn’t do well with change, and you were stuck in the middle of an endless loop of it. your mom walking out hadn’t been the biggest shock to any of your brothers, or your father, but you had no idea it was going to happen. sure, she hadn’t been around a lot anyways, but now she was permanently leaving, and your eight year old self didn’t know how to handle it. 

on top of it all, you were now standing in an entirely new state, across the entire country, on an island you’d never heard of before. all you had know were your brothers and your dad. your three older brothers that would have built a forcefield around you if they had to. 

it wasn’t a surprise to any of your brothers that the first friend you made was a boy around your age. only two years older than you and seemingly nice at the time, rafe cameron was the perfect person to help you make the transition from arizona to the outer banks. 

you fell into his life like clock work. you were friendly with his friends, though as you grew older, you disliked them more and more. you weren’t the biggest fan of rafe’s friends, and it pushed you straight into the embrace of the pogues, which came as an earth shattering shock to rafe when you were only 14 years old, and he was 16. 

hanging out with the pogues had little effect on your relationship with rafe. you were his best friend, the only one that helped him when things at home got unbearable. he wasn’t going to throw you away just because you didn’t like his friends. half of the time, he hated his friends too. you were the only person that rafe cameron found himself truly caring about. 

you had been friends for over ten years at this point, and had finally built up the nerve to tell him that you were utterly in love with him a less than a year ago. it had been painfully obvious to everyone else on the island that you were in love with the cameron boy, but he somehow hadn’t picked up on it throughout the years. it seemed impossible to overlook such a thing, especially when he felt the same bubbly feeling in his chest every time he saw you. 

it had all been a dream. a dream that you never could’ve imagined would ever happen when your eyes were wide open and you were fully conscious. you were convinced, up until now, that you were living in your own desired reality. having rafe by your side, in every single sense of the world, felt like the universe had heard your wishes and granted you with every single one of them. 

until now, as your eyes scanned over every message and every text on the pages the pogues had brought you. you had tears in your eyes that slightly blurred your vision, but that hadn’t phased you until sarah knelt down in front of you slowly. 

she had been appointed as the diffuser in this situation. she had been the last to know about the folder of evidence accusing her brother of awful things. she hadn’t believed it at first, wanting to fact check everything in the folder ten times over but everything she dug up pointed to the answer she wished she hadn’t found. 

sarah’s hands landed on top of yours, slowly taking the pages out of your grip, with a little added effort, and placed them on the bed beside you. her hands fell back onto yours, that had been shaking so bad that john b had asked pope if they should be worried. 

when the heyward boy shook his head gently and mumbled something along the lines of “normal...anxiety...shock”, kiara sat beside you. the two girls, one beside of you while the other stayed in front of you, wrapped their arms around you. 

you felt it then, the wave that crashed over you. you had lost your breath quickly, clawing at your throat to regain some sense of normalcy within yourself. you felt like everything had begun crashing around you. you wouldn’t have been surprised if the walls started shaking before the ground opened up and swallowed all of you whole. 

eventually everything became too much. you pushed away sarah and kiara’s hands, not used to the overwhelming amount of physically attention you were receiving from everyone. you flinched every time a new hand fell onto your skin and immediately shoved it off of you, before shoving your friends away entirely. 

“y/n-”

“please stop touching me.” you begged kiara after her consistent attempts to just hold you close. she knew you hadn’t been the most familiar with physical attention throughout your life, but you had let her console you before. she didn’t understand what was different this time around. 

“y/n, how do we help you?” jj asked softly, not liking the idea of just watching you fall apart in front of all of them. 

“i just want to be alone.” 

they didn’t like that idea, didn’t like the thought of leaving you by yourself. the boys were confused but agreed quickly, which earned glares from both sarah and kiara quickly. kiara stood up and ushered the boys out of your room quickly, leaving sarah behind for just a moment. 

she tried to ask if you were okay, to which you just told her than you needed to breath and process everything by yourself. she nodded, and with a final ‘text me if you need anything’ she left your room, shutting the door softly behind her. 

she walked across the long hall to your youngest brother’s room, where two of the three boys you had grown up with sat in front of the TV, completely oblivious to everything outside of the room. 

she knocked softly, knocking again once she didn’t get an answer from anyone. she pushed the door open when she heard the rushed ‘come in’, followed by both boys screaming at each other over their lost game. 

“hey sare.” tyler, the youngest of the two smiled quickly once he caught sight of sarah. she’d always been tyler’s favorite of your friends. 

“hey.” she offered a quick smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes, to both of the boys. “we’re all gonna head out, but keep an eye on y/n, please. she’s making us leave but i can tell she doesn’t want to be alone.” 

just as sarah finished her sentence, the three heard a crashing sound from across the hall. tyler and brandon flew from their places on tyler’s bed and sprinted across the hallway, shoving the door to your room open. 

you were mid toss, elbow cocked back and grip tight on the lamp that usually sat on your nightstand. brandon reached for the lamp just as tyler was wrapping his arms around your abdomen, lifting you off of the ground. 

you were trying to fight back, trying to place your feet back onto the floor, but it had been useless. tyler had an easy five inches on you, so your feet weren’t going to reach the floor, not matter how far you stretched. his grip on you was tight, holding you against his chest as he tried to console you softly. 

brandon got the rundown from sarah, eyes finding the folder that had been opened on your bed, pages spread across the top of it. he saw one picture, enough to tell him that he had to focus on his sister right now. he told sarah to go home, that y/n would be with her brothers for the rest of the day. 

he didn’t let sarah leave without making sure she knew to tell rafe that he was in deep shit once they got y/n to calm down. 

rafe got along with your brothers almost too well. tyler and him were the same age, which made it difficult for the two of them to not befriend one another. rafe was almost always at your house, and once the two of them had joined the same lacrosse team, it had been a done deal. 

tyler did have you best interest at heart over rafe’s, but it had been slightly overshadowed by his friendship with rafe. brandon, however, was old enough to never have gotten close to rafe like tyler had. brandon had respect for rafe, but he had made it clear that you came before him in every single situation. 

and then there was aidan, the oldest. aiden was the stereotypical older brother. he was the one that would have thrown himself in front of you if anything was coming towards you. he’s the one that checked in on you after your mom left. he was the one that had beent here for you after the move to the outer banks. he had been the only one at the time that was old enough to realize that what was happening to your family was not only happening to him, but all of his younger siblings as well. 

aidan was the one that looked after everybody when your dad had to work late at the office, or couldn’t make dinner. aidan was the one that held everyone together. he was the only person that could talk you off of a ledge. he had been doing it for longer than either of you could remember. 

but aidan wasn’t here, so that left this job up to tyler and brandon. 

when you had stopped fighting against tyler’s grip, he let you go, noticing your relaxed muscles. just as he let go, your balance faltered, taking you down to your knees and then onto the floor entirely. you were a sobbing mess, worse than anything either of them had ever experienced. 

it felt like hours had gone by before you stopped crying. you had fallen asleep, sandwiched between both boys that had stayed to offer their presence if you needed it. your tv had been flipped on at some point, playing a movie that brandon and tyler had both seen before. 

“this scene is stupic.” brandon said absentmindedly, earning a scoff from tyler. 

“you think it’s stupid because he dies.” brandon’s eyes blew wide open, preparing his defense just in the time for the doorbell to cut him off. 

tyler jumped out of bed, slightly startled by the sound and hoping it hadn’t woken you up. when you stirred, but didn’t wake, brandon ushered the boy out of the room before it rang again.

“if it’s that prick, tell him to fuck off.” tyler rolled his eyes but assured his brother he would do so, though it wasn’t entirely true. 

tyler ran down the stairs and to the front door before the bell could ring again, swinging the door open faster than he probably should have. 

“hey ty.” rafe smiled, hand raising to slap against tyler’s instinctively. 

“you probably shouldn’t be here.” tyler’s voice confused rafe, used to the tone but never having it directed towards him. he didn;t know what was going on, but he knew he needed to fix it before it got out of hand. 

“what does that mean?” tyler looked over his shoulder at the sound of brandon walking around upstairs, popping up at the top of the stairs within seconds. 

“you bitch.” rafe looked at brandon, who had fire in his eyes and clenched fists at his sides as he walked towards the front door. 

“what the fuck is going on?” rafe took a step back when brandon popped up right behind tyler. tyler held brandon back, mumbling something about being too loud and causing a scene for no reason. 

“not here, b.” 

“that’s bullshit, ty. you’re blinded by your stupid hard on for this prick, but i’m not. i thought i made it clear to you, cameron. you fuck up, i ruin your life.” rafe was more lost than he had ever been before. he didn’t understand what they were talking about or why they were so mad at him. he didn’t even know brandon was home for the time being, thinking he had still been up in new york with his fiancee. 

“fuck you, b, you know that’s bullshit.” tyler rolled his eyes until brandon punched his bicep, eyes wide and angry and directed towards his brother for the time being. 

“can someone clue me in here?” 

“well cameron, it seems that you’ve fucked up royally with our darling sister.” brandon turned towards rafe, his arms crossed and his chest puffed towards the younger boy. 

“i don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“just say it, rafe. just fess up already and cut this denial shit. you cheated on her, and we want to know why.” rafe’s eyes blew wide open then, a sinking feeling in his chest while his heart rate picked up. 

“you think i cheated on her? why the fuck would i do that?”

“that’s what i’m asking you, pretty boy.” tyler rolled his eyes at his brother’s insult, finding it ridiculous in a time like this. 

“i would never do that to her. i’ve never done anything out of line-”

“cut this shit. you broke my sister’s heart, and now i’m going to break your nose, cameron.”

“brandon, cut it out-”

“no, fuck you, ty. let me punch this prick in the face-”

“if i cheated on her i would let you punch me in the face, brandon. but i didn’t do anything-”

“we saw the pictures, asshole! you’re lying through your fucking teeth and i-”

“ENOUGH!” all three boys turned towards the stairs where you were standing at the top, arms wrapped around yourself and hand flat against your temple. “it took me hours to fall asleep and you dickheads woke me up.” 

“y/n, just go back to-”

“baby.” your eyes snapped over to him, your stomach betraying you when butterflies started flapping around inside of it. you felt your shoulders slump, instinct taking over as you melted in your place on top of the stairs. 

“you shouldn’t be here, rafe.” your words broke his heart, cracking straight through the entirety of it. you had to believe him. 

“baby, i don’t know what the fuck is going on but please let me clear my name-” rafe tried to take a step inside but brandon shoving his chest hard enough to keep him on the front porch kept him from doing so. 

“brandon, lighten up on the toxic masculinity.” you rolled your eyes at his behavior, but he just scoffed in response. 

“and let you fall for the shit he’s about to spew at you? not happening. go back upstairs and let me handle this.” 

“nice try, b, but you can’t pull an aidan right now.” you noticed the way brandon’s fists clenched at the mention of him trying to fill his brother’s shoes. he hated when people compared him to aidan, and you knew that. 

"fuck you, y/n. i’m just trying to fucking help you-”

“hey, don’t talk to her like that-”

“back off, rafe-”

“shove it, ty-”

“all of you shut the fuck up.” you screamed again, pressing both of your hands against your eyes and rubbing the area.

you walked down the stairs, ignoring the throbbing in your head for a moment. you pushed your brothers aside and stood in front of rafe, arms crossed over your chest. 

he saw it then, how broke you were. your red rimmed eyes were ever so slightly puffy. your lips were chapped, cracking in places that told rafe you had been picking at them. your eyes were absent of the sparkle that they usually had when you were looking up at rafe. 

“baby, i don’t know what’s going on but i would never-”

“there are pictures. i saw all of them. pictures and texts and-” you caught yourself getting choked up again, forcing it to the back of your mind while you coughed through the lump in your throat. “i think you should go.”

“no way. i’m telling you i’m innocent, y/n. i need you to believe me, y/n.” you shook your head softly, feeling your eyes fill with tears from the memories of the pictures resurfacing in your mind. 

“i can’t just believe you, rafe. i saw everything.” rafe scoffed then, anger mixing with frustration. 

“fuck that, y/n. you know me better than anyone else in my entire life. you think i would throw all of that away and for what? for a quick fuck? why would i do that, y/n? i’ve done that, i don’t care about that anymore. i just care about you, what makes it so hard for you to see that?” you were at a loss for words. it made sense that he was frustrated, but that didn’t change the fact that you had no reason to believe him over the evidence. 

tyler and brandon had stepped away from the two of you. brandon stayed close by and tyler ran upstairs to grab the evidence folder, bringing back a stack of paper that he held out towards rafe. 

rafe looked through the pictures, flipping through them faster than you had done hours earlier. his eyes blew wide at some of the pictures, and he laughed gently at others. you didn’t know how to take his reaction, you had no idea hat he was thinking. 

“for starters, these pictures are old.” you rolled your eyes, opening your mouth to tell him to save that poor excuse for someone who’d fall for it, but he didn’t give you the time. “this is stacy reddington, i was 17. you see the belt i’m wearing? i lost it in the bahamas the summer before my senior year.” 

you recalled a time when rafe called you, absolutely fuming after he had left that belt. you remembered him going straight to your house off of the tarmac, still high on the anger from losing his favorite belt. 

rafe showed you another picture, one that had your gut wrenching and the lump in your throat building. “alice mooney. this was after midsummers two years ago, you can tell because i’m wearing the oxfords my dad bought when he was in england. you can tell because i never worn those disgusting shoes ever again.

“carrie park, night of graduation. i snuck off from the party early, remember? you were calling me and i apologized profusely about ditching you. you were mad at me for weeks after that.”

one by one, his explanations began to break down the lump in your throat and the awful feeling in your stomach. your nerves were unwinding and your tears were slowing down. he was disproving every picture and message you had gathered in the folder. 

he didn’t know who made all of this shit up, but he wished they could see how easily he proved it all to be fake. he knew that you were more important to him than anything and everything else in his life. he would’ve done anything to keep you, and if it meant telling you every story behind every picture in front of your brothers, he was going to do that. 

you had stopped him when he had only a handful left, reaching out your hand to stop him from flashing another picture in your face. the lump in your throat was no longer from the thought of rafe cheating on you, but instead the guilt that had found its way into your bloodstream. 

“i believe you.” rafe felt the weight of the world lift off of his shoulders at the small promise. the promise that yes, you were still shaken up by all of it, but you knew he hadn’t cheated on you. 

“baby, i swear to you that i would never dream of doing anything like that to you.” you nodded again, a small smile resting on your lips at the confession. 

“i know.” his hand found a home on your cheek, raking his thumb back and forth as he collected the trail of wetness on your skin. 

“i love you more than life itself.” you smiled softly, leaning into the boy’s touch. his lips found your forehead shortly after/ 

“i love you so much.” you whispered, feeling him smile into your skin. you smiled then, feeling the anguish rush out of your chest and make room for the love you felt for the boy in front of you. 

“so that’s it, you’re good, everything’s fine again?” you groaned at the sound of brandon’s voice, though it was followed by a small grunt after tyler had smacked brandon. 

“let’s go finish our game.” tyler pulled brandon up the stiars, despite his protests and threats towards rafe still spilling past his lips. 

you turned back towards rafe, shoulders relaxed now and a small smile sitting on your lips as you looked at the boy who still held your world in his hands. 

