#and for some reason parents are notoriously good at finding shit you hide

[muddlemore]

ok i just rewatched the commercial for the one i have (theres a few different kinds for some reason. maybe renewing the ip so it doesnt get outdated or smth) and you CAN see the reset button even in the shitty quality but they dont talk about it at all

idk if its done deliberately but the commercial fails to show a closeup of the journal closed because its hard to tell but the reset button is OUTSIDE the locked area meaning anyone can press it without having to open it. the closest we get is a full shot and it is barely fucking visible. in fact you wouldnt even know its there if you werent familiar with its existence

i was able to find the instruction manual (this was for the model after mine but both have the same button) and sure enough the wording pissed me off

Transcript:

"RESETTING YOUR PASSWORD JOURNAL® From time to time, you may want to change your password (especially if you think some else knows it!). Press the Reset Button with the tip of a pen to clear your current password. Then record a new one following the prompts. See “Recording Your Password.” IMPORTANT: Resetting your Password Journal® means that ALL of your customized messages will be erased: your password, greeting, alert and sign-off. You will need to re-record them… but think of it as a fresh start to be creative!”

i cant help but think this was just a subtle warning to let parents know that HEY if you invade your childrens privacy they will know and its up to you to fucking lie and come up with an excuse. use ours

My distrust in technology began with the electronic password diary that had a secret button you could stick a pin in to reset and unlock it without even knowing the password

[willowser]

once you and katsuki discover you're expecting, you agree to keep it to yourselves for a little while.

you can't hide forever, but you want the chance to bask in the excitement of what's to come, together, away from outside eyes prying in. and you do: there's an immediate difference in the way you touch each other, how often, with katsuki even shifting coverage for patrol just so he can cling to your side for an extra day or two. it's like a honeymoon, almost, and you take the time to enjoy it like one.

but of course he wants to tell his parents as soon as he can, though he doesn't outright admit it; as soon as you start pushing the boundary of your waistband, he finds time in his schedule to see his dad—and then mitsuki makes time for him to see her.

katsuki tells toshinori next, who becomes quite emotional at the sight of your ultrasound, which in turn makes katsuki surprisingly emotional, too. there's much that they say and even more that they don't, but it's all communicated, regardless.

and lastly—he has to tell his nerd-ass friends.

it happens on one of their bi-monthly outings—that katsuki has consecutively been skipping for a little while, for obvious reasons. and it's like the minute he sits down in his seat and orders his food and one beer, everything he'd planned to say dissolves in his head.

despite wanting to keep quiet, he's been trying to plot out his announcement to these exact shit heads since the moment you found out. it's just so personal, and even after everything, katsuki's still discovering how to share those parts of his life with others, still coming to terms with the fact that he wants to.

he'd considered doing it slowly, rather than all at once in front of all of them, but he very quickly realized how terrible of a plan that was; deku would not physically be able to contain such knowledge in his body for any period of time, kirishima is a notorious fucking gossip, and if shouto had given him some kind of shit ass, wrinkled-nose look, he would have had to howitzer him through a building.

so he just says it, because he's never really been one for subtlety.

right after everyone's received their food and started to take their first bites, denki makes a point to ask,

"how's things with your honeybun, kacchan?"

and normally he'd have a fit at the nickname, but instead he hears bun and feels his stomach flip like it does when he remembers, when silly little things remind him of what the two of you have made together, and into his food, he simply says,

"we're havin' a baby."

the expected silence falls over all of them, save for the scaping of utensils against katsuki's bowl. he's damn good at feigning nonchalance, but food is getting stuck in his throat and his heart is beating so hard that he can hear it deep in his eardrums. of course he knows, but it dawns on him again, how overrun he is with excitement.

across the table, denki takes his turn to speak again. "you're...what?"

and then the whole room is erupting into a mass of chaos, moving in pieces like a riot of unrefined children, and even though he's being hounded with a million questions and being shaken around by his shoulders and some of these assholes are crying—katsuki graces them all with a big, fat grin.

[artisqueer]

RetroBangBoy AU - The Hangover (ao3)

Notes: 

hang·o·ver /ˈhaNGˌōvər/ noun 1. a thing that has survived from the past. Example: "a hangover from the fifties" 2. a severe headache or other after-effects caused by an excessive intake of alcohol or drugs

Characters: OT7

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Brief mentions of alcohol.

Jungkook wakes up parched, hungry, and with a pounding in his head. He pushes the covers off his face and down his chest. His long fluffy hair standing from the static of the sheets. He stretches out his arms above his head, dragging out a groggy yawn. It feels like he’s just woken up from a century-long nap. He looks up past his hands outstretched in the air. The posters above his bed are the same. He looks down, past his bare feet at the bottom of the bed. His drum set, books, and gadgets are all in their place too.

Huh…what year is it?

A heavy thump on the other side of the wall startles him out of bed. The crash is immediately followed by a low moan. Jungkook dashes out to the hall where Yoongi is already standing at the entrance of the bedroom next door. His eldest roommate chuckles behind a mug of coffee, head tilted 90 degrees to the side. Jungkook peers inside the room to see the source of the ruckus, his round head naturally tilts to the side as well. They both stand in the doorway, observing their housemate, Namjoon.

On the floor, upside down, legs folded over his shoulders.

“Where are we?” he asks as he looks up at them from between his thighs.

Yoongi shuffles back to the kitchen, holding his head in pain. “It looks like we’re not in Jeju anymore…” His voice is raspy and deep.

***

Jungkook’s round eyes bounce back and forth across their house, looking for clues to explain their current predicament. His head is throbbing with pain too. He suddenly remembers his thirst and runs to the kitchen for water.

Once Namjoon has restored himself to a perpendicular position, he joins them in the kitchen too.

“Why does my head hurt? Did we get shit-faced last night?” Jungkook groans into the kitchen counter.

“I can’t remember,” Yoongi grimaces between gulps of coffee.

“Is it a week-day? We have never gone out on a school night… I would never go out on a school night!” Namjoon folds his thick arms across his chest and blinks. “I’m so hungry.”

Jungkook turns away from the sink and his eyes pop at the sight. A whole ass meal, complaining about the lack of a meal...in the kitchen of all places. pls.

“Me too. We better go out for food. There’s nothing to eat here.” Yoongi says with very little energy.

“How can that be? I always stock up on groceries!” Namjoon frantically checks the cabinets and cupboards, finding them all bare.

“What the hell did we do?” The two eldest housemates look at one another, dumbfounded. Jungkook leans into the kitchen wall, aggressively chewing on his thumb. He's nervous, eyes big and wide. He opens his mouth to speak when the phone rings.

Ring ring ring.

Namjoon answers it, rather desperately. “Hello?”

“Good, you’re home.” The voice on the other end breathes out a sigh of relief. “It’s me. Taehyung. Emergency meeting. Your place. Now!”

***

“So, we’re all blacked out from yesterday. We have the worst hangover of our lives. And Bighead and Jin are missing…” Jungkook repeats as he paces back and forth the living room.

Hoseok enters the breakfast nook and sets down an extra-large pan of sunny side eggs and sausage. He steps back before the starved men wipe it clean.

“What’s gotten into you? You’re all so hungry today,” Hoseok scorns them as a smile grows on his lips. He’s thrilled that he finally gets to cook for them. Jin normally does all the cooking.

“You’re not going to eat?” Jimin asks him from behind a mouth full of food.

“I just don’t feel hungry,” Hoseok shrugs. He wipes his hands on his apron. “I brought us enough groceries to last through the week, so eat well.” Oddly, Hoseok has more energy than everyone in the room put together.

Taehyung speaks from the head of the table. “Guys, we’re not all blacked out—which is why I called everyone here..."

They look up at him from their plates, still eating like the food will be taken away if they stop.

"I remember everything.”

Jungkook interrupts. “Wait. Has anyone checked the date?!” He wiggles out of his chair and nearly trips running to the front porch, where the Sunday paper should be.

Having just eaten to the brim, Yoongi yawns and casually turns on the TV set, out of habit. The display does something completely new. Huh, TVs don't have color? Jimin and Hoseok are most mesmerized by this, moving to sit at the foot of the screen as a Coca-Cola commercial plays:

It's more than taste,

Bigger than a name,

As big as your best times,

As good as your best friends,

As real as the way you feel…

Jungkook runs back with the newspaper all spread out into disarray like his long dark hair. “Um…guys?”