“i love you.” you hummed at the sound of the words, leaning into rafe as you shut your eyes gently. 

“say it again.” you pleaded gently, feeling rafe sigh out in relief as he wrapped his arms around you, still standing in the your front doorway. 

“i love you, y/n.” you tilted your head back just enough to catch his lips against yours. 

“can we go back to sleep? i’m exhausted.” rafe laughed gently, nodding his head and letting you pull him into the house. 

“wait.” rafe moved to grab the folder and pictures that were scattered across the floor of your front porch. 

“what, you need them for your spank bank or something?” you teased gently, watching rafe shake his head quickly. 

“no, just don’t want anyone else to come home and see them.” you rolled your eyes but laughed gently, allowing him to pick them up. 

“you know my dad would just ask. it’d be easy to tell him what happened.” rafe shrugged gently, gripping the pages in his hand somewhat tightly. 

“yeah, your dad’s the easy one. on the off chance that one of them called aidan though, i’d rather not end up six feet under tonight.” you laughed loudly then, head thrown back and chest shaking with laughter. 

“aidan’s in boston, rafe.” rafe shrugged again, a shaky smile stretching across his lips. 

“better to just not take the chance.” 

~

obx taglist: @rafej-cambanks @sportygal55 @diverdcwn @maybankiara @mdlyncline @dpaccione @dontjinx-it​

[30somethingontumbler]

So I have developed a slight obsession with the Bucky/Sarah Wilson pairing and decided the only way to get it out of my system is to write a short angst filled fic so here it is. The idea was basically what if Hydra tried to get the winter soldier back by kidnapping someone important to him so I guess enjoy?

James Buchanan Barnes had gotten use to the constant sound of two young boys during his stays with the Wilson’s in Louisiana. The constant sound of play from his sisters while growing up had been something he didn’t even remember missing until he had woken up to AJ and Cass playing with the Shield, that first morning. They also reminded him of long summer days spent running the streets of Brooklyn with Steve the noise had become a comfort to him. That is why when he walked in the back door he knew something was wrong. He had spent most of the morning at the docks helping Sam and Carlos get the boat ready to go for it’s fist day back of shrimping season starting tomorrow. He had promised to be home by 3 to help Cass with his history presentation on the howling commandos, but when he walked in the house was silent, the boys got out of school at 2:30 and they where normally home by 2:45. Sarah had a lot of chaos in her life but the one thing she always managed was making sure they boys had the most consistent schedule known to man, the thought of her possibly running late was almost unimaginable, so where were they?

Right as he was thinking this the front door burst open, Sarah charging through and running directly to him, as she crashed into his chest he noticed her disheveled state her braids normally tied back neatly had come loose and her flannel over shirt was falling off her right shoulder, he had never seen her so distraught, her calm strength had been the thing that attracted him to her the most when he had finally gotten the courage to ask her out about a month after the flag smashers had been dealt with and he and Sam had some time to themselves, that had been almost a year ago and the only time he had seen her control even slip a bit was when Cass had gotten lost at the zoo, and that is when it hit him the silence and Sarah’s distress could only mean one thing, something had happened to the boys his boys.

“Sarah, baby what’s going on where are the boys,” he asked trying to keep his own distress out of his voice and be strong for both of them at the moment. Sarah pulled back and took a couple of steadying breaths.

“I got them from school and we went to pick up a poster board for Casses project, a car had been behind us for a while when we pulled into the dollar store but I didn’t think much of it until we parked and got out to go in and a group of men they took my babies James they took them and told me if I wanted to see them again the the soldier would return to his rightful place, Bucky they just drove off I don’t know what they meant” she said having grown more distressed as she spoke.

Bucky knew exactly what what’s happening, hydra was not gone, they wanted their asset back and they had taken his children to get him. He opened his phone and shot a text to Sam telling him to come home immediately and to bring Carlos, while he waited for Sam he tried to reassure the woman he loved that he would not let anything happen to her baby’s and that he would get them back.

It only took Sam 10 minutes to get to the house knowing when Bucky said emergency he meant it. He walked in to see Bucky on the couch his sister holding on to him for fear life and sobbing. Before he could even ask the super soldier spoke

“Hydra kidnapped the boys, they want the soldier back, I need to leave immediately”

Bucky looked from Sam to Carlos, and picking up on what was needed Carlos went to Sarah and tried to take her so that Bucky could get ready and go after hydra but she pulled tighter to him. Bucky turned to his best girl.

“Sarah baby I need you to go with Carlos I promise I will get our boys back.” He soothed

Sarah nodded her head weakly and pressed and quick kiss to the side of his mouth before letting go and allowing Carlos to take her to her room. As soon and Sarah was out of the room Bucky was out the door and in the garage, he pulled the hey off the top shelf and began to unlock the cabinet that held his tactical gear and weaponry.

“Air lift will be her in 20min what’s the plan buck,” said Sam behind him.

“The plan is I turn myself over to Hydra in exchange for the boys, they are most likely at an old base a mile outside of DC, it was off the records and abandoned but it is the closest one that would have been exposed when Nat leaked everything.”

“No, man you are not going to just give yourself over to Hydra again, I know you love the boys like your own and they are my nephews I want them back just as much as you do but we can find another way that doesn’t involve you going ack to Hydra” said Sam

“We don’t have time Sam, I know Hydra if I don’t turn myself over to them and do it fast then they will start hurting them, and I will not be the reason that they are tortured, the quicker I turn myself over the quicker they are safe, I will figure out how to get out once AJ and Cass are safe” Bucky replied with a scary calm “Sam I need you to trust me I can’t Do this without you, someone has to be there to bring them home after the exchange and it need to be you”

“What about Sarah, I know she needs you.” Sam spoke quietly hoping his friend might see reason.

“The boys are the priority right now, anyway She will get over me, and look at where being with me has gotten her. Her children kidnapped as a barging chip, they will be better off with me, if we are lucky hydra just wants to kill me so that I’m one less hero to fight them and everyone will be free of the poison of knowing James Buchanan Barnes.”

“Buck” Sam began but before he could say more the Quinn jet was landing and Clint was stepping down the ramp.

“I’m here to help how ever I can” said Clint as he met them in the yard.

“Thank you Barton,” said Bucky “ what we need is someone here to make sure Sarah is ok in case hydra decides taking the boys is not enough leverage and come for here too.”

“I can do that,” replied Clint, “Laura and the kids are flying in commercial to provide emotional support they should be here by tonight”

“Thank you Clint” said Bucky “ hopefully they boys will be back with their mother by the end of tomorrow” and with that Bucky was boarding the jet Sam right behind him carrying a shield and his suit in its case.

Chapter 2

By nightfall they were sitting outside of the hydra base waiting for negotiations, Bucky could not stay still he kept pacing back and forth waiting for hydra to make themselves known. Finally the doors opened and out walked 10 men with AJ and Cass being restrained by two very intimidating armed men.

A man stepped it from the formation the leader assumed Bucky and approached stopping about 10feet from Bucky

“Solidat how nice of you to join us” said the leader “You probably don’t remember me but you would remember my father Dr. Arnim Zola, I am Dr. Arnim Zola the second. But I am assuming you are not here to chat we will have plenty of time for that later, right now I am assuming you would like to negotiate, so here are my terms, the Wilson boys for your life and please do not assume you can trick us if you make a single wrong move I have snipers who will end the life’s of the Wilson children before you blink,” as the Dr. Zola the second spoke red lasers appeared on the boys at least a dozen from every direction, Bucky was not getting out of this it was his freedom or his children and he knew there was no choice to even make.

“Well since you have such good back up will you at least let me say goodbye to the boys before I have to give up my freedom” he said hoping he could take just a moment to let them know how much they meant o him before he would be forced back into slavery to Hydra never to see them again.

“I suppose we can give you that last request Sargent Barnes,” said Zola “release the children.”

As soon as they where no longer being man handled by the hydra agents the boys where running to Bucky as they neared him he fell to his knees embracing the little men who he had come to see as his boys, his children, they both grabbed on to him as tight as they could holding on for dear life.

“Bucky you can’t go with them, you can’t leave us” cried Cass into his shoulder

“We don’t want to loose another dad” cried AJ into his other shoulder

His boys cry’s almost broke him and for a moment he tightened his grip on them before pulling back to look in at them one last time.

“If I had a choice I would never leave you boys, and I don’t want you thinking this is your fault sometime bad people do things that we can’t change and it is not your fault,” he said hoping to give his boys one last lesson before he had to leave them forever. “Thank you for letting me be your dad, even if it was only for a little while, you boys and your mom have been the best thing that has ever come into my life,” he paused trying to compose himself, “now I need you to on do me a favor ok, I need you to tell your mom, tell her that she made me a new man and that I would not trade a second for anything and that I love her. Can you do that for me.”

The boys nodded their heads and wrapped their arms around him one more time. Bucky held them for a moment before he stood back up placing a kiss in each of their heads with a final whispered I love you before letting them go and having them run back to Sam who had stayed in civilian clothes by the request of hydra not wanting captain America to have his shield or wings to give them an advantage over the hydra agents. As soon as they were safely in Sam’s grasp Bucky turned to the hydra agents, disabled his arm and placed it behind him on the ground and slowly began to make his way toward the agents waiting to capture him.

Suddenly as of out of no ware all of the guns red dots that had been aimed at the boys and himself turned onto Zola, and out the agents all turned on each other as tendrils of red magic swirled around them and Wanda descended behind them while Zola sunk through a portal made on the ground.

“Hello Sargent Barnes it seems like you could use a bit of assistance” came the voice of Stephen Strange from his left

“Next time hydra tries to grow its heads back true giving me a call before offering yourself up on a silver platter, Barnes” came the voice of Nick Furry from his right at shield agents flooded the area taking the hydra personal into custody, a simple task thanks to Wandas mind control.

Before Bucky could say anything to either man AJ and Cass were running towards him and without hesitation he scooped both boys into his arms lifting them as if they weighed nothing. They held on to Bucky as if he would disappear if they released him Bucky made eye contact over their heads with Sam who turned to address their backup.

“Doctor, director thank you for the assist” said Sam. “You guys really showed fast, and Wanda did you learn how to voodoo so many guys at once”

All of the hydra men having been taken care of Wanda had made her way over to the group.

“The suburbs” she replayed.

Bucky looked at them all over the boys heads

“You have no idea what this means to me, thank you all of you” said Bucky “I know their is probably more we need to discuss but I need to get the boys home to their mother”

“No worries Bucky,” said Wanda “ I think we understand the need for a mother to know her children are alright” there was a sadness in Wandas eyes with that last comment and Bucky made a note to talk with the young woman once he go his family home and settled.

Chapter 3

The boys refused to leave Buckys arms for the entire ride back home on the jet and he was just fine with that, he sat with one boy on each knee there little arms thrown loosely around his neck heads resting on his shoulders, he periodically would kiss each of their heads saying a quick prayer of thanks that not only did he still have his freedom but he got to be in these boys lives even for just a little longer. When the jet landed the boys tightened their grip on his shoulders and he lifted them with the ease that the serum flowing in his veins allowed. As soon as his feet left the ramp Sarah had them all pulled into her embrace kissing each boys head before pullycas into her arms and Laying her hand on AJs back, Bucky guided them into the house and up to the boys room both boys being completely worn out and barley awake after the adrenaline had worn off on the ride back to Louisiana, Sarah placed Cass in his bed while Bucky put AJ in his placing another kiss on his head before switching places with Sarah and repeating the process with Cass, as he began to pull away from him Cass reached out his hand grabbing Buckys metal are and pulling him back.

“You will be here when we wake up right Dad?” His little voice said full of fatigue.

Buckys voice caught in his throat at being called dad for the first time and from across the room AJ added

“You won’t leave us will you dad?”

Bucky cleared his throat and looked between the boys

“Nothing in this works could make me ever leave my boys, I will be here in the morning, and as many mornings as you will have me for the rest of my days, you two are my world, I love you, now sleep boys I will see you in the morning”

Sarah and he stepped into the hall wordlessly and quietly made their way down the stairs as soon as they hit the bottom Sarah was pulling him toward her and placing a searing kiss on his mouth, pulling him flush to him he returned her kiss with just as much passion and emotion, he had almost lost everything today. And I’m that moment when he thought everything was gone he decided that if he got back to her he would ask her a question the most important question of his life. And when they finally ran out of air and had to break the kiss as soon as he has enough air he spoke

“Marry me, Sarah, marry me.”

“Bucky” she said, “you don’t have to, today was heavy don’t make a decision you might not be ready for because of a stress filled day”

“I’m not” he relayed “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, have for a while, I want to be officially the father of those two boys up there, I want to raise them together and grow old with you, and I want to marry you! I want the world to know that James Buchanan Barnes is Going to do everything in his power to protect this family and I want to call you my wife”

“If you are sure” Sarah said “ the of corse it is a yes, 100 times yes, I could not ask for a better man and I want you to help me raise our boys, you were willing to give up you freedom and your life for our children and I have every faith that you will keep us safe and love us forever so it’s a definite yes.”

Bucky could not hold his joy in he lifted Sarah into his arms and spun her around twice dropping he back to her feet he kissed her again with all the love in his heart. The next morning James Buchanan Barnes woke to the sounds of his children playing outside his window with their uncle giving he and Sarah a few more hours to sleep but Bucky simply laid in bed enjoying the feel of his fiancé in his arms and the sound of his children’s laughter coming in through the window.

Mans that’s it if you liked it please leave a comment or just drop a like thank you!

[roaringgirl]

Books read in January

I am keeping this as a little record for myself, as I already keep a list (my best new year’s resolution - begun Jan 2018) but don’t record my thoughts

General thoughts on this - I read a lot this month but it played into my worst tendencies to read very very fast and not reflect, something I’m particularly prone too with modern fiction. I just, so to speak, swallow it without thinking. First 5 or so entries apart, I did quite well in my usually miserably failed attempt to have my reading be at least half books by women.

1. John le Carré - Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy (1974): I liked this a lot! I sort of lost track of the Cold War and shall we say ethics-concerned parts of it and ended up reading a fair bit of it as an English comedy of manners - but I absolutely love all the bizarre rules about what is in bad taste (are these real? Did le Carré make them up?).

2. John le Carré - The Spy Who Came in From the Cold (1963): I liked this a lot less. It seemed at the same time wilfully opaque and entirely predictable. Have been thinking a lot about genre fiction - I love westerns and noir, so wonder if for me British genre fiction doesn’t quite scratch the same itch.

3. David Lodge - Ginger You’re Barmy (1962): This was fine. I don’t have much to say about it - I was interested in reading about National Service and a bit bogged down in a history of it so read a novel. As with most comic novels, it was perfectly readable but not very funny.

4. Dan Simmons - Song of Kali (1985): His first novel. This is quite enjoyable just for the amount of Grand Guignol gore, and also because I like to imagine it caused the Calcutta tourist board some consternation. Wildly structurally flawed, however. Best/worst quote: ‘Hearing Amrita speak was like being stroked by a firm but well-oiled palm.’ Continues in that vein.

5. Richard Vinen - National Service: A Generation in Uniform (2014): If you are interested in National Service, this is a good overview! If not, not.

6. Sarah Moss - Ghost Wall (2018): I absolutely loved this. About a camping trip trying to recreate Iron Age Britain. Just, very upsetting but so so good - a horror story where the horror is male violence and abuse within the (un)natural family unit.

7. Kate Grenville - A Room Made of Leaves (2020): Excellent idea, but not amazing execution - the style is kind of bland in that ‘ironed out in MFA workshops’ way (I have no idea if she did an MFA but that’s what it felt like). Rewriting the story of early Australian colonisation through the POV of John Macarthur’s wife Elizabeth.

8. Ruth Goodman - How to Be a Victorian (2013): I mostly read this for Terror fic reasons, if I’m honest. I skimmed a lot of it but she has a charming authorial voice and I really like that she covers the beginning of the period, not just post-1870.

9. Gary Shteyngart - Super Sad True Love Story (2010): I read this on a recommendation from Ms Poose after I asked for good fiction mostly concerned with the internet, and I thought it was excellent - it’s very exaggerated/non-realistic and that heightening of incident and affect works so well.

10. Brenda Wineapple - The Impeachers: The Trial of Andrew Johnson and the Dream of a Just Nation (2019): What a great book. I had to keep putting it down because reading about Reconstruction always makes me so sad and frustrated with what might have been - the lost dream of a better world.

11. Halle Butler - The New Me (2019): Reading this while single, starting antidepressants and stuck in an office job that bores me to death but is too stable/undemanding to complain about maybe wasn’t a great decision, for me, emotionally.

12. Halle Butler - Jillian (2015): Ditto.

13. Ottessa Moshfegh - Death in Her Hands (2020): Very disappointed by this. I don’t really like meta-fiction unless it’s really something special and this wasn’t. Also, I’m stupid and really bad at reading, like, postmodern allegorical fiction I just never get it.

14. Andrea Lawlor  - Paul Takes the Form of a Mortal Girl (2017): This was really really hot! I will admit I don’t think the reflections on gender, homophobia, AIDS etc are very deep or as revealing as some reviews made out, but I also don’t think they’re supposed to be? It’s a lot of fun and all of the characters in it are so precisely, fondly but meanly sketched.

15. Catherine Lacey - The Answers (2017): This was fine! Readable, enjoyable, but honestly it has not stuck with me. There are only so many sad girl dystopias you can read and I think I overdid it with them this month.

16. Hilary Mantel - Wolf Hall (2010, reread): Was supposed to read the first 55 pages of this for my two-person book club, but I completely lack self-restraint so reread the whole thing in four days. Like, I love it I don’t really know what else to say. I was posing for years that ‘Oh, Mantel’s earlier novels are better, they’re such an interesting development of Muriel Spark and the problem of evil and farce’ blah blah blah but nope, this is great.

17. Oisin Fagan - Hostages (2016): Book of short stories that I disliked intensely, which disappointed me because I tore through Nobber in horrified fascination (his novel set in Ireland during the Black Death - which I really cannot recommend enough. It’s so intensely horrible but, like Mantel although in a completely different style/method, he has the trick of not taking the past on modern terms). A lot of this is sci-fi dystopia short stories which just aren’t... very good or well-sustained. BUT I did appreciate it because it is absolutely the opposite of pleasant, competently-written but forgettable MFA fiction.

18. Muriel Spark - Loitering with Intent (1981): Probably my least favourite Spark so far, but still good. I think the Ealing Comedy-esque elements of her style are most evident and most dated here. It just doesn’t have the same sentence-by-sentence sting as most of her work, and again I don’t like meta-fiction.

19. Hilary Mantel - Bring up the Bodies (2012, reread): Having (re)read all of these in about 3 months, I think this is probably my favourite of the three. I just love the way a whole world, whole centuries and centuries of history and society spiral out from every paragraph. And just stylistically, how perfect - every sentence is a cracker. I’m just perpetually in awe of Mantel as a prose stylist (although I dislike that everyone seems to write in the present tense now and blame her for it).

20. Muriel Spark - The Girls of Slender Means (1963, reread): (TW weight talk etc ) As always, Hilary Mantel sets me off on a Muriel Spark spree. I’ve read this too many times to say much about it other than that the denouement always makes me go... my hips definitely wouldn’t fit through that window. Maybe I should lose weight in case I have to crawl out of a bathroom window due to a fire caused by an unexploded bomb from WW2???? Which is a wild throwback to my mentality as a 16 year old.

21. China Mieville - Perdido Street Station (2000, reread): What a lot of fun. I know we don’t do steampunk anymore BUT I do like that he got in the whole economic and justice system of the early British Industrial Revolution and not just like steam engines. God, maybe I should read more sci-fi. Maybe I should reread the rest of this trilogy but that’s like 2000 pages. Maybe I should reread the City and the City because at least that’s short and ties exactly into my Disco Elysium obsession (the mod I downloaded to unlock all dialogue keeps breaking the game though. Is there a script online???)

22. Stephen King - Carrie (1974): I have a confession to make: I was supposed to teach this to one of my tutees and then just never read it, but to be honest we’re still doing basic reading comprehension anyway. That sounds mean but she’s very sweet and I love teaching her because she gets perceptibly less intimidated/critical of herself every lesson. ANYWAY I read half of this in the bath having just finished my period, which I think was perfect. It’s fun! Stephen King is fun! I don’t have anything deeper to say.

23. Hilary Mantel - Every Day is Mother’s Day (1985): You can def tell this is a first novel because it doesn’t quite crackle with the same demonic energy as like, An Experiment in Love or Beyond Black, but all the recurring themes are there. If it were by anyone else I’d be like good novel! But it’s not as good as her other novels.

24. Dominique Fortier - On the Proper Usage of Stars (2010): This was... perfectly competent. Kind of dull? It made me think of what I appreciate about Dan Simmons which is how viscerally unpleasant he makes being in the Navy seem generally, and man-hauling with scurvy specifically. This had the same problem with some other FE fiction which is that they’re mostly not willing to go wild and invent enough so the whole thing is kind of diffuse and under-characterised. Although I hated the invented plucky Victorian orphan who’s great at magnetism and taxonomy and read all ONE THOUSAND BOOKS or whatever on the ships before they got thawed out at Beechey (and then the plotline just went nowhere because they immediately all died???) I had to skim all his bits in irritation. I liked the books more than this makes it sound I was just like Mr Tuesday I hope you fall down a crevasse sooner rather than later.

25. Muriel Spark - The Abbess of Crewe (1974): Transposing Watergate to an English convent is quite funny, although it took me an embarrassingly long time to realise that’s what she was doing even though I lit read a book covering Watergate in detail in December. Muriel Spark is just so, so stylish I’m always consumed with envy. I think a lot of her books don’t quite hang together as books but sentence by sentence... they’re exquisite and incomparable.

Overall thoughts: This month was very indulgent since I basically just inhaled a lot of not challenging fiction. I need to enjoy myself less, so next month we’re finishing a biography of Napoleon, reading the Woman in White and finishing the Lesser Bohemians which currently I’m struggling with since it’s like nearly as impenetrable Joyce c. Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man but, so far... well I hesitate to say bad since I think once I get into I’ll be into it but. Bad.

[garden-uprooted]

“One body, two souls” (( god I can't imagine there being any personality that'd be worse to fuse Spinel's with than Dom's and vice versa and I MUST hear what your take on what that Hell Fusion would be like is omfggggggggggg ))

Send “One body, two souls” to see what I think the fusion of our muses would be like // Still Accepting!

Gemstone Name & Reasoning: Mookaite (yes I KNOW there’s no reason the gem would change since Spinel’s the only Gem in the fusion, but finding the gemstone for the fusion is half the fun, shut up-) 

Okay so I KNOW the name sounds weird, but I NEEDED a specific feel for the fusion to fully WORK, y’know? Their fusion would lack ANY sort of Spinel’s typical restraint; a completely wild free spirit. I needed a gemstone that encouraged the release of inhibitions and made you set your sights on things that you’d previously held yourself back from. 

“Embrace your wanderlust and let Mookaite be your spiritual compass, pointing you in the direction of adventure. Awaken your true potential with the energy of this stone, and pursue the passions you’ve put on hold. The willpower that mookaite stimulates in your solar plexus and root chakras will rouse in you a desire to explore new activities. Its exciting, yet comforting energy makes for a great travel companion for those on a solo journey.”

I would go into more detail, but in order to properly do that, I’d need to jump onto the next section uwu… 

Personality:

OKAY. I HAVE SO MANY FUCKIN’ THOUGHTS ON THIS MESS WHOM I ALREADY IMMEDIATELY ADORE 

Okay okay okay, SO. Obviously they’re a pretty toxic fusion. This should go without saying- two chaotic energies in ONE body?? 

… But it ISN’T because Spinel and Lord D DON’T get along, oh no..

It’s BECAUSE they get along so SWIMMINGLY. 

Spinel is naturally impulsive and reckless, sometimes, due to Trauma TM, and also just because she’s Like That, but she HAS self-restraint. She can tell (most of the time) when she’s gone too far with something. And Lord D, while not nearly AS hyperactive as Spinel (but ABSOLUTELY is also an ADHD mess), has undoubted patience and self-control, as well. 

They’re “bouncing off of the walls” off the shits chaos lesbians, but they both know how to reign themselves in. 

While fused as Mookaite, however?

That ALL goes out of the window.

They FEED into each other’s boundless thoughts- they ENCOURAGE each other’s deepest darkest carnal desires ALL in the name of 

FUN. 

Spinel is a people-pleaser, above all. She’s LITERALLY an entertainer, and she ADORES her job/”life purpose”. She won’t hesitate to change herself or mold herself into what others want/expect her to be so long as she looks up to and wants to impress said person. 

And DING DING DING, Lord Dominator fits that criteria. Spinel gladly falls into the more submissive role in their fusion- letting Lord D pull the strings from the back (AKA, the Front). 

A little confusing? Don’t worry, I’ll clear that up a little later down the line. 

For now, let’s just say that Mookaite is THE definition of discord and madness. She practically BATHES in the tears of others- RELISHES in pained cries as she tramples over (or SLASHES through) people. Jokes? Japes? Cruel pranks? Snarky remarks? Low blows to people’s self-esteem via honing in on their weaknesses and using it against them? 

You want it, Mookaite’s got it all! There are absolutely NO remnants of Spinel’s kindness or compassion to be had. It’s all overshadowed by the desire to be ACTIVE and to MOVE and to spend all of her child-like ENERGY (that has practically no limit to it, so long as they’re fused together). 

She’s INTELLIGENT, though. SCARILY so. A force that you DO. NOT. WANT. To reckon with. If she WANTS something, she GETS it. There is no escape, so don’t even bother hiding or running. 

A MASTER manipulator and strategist, as well as wild party animal and unrestrained force of destruction. She’ll gladly restrain herself long enough to string people along- only for the SWEET sweet eventual payment of said person’s bitter tears as they either have their heart, or their spine broken. 

…However… I WILL say that, SHOULD Mookaite ever encounter someone that Spinel KNOWS (and thus most likely automatically CARES about), and the Dom part of them goes “OH, someone to hurt/”prank”!!!”, Spinel WILL go “Wait wait wait, but- but they’re my FRIEND, I’m not gonna-??” 

It’s SO MUCH more DIFFICULT for Spinel to vent our her feelings/frustrations on someone who ISN’T a complete stranger to her. All of that empathy and WANT to be somebody’s very best friend never VANISHED. It just got restrained. 

The SECOND Mookaite tries to/decides to ATTACK/HURT, say, someone like STEVEN, Spinel takes full control and unfuses at once.

Physical Appearance:

Oh, they want to make sure they can at LEAST tower over most humans they encounter. I’d IMAGINE Dom is around 5′7″, and Spinel just barely naturally reaches 5′3″ in her current form (I headcanon she WAS 5′0″ or so before Pink left her- height is intimidating), and so Mookaite is looking to be around 6′5″ to possibly JUST shy of being 7′0″. Of course, they can stretch, still, so their natural standing height isn’t all THAT important. 

Remember how I described their personality earlier, though? What with Spinel playing the more subservient role while Dom takes the reigns? Yeah, that’s coming back into play here, baybey!!! 

While Mookaite takes on Dom’s slender and athletic physique and generally uses her body as a base, their face resembles Spinel’s the most. At first glance, SPINEL would seem like the dominant in the fusion, actually. 

However, in spite of that, Spinel’s loud and proud presence in Mookaite is only representative of her and Dom’s RELATIONSHIP. Dominator is Spinel’s enabler- turning her from a loose canon to one fully loaded and ready to fire; the consequences be damned. 

So, in actuality, Dom is still, naturally, the dominant. Spinel is just her willing (?) puppet to enact out their obscene horrors. 

Their hair is styled almost exactly like Dom’s- except it’s colored like Spinel’s, and it’s an absolute jagged frizzy mess. It kinda looks like they took a pair of scissors and tried to style it themselves, to be honest; but it’s stylish in the “manic pixie dream girl” way, if you know what I mean? 

Dom’s white hair shows in white streaks throughout. Mooktaite’s entire color scheme is themed around blacks, dark magentas/reds, deep browns, oranges, and yellows, to boot; drawing inspiration from the gemstone, Mookaite, itself, and Dominator’s attire. 

They keep Spinel’s poofy bottom, but it acts more like short shorts that flow seamlessly into Dom’s split dress; which is masterfully torn and tattered just at the knees. They also keep Spinel’s gloves- they just gain a more ragged look, as well, and are styled after Dom’s elbow-length ones. 

Say bye bye to Spinel’s fuckign clown shoes, tho, they’re Dom’s sneakers, now. RIP clown shoes. Ye shall be missed. 

Mookaite’s eyes are Forever Swirly And Crazed. It makes her look like she downed ten espresso shots in one sitting and went back to the coffee shop for more. Her mascara is also There, but it’s X2. 

It’s ALWAYS running down her face- yes, actually running down her chin and dripping right off. An endless supply of messy, drippy mascara that LOOKS like they’ve been crying in it for five hours, but 

HAHA!

Mookaite doesn’t CRY! 

On the outside. 

Oh, also, did I mention the fact that they have extra limbs? Typically it’s only just two arms and two legs, but as an extra “HEY, WATCH THIS, AND ALSO FUCK YOU!!!” they can sprout another pair of arms from their back at will. And yes it makes sickening cracking sounds, because Dominator has bones that CAN make those sounds. 

Does it ACTUALLY hurt her to do, though? 

Eh. Your choice. 

Oh oh oh and NATURALLY they have sharp, shark-like teeth. Why??? Would they NOT???? Bruh they’re fuckin off the wall, they’re demonic as all hell and so basically I Love Them 

…. Oh, and uh…. Sarah Stiles’ Spinel’s New Yorker accent that tends to be more of an undertone, than anything..? 

It’s fully pronounced in Mookaite. High pitched, squeaky, psychotic Betty Boop hours, folks.

Combat: 

My fingers hurt but you know how Spinel has her scythe, Suzie? And Dom can control magma and ice/frost? AND you know how they BOTH can stretch and extend their limbs/Dom is super flexible? 

Now, I’m not saying crazy fast contortionist that can wreck you from like twenty feet away, but- okay I totally am.

Something tells me Mookaite would be MUCH more a fan of hands-on fighting, though. Sure she COULD either suit up or use Dom’s powers and Spinel’s elasticity to one-hit KO their opponent, but where’s the FUN in THAT? 