There’s a long pause in the room.

“We’re not in the fifties anymore…”

What—

Their wide eyes look from him to the television and back. There’s only one thing that could mean coming from Jungkook…and it’s not good.

“We, uh, must’ve jumped twenty-seven years into the future,” he scratches the back of his round head. “It’s...1985.”

Taehyung clears his throat. “You guys will need to sit down for this. I can explain.”

***

They gather in the living room. Namjoon and Yoongi take up the couch, Jungkook sits on the floor between them, and Hoseok and Jimin share the love seat.

Taehyung’s knack for taking pictures and love for journalism make him a natural storyteller. His fine hands sway in the air as he talks. “You all have varying degrees of memory loss. For some very strange reason, I can remember everything that’s happened to us in the last 48 hours.”

Tae recounts their field trip and the events leading up to the portal inside the Manjjanggul Lava tube. How Jin wanted to hide the portal from the lab, Heaven Inc., but Jungkook wanted to destroy it. How Namjoon, Hoseok, Jimin, and Yoongi stormed the cave clearing as Jungkook was opening the portal gate. How Namjoon and Jin fought each other as the cave collapsed. And most importantly, how they were all unexpectedly pulled into the warp after Jungkook. All, except Jin and their beloved Bighead.

Their memories start coming back to them, piece by piece. Oddly, it’s as though only Taehyung could trigger their recollections.

“I don’t understand.” Namjoon finds his glasses and puts them on. Suddenly, he looks more like a professor than a biker. Big-tiddied mathematician. “Why is Taehyung the only one who remembers what happened?”

Taehyung thinks for a moment before an unusual blush forms at his cheeks. “Probably ‘cause I appreciate art. So, I remembered.”

“Uhm, ok. And why doesn’t Hoseok have hangover symptoms like the rest of us?” Yoongi crosses his arms, which seemingly grew thicker in the micro-span of the jump.

Hoseok vibrates from his place next to Jimin. His bright smile radiating through the room. “Ooh, I know I know. ‘Cause I’m your hope! Everyone was totally beat, but I could give you my energy. Like sunshine to a dying plant or light at the end of a dark tunnel or a—”

“—mOtH tO a FlAmE,” the rest mock. Apparently, no one forgot Hoseok’s notorious house party pick-up lines. They all laugh.

Could this be? Do some of the jocks have certain abilities now? What about the bikers?

“We have another problem: where is Sweetcheeks, and Seokjin?” Taehyung seems frustrated.

“And another problem: why did we all get warped with Jungkook in the first place?” Jimin pouts. “What about our families, and my—”

“—Cat! Your cat! Cats have nine lives. For three they play, for three they stray and for the last three, they stay. Why...did I just say that? It feels so familiar, so stran—” Yoongi stops talking out loud, resorting to mumbling to himself instead. He quickly grabs the paper from Jungkook and begins searching it for something.

The others continue to talk over each other, flooded with their worries and bits of things they’re starting to remember. The upcoming homecoming game, the unattended house parties, mourning parents, exams, etc.

“Quiet!” Namjoon’s clear and booming voice silences the room.

“I don’t know,” Jungkook fiddles with his tattooed fingers. “I-I don’t know why I dragged you all here with me. That’s what I have to figure out. I will figure it out. I promise. I’m worried too. If Bighead and Jin didn’t get warped here with us, maybe they, they ended up in a different d—” they sit in silence, thinking the worst.

“No no, that can’t be,” Namjoon reassures. “Given everyone’s memory lapse and their expert recklessness, they may have just wandered off.”

“We have to go back,” Jungkook says. “We have to go back to 1958.”

“How? We’re stuck here,” Yoongi deadpans, his nose still in the paper.

“Actually,” Jimin recalls, “on my way over here I stopped by the coffee shop…and um…well my boss didn’t recognize me at all. He didn’t even know my name.” Jimin’s worries grow. It’s unlike Jimin to walk down the street without a single greeting. He is—was—very popular.

“It's starting to make sense...” Jungkook says under his breath.

“What does, Jungkook.” Namjoon’s jaw does the thing.

“People don’t recognize us in this place because,” he pauses, “because we’re not from here. I don’t mean this town, I mean, this dimension.”

Namjoon presses a finger to his lips, thinking.

“We should pick new names and find temporary jobs. To blend in. We can't go back to school, we don't have identification. We need the money anyway,” Yoongi advises, “to support ourselves while Jungkook figures out a way back.” Yoongi seems to have become incredibly wiser after the jump. He peels the paper apart, pen in hand, circling jobs from the employment section. He looks up from the paper again. “How did I know to say that?”

“Whoa, are you like, a genius now?” Jimin sasses, as much to tease him as to distract from the impending doom that is being stuck in the future.

“No.” Yoongi scoffs, withholding a severe blush. “It’s like I’ve read all the books at the library, and lived nine lives since we left 1958. I just, know things.”

Namjoon nods in agreement. “It’s the best plan we’ve got. If twenty-seven years have passed since our “disappearance”, then our sudden re-emergence could bring unwanted attention, or worse…”

“Could someone still be looking for us after all years?” Jimin asks Tae. Hoseok instantly understands and wraps him in a comforting embrace.

“We need to sort this out as quietly as possible. Let’s keep low profiles until we figure out a way to get back to 1958. I don’t want us to get tangled in loose ends.” Namjoon sighs somberly. Being the leader of the biker gang has made him a suitable leader for whatever mish-mosh-of-a-gang this is now. “We’re in a different dimension and we don’t entirely know what that means. It could be dangerous, but as long as we stick together we will be okay. My priority is to keep us all safe.”

At this declaration, all eyes sparkle. Especially, Jungkook’s.

“I got us here, Joon. You can trust me to find us a way home,” Jungkook gets up from the floor, making for the door.

“Stop!” Jimin interrupts. “We can’t go out dressed like this.”

They look down at their clothes. They are still in their 50s outfits.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Yoongi puts down the paper and pouts.

Hoseok pounces off the sofa, “YES! New clothes…get up get up! We’re off to the mall!” He tosses his apron aside and leads them out the front door. Namjoon and Yoongi groan, dragging their feet toward the back of the group.

Jungkook smiles ear to ear. Maybe the world is not quite right, but everything he truly wants is right here with him.

[mostlycompetentwriter]

“Maze of Memories” - A Phobia Sequel

F/M Pairing: OC x Bang Chan

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Some violence, and mentions of drugs and alcohol.

Genre: Mafia AU; Sequel

Summary: Chan hated that his underground world of women, drugs, and alcohol threatened his family’s safety and well-being. But after yet another close call, he realizes that he finally needs to leave the Mafia world for good.

A/N: Hopefully, I tied up everything nicely with this AU!

Chan was paranoid, but he tried not to let it show too much.

Throughout the past few weeks, he had started to receive threatening letters in the mail concerning his wife and children. Under most circumstances, Chan would retaliate and have Jisung and Changbin find the culprit responsible, but he was unusually scared about this particular case. And maybe it was because he was protecting more than himself.

“You’re thinking about something,” his wife remarked, and he glanced at her while brushing his fingers through his hair.

It hadn’t been cut since the letters started arriving.

“Stressed,” Chan offered in return, and he turned onto his side so that he could rest his hand atop his wife’s stomach. “How are you feeling today?”

“Today was good,” she replied, and Chan was glad because the recent pregnancy symptoms had started to take their toll. Especially since their two-year-old daughter was still unable to grasp the idea that her parents might divide their attention with a future sibling.

“I have a meeting later,” Chan said, and his words were slightly slurred as he buried himself closer to the source of his wife’s sweet scent.

“Jisung told me earlier,” his wife said, and Chan had almost forgotten about Jisung’s impromptu visit that morning. But he was a regular mainstay in the house because he loved Chan’s daughter and he often spoiled her with gifts.

“Make sure the doors are locked when I’m gone,” Chan said, and he could sense his wife’s tension. 

“Is there something wrong?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Chan said, and he kept a protective arm wrapped around his wife in an act of reassurance that he would follow through on since he had once made a promise to always keep them safe from harm.