And thus where Suzie comes in. 

Mookaite is a brick POWERHOUSE- chaotic demented laughter all the while while she SLASHES through her enemies; twirling through the air and jumping on top of/off of their shoulders or heads. She’s a bratty gamer girl about it the whole time, too; mocking her adversaries for being “too slow” or “not putting up enough of a fight/challenge”. 

She’s ALWAYS looking for fights and worthy opponents- swinging Suzie around like the huge scythe is a baton and not a VERY deadly weapon. She treats her like a prized cane half the time; preferring to have her fully activated and ready to go at the drop of a hat. 

[cupidmarwani-archive]

Afterward (6/13)

Chicago, Illinois: The Sexton Baby, Connor Rhodes.

15 January 2019 | 15:00 Local Time

The worst part of all of this is that no one really believes me. They consider me to be overreacting, if not crazy, and I can’t afford to be put on a psych hold. However, I’m beginning to understand Connor, and he’s the key to this whole thing. There are no other deaths like his. He’s the epicenter of the infestation, the host, and if I can just get him to move on, everything will be alright.

I worry, however, that I may not be able to. He told me today that he doesn’t want to move on, and I saw him physically interact with someone for the first time. I’m concerned that I may have to resort to drastic actions, but I refuse to go that far without doing everything I can first. I don’t want to hurt anyone, least of all those in this much pain.

My biggest concern is for April. She’s in a lot of danger but she insists it’s just an annoyance. At any given moment, the spirits could snap and seriously hurt her, and she could wind up like Connor is now.

-

After Connor decides he’s done talking to her, Sarah makes a run back to her car and then waits for the opportunity to talk to Will. She needs to if she has any hope of saving this hospital. All day, he’s busy- he’s a doctor, after all, but as evening approaches, he goes on his break, and she rushes to grab onto his arm even though Connor is clearly unhappy and a strange pulling sensation begins in Sarah’s chest. She needs to separate him quickly, before blood begins to drip from her mouth and her lungs collapse in her rib cage. Even if Connor doesn’t mean to, he could kill her.

“I’m a friend of April’s,” she says quickly, “and we need to go into a room where we can shut the door. Quickly.”

He seems startled, and he’s tensed like a bird preparing for flight, but he nods and leads her to a door labeled “consult room,” one hand braced next to his hip awkwardly. Sarah recognizes the gesture from the times she’s spent in places like Texas, Kentucky, and Florida- reaching for a gun. Logically, she should put her hands up, but there isn’t time when she has to lay a sigil in front of the door frame to keep Connor out. Sage, salt and citrine, arranged carefully, and hopefully strong enough to keep Connor out long enough for Sarah to have a conversation with Will uninterrupted.

Once that’s done and she turns back to him, his hand is fully on his hip, at a bulge that seems more obvious now. He’s afraid of her, and that makes Sarah actually feel sorry for him, because she’s by no means an intimidating person. 

“I just wanna talk to you,” she says, adjusting her coat self-consciously. “It’s about Connor Rhodes.”

The color drains from his face, but at least his hands fall limp to his sides, no longer a moment away from a deadly weapon. She sees in the immediate difference that he’s close to a breaking point. If she wasn’t here, she wonders if Connor would kill him at some point, on purpose or otherwise. Will needs a break. 

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

He snorts. “Uh, not exactly, Miss…”

“Call me Sarah.” She glances to the door and she can sense that Connor is waiting. She can feel it in the pressure around her chest as a result of the angry beast that’s destroyed him. “But since Connor died, tell me, Dr. Halstead, do you experience anything weird? Maybe time moves differently, or things are getting misplaced, or you keep hearing his voice…?” Sarah trails off because his eyes go hard and she knows she’s hit something.

“I think I hear him every now and then, and sometimes it feels like things go really fast. I mean, grief is like that, it was with my mom. But sometimes, I wake up, and-” Will raises his hands and makes a harsh gesture. “There’s hot coffee on the counter, or the blinds will be open, or my scrubs will be laid out for me.”

The door rattles and they both look at it. The sigil won’t hold very much longer before Connor can reach them, and he’ll be angry.

“Okay, that’s Connor,” she says. She’s talking too fast. “He was killed by something very evil in this hospital, and his spirit is still here. He’s been following you. And he’s extremely dangerous. I need you to tell me everything you can about the day he died, and anything that might give him a reason to stay here. Once I fix that, he might be able to move on, and I know you want that for him, right? You were his emergency contact. You had to have loved-”

Before she finishes the sentence, the door slams open and it’s Connor, visible to Will as well judging by his gasp. Connor’s right in front of her just like that, and she can’t breathe all over again, but it’s different from her earlier panic attack. This time, her lungs are physically being crushed, and when she glances down, she sees Connor wrist deep in her chest. 

Her vision is going dark around the edges and she can’t even gasp for breath now. Will needs to help her. She wishes she could say something, try and convince him, but again- she can’t breathe. On the verge of passing out, however, she hears him sigh out Connor’s name.

“You can see me?”

Connor lets go of her and she stumbles to the side, coughing desperately and winding up with her face inches from the rough carpet. She can hear, though, Will’s stuttering and sobs, and Connor just saying over and over that he loves him. It only lasts for a moment, though, because then Will kneels beside her and rubs her back.

“Sarah, hey, are you okay? What happened?”

She can’t voice it, ask Will how he didn’t notice what Connor did, so she just keeps trying to breathe even though it feels like she’s drowning. Although she wants to think she’s capable of dealing with these sorts of things, she just can’t catch her breath, and the next thing she knows, she’s in a hospital bed with a mask on her face and a crowd of doctors around her. There are so many machines around her, and it’s loud, but through it all, she can see Connor standing just beyond all the faces, watching her. Something warm and wet rolls down her cheek, but then a hand brushes it away, and when she follows it, her eyes land on April. The light shines down, scattering through the stray hair that’s fallen in front of her face. Sarah reaches for her, or at least she thinks he does.

“Just relax,” April says, and she’s putting something into the IV that Sarah doesn’t remember getting. Suddenly a woman with kind brown eyes is pulling up her shirt, and there’s a sharp, not-quite painful sensation in her ribs. She struggles to look down, and suddenly there’s a tube being pushed through her skin, and it’s weird. But she starts to be able to breathe better, and she lets her eyes drift back to April, who lingers at her bedside with her lips drawn down at the corners. “You’re gonna be okay, Sarah. Can you tell me what happened?”

“Connor,” she chokes out.

Everyone pauses for a moment, but then they get back to work. Connor is laughing at her, and the baby is crying, and the mother is screaming, and it feels like all the ghosts are closing in around her because she can’t protect herself right now. Sarah has to squeeze her eyes shut and think about a bubble around her, safety to keep the spirits out, but it doesn’t work when she can still barely breathe and her chest hurts so much.

“We’re gonna take care of you, don’t worry,” April soothes, and that’s the last thing Sarah registers before she’s completely gone.

[sextonsharpwinhalstead]

Ava Bekker

Hey you! Are you bored? Great me too, I’ve given this more time than I should, but I’ll say this. Bravo Med. They are not known for doing long plots, they are known for doing a thing and then promptly forgetting the thing. But not with this story. Med has never had a true antagonistic character. Until Ava Bekker.

In the Med fandom she has almost always been maligned, hated, shit-on, and fans are constantly asking for her to be taken off the show. I have no idea if this has shaped the current story for her, but it makes it a bit more interesting. Even more interesting has been the ushering of new blogs on this sight and others who use her face and likeness to celebrate her. But I always wonder what they are celebrating. I’ll give you a clue; It rhymes with her last name.

At some point when the show announced that Norma was being added to the cast, they also mentioned that she would have sexual tension/be a love interest, you know cause, Med can’t hold water. Please remember that statement going forward.

That was it for some of you, so excited to see what would happen with your favorite male protagonist and the new pretty white woman, you were so excited that you stopped paying attention, like almost immediately, to her behavior. Rose colored glasses.

To be fair Med has worked harder than it ever has in order to pull the wool over our eyes. But let me help you see some things.

The very first time we meet Ava it’s pretty clear by her composure and the ever-present smug look on her face that she has an ego. She talks down to anyone who isn’t a surgeon (Ethan) and immediately bumps heads with Connor, who in my opinion over reacted to her comment about Latham. She is set up as a rival and that’s what it seems she is until AFTER she operates on Robin. Ava claims that people in the hospital have been gossiping and she found out all the dirt on Connor that way. I could buy maybe finding out about Robin that way, but Dr. Latham would not entertain gossip in his OR.

What I think actually happened?

Ava took a tour around the hospital noticed an entire wing bearing the name Rhodes and now wanted to know more about the rising star at Med. So, she approaches him in THE most inappropriate and sexual harassing way. She casually brings up his mother’s suicide like she’s talking about buying bread, disrespects his relationship to Dr. Downey and his memory, and then insults the woman she just assisted in operating on, Connor’s girlfriend. Connor lets it’s roll off his back cause if you hadn’t noticed that’s how Connor is, but it doesn’t mean he isn’t upset or offended. She sums it all up by saying all this tragedy is because of him (blaming the victim) and then she does something so off, she says she’s into dangerous men. At this point SHE is the instigator and has made eyes at him (basically since they met).

Connor’s face is NOT intrigued. It’s the same looks he’s been giving her as of late. A feeling of wondering who she is, not because he’s intimidated but because he’s offended, alarmed, and reminding himself to stay cautious. If this feels like a stretch pretend the roles were reversed and Ava was a man and Connor was a woman. Does that scene still seem like a hot couple on the rise? Or a creep who has already crossed a social boundary in the first 5 hours of meeting someone.

From here on out Ava is painted in a confusing manner. She seems to try her best to undermine Connor in their “rivalry” over getting surgeries. She NEVER truly wins. She’s also failing to deal with HER sexual attraction to HIM. Connor NEVER flirts with her, in fact he explicitly states that he wants nothing to do with her and would not like to spend his free time with her. This is after she asks him to get a drink, a request she badgers him with even after he makes it clear he isn’t interested. Once again, reverse the roles, a man who does nothing but question your intelligence all day, makes snide comments about your significant other’s mental health, or your ability to take care of them; then propositions you for a drink. You’d think he was a sleazebag.

But it’s not all negative, Ava realizes she can’t get honey with vinegar, so she makes all the attempts to be nice, but why be nice to the person who’s been an asshole to you? Which is why Connor isn’t, plus it’s obvious she wants to get into his pants and he’s not going to encourage anything, even friendship. Remember ladies, this is probably what you too would do in a sexual harassment scenario.

Then Robin leaves. Connor goes on a sexual bender NONE that include Ava. She is somewhat passive aggressive in her nature with him at this point. This is the part of the story that snowed EVERYONE. She seemed “okay” with it until they made out in the breakroom, went home and had vanilla sex. Whatever, you know it was missionary don’t @ me. But by the next morning she feels like it’s a mistake. This is when I began to side-eye her, never believing we’d be where we are now, but it was wild.

Think about it, this doctor who has been wildly inappropriate (even in front of a patient) FINALLY sleeps with the man she’s been after since day one and now she’s calling time. You could say that sleeping with him was the realization that she had crossed a line that was only meant to be flirty, but I don’t think so.

The line she crossed was one of her mental health. See I have a theory. This is NOT Ava’s first time dealing with obsessive thoughts and behavior revolving around a person. I think she knew she was falling into a dangerous territory.

The only reason I theorize this is because of the hints they give about Ava’s empathy around patients being bed-ridden and unable to live their lives. One could empathize if they had been stuck in a room unable to leave…like in a padded cell.

Also, one line she told a patient: “I believe that whenever you do something out of love, it can’t never really be wrong.”

We aren’t going to discuss the “Steal a win” or even “The means justify the end” because we’ve all seen it. I rather focus on what everyone forgot.

Fast forward to the last half of season 3. Ava is playing nicely with Connor, he is falling in love with her, saying things like “We make a good team” and “Good job in there” but that pesky attending spot is still a point of contention. After his epic failure saving a mother and baby it looks like Ava is going to clench the spot. But he comes in and saves the surgery. Securing a spot at Med AND Mayo. This should make Ava happy, but we’re led to believe she’s hurt doubly because he’s bested her (again) and she’s losing the man she loves. But more than anything I think this episode shows she’s beginning to lose it.

Now let’s get into the premiere. It’s obvious that he wants to stay, and she wants him to stay. He is still putting himself out there and she is still playing aloof. Until he REALLY looks like he’s leaving, a party is thrown, and he has said his goodbyes. But Ava has a trick up her sleeve.  We all know what it is. It’s the first time she does something to control his actions. THIS IS NOT LOVE. THIS IS ABUSE.

The only way Ava has not slept with Connor’s dad (for money) cut herself (to play on his need to save the day) and snitch on him to the board (so she could save him) is if the show is REALLY using the whole “she doesn’t know how to express her feelings” story line but it doesn’t make much sense, maybe in season 3, but now? It isn’t plausible. Ava fits into an OLD diagnosis.

“Obsessive love disorder” (OLD) refers to a condition where you become obsessed with one person you think you may be in love with. You might feel the need to protect your loved one obsessively, or even become controlling of them as if they were a possession.

What are the symptoms of obsessive love disorder?

Symptoms of OLD may include:

·        an overwhelming attraction to one person

·        obsessive thoughts about the person

·        feeling the need to “protect” the person you’re in love with

·        possessive thoughts and actions

·        extreme jealousy over other interpersonal interactions

·        low self-esteem

  I could write a dissertation on how Ava fits all of these. She was immediately attracted to Connor and intensely.

Connor is the only person she interacts with and the only person she discusses almost all the time. We never hear about her life or if she even has one. No holidays with family. Nothing.

The last episode illustrates that as well as her stepping up to the plate to take the blame too.

The last two are going to be seen when Robin shows up. It’s already in the synopsis about her being jealous, and jealously is often accompanied by possessiveness.

Most of these actions accumulate to low self-esteem…

Oh, and lookout for these in the future:

People who have OLD may also not take rejection easily. In some cases, the symptoms could worsen at the end of a relationship or if the other person rejects you. There are other signs of this disorder, such as:

·        repeated texts, emails, and phone calls to the person they’re interested in

·        a constant need for reassurance

·        difficulty having friendships or maintaining contact with family members because of the obsession over one person

·        monitoring the actions of the other person

·        controlling where the other person goes and the activities they engage in

  However, as much as I believe they are going down this route I don’t completely agree with it. Why is that all the women on the show “go crazy”? Especially around Connor.

His mother jumped off a building (she was married to Cornelius so there’s that).

Robin was literally institutionalized and had a complete breakdown in front of her colleagues at the hospital, messing with her sense of integrity and self, and ultimately being the end of their relationship.

And of course, Sarah, who could forget the “How are we supposed to do our jobs if we don’t feel safe Maggie!” scream heard round the ED and of course, tazering a patient.

Somehow, they’ve managed to make the men seem sound even when they have issues.

When Ethan is ready to tackle his PTSD it’s done in the safety of Daniel’s office and intimate chats with Vicky.

Daniel’s is the same, he contacts his psychiatrist on a lovely walk and apologizes to Sarah for his behavior stemming from his depression; no harm no foul.

Even Will, whose behavior is supposed to be “erratic” the last couple of episodes is really just season 1 Will and not anything indicative of needing help.

I don’t like being right, well in this case, a little. But normally when I am its Med letting me down. Med has always been as subtle as a sledgehammer. They can almost NEVER keep a secret, they don’t trust their fans. So, most of you aren’t used to being kept in the dark. I can’t even begin to tell you how sad that just made me to write that. The fact is there is NOTHING to explain her behavior that will make you feel good. No matter how you spin it Ava slept with his father. She did. Ava got mad at Connor for not listening to her and cut herself on his blade; purposely. She did. Ava is the one who anonymously turned him in. She did. Ava is the one who sees herself as a victim, and Connor as ungrateful for everything she has “done” for him. She truly believes she’s is doing the right thing and that’s what makes her so delusional and dangerous. Take a breath, a walk, get a drink. But get good with the fact that the character you love isn’t stable and probably never has been.

[ohprettyweeper-moved]

Open Your Eyes (Part 5)

Chapter Summary: Christmas is the time to tell people how you really feel.  Pairing: Tyler Joseph x OFC, Frank Iero x OFC Word Count: 1515 Warnings: None? A/N: I needed something fun and cute to write with low pressure so that I could stop worrying about a more serious piece I’m working on for a bit. This five-part crossover series was the result! It’s cheesy and fluffy and is probably akin to something you’d see on the Hallmark Channel, but that’s how I intended it to be. Thanks to @razor-tothe-rosary for your help and encouragement! Enjoy reading, everyone!

This is the finale! Thank you to anyone’s who’s read. Tomorrow starts a month of fics, make sure to send in your requests if you have them!

Wanna be tagged?

Masterlist

Christmas morning with her father and her brother’s family was perfect. Americus sipped at her coffee and watched her niece and nephew rip open wrapping paper and awe over their gifts. The more time she spent here in Columbus with family, the more thankful she was to have taken the extra time to come home.

By now she had made a decision about her future, but she hadn’t told anyone yet. The more time she spent with Tyler, the more clear it became that the two of them were headed into a new relationship. The last thing she wanted was to ruin anything with the choice she had made. Even if nothing was official and they hadn’t so much as kissed, Americus guessed it wouldn’t be much longer until they grew from friendship to more.

The sky was grey and cloudy, and the forecast nearly guaranteed snow. Americus was excited; not that the outdoors weren’t already covered in a thin blanket of white, but a little more on Christmas day wouldn’t hurt.

“I’m going to go by Tyler’s for a little bit,” she informed her father, pulling on a coat and her gloves. “His immediate family has done their thing, so before we each head to our extended family celebrations, we wanted to exchange our gifts with each other.”

“Sure, sure, exchange gifts,” her father teased with a wink. “Be careful out there.”

Americus simply smiled at him before retrieving a wrapped package from under the tree and heading out to the car. She wanted Tyler to be the first one she told about her decision, and it seemed she couldn’t get over there fast enough.

When she knocked on the door, Tyler’s father answered. He greeted her cheerfully, and Americus returned the sentiment. She asked for Tyler, and his father invited her inside.

“He’s in the basement.”

“Thanks,” Americus smiled, holding tight to the package but still managing to get her gloves and coat off before she made it to Tyler’s old room.

“Merry Christmas, Ty,” she smiled when she reached the room.

Tyler was sitting on his bed, leaned against the wall and scrolling through his phone. He smiled back at her. “Merry Christmas, kid. Ready to do this present thing?”

Americus nodded. “Ready when you are.”

He tossed his phone to the side and reached under the bed. The package he handed her was crudely wrapped, but he had done his best. Americus didn’t mind; she handed him his present as well and insisted he open his first.

“Same time?” Tyler finally suggested.

“Fine,” Americus agreed.

They both ripped into the paper and the boxes. Americus came out with a pretty bronze locket; when she opened it, she smiled. A picture of them not long before she left for Los Angeles was settled inside. They were both laying on their stomachs in this very room, cheek to cheek while Tyler’s arm rested around Americus’s shoulders, and she held that hand in hers.

“I remember this. I wanted a copy, but I left before we could make it happen. We look so young.” She bit her lip. “That was the night of that first kiss.”

“It was,” Tyler nodded. “I remember thinking that if I didn’t kiss you then, I might never get the opportunity.”

Americus didn’t bother hiding her blush. “Okay, okay. You got the paper off yours, but you’ve gotta open the box.”

Tyler managed to get the tape undone and pulled out a multiple-image frame. Set inside each smaller frame was a picture of them, from the time they were little kids, all the way up to the Vans photoshoot.

“I managed to get a few frames early, to preview for this,” Americus explained.

Tyler carefully examined each picture. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Will you put this necklace on for me, please?”

Tyler did as she asked, carefully sweeping her dark hair aside so that he could clasp the chain behind her neck. Americus turned back around to face him, knowing that she needed to tell him about her decision.

“Let’s go outside. See if it’s snowing yet,” she suggested.

Once they were both bundled up, they went out to the front yard where the snow was only falling in flurries so far. Americus sighed as she turned to him.

“Ty, what’s going to happen with us?” she asked. “I mean, regardless of what I do in the future -- what about us?”

He pushed the windblown strands of hair out of her face, letting his cold knuckles run down her jawline. “I think we both know the answer to that, ‘Mericus. This has been a long time coming, and now it’s happening. I’ve been hesitant because I don’t want to spook you, but, no matter what you decide, it’s gonna be me and you. I promise, we’ll make it work.”

She chewed on her bottom lip as she laced her fingers through his. “So even with me being on tour with you, working for you, it won’t cause problems?”

Tyler’s brow raised. “Is that what you’re going to do?”

Americus grinned and nodded. “That’s what I’m going to do. I need to work things out on the last couple of contracts I’ve committed to, and I’m not going to quit modeling completely. I’m not ready to do that, but I am --”

The rest of her sentence was lost in Tyler’s kiss after he grabbed her face and pressed his lips to hers. One of his hands left her cheek to pull out his phone and take a picture of the kiss as the snow began to fall around them.

A glance at the clock on her nightstand told Emerson that it was far too early for someone to be knocking on the front door. Groaning, she pushed the covers back, knowing that her mother and Graham could sleep through World War III if necessary.

She pulled her flannel robe tighter around her before she opened the door, preparing herself for the cold outside.

“Frank?”

“Merry Christmas,” he said, breathing hard.

“Merry Christmas,” Emerson returned. “Did you sprint over here or something?”

He shook his head. “No, but I am kinda nervous so I think that’s why I’m breathing so hard.”

“Okay, well … do you wanna come in?”

He shook his head again. “I know it’s crazy cold out here, but I have this pictured in my head a certain way, and if it doesn’t happen that way, it’s going to completely throw me off.”

Glad she had taken the time to pull on her fuzzy-lined boots, Emerson stepped out on to the porch with him, closing the door behind her. She raised her brow, cueing him to continue.

“I don’t care about making Sarah jealous,” he blurted out. “I never did. I don’t care about you making Jeff jealous, and I wasn’t trying to get you to play any games. I legitimately wanted to take you out the other night, but I felt like I needed an excuse to do it. I know that’s sketchy and it’s all games, but I -- you intimidate me, Emmy. In the best possible way. I love being around you. Falling asleep with you on the couch that night? Do you know how perfect that was? I sound like I’m crazy, I’m sure, but … I mean, it’s Christmas. And you’re supposed to tell the truth at Christmas. So here I am, at Christmas, telling you the truth about how I feel.”

Emerson stared at him, slack-jawed and not sure what she had expected, but it hadn’t been that. “Are you -- am I -- was that rhetorical?”

Frank let out a deep breath, and it showed in the cold air. “I don’t know. Not necessarily? I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything, but I needed to be honest with you.”

“Then I guess I should be honest with you,” Emerson said. She pursed her lips together, trying to figure out how to word what she wanted to say. Finally, a smile tugged both ends of her mouth up and she blurted out her feelings, same as Frank had done. “I don’t care about Jeff, either. I didn’t want to rush things with you, or make it seem like this was some kind of rebound thing. I genuinely enjoy my time with you and I think this could be a good thing. I’m willing to give it a try, if you are.”

Frank closed his eyes with relief. “That’s really good to hear. I want to try, for sure. Which means I can execute the rest of my plan.”

“What’s that?”

Frank pointed above them, to the mistletoe he had fixed to the overhang on the porch. Emerson laughed as Frank’s hand set on her hips, and she went up on tiptoe to kiss him.

I’ve got so much to tell you! Emerson couldn’t help but text Americus later that day as she and Frank sat together at her grandmother’s house for another Christmas get together.

Americus’s response was quick from her spot cuddling next to Tyler. Me too! See you back in LA!

[crystallized-iron]

Promised Love Chapter One

Please read the tags! Masterlist

Joseph crept through the underground tunnels alongside his men, finding stored treasures stolen from lands they would never see. He had often wondered how the man called Alexander Pierce made his fortune, and here was the proof. “Someone, get to the authorities on this,” he muttered to them before heading down further. There had to be a door to the mansion above somewhere, and he was determined to find it; he only needed to be sure he would finish this job before his son and wife woke the next morning.

Leaving the muffled voices of his colleagues behind, Joseph felt his way down dark corridors, his hand eventually sliding from cold stone to wood and he stopped. Sliding his hand down, he found the knob and turned it, the door opposing the slow movement with a loud creak that had him flinching. As no one came to investigate, he slipped inside, climbing the staircase he found with a kick of his boot.

Upstairs, he could hear voices, but too faint to know from where. This hall was only very dimly lit by barely burning lanterns. What was he planning now that he was here? Murder was not something Joseph had ever considered until he caught wind of a disturbing rumor about Pierce purchasing young children, using them as slaves for whatever deed he chose. Joseph originally did not want to believe it, but then a friend of his had been killed by a child assassin during an investigation they were doing into one of Pierce’s business partners. The boy had been vicious but quick, escaping them in no time.

Joseph didn’t want to harm the boy if he didn’t have to. He had looked to be the same age as his own son Steven. He couldn’t imagine the life this boy must have lived already to be so skilled, to show no mercy.

An angry shout caused him to pause in his search. The voice sounded young; perhaps it was the boy from before. Following it, he came to the doors the boy was behind, but Joseph came to realize he was not alone. No, behind these doors he heard a fight escalating, and he was not quarreling with an adult. They were locked in by a wooden board set across the middle of the doors. If one of them was already too far gone, he would need to make a decision he wished was unnecessary, but if he could save at least one…

After first removing the board and tossing it off, Joseph pulled the doors open, quickly spotting the assassin from before atop another young boy. He looked up, Joseph being enough of a distraction for the bottom youth to throw him off, but the young assassin only rolled away before getting back on his feet, turning to Joseph and throwing a punch. The man easily dodged; they must have been at it for awhile for this child to be so tired, but the other looked so badly bruised.

Pulling out his knife, Joseph acted quickly, slicing the blade across his opponent’s face, and the boy fell with a shriek. Joseph ran inside, grabbing the other’s wrist and pulling him up. “Can you run, kid?” he questioned, keeping his eyes on the assassin. Only silence was his answer, and he pulled the boy closer to him. “Alright… I’ll get you out, don’t worry.”

The assassin looked ready to kill, the blood sliding in trails down his face. Joseph had thought that maybe it would have been enough to stop him, but the training already ran so deep, he wasn’t sure there was any way to rescue the boy from the life he had been forced down. With a feral yell, the assassin charged them, but a quick sidestep was enough to evade the exhausted boy, and Joseph just about dragged the other with him as he bolted for the door. He was not going to kill, instead boarding the doors back up again before the assassin caught up, a loud banging bouncing off the walls, catching the attention of others in the mansion.

Joseph looked down at his young prize, the one he rescued showing little emotion as he stared down the hall. “Come on,” the man said, taking his arm again and leading him back the way he came. Through the halls and down the staircase they went, ignoring the shouting behind them. Once back with his pals, Joseph handed the boy off to one of them. “Get him to Sarah,” he ordered. With a nod, the man left, and Joseph turned to the rest. “Has anyone gone to the authorities yet?”

“Fury volunteered to go.”

“Good. He’ll reach them the fastest. He doesn’t get distracted like you idiots.” It was playful teasing that should have waited. When the shot rang out, the men froze. Joseph never expected it. Sarah used to warn him that one day he would meet his end if he continued this reckless lifestyle of his. She was his last thought as he fell.

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

They kept running. Dum Dum had heard the shot, and no doubt the boy with him heard it too. There was no looking back. Through the tunnels and back up to the surface, seeing the moon above. Dum Dum looked to the mansion, bright light shining through the windows. “Rogers really woke them up,” he commented. There was quiet and he shrugged, chalking the boy’s silence up to being overwhelmed by the situation. They couldn’t stay here, though; they had to get moving again.

Dum Dum took him through the town, carefully watching around them. One never really knew who worked for Pierce until they went digging deep enough. They passed many faces as townspeople came out to see the commotion coming from the mansion. It was an intimidating situation. Bump the wrong person and the rescue would be a failure.

“Mr. Dugan?”

The girl caught him by surprise, Dum Dum jumping as he stared at her a moment before realization hit. “Lass, this is not the time to be sneaking up on me.”

Peggy rolled her eyes, but then tried to see the boy with him better. “Is this the one that -”

“I don’t think so, Miss Carter,” Dum Dum told her. Before she could question how he would know, he added, “I think the killer got him, Joseph…”

She didn’t know what to say. “But… he promised Sarah, and Steve will be…”

“I know…” He sighed, looking down before his eyes met hers again. “I don’t think the kid is safe with me. Maybe you can get him to Sarah.”

“Does he do anything but stand there?” she wondered, watching as Dum Dum shook his head. “What are they doing there?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to know. Get going.”

“Make sure the others get out of there safe, please,” Peggy told him.

“I’ll do what I can, now go.”

She nodded, offering her hand to the boy, noting that he looked to be close to her own age. Admittedly Peggy was rather young to be running around with Joseph Rogers rather than his son Steven, but she was useful to them. It was surprising how much the youth of the town knew, and she was still a perfect age to get the information for them.

Once he took her hand, she led him the rest of the way to the Rogers home. It was a beautiful mansion itself, but it felt warm, looked welcoming, as opposed to Pierce’s. Peggy took him up the steps before walking up to the large door, using the knocker as loud as she could manage, waking the whole house.

When the doors opened, out stepped Sarah Rogers in her robe. She had been expecting her husband, not Peggy and her new friend. “Where is Joseph?” she asked her.

“He… he might not be coming home,” Peggy had to inform her. “I was told to bring the boy here.”

“Joseph… isn’t coming home…?” Hearing the news, Sarah felt a coldness grip her. Her husband gone, another victim to Alexander Pierce. But she couldn’t fall apart yet. This young man was sent there for a reason, and she was not about to do nothing. “C-come inside… please.”

Peggy gently pushed him to the doors and Sarah saw the marks clearly. She had kept wanting to believe the rumors were untrue, even after Joseph confirmed them, but now with the evidence right in front of her, there was no ignoring it. She gestured for Peggy to come inside as well, and then had the doors shut and locked. No one else would be visiting this night.