It was late when Changbin and Jisung met him at one of the loudest clubs in the downtown area. 

Chan was already annoyed by the pounding bass music which he could hear all the way from the street. But he was even more perturbed by the fact that he was hear at a club instead of next to his wife in bed. “It shouldn’t take long,” Jisung said as if he could read his thoughts.

“Who is this guy again?” Chan asked, following Changbin’s lead as he navigated their group through the treacherous dance floor and even further to the back of the club.

“He’s harmless,” Jisung said, snatching a flute of champagne from a passing waitress as the three friends sat together at their assigned section. “But he sells cheap booze.”

“Did you bring the contract?” Chan asked, and he rolled his eyes when Jisung plopped an expensive leather suitcase onto the table with a smirk.

“I’ve got everything covered, boss,” Jisung said with a teasing tone. “Mr. Kim should be here any moment.”

“Like you had everything covered last time with the case files?” Changbin chuckled, and Jisung shot him a glare, but any potential argument was broken upon the outlandish entrance of a man who looked like he had walked straight out of a Batman comic.

He wore an expensive suit, but the purple pants did no favors with the moss-green button-up that covered his torso. “Mr. Bang Chan,” Mr. Kim said when he was closer to their group. “It’s an honor to meet you.’

“Likewise,” Chan said, determined to skip the polite greetings.

“I can see you’re not a man who wastes time,” Mr. Kim remarked, and he sat down next to Jisung who already held the contract in his hand.

“Everything is ready for you to sign, Mr. Kim.”

“Slow down, gentleman,” Mr. Kim said, and he took a sip of his drink as he perused the complex verbiage of the contract. “I remember a time when your organization was notorious for spending weeks getting to know a client.”

“Time shouldn’t be wasted,” Changbin remarked, and he exchanged a quick look with Chan to let him know that he also sensed something unusual with this man.

“Oh, I quite like that,” Mr. Kim said, and he looked at Changbin thoughtfully. “Tell me, Mr. Seo, what are your plans for this contract?”

Changbin frowned. “Didn’t Jisung already explain everything?”

“But I want to make sure that we’re all on the same page,” Mr. Kim explained. “I would hate for there to be some discrepancies.”

“Like what?” Chan asked, and he usually knew better than to fall into such an obvious trap.

“Well,” Mr. Kim started, “For example, I heard a rumor that the three of you were planning to sell the Miroh organization off to someone else. Something about needing to settle down in the future.”

Chan bristled at the comment because that wasn’t supposed to be common knowledge. “Nothing has been decided.”

“I think I should know about it,” Mr. Kim continued. “After all, I like to understand my business partner’s motivations.”

“Our motivations are simple,” Chan growled. “We sign contracts with the clubs in the areas to help our own fortunes. We use these clubs to help our contacts when they need a place to meet.”

“Of course,” Mr. Kim agreed. “But if you sold the organization, then there’s no telling who might purchase it next!”

“We would research all possibilities,” Changbin contributed. “We’ve invested a lot of time and resources into its success.”

“Notably,” Mr. Kim said. “However, I can’t help but wonder-”

“You don’t have to sign,” Chan interrupted. “There’s nothing that we could do to stop you.”

“Oh, I’m signing Mr. Bang because I need the money,” Mr. Kim said. “But I’m advising you not to sell the organization.”

“You have no right to advise me about anything,” Chan sneered, and Mr. Kim shook his head like he was disappointed with the answer.

“I guess you leave me no choice,” Mr. Kim said, and he nodded to one of his men who immediately started walking towards the bar.

“What’s he doing?” Changbin asked, and there was a cold tension settling over the three men.

“Just making a call,” Mr. Kim replied. “I’ll probably pay the consequences tonight, Mr. Bang. But you’ll suffer even more.”

“What do you mean?” Chan growled, and he was reaching out for the collar of Mr. Kim’s suit jacket, holding him close so that he could see the amusement in his opponent’s gaze.

“You should get home to your wife and child,” Mr. Kim sneered. “Before it’s too late.”

But Chan didn’t need another reason to stand up from the table and end the meeting, giving Mr. Kim one last lingering glare before he left Changbin to deal with the messy clean-up.

Afterward, Jisung and Chan were speeding down the road, making phone calls to reach as many of their men as possible in the short distance that it would take to arrive at Chan’s house.

But the first thing Chan had done was contact his wofe:

“Sweetheart,” Chan had whispered into the phone when she answered the phone. “Take Ella and hide inside the secret room in the basement. Don’t say a word, and wait for me to give you the all-clear signal, do you understand?”

“Yes,” she had replied, but it broke Chan’s heart to hear the pain and fear in her tone, especially when he had also inadvertently listened to his daughter questioning why she had to leave her room so late at night.

“Are you good, man?” Jisung asked him when he hung up the phone, but Chan was anything but controlled. “Take it easy,” Jisung warned him. “We’re almost there.”

Chan knew that Jisung was right, and there was nothing else Chan could do until they reconvened together outside of his house. But it was still driving him mad, testing the limits of his patience. 

“Countdown inside your head,” Chan whispered to himself, trying to keep a hold on his volatile emotions.

10.

9.

8.

7.

6.

5.

4-

“CHAN!” Jisung shouted, and Chan opened his eyes right before the impact with the other vehicle which sent them spiraling down the road.

“Shit!” Chan cursed, but he realized that the impact wasn’t meant to kill them - it was only a deterrence to prevent his arrival home.

Subsequently, he watched as Jisung took out his gun and aimed it at the men in the other vehicle, firing off three shots in rapid succession. “Felix and Minho are almost there,” Jisung said after the attack, and he evacuated the shattered remains of the car before coming around to help Chan out of the passenger’s seat. “Are you hurt?”

“Just sore,” Chan replied, stretching out his arms before reaching back for his own weapon. “Let’s run.”

Jisung nodded, and the two men cautiously made their way down the narrow road leading to Chan’s private estate. Even from a distance, he could see the lights on inside the bedrooms, and there were unfamiliar cars surrounding the building. It was enough to get his adrenaline racing, and Chan was resisting the instinct to run ahead and find his wife and daughter.

But the risk of blowing their cover was too great, and Chan forced himself to stay hidden behind Jisung as they walked onto the front porch. “Minho’s around back,” Jisung commented, narrowing his eyes as he listened to something coming in from his ear piece. “There’s two men in the kitchen.”

“Take care of them,” Chan said. “I’m going to the basement.”

Jisung agreed, and Chan reared back to kick down the door before he and Jisung were rushing inside the house. 

“Hands up!” Jisung screamed when he parted from Chan at the staircase, and Chan could hear gunshots ringing in his ears as he kept moving his feet, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

There were no sounds coming from the bottom of the basement, and Chan tried to control his breathing as he knelt down to flip on a light switch. Immediately, there a shot from an opponent who was standing next to the backdoor, but Chan was low enough to dodge the attack before returning firing successfully.

And once the other man had collapsed to the floor, Chan wasn’t hesitant in the slightest to knock four times on the door to the secret room in a careful pattern that he had rehearsed with his wife and daughter. “Daddy!” he heard Ella screech just seconds before she was launching herself into his arms.

And he held her close with an impossible strength.

“Channie,” his wife added, wrapping her arms around her stomach as she left the room with tears rimming red circles around her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” Chan whispered, and he opened his arms even wider for his wife, keeping his family close as they all cherished one another in the aftermath of an incident that could’ve been far worse.

It was enough for Chan to realize that he was done with the Mafia world, and he would sell the Miroh organization and do his best to distance himself from the drugs and alcohol. Instead, he would give his family a better life - one that they deserved where their safety would never be questioned, and where his daughter and future child could grow up without ever worrying about the need to look over their shoulders.

It had been his life for so long, but he was surprised at how easy it was to give up everything for the people who had completely and utterly captured his heart.

[nimmy22]

A Mistake: Chapter 10

Rick was disposed of on Friday. He has been dead for three days.

Raccoon High school ~ 8:00 AM Monday

Heading to her locker, Cara found her friend already waiting for her. Claire stood leaning against the locker, bouncing a ball back and forth. She had a far-away look, chewing her bottom lip. she didn't notice Cara approach. Her mind occupied elsewhere.

Hiding behind a pillar, she spent a few minutes preparing herself for the act before the filming started. There were no second takes in real life. She had only one chance, and that was it. It was now or never. Blowing her bangs out of her face, she gripped her bag tighter and approached Claire.

Feeling cold sweat trickle down her neck, Cara tried to calm her breathing. she resisted the all-powerful urge to run in the opposite direction. She wondered if Claire figured out the truth about what her most trusted friend had done to Rick in the Arkley mountains. Claire looked bothered, and the likelihood of Rick being the reason was high.

"Hi," Cara called out with a smile that Claire matched with her own.

"I was starting to think you weren't gonna show your face around here." Cara's heart fell. She gripped her books tighter to keep them from slipping through her clammy hands. Alarms went off in her head. Did Claire know? Rick wasn't yet reported missing by his mom as she had eaten the lie up for now.

"What? Why wouldn't I?" Cara hid her grimacing face in her locker, pretending to look for something. She struggled to swallow the thickness at the back of her throat.

"Mr. Augustine is subbing in for the first period. That fucker is notorious. No one is setting foot in that class while he's in there." Claire growled, throwing her ball extra hard into the lockers across from them. The sound drew several sleep-deprived eyes for a few seconds.

The tension left Cara's shoulders, and she exhaled slowly. "I could use some normalcy in my life right now. Bad teachers are normal." Cara mumbled without thinking.

Giving her the side-eye, Claire stepped closer, caging her friend against the lockers. "Something you’re not telling me? Something definitely happened." Claire tilted her head, narrowing her eyes as she regarded her friend.

Cara's mouth went slack for a moment. She racked her brain for a way out of these questions. It was hard to think through the alarms blasting in her head.

"Is it bad for me wanting things to be back to the same dull routine? Routine is safe, but what's happening around here recently isn't. Bank robbers taking hostages. And before that, the kid who drove his car into a tree and burned to death. And lastly, my runaway almost-boyfriend. I would like a week where nothing bad happens."

Cara couldn't bring herself to mention her missing parents, getting assaulted in the woods, killing someone, and the endlessly piling bills. How could she possibly say anything without digging herself a depthless hole?

"Oh yeah, Rick. So weird what happened with him. No one just up and leaves like that. Apparently, he wrote this note about going to his dad's place and left. But his mom can't get in contact with her ex-husband either." just like that, Claire backed off, and Cara was thankful.

"Maybe he got fed up with this town."

"Or maybe you smashed his heart with a nasty rejection, and all he could think of was getting the hell outta here. Shame though, you could've gotten yourself a man."

"Hey! he didn't make a move while we were alone together. Maybe you just read all the signs wrong. he was not interested in me from the start."

'Lies. Lies. Lies.' Cara screamed in her head, but on the outside, she maintained a playful expression.

"Impossible! I'm good at reading people. Like, wasn't I right about that one guy who was sniffing around my bike? He was saying he was just checking it out, but I knew he would try to steal it. Guess who ends up sitting at the back of my brother's cruiser? the view he's got now doesn't include a sky."

"That was one time," Cara scoffed, making her way to her first class.

"Your point is?" Claire raised an eyebrow, hands resting on her hips.

"My point is, your ability doesn't seem to delve deeper than surface stuff because you missed some real shit about Rick," Cara said bitterly.

"What do you mean?" Claire watched her friend with wide eyes, her mouth hanging open.

"Oh, you forgot to mention how funny and adorable Rick was- is. When I saw him at the trails, I was immediately hit in the head with how handsome he was. Please, keep hooking me up with great guys like that, and I'll bleed them dry with my rocking charm. They'll never know what hit em."

"don't worry, I'll find you a nice hunk to make up for our runaway boy. I'll make sure you got a date for that fundraising party they're gonna have at the station. My brother got us invites."

"That's cool. I... can’t wait," Cara said as she stood in front of the classroom.

"Are you actually going in?" Claire grabbed her friend's arm.

"Yeah, why not? one bad teacher isn't the end of the world."

"Goddammit, fine, I'm coming with you. You’re such a bad influence on me,"

"Only the best." Cara giggled but remembered the problem at hand. One of many. She turned to her friend. "Hey, Claire,"

"Yeah," Claire answered as she dug into her backpack for a pencil.

"Do you think I could stay with you for a few days?" Cara said in a low voice, her finger fiddling with a hole in her jeans.

"Fuck yes! We haven't been able to hang out for a while. In fact, Chris will really appreciate somebody staying over with me. He's been gone a lot these days, especially at night. Work isn't as clear-cut anymore. what's up though?"

"My parents are out of town. I'm scared someone might break in while I'm alone." Cara lied, grimacing internally with every word. she hated lying to her friend. Still, there was no way she could tell Claire that she is being evicted.

The rent was already late. Late for months. The landlord was already fed up and refused to give her more time. She couldn't come up with even a quarter of what was owed, and an eviction notice was posted to her door last night. With her parents still MIA, she couldn't save her home. While it wasn't the happiest place on earth, she grew up there and had some fond memories amongst all the bad ones. The staircase was her favorite place to play as a child. She would meet up with the other kids there, and they would play for hours while their giggles and shouts echoed floors below. It was a time of innocence, moments of joy away from their abusive homes.

"Girl, I'll protect you. Come on over whenever. You don't even need to ask." Claire giggled, balancing the pencil on her nose and crossing her eyes. "Claire bear will take good care of you."

"Thanks, Claire, you the best," Cara meant every word. This was the only truthful thing she had said in this conversation.

----------------------------- 4 PM

On her way to the bus stop, Cara made a mental list of all the things she should pack from home. This was likely the last time she will be setting foot there. Obviously, she couldn't take any furniture, not that anything was worth more than curbside pickups.

Just as Cara reached the bus stop, a light drizzle of rain began. It reminded her of that night. The night she had the misfortune of meeting the infamous captain of the STARS. While she had seen and experienced some horrible things since meeting him, nothing was directly his doing. Those hitmen would have tried to kidnap Sherry, Rick would have tried to rape her, and her parents would have left whether or not she had met him. He helped her several times, and she had to acknowledge that he may be an ally she could trust. But he still had control over her life which frustrates her.

Stepping into the bus shelter, an advertisement caught her attention. Cara approached the poster, her eyes skimming over the print with increasing interest.

Participants wanted for clinical trials at Raccoon General Hospital to test the efficacy of a new drug. Each participant will be paid a starting amount of 900$ at the beginning of the study if selected. More details will be provided after the extensive selection process. All interested parties must complete an application and submit it to the secretary of Dr. Sandford on the third floor of Raccoon general hospital, room 312.

The money stood out to Cara, so much so that she walked out into the rain with a destination in mind. The money wasn't much, but it could help her get by for at least a month or so. she needed a little booster until she could sort out a job. She couldn't survive just on babysitting, especially since the Birkins hadn't called her at all this week. They've been too quiet, and she was starting to miss Sherry.

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

With dripping hair and drenched clothes sticking to her like a second skin, Cara finished filling in her details while the clipboard rested on her thighs. Using the number of the phone Wesker had given her, she filled out her contact information.

The rain had not let up, only coming down harder. It was soothing to hear the rain periodically hitting the windows. She was the only person in Dr. Sandford's waiting room until the secretary sauntered back in and rolled her caked eyes at Cara.

"Still here? Oh, take your time its not like I enjoy staying back past my shift. You must be something desperate. Why don't you visit one of them shelters, you know, the ones for troubled runaway teens." she said through loud, open-mouthed gum chewing. A generous amount of red lipstick coated her front teeth. It was a wonder how she did not taste it.

"All done!" Cara chirped, skipping to the secretary's desk. She slid the clipboard over the counter with a big smile earning her another eye-roll. she could almost feel the cash already in her hands, and nothing could dampen her mood. Making her way to the door, Cara hoped she would be selected for the study.

"Oh? so you do have a home. But on that side of town. It might as well be a cardboard box in a back alley." the secretary snickered as she looked over Cara's application, twirling her Coiffured hair. She held the form carelessly, pulling out the piece of gum in her mouth and sticking it on the corner of the paper.