It was a quiet walk to the drawing room, and Sarah was surprised to see her son Steven already waiting. His eyes immediately went to the new visitor, questioning. “Steven, this is…” Sarah wasn’t even sure what to call the boy, peering down at him.

“He’s pretty,” Steven said, coming forward. “What’s your name?”

Pale blue eyes finally locked onto Steven, and the boy seemed to carefully think the question over.

“You got a reaction out of him,” Peggy noted, looking up at Sarah.

“I don’t know if I want him alone with my son, though,” Sarah sighed, “but it may be needed.”

“I’ll take care of him,” Steven promised.

“Alright…”

There was a rapping at the doors, Pierce’s voice ringing out. The youth hid behind Steven as Peggy appeared ready to march outside herself and fight the man. “Get hidden, all of you,” Sarah told them before leaving the room. She steeled herself and nodded to the servants to open the doors. As they did, Pierce glared inside. “Mr. Pierce… may I ask what you are doing at my home so late?” Sarah questioned him.

“You have something of mine,” he explained in a cold voice. “I want it back.”

“I must say, I haven’t any idea what you are talking about.”

Stepping inside, Pierce walked right up to her. “I know my property is here, and I can have you arrested for kidnapping.”

“Then you are not looking for property. Should I inform authorities of your slaves?” Sarah challenged.

“I have information I can use against you too, Mrs. Rogers. Do not tempt me.”

“You have nothing. We do not deal in illegal deeds.”

“You don’t know everything about your husband,” Pierce told her.

Narrowing her eyes, Sarah pointed out the doors. “Leave.”

Pierce looked ready to continue, but decided against it. “Fine. Losing one won’t matter in the long run.”

“Then go,” she said again, feeling impatient.

“He will return to me one day.” He glanced at the doors, the halls, hoping he could see what he was looking for from there, but with no luck. Turning to leave, he said over his shoulder, “I would be careful at night if I were you.”

As he finally left her home, Sarah let out a breath. It couldn’t be true that he had any sort of blackmail on them. She believed in Joseph’s work to better the world, but she had to admit she did not know everything that had gone on. What if there was something on the side, something he would never share with her, to protect her and their son? What was it he did on the nights he simply left without explanation? Sarah thought she knew her husband, believed he would be out gathering intel for the good of the town, but had she been wrong?

She couldn’t think on that now. She had a new charge to care for, one that was seemingly so out of it, but he would come to his senses for Steven. She would need to decide how to handle the situation. Her son would have to be there for the boy, and Sarah was sure that he was already prepared to take on that role. Hopefully he would be able to help their guest return to himself.

*** ~ *** ~ *** ~ *** ~ ***

Next Chapter

[stillpluto]

The Perfect Guy

Riley is tired of guys that only want to take advantage of her, so she makes three points that define her perfect guy to start looking for him. But sometimes you may not realize that you have it in front of your eyes…

Chapter three.

The days kept passing, and in less than what they expect, Saturday came, the day of the visit to the complex.

"I don't know what you expect to happen today" said Maya with indescribable face sitting on the bed of her best friend while she watched Riley doing sets with clothes to determine which would be best.

"Nothing, I'm just saying that you should seize opportunities and looking good is cool"

Although she wouldn't admit it, sometimes she was a little superficial, but come on, at this time who wasn't?

"I can't go with you guys." said Zay blushing when they got to the door of Riley's house looking like models. "I'll go with Sarah, I asked her yesterday."

"That's great, Zay!" said Riley sincerely, knowing that her friend had long been waiting for that to happen. "And you know, if you need that she get jealous, you have us. Your two fake girlfriends."

The three laughed.

"You got to take advantage and do it today." Farkle told Lucas. Both were walking toward the house of Riley.

"What are you talking about?" said Lucas confused.

The chestnut rolled his eyes.

"How much longer are you going to pretend that you don't feel anything for Maya? When she has three children with someone other than you?"

"You're overreacting." said Lucas boring, looking to the front. Farkle stood in front of him with intimidating look.

"We'll go to Rockefeller Center, Riley and I are going to leave you two alone. You better take advantage of the time." he said, emphasizing the last sentence.

When the boy got serious, it was better listen to him.

"But she..."

"Don't you dare say she doesn't like you." Farkle spat sick of the situation. It was always the same, but now Maya was alone and he couldn't waste time.

He walked in silence, leaving Lucas in his thoughts.

When they arrived at Riley's house, the girls were already at the door, and when they saw them they stood with their mouths open.

Riley wore blue jeans, black boots and a coat of the same color that lighted up her hair down. While Maya was wearing black pants, purple boots and a coat of the same color. For the first time she had taken her hair in a long braid she wore over her shoulder.

"Ladies, you look good." said Farkle winking at them.

Riley laughed out loud and Maya rolled her eyes. Lucas didn't take his eyes off the blonde.

The four friends went to take the subway to go to Rockefeller Center. Riley and Farkle was talking excitedly of the complex, since both had already visited the place. But Lucas and Maya were so nervous about what would happen after, that they hadn't said anything, and when his hands touched by mistake when they got off the subway, both blushed.

"Where do you want to go?" asked Farkle rubbing his hands to warm them up a little.

"Ice rink" Riley said. "You know that I love ice skating." she twirled around and the boys smiled.

"And Riley, you know that I hate ice skating" Maya said. "I always fall with those things." she made in the air the shape of ice skates.

"And I want to go to the big Christmas tree" Lucas said. "Zay said he was going to be there..."

"Okay, okay." said Farkle gesturing with his hands high, because a discussion was coming, just as he had planned with Riley. "So how about if I go with Riley to the ice rink and you two go to the big Christmas tree?  We can meet in an hour there."

"Good idea." said Riley with a impish smile.

Maya glared at her. If she made a fuss about that, Lucas would realize that she liked him and that wasn't good for her.

"See you in an hour, then." Lucas said, and when the girls weren't looking at him, he winked at his accomplice, who motioned for approval with thumbs.

And saying that, the two couples went their ways opposites.

"That was easier than I imagined" exclaimed Farkle once they were far enough away from them.

"You told Lucas what we would do, didn't you?" said Riley with her hands on her waist.

"A bit." he said nervously fearing a reprimand. "But it was good, he cooperated very well."

Riley laughed.

They had walked aimlessly and had reached the GE Building, so they decided to stay on a bench nearby. They didn't want to meet their friends because Maya would discover that everything was a lie and they didn't want to ruin their plans. They sat very close together, they need to keep warm in order to not freeze.

"I bet you 10 bucks they'll be together before New Year" said Riley taking a candy from her pocket and taking it to her mouth.

"I say that at the end of course, if we're lucky." Farkle replied.

They took their gloved hands closing the deal.

"Why will it take so long to be together?" said Riley sulkily. She believed strongly that those two were meant for each other.

"They have done much harm to each other without knowing it." he answered.

It was amazing how Farkle was sometimes more mature and sane in what are love situations, while Riley always stumbled over the same stone again and again.

To change the subject, they resumed their conversation of the other day about planets and galaxies. Both had very different ideas about how the universe had created, and that intrigued them. This never influenced their friendship. They wanted to learn from each other.

Without knowing how, Riley had leaned on him, feeling the rhythmic beat of his heart, and lulling with them.

"You didn't tell me what happened with Hallie." said Riley innocently.

"Apparently she only sought sex." said Farkle quietly.

Riley didn't know why she felt a strange hole in her stomach.

"The rumors aren't true, right?" said Riley trying to do it with tact.

"That I sleep with all the girls I go out, and then let them thrown away?" he said more like a statement than a question. "How can you think that of me?  You know that before I have been misjudged and..." he said offended, looking at her in the eyes. Riley saw in them so much pain that she hugged him immediately.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way." she said really remorseful. Last year a girl had broken the heart of Farkle, labeling him as ridiculous and weird (after that, she saw that he began to get the interest of several girls and she repented. Riley put a smelly perfume in her hair for two weeks in revenge).

"I know." he said in a whisper.

They were silent a long time.

Riley felt good being with him, warm and relaxed with her head on his chest, but they were always in that way, so she didn't give importance and started to let her thoughts fly, which went to all the breaks she had in the last year. She ended up curled, increasingly more embraced to him. She had a horrible feeling in her heart and tears came to her eyes. Farkle noticed it and laid his head on hers.

"Nothing I do is enough." said Riley in a choked voice.

Farkle gently stroked her hair.

"That's not true, Riley" he said softly, and spontaneously kissed her on the crown, which left her surprised, but quite calm.

"I'm so lucky in love like a stone" the girl said in a disappointed voice.

Farkle laughed.

"Well, you're not talking with the luckiest on the subject" he said smiling. "Just try not to force more things."

"I am very impatient" said Riley getting up a little, with a half smile on her face.

"For that you got me." Farkle laughed. "I have enough patience for both."

"Conceited" said Riley playfully sticking out her tongue.

"When the right guy comes to you, you'll know it." said Farkle stroking her cheeks to clear the trail of her frozen tears.

Farkle had the power to make her feel good in a second.

Their faces were so close that Riley couldn't help staring at him. Now she understood why he was so popular among women, with his perfect face, his eyes of the color of the sky and his soft hair that invited her to caress it.

"We better go" said Farkle looking at his watch. "Or Lucas will eat us alive."

Riley laughed merrily.

When they reached the big tree, they saw two figures approaching, one walking faster than the other.

It was Maya, who came with her eyes burning with anger.

"I'm out of here." she announced and kept walking toward the exit.

"I go with her." said Riley more confused than ever.

And she went after her friend. Lucas, defeated, went to where was Farkle.

"She isn't going to talk to me again." he said dejected.

Farkle felt sorry for him.

"Okay... Let's sit there.."

A/N: I am with final exams until next week at College but I promise to upload chapter 4 this weekend. As you already know, any suggestion or opinion is more than accepted! 

[mdarwin]

Of Your Life - Fall 2019

Of Your Life

Adapted from Pavement’s “Shady Lane/J Vs. S” from their 1997 album Brighten the Corners

Actually, eating anything at this point might do too much damage. There’s the ulcer and the bloating, two completely separate issues presenting a relentless challenge across their respective territories in my body. I’m walking the line between showing them my body and hiding my body from them and they already know that’s what I do, so my stomach is both there and not there depending on how endeared they are to my prerogatives. If I grab something -- anything -- the bloat will find its way to the shrouded beast, and if I don’t, I’ll be unable to speak or breathe or move comfortably because of the acid shooting up the tubes in the hearth of my body as the world sees my body. The breasts, the face, the front of me at eye level. Underneath those things, a raucous party. No one was invited but it’s not dying down.

I used to be pure.

But I have Tums and they’ll have coffee set up so I’ll sneak a splash of liquid dairy pretending not to be a freak and it’ll quiet down. Maybe the discomfort has come to be too close to a home, comfort itself, for me to eviscerate it so thoughtlessly; maybe this burn, these nerves, maybe this is where I live.

I’m here.

I sign in for the doorman and the time stamp is eleven minutes earlier than I had needed to be here. The elevator is both fast and nice and so I hope no one else gets on, because they would look me up and down and wonder if I’m homeless since I don’t know how to dress for SoHo and if I did know how to dress for SoHo I might still refuse to do it. But I remain alone because the elevator is fast and as I step out I wonder if I would even want the elevator at home to be so nice, or if I need things to be ugly and faulty to be at ease after all these years in earnest spaces.

I don’t struggle; I withdraw.

On the eighth floor, I get to a bathroom, Tums, a little setting powder (these lies I tell myself). I check my hair. It’s so sad but they already know that’s how it is and so my ugly hair, my ugly hair is fine and so, and so I follow the signs through the labyrinthine hallway all taped a bit cockeyed to the walls until I see the final “CASTING” on the door, and I open the door, and I walk through the door, and I’m in the door, and I’m here.

I don’t know when to photograph my life; too much seems momentous or too little.

There are three grey couches along the walls of the sunlit waiting room and two gunmetal sculptures of ovals approximating people, one in the middle of the room and one in the corner between two of the couches. I sign in without a word or even much of a glance at the thin brunette in her affected and prematurely exhausted importance sitting behind the desk set back from the wait and I take a seat closest to her. Do they know I love authority, any authority? I’m thinking about who might have been in this room earlier today, yesterday, tomorrow, and how close this production is getting to the truth and Ray flashes through my mind, Rafa, Holland and Anita, Tony. I picture their typecasts filling the room, a bunch of surly, balding brown bears filling the couches or maybe eight year olds with impossibly long twin braids; every one-legged mom-aged actor in the tri-state area. I’m thinking, I’m thinking about how close these casting directors are getting to the people who have populated my life and then I’m thinking, then I’m thinking about how close the people who have populated my life have been to me. There are distances, probably, that are getting close-ups in this thing. I picture a Sarah K. type filling this room, blonde crowns bent over magazines, and even though I am grown now, intimidation sets in as I envy the size they’d all be, their grooming, the way none of their nails are misshapen and all ten of them fit cohesively on the ends of unchewed fingers. I fail to sink into myself as I remember how Sarah seemed to hijack the backwards allure of my glasses, appropriating it onto the health and blasé wealth of Central Park West, and how her simple hair always did what she wanted it to do, which was nothing but shine. And I snap back into the room and into myself when it finally strikes me as absurd that I’m the one who would pretend to not be obsessed with these girls, these actors who want to be cast as Sarah as much as I want to be cast as anyone, anyone, in my life.

I am of these tiny little uses.

I am myself so I pull out something productive -- I highlight Michael Pollan. It’s about cattle. I remember the potential for dairy to quiet my insides and I take a look around. It’s skim milk next to the coffee machine, which doesn’t help me much. I think, you’d think they’d know, but at least the cups are biodegradable.

Sometimes I am on fire.

I’m reading, yeah, sure, I’m reading this section where he could get elitist but doesn’t, but I’m zoning out and I’m thinking about how the conversation with my agent later today is going to go. I know when I plan these future conversations it belittles the actual because it doesn’t matter where I go, I don’t know beforehand that for some reason I’m going to bring up Vermont, or O Brother Where Art Thou, or how rum cures colds. The actual is only vaguely predictable and I attach myself to its precursor, imagination. If it were up to me I’d stick to the fake talks and get fed through a tube, because the world I can touch is disappointing 73% of the time, I found recently, but what I stand before is a casting call I was born for and if I didn’t show up to this audition in front of these real people before retreating again to my apartment lit only by small lamps, never overhead lights, I’d kick myself for losing out on material to tell people when I imagine that I’m having conversations with them.

 Reflection, self-fetish, auto-fetish, meta-fetish, reflection.

A door past the desk to my left opens and I immediately make an effort to slow my heart rate. There’s a put-together woman with a ponytail and a premium tee shirt holding a clipboard standing in the doorway and she looks at her clipboard and then up and she says my name with a question mark at the end and I nod and she turns for me to follow her. I pick up my tote bag and reflexively continue the movement to awkwardly smooth my skirt over my thighs and just hope that if she is paying attention she’s already gotten the note about the strange way that I design my outfits and also that she excuses me for the sight of my legs, and finally that she won’t ask me to bend over for anything. I think they know, I think. They have to know.

In truth, I can handle anything.

So now I’m in a bright room, a bright room with mirrored walls and there are four people at the folding table facing a lone chair. None of them have ever met me, not even Mr. Moody, who should have met me. I access cheer and introduce myself and second from the left at the table, a Mr. Clean type, he ignores me to lean over and asks Ponytail, “Is this the…” and she tells him yes without looking at me, and once they’ve all heard that they look up from their papers and each other to face me and with a regulation boredom Mr. Clean says, “Hey, great to meet you. So did…” he scans my resume for Bernard’s name and continues, “Bernard tell you what you’re up for here?” I nod yes as I sit. Mr. Clean tells me with a reference in absentium to comedy, “No small roles, right? So in this scene we have the, uh, the…” he looks around and goes for it, “the you-character, you know, she’s doing pretty well right now, she’s this stellar student and she’s kind of leaving that, uh, that stuff from ’08 and ’09 behind, you know, she barely remembers that, and then Howard--” Ponytail cuts in, “Your dad,” she says and I nod that I have absorbed that it is accurate that my father’s name is Howard and Mr. Clean says, “Right, your dad, he’s like wracked with worry about you all the time still because he, well, you know what, actually, how would you say this, yourself?”

I have been more than lucky.

“Oh, thanks so much for asking,” I breathe out in what is almost a laugh, and maybe I flush a little, and I bring my hand to that hearth of my cleavage, which is a not entirely unsurreptitious display of modesty. “Um, I guess he was just really at a loss about what to do with such a sick kid, when he’d insisted for so long that nothing was wrong, and maybe avoiding the idea that I might, um, traipse into his territory with the… the death-drugs,” I cast my eyes around in apology for the uncouth mention of dirt in this room and they first land on Ponytail, whose eyes are on her phone screen, and then on Mr. Clean, who’s leaning back with his hand to his chin and he nods and motions for me to get to the point and so I continue, “Actually, I don’t know if this is useful for you but he -- he told me the other day that he hadn’t ever known that I had done that much cocaine in ’07, so he was always sort of --” I’m cut off by the tall, severe woman in what could easily be men’s clothes to the left of Mr. Clean, and her mid-Atlantic accent adds to the Tilda Swinton vibe when she says, “Actually, that doesn’t help us and it might be best if we just, erm… stay away from that sort of, er, retroactive speculation with new information. I mean, it’s not like this is a, a vanity project, dear.” All four of them laugh.

I am an island like you are an island and you are an island.

Mr. Moody, bald black pate hedged by grey fuzz, shuffles some papers and doesn’t look at me but gives me the relief of saying, “Okay, so he’s clearly got a different approach to all this than Rose, sort of out of touch with the reality of it. And what we have in this scene is that he’s walking on, what is it, 9th street, and he sees Margaret, the doppelganger.” Moody is focused, looking up at me now and he sees past my invalidity the most of the four, he sees me in front of him and I’m more or less like everyone else in my determination to keep moving and he knows that, and he knows. “So she’s just standing there on the corner, and he sees her and he thinks you’re ignoring him and he gets in her face and shouts at her but it takes him… what, about a full minute or so for him to really process that it’s not you. He thinks it’s you and that you’re out of it, but it’s him that’s unhinged here… and it’s sort of everybody’s own cross to bear, the negotiation of you coming back to reality and just really being here finally like everyone, and also their understanding of what it is to have been here in reality in the first place, while you were gone.”

It’s not my movement that’s looked to, but where I land.

The other three have been looking at Moody and nodding as he says this but then Ponytail faces me and she asks if I can answer some questions about 2011. She says it’s to test the waters of how accurate we can make the scene to Howard’s perception, and she makes a joke about being old, about how long ago 2011 was, but I’m breathing low in my body just like I have in all moments and 2011 is still happening, and it is happening, and it is, and in my insistent consistency, it’s reliable and can’t be stopped.

Time is everybody’s.

I say sure and first she asks me, “Did you look at your passing reflection in windows?” “No,” I say. “Did you smoke?” “Uh… yes, yes I did.” “Were you in love?” “No.” This gives her pause and she looks at Moody and then at Tilda and Tilda leans forward and asks, “What sacrifices did you make that year?”

I had given everything I had, already.

I wonder for a noticeable amount of time what it was that my dad saw that day, that I had, in their words,  sacrificed, that was somehow also palpable in Margaret. I stop myself, though. What did I sacrifice in 2011? I haven’t worked in so long and I need this part so fucking bad. But then I think of myself and my success at being in broad strokes and this is different from considering what answer they want because this is one of those times I honor the actual instead of the movement that I hope for and maybe that’s why they’re here, maybe this whole thing is an honorific, it’s the ways I am somehow so good at being. This is how I look when I’m honest. Slowly I say, “I started to lose pride. It took a few years to gain anything from that.” And all four of them immediately look down to the table to write a note on whatever paper is in front of them but while they’re still writing I realize how to get the part and instead of being good at being I say, “You could see it in my… in my spine.”

There has never been solitude; manifestation is endlessly dependent.

Now they’ve all looked back up at me again and no one says anything for a minute. Then I ask, “Would you like me to uh -- did you want me to read anything?” Tilda leans forward like a praying mantis to hold out a few pages off the table that had been in front of her just under her notes and my resume. I get up and reach forward to take it, return to my seat, I look at it. It’s an essay. Margaret wrote it. It’s on Jaruwan Sakulku. I take a quick few seconds to scan the first and last lines, then read it aloud with few intonation or emphatic hesitations. I slow down towards the conclusion. I give Margaret’s emerged thesis weight and sobriety. I read the last line to the four of them, and see that none of them are engaged. They’re leaning back in their seats, eyes drooping a bit and at one point while I had been reading they were passing a menu around. I breathe out all the air I’ve been budgeting.

I breathe.

Mr. Clean says, “Okay, thank you” and the four of them are rising again from their four slouches and they’re waking up from being in a room with me like I have been a blanket or a short night and fresh air has come in and I wonder what they think of the plot and I wonder what they think of me.

I am not my life.

Tilda leans forward and nods at Ponytail and Ponytail gets up to open the door back out to the waiting room and I say “I can do it again -- do you want me to do it again?” but she’s looking at the door and not at me and she says “We’ll be calling people Monday. Thanks for coming in” and I have my bag on my shoulder and I have my skirt smoothed on my thighs and as I pass through the doorway into the waiting room I see a room full of swarthy half-jewish girls who are 5’3” and 250 lbs with ugly hair, ugly hair, and thick, plastic-framed glasses in front of small, deep-set eyes. Ponytail calls out to the room as I head to the hallway, “Chloe? We’re ready for you” and one of these girls with whom I just finished competing stands up and picks up her bag and smooths her skirt over her thighs and she walks towards Ponytail and the door and the spaces I have left for her. She doesn’t notice me as she walks through her own nerves into the audition for the small part in the movie.

The outsides collide with the insides and I am some small thing in the waves.

I am some small thing in the waves.

[siliconwebx]

How to Write the Best About Me Page Possible

“If we’re gonna be friends, you should know that I re-heat my coffee as many times as it takes to burn my tongue, I only watch horror movies through my fingers and I seriously dislike elephants, although I wish them all the best.”

That’s the most-commented-on line from my About Me page. It’s the very last sentence and the sixth paragraph of 275 words, which means that people read all the way down to it, including one scroll. They then feel compelled to email me to ask about it. (“You reheat your coffee? Like, in the microwave? And what’s with the elephant thing??? Who doesn’t love elephants!”) In a world where it’s hard to keep anyone’s attention for more than a second, I say that’s a success.

As far as About Me examples go, though, I make a lot of mistakes on my page. I focus too little on the business of my business, I haven’t added any testimonials and I don’t have a CTA at the end. While it’s engaging enough for strangers to contact me, it’s unfinished. I know how many people I’ve caught with it, but I’ll never know how many people I lost because it’s missing some must-have points.

Don’t be me. Be you, the person with the high-performing, perfectly-executed About page. Here’s how.

Do I need an About page?

Yes. Next question?

The About page is essential to any and every website, whether you’re an individual sharing your personal thoughts or a full-blown business with countless landing pages. Your About page isn’t necessarily what gets people to your website, but it is where a number of visitors are going to click over to.

Okay, but does the writing actually matter?

Yup. A well-designed website will attract people, but the content is what keeps them there. Having a poorly-written About page is worse than not having one at all. Keep it simple, even if your industry is jargon-filled. Use the Hemingway app if you’re wordy, and check out our article about creating content with high readability.

Also, name your About page something obvious: About, About Me, About Us. Don’t get creative here – people are going to look for an About page, and they need to find it without trying to figure out what the “Our Essence” page could be about.

Look, this is hard!

There’s a reason businesses hire writers: writing is hard. Writing an About page is particularly hard because you have to give people enough information to maintain their interest, but you can’t get longwinded. I limit About pages to 500 words, and Moz’s About page, one of the best About Me examples I’ve seen, is right around there. That word count may not sound intimidating, but writing 500 excellent words is a lot more difficult than writing a 1,000-word blog post. You have to squeeze a lot of information into an About page, which means every sentence counts. It’s sort of like an elongated elevator pitch.

What an About Page is Not

1. An autobiography.

2. The best outlet for sharing a long brand story or company history, even if it’s wildly interesting. Write a blog post about it instead.

3. Boring. You may be enthralled by the backstory of how your company was founded a century ago, but if it’s going to make your reader fall asleep, leave it out. Cherry pick the most relevant and interesting information that enhances your brand image.

4. About you. It may say “About Me” or “About Us,” but it’s really “About the Reader.” What you’re saying about yourself is for the purpose of relating to the reader; it’s not for an ego boost. Unless you’re already a celebrity or an influencer, people don’t really care about your story unless it improves their life.

Elements of a Great “About” Page

I listed these elements in a way that makes the most sense to me, but you can absolutely play with the layout to determine the right flow for your About page.

The Hook

Just like with a blog post, you have to hook the reader. Start with something odd or unusual, something most other people don’t say or are afraid to say. If you want to make it stand out more, bold it to turn it into a headline.

In this section, and throughout your About page, you have to keep three things in mind:

Who you are

What you do

Why you do it

Whatever you do, don’t reiterate that this is your About page. The reader already knows that – they clicked on the link.

The Basics

Start with your name, job title and location, and maybe add in your “thing.”

Hey, I’m Lindsay, a freelance writer in New York. And I’m totally obsessed with true crime podcasts.

Brag a Little

Give yourself some props, but relate it to the person you’re speaking to. What is it about your experience that connects with your visitor’s biggest concern? What’s keep them up at night, and how has that same thing kept you up at night?

I’ve been a full-time freelancer for 10 years, and I’ve talked to a lot of marketing agencies during that time. I know how tough it can be to hire freelancers – they don’t know what you want and you don’t know what they need.

Help Some More

They know what you’re able to help with, but not how you do it. Don’t go into crazy detail here. People are still mostly concerned with results – your process can be completely pared down and still effective.

I act as the middleman between agencies and writers so that you can both get what you need without any delays, surprises or unexpected expenses.

Testimonials

You can put testimonials at the beginning or end of the About page, but I placed them here in this outline because it feels like the natural best place – you’ve told the reader how you can help them and now you’re showing how you’ve helped others. If possible, include testimonials from influencers and impressive publications as well as real people.

Source: SocialTriggers.com

Give Some Background

You’ve got their interest, so there’s some leeway to talk about how you got started or how your company was founded. Include this information:

Founding year

Location

Number of employees

Why you started the business

Business vision and goals

Most impressive achievement(s)

This is your chance to empathize some more. Let them know you shared the same struggles or questions they’re experiencing. Put into words what’s going through their head.

Additional Media

Always include one picture of yourself – recent, crisp and inoffensive. A photo of your face will make you more likable and trustworthy.

Consider adding a video, especially if you want to explain a process or product. You can also embed one of your popular YouTube videos, which will link to your account and help drive traffic there.

Be Human

What makes you offbeat, interesting, different from the rest? What makes you human? List three things.

You can either do a brief “look, I’m just a weird human section” at the end like I did, or you can scatter humanized details throughout – your choice.

Call-to-Action

If people are heading over to your About page often, then there should be a CTA there. This should be one of your more broad offerings – the About page isn’t about one specific part of your business, and the CTA doesn’t need to be, either. What action should people take next in order to reap the biggest benefit from your website?

Check out the rest of Sarah’s About page, too. In terms of About Me examples, this is one of my favorites – the content flows naturally, like you’re having a conversation with her. Sarah speaks right to you and manages to tell you what she does while still making it all about you.

Contact Information

Give the visitor ways to connect with you – email address and phone number, your address if you have a physical store or office, and your social media links. While this should be at the end of the page, experiment with placing it in the center of your page as well, right after the most actionable paragraph, like the “Help Some More” section.

There’s an exception to this, though. If you’re growing quickly and getting inundated with emails and calls, you can remove your personal contact information. Keep your social media links, of course, and consider if and how you want people to be able to get in touch, like live chat on your website or Facebook Messenger.

3 About Me Examples

Let’s go over three popular About Me examples to explore what they did right and where they went wrong.

Mirasee

What They Got Wrong

The About Us page for Mirasee doesn’t immediately convey what this company does. There’s a guy wearing a “Be More Curious” shirt, a tagline that says “Reimagine Business” and a buzzword-heavy description of what Mirasee means, but what do they do? I have no idea.

What They Got Right

Everything is on one page. There’s no reason to keep your About Us information separate from your vision or your team. It all falls under the “About” umbrella, and you’ll get more traction out of the page if it’s all nestled together.

Moz

What They Got Wrong

Nothing.

What They Got Right

Moz’s About page gets right to it. Their copy is equal parts straightforward and punchy, and you know exactly what their expertise is from the get-go: SEO.

Moz puts their “where the name comes from” section at the end – it’s there, but they know it’s the least important part of their About story.

They keep everything on one page, and the copy is short overall despite there being seven sections.

P.S. Backlinko is another website that hits all the right marks with their about page: clarity, social proof, CTA.

Niche Hacks

Okay. You’ll need a fresh cup of coffee for this one. There’s a lot going on with the Niche Hacks About Me page.

What They Got Wrong

There’s a ton of text, and splitting it up into mini-paragraphs isn’t helping. That first above-the-fold section is an eyesore. This could all be condensed into one or two great paragraphs that strongly convey who they are and how they can help you. Shorter content is confident content.

They’ve also buried the lead. The “How This Blog Will Help You Succeed Online” section has one bit of information that should be at the top of the page: “I publish epic resources, give away trade secrets, and post information for free that most other internet marketers charge big bucks for.”

What They Got Right

If you continue scrolling, you’ll come to a “What We Hope To Achieve Over The Next 5 Years” section. Whether or not you think this information is important enough to include here, it’s broken down much better than the copy above. It’s neatly sorted into three bullet points and easier on the eyes.

There are also links to “awesome content” on the bottom. Having the links here gives the reader somewhere else to go when they’re done with this page. You’re more likely to click on a link here than go back up to the top, find the blog, etc.

What They Got Sorta Right

They’ve included testimonials from real readers as well as industry influencers. Unfortunately, they have a ton of testimonials, and some are stronger than others. I’d pick the top five, put them closer to the top of the page and let them work their social proof magic. You can always include more on a dedicated testimonials page.