All Cara wanted to do was walk up to the older woman's face and smack the smug look off her face while screaming every profanity she could think of. Instead, she grabbed the bottom of her shirt and gave a generous squeeze. Water spilled all over the polished white floors. "Sorry, I can't afford to catch a cold."

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

Cara sat curled up on a couch next to Claire, a cozy blanket laid over them. The only light in the room was the flashing of the T.V as shots were fired. Half the popcorn in the bowl was on the floor as they kept tossing the kernels in each other's mouths and missing every single time.

"I gotta go pee, be right back," Claire declared before hopping over the back of the couch and jogging to the bathroom. Pausing the movie, Cara stood up to stretch.

As Cara started clearing the popcorn mess, her phone rang. She knew it could only be Wesker or Dr. Sandford calling. Without wasting time, she stumbled off the couch to grab her phone off the coffee table. in her hast, she ended up sending it sliding beneath the couch. "Fuck!" she hissed.

Peeking below, she couldn't see it. Using all her strength, she flipped the couch over to reveal her phone sitting in a pile of dust. She didn't recognize the caller's number and squealed. Taking a deep breath, she answered the call.

"Hello?" her voice shook, hands clammy. Short of breath, she had to remind herself to breathe.

"This is the FBI. We are calling regarding an arrest warrant made for you." A young boy spoke. He couldn't be older than her.

"Oh yeah?" Cara clenched her jaw and narrowed her eyes. These little fuckers chose the worst time to mess with her.

"Have no worries, Miss. We can have all the charges withdrawn from your record. But first, we need you to confirm your social insurance number for us."

"Oh, sure. It begins with....1234 go fuck yourself," hanging up, Cara covered her face with her hands. she felt stupid for worrying over something that turned out to be a prank call.

While she enjoyed hanging out with her best friend, the wait was slowly killing her. She wanted to do something about her situation ASAP but was stuck watching the rented movie Claire nagged about all day. What calmed her nerves a little was that Claire had agreed to go job hunting with her the next day.

Cara fixed the couch and threw herself on it with a sigh, tossing the phone beside her. Leaning back, Cara rested her head and closed her eyes.

Her eyes flew open as the phone rang again, with another unknown number. With an eye roll, Cara answered. "Listen, you little shits. Find someone else to-"

"I guess your mother was too busy snorting drugs to teach you any respect. I suppose you weren't desperate for the money after all," Cara recognized the secretary's haughty voice, her eyes widening like saucers. She mouthed a half dozen curses before collecting herself.

"I am so sorry, mam! someone was prank calling-"

"Did I ask? Despite you being such a low grad choice, you've been selected. I have no idea what low standards the doctor has that he will take just about anyone. Come to the same place Wednesday at 6 PM sharp and don't be late."

"Thank you. Thank you!" Cara cried, bouncing on the couch.

"It's only 900$," With a click of her tongue, the secretary hung up.

Claire came back from the bathroom and watched with raised brows as her friend bounced around. Not knowing what her friend was happy about, Claire joined her in jumping on the couch. Together they broke into a fit of hysterical giggling. She was glad to see her friend less troubled.

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

Cara sat in a small crowd of twelve selected participants around a meeting room at the hospital. She was the first to arrive, eager to remedy her situation as soon as possible with the soon-to-be easy cash in her hands.

"During the experiment, you will be required to stay in an assigned room. Contact with the outside is strictly prohibited. Until we state otherwise. Many competitors out there will do anything to steal our research. As such, actions will be taken to prevent any and all data leaks. My team of researchers will monitor all medication's administration, and You may not refuse any doses given." Cara and several others scoffed at the scientist, Dr. Stanford.

Grey-haired, tall, and plump with dark skin, this man was the definition of sketchy. His ambitious eyes were calculating as they hardly spent time on each individual. His clothes and lab coat were immaculate, crisply pressed.

"Hey, I am not trying to be a lab rat for big pharma here," A man yelled, spittle flying out of his mouth. His clothes were worn, hair disheveled and dirty.

"You will receive your initial payment of 900$ now and then $2000 at the conclusion of the study. Any questions?" No one else spoke up. No complaints. Everyone's eyes gleamed with the prospect of additional money in their pockets. Cara couldn't deny how lucrative the amount was despite the sketchy situation.

The study would last only three days. Three days of absolutely no contact with the outside. Three days and she would have $2900 in her hands. It was good to be true.

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

30 min earlier.

Wesker stood at the loading area behind the hospital, leaning against the wall. Behind his shades, he watched as the two men loaded his cruiser with boxes of donated medical supplies. Once they were finished, the men returned inside.

Under the guise of checking over the contents of the boxes, Wesker peered inside to locate the reason he was here in the first place, A yellow folder of classified information about the newest test subjects. The job was clear. He would wipe any traces left by the research project and prevent any future missing person cases from being fruitful. Without opening the folder, he placed it back in the box and closed the trunk. Trust Umbrella to begin the cleanup operation before the first injection was administered. They like to cover all their bases.

With his hand on the door handle, Wesker paused. Something felt wrong, but he couldn't figure it out. Taking cover behind the car, he took out his gun, surveying the rooftops for a sniper. He waited several minutes, yet nothing happened.

Seeing no danger to himself, he lowered his gun back to its holster. There was no visible threat, yet he couldn't shake off the sense of danger. Frowning, Wesker wondered if Umbrella's paranoia was getting to him.

Making his way into the hospital, he began a search but didn't know what he was looking for.

Something was very wrong.

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Seven

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Eventual Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Paladin Danse, pride of the Brotherhood of Steel, yawned loudly right before he took the shot. The radstag looked up, alerted to his presence, but it was already too late for the beast.

  Danse lumbered down to the water's edge, hauling the body up onto the withered grass and then drawing his combat knife. As messy as field dressing creatures could be, Danse found himself soothed by the memorized motions. He wondered idly whether he could have been happy doing something like this. Just hunting to support his own needs, staking a claim on some forlorn piece of land and slowly shaping it into a home, maybe even starting a family...

  He almost nicked his thumb due to his inattention and Danse grunted, a little irritated to have caught himself daydreaming about a more domestic existence. You're a member of the Brotherhood of Steel , he scolded, start acting like it! Imagining fake lifetimes was reserved for those who hadn't sworn the Creed, dedicating their lives to carrying out the will of their Elder and honoring the tenets of the Brotherhood.

  Theirs not to make reply, theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and die.

  Danse's familiarity with the task made quick work of butchering the animal, the paladin rolling everything neatly into the bedraggled hide he had peeled off the beast. The inedible bits of the animal he buried, not wanting to draw any predatory attention to the site. 

  With the lumpy, makeshift sack slung over his shoulder, the paladin trekked back up the hill to the station. Preston waved at him from the fortified wall and the paladin saluted out of habit. 

  Danse found himself powerless to stop his smile when a freckled face popped out from the doorway of the station, Matthew staring down at him. The child's fear seemed to have evaporated overnight, replaced by the verbose curiosity that so many of his age group eagerly employed. It probably helped that Danse had left his power armor behind the station.

  "Whatd'ja get?" The boy asked, skittering down the stairs.

  "Radstag. Notoriously gamey, but ultimately acceptable for consumption." Danse replied as he rinsed off his hands and knife, surprised when Matt nodded solemnly.

  "My papa and older brothers get them sometimes. He says I can't see them shoot one yet though. When I'm older I can come along." Matthew squatted beside the paladin, watching intently as Danse unrolled the pelt and separated out the different cuts of meat. Some would benefit immensely from being aged, but out in the field there was little chance of a reliably-cooled environment. 

  Danse frowned. He had been hoping for smaller game, like some mole rats. He hadn't wanted to pass up the prolific meat the larger beast offered, but now he felt a bit foolish for impulsively going after a creature they may not be able to consume entirely before it spoiled. He couldn't spend all day cooking or preserving it either, he had promised Preston he would finish the wall--

  "Good news!" Garvey called, a spring in his step as he approached the two. "Matt's folks are coming 'round to collect him as soon as possible. I'd expect them by noon, if not earlier."

  "Does your family need food, Matthew?" Danse asked the boy bluntly, gesturing down at the meat. 

  "I got three brothers and four sisters, Mister Danse sir." Matt said by way of reply, his eyes a little wide. "We grow some stuff and my mama makes pretty things to sell, but food's kinda' tight." A flush rose on his face. "We're not poor though! Not poor. We have a place to live, and clean water." He continued defiantly.

  Danse was stunned silent for a moment, and Preston cleared his throat. "You need a hand with that, Paladin?" 

  "I...yes. Thank you, Lieutenant." Danse mumbled, struggling to gather his thoughts. "I may have bitten off more than I could chew as far as resources go. If you would...just...uh, wrap the…"

  "You want them to have the decent stuff, or the larger stuff?" Preston asked simply, crouching down.

  The paladin grimaced. "The whole damn thing, but I'm certain they wouldn't accept it." He muttered incredulously under his breath, " eight children." 

  "They're lucky. A lot of times, pregnancy doesn't really work out so well." Preston rumpled Matthew's hair. "How about you decide, big man. You want the whole deer, minus what we eat for breakfast?"

  "What, really? All of it?!" The boy asked excitedly, looking up at Danse like he was waiting for confirmation. Danse nodded jerkily, unsure of exactly which emotion was choking him at the moment. "This will make my mama wicked happy! I hear her cry sometimes about food. S'why I went to the water place, I was tryin' to scavenge for stuff like my big brothers do."

  It was hardly Danse's first time encountering a family that was low on resources. He had grown up a scavenger himself, alone and hungry. The Capital Wasteland had been rife with desperate people who were willing to try their luck against fully armored BoS troops. Danse couldn't even begin to count the amount of times hostile situations had erupted due to the Brotherhood sitting pretty atop a mountain of supplies. 

  "I'm glad it'll be put to good use, then." He managed to say, his fists balled up tightly. 

  At least right here, right now , he could help.

  …

  Danse trudged across the lot yet again, dragging a massive fallen tree behind him. Thanks to his power armor, the paladin was a machine of industry when it came to building the remaining two sides of barricades. Backhand was just grateful that he had waited until after eight o'clock to begin. Her sleep had been poor, filled with dreams of chasing after Shaun.

  Danse worked almost silently aside from noises of exertion, and it seemed as though his mind was elsewhere. If Backhand had learned anything during her brief stint of traveling with the paladin it was that when he pondered, he appeared to devote his whole body to the task.

  "He's really somethin', General." Preston commented. "I mean, just look at him go! If more folks in the Brotherhood were like him, I feel as if the tide would finally start to turn for the Commonwealth."

  "You're not wrong." Backhand agreed, wiping the sweat off her forehead. After Danse had assured her that he was more than up to the task of finishing the fence, she had decided to start planting the crops. So here she was, General of the Minutemen, up to her elbows in dirt, tato seeds and corn kernels while Matt 'supervised'. "I think he likes helping."

  "Kindred spirits?" Preston teased. 

  "Maybe so!" She laughed, flicking his knee with dirt-covered fingers. "I think the Commonwealth could always use more people willing to lend a hand, though."

  "The Minutemen certainly can, even if the rest of the Commonwealth wants to stick its head in the sand." The radio on Preston's lapel crackled to life and he dashed off, practically bounding up the steps to the station so he could get a little higher and clear the signal. " Lieutenant Preston Garvey here… "

  "I hope my parents come soon." Matt said quietly. He toed at a mound of dirt, his expression troubled. "D'ya think they'll be mad at me?"

  Backhand grimaced. "I doubt it. They'll be happy that you're okay. You're really lucky, y'know."

  "I know." Matt continued staring at his feet, "I just didn't want my mama to cry anymore. I wanted to fix it."

  Backhand raised her hand and placed it on his shoulder, giving him a little shake. "Hey, sometimes we're just not big enough to fix stuff by ourselves. Sometimes we're not strong enough, even when we think we are. But that's how you learn, right? So you gotta' pick yourself up and try to help where you can." The little boy still looked dejected. "I'll tell you what, Matt. As General of the Minutemen, I'm giving you a field promotion to Intel Lieutenant."

  "Intel Lieutenant?" Matthew echoed in confusion, his eyes wide. 

  "Yep. You're observant and resourceful, excellent qualities in an intelligence operative. I need you to keep your family safe, and that includes keeping you safe. A smart intelligence operative always ensures the safety of the people around them. Can I count on you, Lieutenant?" Backhand asked, wiping her hand off on her jeans and extending it to the boy.

  "Yeah. Yeah! Yeah, I can do that!" Matthew puffed his chest out a little, small fingers grappling her own when he shook her hand. "What's my first order, General ma'am?" 

  "Your first order will be to work in tandem with Preston and secure the perimeter. You walk the inside beat, he walks the outside." Backhand instructed, barely stifling her laugh at the child's stiff salute. 

  "Matthew?" An unfamiliar voice called, a thin woman slipping through the doorway Danse had left in the fence. "Matthew!"

  "Mama!" Matthew hollered, bolting across the settlement to fling himself into his mother's arms. The woman sank to her knees, holding her son close and crying into his hair as he clung to her.

  Backhand's throat ached and she looked away, blinking away the tears she wanted to shed at the reunion. She noticed that Danse had stopped mid-motion, the paladin appearing to silently watch the scene unfold.

  Preston trundled down the stairs, his smile kind as Mrs. O'Brian tried to thank him. "All part of the job, ma'am. We were happy to help." He assured her. "Really, you can thank that curmudgeon Rob. Without him telling the General about the super mutants, she never would have gone to Weston."

  Backhand rose from the dirt, brushing her knees off and meandering forward. Mrs. O'Brian launched into a new wave of thank-yous which Backhand attempted to graciously deflect, and in the midst of their conversation Mr. O'Brian arrived. He was wheezing a bit from the climb, freckled face red with exertion.

  "Matthew Amadeus O'Brian!" He thundered, and Matt lunged for him.

  "Papa!" The little boy cheered, hugging his father's leg. 

  "You had us out of our minds , young man!" Mr. O'Brian scolded, the relief in his eyes belying his sharp tone. "Don't you dare wander off like that again!"

  "I won't, I promise!"

  "We seriously can't thank you enough, we...we've been so worried ." Mrs. O'Brian daubed at her eyes with her sleeve. 

  Backhand caught her arm and carefully took her aside, speaking in undertones when she said, "Matt told us that he was trying to scavenge like his older siblings did. Apparently he overheard some discussions about food scarcity."

  Mrs. O'Brian froze guiltily, looking back at her son and husband. "I...well, the winter was so hard , General, and caps have been tight because the corn wouldn't pollinate properly. We'll get by, though. We always have." She said staunchly. 

  Backhand cocked her head towards the motionless Danse. "My friend Danse butchered a radstag earlier today. We ate our fill this morning, and Matt already promised us that you'd be willing to take the rest. It'll just go to waste, otherwise." She reasoned, watching the other woman's eyes glisten with tears all over again.

  "Oh General, we...I mean, if you're sure -?" 

  "Absolutely. Myself and the paladin will be going our separate ways from Lieutenant Garvey today, and that much meat will definitely spoil before we reach our next destination. Please, I insist."

  "I thought the Brotherhood of Steel wasn't willing to help civilians?" Mrs. O'Brian whispered cautiously, her eyes flitting to Danse.

  "I can't speak for anyone else, but my friend Danse is a cut above your average grunt." Backhand said proudly. "Once this settlement gets up and running I hope to establish a caravan between here and Starlight. If we can get the logistics squared away, hopefully that will make trade a little easier. I can't promise anything, but-"

  "I can already tell better days are coming." Mrs. O'Brian said softly, her hand clasping Backhand's own. "Now that the Minutemen are back...well, it gives folks hope again, and sometimes that's all you need." She then waved Danse over.

  His power armor grinding loudly, Danse obligingly approached the two women. "Citizen." He addressed Mrs. O'Brian with a polite nod once he was within earshot.

  "I wanted to personally thank you, Paladin Danse." The older woman announced, her voice wavering slightly. "For finding my son, a-and for the food."

  "Oh, you don't...er, thanks are not necessary, citizen." Danse floundered, rubbing the back of his neck. "A good Brotherhood of Steel soldier knows that their responsibilities lie with the people under their protection." His smile was slow, and a bit awkward. "I am simply glad that we discovered Matthew before any serious harm could be done, though I have to apologize for the cut above his eye."