Wrapping Up

There’s a lot to think about here, and it didn’t help that I stressed that these 500 words will be the most important of your website. Here’s the good news: you already know all of this information. All of it. You know who you are, what your business is about, who you serve, why you do it… Take your time to put it together in a way that’s clear. Don’t worry about being creative, just be honest and transparent – readers will respect you for that while learning about what’s in it for them.

Rocked your About page? Now create a cool Twitter bio to land more clients.

The post How to Write the Best About Me Page Possible appeared first on Elegant Themes Blog.

😉SiliconWebX | 🌐ElegantThemes

[jessicakehoe]

Julia Garner Isn’t Who You Think She Is

Julia Garner is hard to miss—even though the 25-year-old actress is roughly the size of a woodland sprite. (OK, she’s five foot five, which isn’t even that short.) When I get to the diner where we agreed to meet, she’s already there, leaning forward in a booth, wearing a black turtleneck that seems ready to provide cover should she need to disappear. But that would be difficult. Garner the actress—you’ll recognize her if your taste in film and television runs toward the unsettling—can and does disappear into her roles, but Garner the person is unmistakable.

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It’s her hair: a controlled eruption of blond curls that would make William Katt—you know, the guy from The Greatest American Hero—swoon with envy. You don’t see curls like hers on television too often—at least not since the days of Chrissy Seaver on Growing Pains or maybe the first season of Felicity. It’s one of the subjects I intend to raise with her: how curls are often cut, straightened, covered up or otherwise discriminated against in showbiz and how they might make someone a hero.

There’s probably a metaphor in there, too.

Photography by Owen Bruce. Styling by Michela Buratti . Creative direction by Brittany Eccles. Hair, Bobby Eliot for Starworks Artists/Oribe. Makeup, Misha Shahzada for Forward Artists/Charlotte Tilbury. Manicure, Tracylee Percival. Fashion assistants, Sarah Gentillon and Erica Cutroni. Photography assistants, Karen Goss, James Lee Wall and Roxanne Hartridge.

She brightens when I approach, and we immediately fall into an easy conversation. She’s open and friendly, despite the unconscious motions of millennial discomfort: pulling at her collar and then running her hands through her hair, gathering it up and moving it from one side to the other, like a kid who doesn’t want to eat her potatoes. Before I can ask about that hair—or anything else for that matter—we’re interrupted by one of the diners on his way out. He’s sporting a buzz cut and a bright green shirt he likely got at the “Why Yes, I Am an Embarrassing Dad Store.”

“Is that Ruth we got here?” he says, not acknowledging my presence. “We just finished Ozark, and I thought it was you!” Garner is just as gracious with him as she was with me when I said hello. The man compliments her work and then heads out before anything becomes uncomfortable. A few moments later, he’s back with a camera. “My wife is going to love this,” he beams.

Photography by Owen Bruce. Styling by Michela Buratti . Creative direction by Brittany Eccles. Hair, Bobby Eliot for Starworks Artists/Oribe. Makeup, Misha Shahzada for Forward Artists/Charlotte Tilbury. Manicure, Tracylee Percival. Fashion assistants, Sarah Gentillon and Erica Cutroni. Photography assistants, Karen Goss, James Lee Wall and Roxanne Hartridge.

It was almost as if the whole interaction were a bit of theatre orchestrated for my benefit, to show not only Garner’s reach but also her low-key grace despite her growing fame. It wasn’t, of course. But since I had wondered whether Garner, who has been acting for nearly a decade but mostly in indies, has started getting recognized, it was a bit uncanny.

And, fine, asking whether an actress gets recognized is about as groundbreaking as asking who she’s wearing on a red carpet. But it seemed like an especially appropriate question for Garner. Because her biggest role at the moment—at least until Dirty John, a true-crime series, based on a popular podcast, that came out late last year—is as Ruth, the whip-smart, shit-talking quasi-outlaw/sidekick to Jason Bateman’s Marty on Netflix’s Ozark.

Photography by Owen Bruce. Styling by Michela Buratti . Creative direction by Brittany Eccles. Hair, Bobby Eliot for Starworks Artists/Oribe. Makeup, Misha Shahzada for Forward Artists/Charlotte Tilbury. Manicure, Tracylee Percival. Fashion assistants, Sarah Gentillon and Erica Cutroni. Photography assistants, Karen Goss, James Lee Wall and Roxanne Hartridge.

“When did that start happening?” I ask.

“It actually first started in Brooklyn,” replies Garner. “Because I was in indies, that seemed to be where I was recognized most often.”

And now look: That girl from Martha Marcy May Marlene—and a surprising number of other cult-based works, like Electrick Children, where she played a Mormon teen who believes she was impregnated by rock music, or Waco, where she was one of David Koresh’s Branch Davidian wives—is all grown up and getting spotted in Manhattan. If you can make it there….

Garner isn’t anything like the characters she plays. She doesn’t sound like them, and she doesn’t act like them. Granted, this is true of most actors (though, ha ha, certainly not all). But, like in the biblical “Parable of the Sower,” she plants the seeds of her characters in fertile ground: They grow out of who she is. Take Ruth in Ozark, for example. Garner has managed to create a character that’s intimidating, resourceful and strong while keeping this thread of vulnerability humming just under the surface. “The vulnerability is the easy part,” she tells me. “Ruth’s strength—that was the challenge.”

“The vulnerability is the easy part. Ruth’s strength—that was the challenge.”

Plus, she already had that thick, rusted Missouri accent from an earlier role in Tomato Red. She figured she’d impress the producers with it in her audition for Ruth. “Casting offices in New York are tiny,” she tells me. “So while I’m waiting, I can hear all these other auditions for the same part. And none of them are trying out the accent.” She decided she’d forget the accent, too. Only, she couldn’t. “I had prepared so much with the accent that I couldn’t even remember my lines when I tried to do it with my normal voice.” Obviously, breaking out her Missouri twang worked out for her—spoiler alert: she got the part—but the fact that she almost caved to peer pressure of her own making is telling.

Photography by Owen Bruce. Styling by Michela Buratti . Creative direction by Brittany Eccles. Hair, Bobby Eliot for Starworks Artists/Oribe. Makeup, Misha Shahzada for Forward Artists/Charlotte Tilbury. Manicure, Tracylee Percival. Fashion assistants, Sarah Gentillon and Erica Cutroni. Photography assistants, Karen Goss, James Lee Wall and Roxanne Hartridge.

You get the sense that, like a lot of people who were painfully shy as kids, Garner has what my family used to call the Appropriateness Gene. It’s a potent blend of sensitivity, empathy and self-awareness that makes, for instance, watching cringe-comedy nearly impossible unless there are ample pillows nearby to hide under. Basically, the Appropriateness Gene—which has yet to be identified by geneticists—makes you want to do what’s right/expected, and it causes you pain when others don’t. “My mom used to get me to eat vegetables by making me feel guilty,” explains Garner. “Like, ‘You don’t want these carrots to fail in their life’s purpose, do you?’”

“My mom used to get me to eat vegetables by making me feel guilty. Like, ‘You don’t want these carrots to fail in their life’s purpose, do you?’”

Famous people will often talk about how awkward, nerdy or generally uncool they were growing up. This is either an attempt to seem relatable or proof that everyone goes through periods where they feel as if they don’t fit in. It usually feels disingenuous—except when Garner says it, you believe her. “I was one of those kids whose parents were actually worried about them. Like, ‘She’s such a sweet girl,’” she says, pretending to be her parent, “‘but is she going to be OK?’”

Acting was actually what brought her out of her shell, though she still identifies as a bit of a nerd, even now. She looks down and her voice drops, as if she’s about to confess something that will be painful for both of us: “I really like Vanderpump Rules.” When that doesn’t convince me of her current nerd bona fides, she tells me she knits, too. The shame.

“I was one of those kids whose parents were actually worried about them. Like, ‘She’s such a sweet girl, but is she going to be OK?’”

She lowers her voice often, actually, apologizing in advance for saying something horrible—like how parents maybe shouldn’t force their children to perform before they are ready—that never turns out to be horrible at all. She can’t help it. It’s a function of her Appropriateness Gene.

But that (entirely fictional) gene might also be the key to outsized talent. After all, has there ever been a shy, sensitive child who isn’t also a keen observer and preternatural listener? Even now, that’s what Garner notices when she watches other people perform: if, and how well, they listen. “I can always tell; that’s the most important thing,” she says. “It’s about figuring out what a character wants. It sounds horrible, maybe, but people only wake up in the morning because they want something from the day. If you listen, you know what that is. And then you react to that.”

Photography by Owen Bruce. Styling by Michela Buratti . Creative direction by Brittany Eccles. Hair, Bobby Eliot for Starworks Artists/Oribe. Makeup, Misha Shahzada for Forward Artists/Charlotte Tilbury. Manicure, Tracylee Percival. Fashion assistants, Sarah Gentillon and Erica Cutroni. Photography assistants, Karen Goss, James Lee Wall and Roxanne Hartridge.

The harder you listen, the more present you can be. “If I can remember what I did in a scene, I will ask to do it over. Because it means I wasn’t in the moment,” she says. That’s the other side of the shy/sensitive/self-aware coin: an inherent perfectionism that is both inspiring and exhausting. “If I’m not in pain—if something isn’t hurting—at the end of the day, I worry that I haven’t worked hard enough,” she says. “I just want to know that I’ve done everything I can.”

“If I’m not in pain—if something isn’t hurting—at the end of the day, I worry that I haven’t worked hard enough.”

But that all-or-nothing, go-for-broke commitment begins before the official work even starts: These days, Garner doesn’t even go in for an audition unless she knows she’ll be crushed if she doesn’t get the part.

There’s something refreshing about that passion, something dangerous. But it’s also the perfect response to an industry that has a habit of breaking people down and flattening them. Of taking their curls and straightening them. “I know I’ll never be cast as, like, the popular girl because there will always be someone prettier,” she says. “And I can’t play a typical daughter because I don’t look like anyone. I want to take advantage of being the New Thing, because I’ve learned that there will always be a new New Thing.” And so why not only go up for roles that interest you—that only you can bring to life?

“I want to take advantage of being the New Thing, because I’ve learned that there will always be a new New Thing.”

And maybe that will change as Garner’s career progresses. Even some of the best actors in history have accepted roles and done work they clearly weren’t passionate about. Hell, whole careers have been built on a performer’s need to pay a mortgage(s). But in a perfect world, wouldn’t everyone have Garner’s level of passion? Wouldn’t everyone be willing to work until they hurt and listen until they were lost in the moment? A perfect world doesn’t necessarily mean an easy one. Perfect can be messy, even if you don’t see it that often, especially on television.

Photography by Owen Bruce. Styling by Michela Buratti . Creative direction by Brittany Eccles. Hair, Bobby Eliot for Starworks Artists/Oribe. Makeup, Misha Shahzada for Forward Artists/Charlotte Tilbury. Manicure, Tracylee Percival. Fashion assistants, Sarah Gentillon and Erica Cutroni. Photography assistants, Karen Goss, James Lee Wall and Roxanne Hartridge.

Photography by Owen Bruce. Styling by Michela Buratti . Creative direction by Brittany Eccles. Hair, Bobby Eliot for Starworks Artists/Oribe. Makeup, Misha Shahzada for Forward Artists/Charlotte Tilbury. Manicure, Tracylee Percival. Fashion assistants, Sarah Gentillon and Erica Cutroni. Photography assistants, Karen Goss, James Lee Wall and Roxanne Hartridge.

Photography by Owen Bruce. Styling by Michela Buratti . Creative direction by Brittany Eccles. Hair, Bobby Eliot for Starworks Artists/Oribe. Makeup, Misha Shahzada for Forward Artists/Charlotte Tilbury. Manicure, Tracylee Percival. Fashion assistants, Sarah Gentillon and Erica Cutroni. Photography assistants, Karen Goss, James Lee Wall and Roxanne Hartridge.

Photography by Owen Bruce. Styling by Michela Buratti . Creative direction by Brittany Eccles. Hair, Bobby Eliot for Starworks Artists/Oribe. Makeup, Misha Shahzada for Forward Artists/Charlotte Tilbury. Manicure, Tracylee Percival. Fashion assistants, Sarah Gentillon and Erica Cutroni. Photography assistants, Karen Goss, James Lee Wall and Roxanne Hartridge.

Photography by Owen Bruce. Styling by Michela Buratti . Creative direction by Brittany Eccles. Hair, Bobby Eliot for Starworks Artists/Oribe. Makeup, Misha Shahzada for Forward Artists/Charlotte Tilbury. Manicure, Tracylee Percival. Fashion assistants, Sarah Gentillon and Erica Cutroni. Photography assistants, Karen Goss, James Lee Wall and Roxanne Hartridge.

Photography by Owen Bruce. Styling by Michela Buratti . Creative direction by Brittany Eccles. Hair, Bobby Eliot for Starworks Artists/Oribe. Makeup, Misha Shahzada for Forward Artists/Charlotte Tilbury. Manicure, Tracylee Percival. Fashion assistants, Sarah Gentillon and Erica Cutroni. Photography assistants, Karen Goss, James Lee Wall and Roxanne Hartridge.

Photography by Owen Bruce. Styling by Michela Buratti . Creative direction by Brittany Eccles. Hair, Bobby Eliot for Starworks Artists/Oribe. Makeup, Misha Shahzada for Forward Artists/Charlotte Tilbury. Manicure, Tracylee Percival. Fashion assistants, Sarah Gentillon and Erica Cutroni. Photography assistants, Karen Goss, James Lee Wall and Roxanne Hartridge.

Photography by Owen Bruce. Styling by Michela Buratti . Creative direction by Brittany Eccles. Hair, Bobby Eliot for Starworks Artists/Oribe. Makeup, Misha Shahzada for Forward Artists/Charlotte Tilbury. Manicure, Tracylee Percival. Fashion assistants, Sarah Gentillon and Erica Cutroni. Photography assistants, Karen Goss, James Lee Wall and Roxanne Hartridge.

Photography by Owen Bruce. Styling by Michela Buratti . Creative direction by Brittany Eccles. Hair, Bobby Eliot for Starworks Artists/Oribe. Makeup, Misha Shahzada for Forward Artists/Charlotte Tilbury. Manicure, Tracylee Percival. Fashion assistants, Sarah Gentillon and Erica Cutroni. Photography assistants, Karen Goss, James Lee Wall and Roxanne Hartridge.

1/9

Julia Garner

Dress, $31,880, Valentino. Earrings, $55, Tuleste.

2/9

Julia Garner

Dress, $5,510, and earrings, $1,880, Dolce & Gabbana.

3/9

Julia Garner

Dress and pants, prices upon request, Miu Miu. Shoes, $5,040, Dolce & Gabbana.

4/9

Julia Garner

Dress, $3,230, Saint Laurent by Anthony Vaccarello. Hat, stylist’s own.

5/9

Julia Garner

6/9

Julia Garner

Jacket and romper, prices upon request, Louis Vuitton.

7/9

Julia Garner

Dress, $31,880, Valentino. Earrings, $55, Tuleste.

8/9

Julia Garner

Top, $1,370, Dsquared2. Skirt and shoes, stylist’s own. Earrings, $80, Tuleste.

9/9

Julia Garner

Dress, $31,880, Valentino. Earrings, $55, Tuleste.

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