  "Matt was hiding in a wall when we entered the facility, and we thought he was a hound. We may have gone through the wall." Backhand explained with a wince. 

  "The super mutants would have done much worse. Hopefully that little scrape helps him learn." Mrs. O'Brian brushed off their apology ruefully. "He's very fond of getting into trouble. I call him my little wanderer."

  "If you'll excuse me." Danse murmured, offering the older woman a salute and then turning to Backhand. "I should be done by fifteen hundred hours or thereabouts. At that point, I believe it would be prudent for us to return."

  "Are you sure? You're already burning your grease, Paladin." Backhand pointed out worriedly. 

  Danse shook his head. "Paladin Brandis will have reported in by now. I can get my armor serviced at the base."

  "Alright, I'll have everything locked and loaded." 

  The paladin nodded and headed back towards the framework of a wall that he had constructed. "God, he is tall ." Mrs. O'Brian muttered. "And stiff." She seemed to remember herself after a moment. "Uh, anyway! We really appreciate everything that you've done for us, General. Everything . If there's anything you need, or...even if you're just in the area, you're more than welcome to stop by. We'd love to have you visit!" She said, loudly enough so that Danse could hear her. 

  He simply nodded again and heaved a log up into his arms, then slammed it down over his armored knee to snap it in half. The bark essentially exploded off the trunk, bits and pieces landing on the ground as Danse shoved the crude beam into the dirt. Where the first half of the wall had been constructed with various scrap, the second half was much more reliant on raw lumber. It looked more like a stockade wall than anything.

  "Oh." Mrs. O'Brian said weakly. "Are they all...like him?"

  "I imagine some of them are way worse." Backhand chuckled. "We'll leave him to it. Let's get you that radstag."

  Mr. O'Brian was a touch more reserved than his wife, but he still expressed a wild amount of gratitude to Preston and Backhand. The entire time Matt was glued to his leg. "I'm just happy to know that there's still damn decent people out here." The older man remarked, looking a little misty as he secured the pelt over his shoulder. "We owe you a lot, General. You can count on us if the Minutemen ever need help."

  "I'll hold you to it, Mr. O'Brian. Lieutenant Matt." Backhand inclined her head to the little boy, who saluted her. "It's in your hands now, soldier. I'm depending on you. I know you're up to the task." 

  "Uh huh." Matthew replied, sounding a bit breathless. He scrambled away from his father right before they departed, fumbling with the knotted bandanna around his hand. "Here, General! I gotta' give you your luck back before I go." He said seriously, unwinding the cloth and returning it to Backhand. Without waiting for a reply, he then rushed at Danse. "Mister Danse! Hey, Mister Danse!" 

  Danse halted where he was. "Yes, Matthew?" He replied.

  "I wanted to say thank you. And I'm sorry I thought you were scary before. You're not that scary." Matthew said plainly. "You're nice even though you look scary."

  Danse arched a brow. "A charitable allowance, citizen. Maybe I'll bump into you again someday. In the meantime, try to stay out of mischief and listen to your parents. You are…" Danse paused, his expression sad. "You're very lucky to have them, Matthew."

  "I know!" The boy answered brightly, wrapping himself around Danse's greave in a makeshift hug before skipping back to his parents. "Bye, Mister Danse!"

  Danse raised one large gauntlet. "Goodbye, Matthew."

  …

  There was no easy way to say it. Danse was in a slump . It felt like the closer he got to the airport, the harder it was to force himself to keep moving forward. He doubted the amount of labor he had done earlier was helping matters, as the joints in his armor protested vigorously with every step. 

  When Knight Vega tentatively suggested that they find shelter for the night, Danse hated the relief that flooded his body. "The next suitable structure we come across." He promised, knowing that she must have spotted the radstorm he had been tracking on the horizon for several hours. 

  Steaming rain began to fall as Vega pointed out a ramshackle-looking lean-to, butted up alongside a collapsed house. "There, c'mon!" She said urgently, running through the tall grass alongside the road. 

  "Vega-!" Danse began to protest, lumbering along in her wake. Green lightning split the sky in the distance, the odd warbling thunder that accompanied radstorms rolling shortly thereafter. "Knight Vega, you don't know whether that's inhabited! "

  "I don't care!" Backhand retorted, shoving open the door with her shoulder and vanishing inside. 

  Danse tried to enter through the doorway, but it was too narrow. "Dammit Vega, you need to think your trajectory through. Don't just go running off whenever you get an idea in your head." He scolded, swapping his rifle to his right hand and flicking on the tact-light as he sidestepped gingerly through the door instead.

  The beam wavered in the darkness, playing over the battered walls and half-tarpaulin roof. It did appear that the tiny structure was deserted, and Danse wasn't sure if he should be even more cautious. What could have caused the previous inhabitants to depart? 

  Backhand stood in the middle of the room, her arms folded around herself as she shivered. "C'mon, get in here. The wind is picking up and I'm freezing ." She complained.

  Danse attempted to oblige, nearly cracking his head open on one of the ceiling trusses in his haste. The paladin grimaced, ducking and then carefully closing the door behind him. "Better?" He asked, a little irritated with her demanding attitude. 

  "Y-Yes." She replied, her voice sharp. She immediately began stripping her armor off, as well as the Vault suit beneath it. 

  Danse flinched, turning his head away. "Vega, will you-"

  "Please just...just give me a second." She begged. 

  Danse's brow furrowed, and the paladin shot her a look. Thunder rumbled in the distance and...was that a flinch? "Vega, are you-"

  "Just give me a second! " Backhand cried, probably louder than she had intended. Danse took a reflexive step back, his gauntlet clattering against the wall. "I'm sorry, I...I'm sorry, Danse. Paladin." She apologized after a second, floundering with her greaves. "It's the rain, I can't...it makes me feel sick to my stomach." 

  "You should have said something earlier, Vega." Danse chided gently. "We could have found a more defensible position."

  "I thought if we moved quick, we might make it back to the airport before it hit." Her motions were jerky as she yanked the Vault suit down, unlacing her boots as an afterthought. "But now we're stuck here for the night."

  "At least the roof appears to be sound." Danse tried to look on the bright side of their incarceration, and tried to not look at her as she stripped to her smallclothes. He was dry aside from his head, the gorget seal at his neck saw to that. But Backhand had no such luck. "I'll put my armor in front of the door to barricade it." Danse offered after a moment, taking the opportunity to turn his back to her. He didn't get a reply, and he honestly wasn't sure if he had even expected one in the first place. 

  Danse emerged from the armor, stepping down and back smoothly before he urged the hatch closed once more. He then popped the fusion core out and tucked it into his utility belt. He knew he was being overly cautious and performative when it came to giving Knight Vega her privacy, but at this point he was doing this for his own sanity as well.

  After a pregnant pause, he heard her shift her weight. "Okay, I'm decent." She mumbled.

  The scent of lantern oil wafted past his nose and a light flared up behind him, turning his shadow into a pitch black silhouette on the wall. Danse took a gamble and slowly turned around.

  Vega had thrown on a shirt that reached her mid-thigh. That was her idea of decent? She scuttled around bent nearly double, spreading her bedroll without even bothering to clear the floor beneath it. "Vega." Danse addressed her quietly, then a bit louder when she failed to respond, " Vega . You'll do serious damage to your back if you sleep so rough. Take a minute to prepare."

  "I-" Backhand's eyes were wild when they met his own. For a moment, Danse wasn't certain she knew who he was, or if she even saw him . 

  "Knight," He paused, clearing his throat and then mumbling, "Elizabeth." Saying her actual name, the name she had given Matthew, felt oddly inappropriate. "You're alright." He assured her calmly. "You're fine. We have shelter, light and food. You're alright."

  "I know ." Backhand retorted. "I-I know. And don't call me that." 

  "What?" Danse asked in confusion. "I apologize, I didn't mean to-"

  "Paladin, please ." Backhand's eyes had gone fierce, pale blue snapping in the light from the lantern. "I'm not his fucking Beth anymore." She practically snarled the words.

  "I didn't call you Beth. I called you Elizabeth." Danse replied, trying to gentle his tone.

  "Oh. I... God , Danse, I'm so sorry. I don't mean to be all…" she trailed off helplessly, making a vague gesture. "I didn't sleep well and getting sick from the rain wouldn't help. We used the last of the Rad-X for you."

  Ah . Danse should have known. This wasn't about her getting damp or being uncomfortable, it was the usual resource scarcity that had her on edge. "It'll be alright, Knight Vega. We're only a few hours out from the airport." He hesitated, unsure if he should continue. "I apologize for using your first name. I was unaware that it was a raw subject for you."

  "It's not , not really. I just...he used to call me Beth and I'm not that person anymore. It's been so long since I heard Elizabeth that I must have just assumed you said Beth. I'm sorry, Danse." She was wringing her hands nervously.

  "Logan." Danse murmured.

  "What?"

  "Fair's fair, right? My first name is Logan. I regret that I have no nickname to give you."

  …

  Backhand's eyes widened. Logan . It was a good name. It suited him. She mouthed it once to herself. "Don't encourage me to give you a nickname." She joked, aware that she probably sounded a little too reedy. "I can guarantee you'll regret it."

  Danse's eyes crinkled good-naturedly at the edges when he smiled down at her. "I don't doubt it," He allowed, repeating, "but fair is fair, Knight."

  "I don't like the radstorms at all." Vega blurted out, a blush staining her face. "The thunder, it's wrong and I hate it."

  "Understandable, Knight. The noise is highly unsettling." Danse had her gather her sleeping bag back up, the paladin using a spare piece of plywood that he found by the door like a makeshift plow to shove the debris off to the side. "There," He said finally after he was satisfied with the state of the floor, " now you can lay down. Without worrying about tetanus or a herniated disc." He teased.

  "The Brotherhood will not forget your sacrifice." Backhand ribbed in reply, smoothing the wrinkles out of her bedroll.  

  "And this is how I'm promoted to star paladin." Danse said dryly. "For my dedication to the art of proper slumber in the field." He shook his head ruefully, unrolling his own sleeping bag and spreading it lengthwise at the base of his armor. He was blocking the door, Backhand realized after a second. Like the immobile armor wasn't enough!

  "Hey, come over here." She requested boldly, patting the cement beside her. 

  Vega didn't expect him to obey, the larger man dragging his bedroll parallel with hers after a moment of thought. "I suppose the floor is more level here." He reasoned. "Good eye, Knight."

  "Oh yeah, it's not because you're probably warm or anything. I was definitely looking out for you."

  Danse's chuckle was soft. "Understood. I am a commodity." He lowered himself onto his sleeping bag, waiting patiently as she dug through her satchel. 

  "So for dinner, we have a wonderful assortment of Cram. After that, I'll brew us some tea." Backhand said finally, digging two cans out of the pack. " God I wish I'd had the stuff to bake bread, would have made us some back at Oberland." 

  Danse shook his head. "It spoils so fast out on the road. Though during the harsher months there is nothing quite like a fresh slice of hot bread with a little grease alongside the meat stew from the mess hall." He sounded wistful, despite the fact that Backhand knew he was talking about military food and therefore it probably wasn't anything to write home about.

  "Remind me to bake you some bread." Backhand tossed him a can of Cram, and then opened her own with less-than-steady hands. She did her best to ignore the storm that was raging closer and closer, steeling her spine from flinching at every rumble of thunder.

  Danse all but devoured the canned substance, the large man obviously starving from his day of labor and walking across the Commonwealth. He drowsily watched Backhand set up the small coffee pot she lugged with her, the lantern now doubling as a brazier of sorts. Backhand pried open her tea tin after a momentary struggle, grabbing one of the bags inside and dropping it into the pot of dubiously-clean water without much ceremony.

  The tea was a hubflower blend, lacking in caffeine and bearing a sweet, calming scent. Backhand often employed this beverage when she had difficulty sleeping, finding that the entire tea-brewing process tended to calm her racing mind.

  Danse dug out the cup from his mess kit for her to pour into, the thin metal thoroughly scoured clean and dented from use in the field. "Be careful, it's really hot." Backhand warned, gingerly scooting the cup across the floor to the large man.

  He nodded absently, cradling the cup close. He looked pensive, as though he wanted to ask something but couldn't quite think of how to phrase it. "Knight... how do you know of the way to get into the Institute?" Danse's tone was wearily quizzical. "That information is...it's unprecedented , but I assume you must know that already."

  Backhand exhaled, staring up at the ceiling as she tried to gather her thoughts. It was a relatively straightforward story, all things considered, though some portions would sound insane . So she started talking.

  She told Danse about going to Diamond City and employing the assistance of a well-known detective. Finding out that Kellogg had been there, with a ten year old child. The grueling endeavor of tracking him across the Commonwealth, culminating in a ferocious gunfight against the mercenary and his group of synths. The grisly discovery of the devices implanted in his body, and the slow unraveling of the truth from the escaped Institute scientist in the Glowing Sea. Teleportation .

  Backhand conveniently left out the fact that Detective Nick Valentine was a synth, and that Virgil the Institute scientist was once a man, who had in turn become a super mutant by force of necessity. 

  She sipped her tea, realizing that her throat was parched from talking. The look that Danse was giving her was one of extreme incredulity and she grimaced into her cup.

  "Christ, Vega." He said hoarsely. "What happens now?"

  "Well, if I have any luck left , I figure out how to convince someone to help me build a giant machine that I don't really understand." Backhand shrugged glibly. "Sturges has been working on a few things, but I think this project might be beyond his scope of expertise." 

  "Maybe Proctor Ingram should take a look at the plans you have? If there's anyone I know that can make sense of a mess, it's Ingram." Danse suggested tentatively. "Her and Haylen are...just outstanding ." The warmth in his tone whenever he spoke of Haylen never failed to make Backhand smile, but this was the first time he seemed to notice her doing it. "What? Did I say something funny?"

  "Not at all! You just talk about Haylen like she hung the stars." Backhand pushed down the brief flare of envy she felt. "It's sweet."

  " Sweet? " Danse sputtered, a flush rising on his cheeks. "I am not...she isn't--Knight, you misinterpret my admiration. She is a phenomenal soldier, an immensely talented field scribe. I sponsored her as an initiate. She and Rhys are...they're the only ones left of Gladius. I'm thrilled that they've decided to pursue a relationship." Danse's eyes were soft and haunted in the dim light of the guttering lantern, but his words were sincere when he said, "They deserve to be happy."

  "What about you, though?" Backhand asked gently before she could stop herself. Danse tilted his head, appearing confused. "Don't you deserve to be happy too?"

  His smile was sad. "I am a paladin of the Brotherhood of Steel, Knight Vega. I am sworn to uphold the tenets and be an example to the troops. My own happiness was doomed to irrelevancy the moment I accepted the promotion." He folded his hands in front of him, leaning forward a little and staring at the floor. "Truthfully, it was rendered obsolete long before then."

  …

  "Why?" Vega sounded curious and Danse cursed himself for even bringing up the topic.

  He could lie, or simply brush off her question. But that didn't sit right with him. Danse sighed heavily and began to speak.

  He talked about growing up alone in the Capital Wasteland, no parents or siblings that he could recall. Always alone, picking through the ruins for anything edible or salvage that he could trade. He talked about opening his own little stand in Rivet City once he was grown, and he was ashamed of how his voice broke when he mentioned Cutler. Joining the Brotherhood had been a no-brainer, like it was the only course of action possible. Everything had gone so well. He had felt like he was actually making a difference. Until the day Cutler disappeared on a scouting mission. Danse vaguely remembered arguing with Paladin Krieg, his sponsor attempting to shout down the then-knight. But Danse was fiercely stubborn.

  He tried to tell her what he had found when he had finally tracked the remains of Cutler's squadron down, tried to continue his explanation as to why his personal happiness held little to no ground in his life, but the lump in his throat left him incapable of speech. 

  Backhand's touch on his arm startled him and he jerked, looking up at her. Her eyes were sorrowful. "Hey, you don't have to say any more." She offered him a weak-looking smile. "I get it. I lost my C.O. during an assault on an enemy bunker. You feel like it's your fault and you stay up all night trying to figure out what you could have done to save them."

  "I know it's futile to think of such things. " Danse rasped.

  "And yet you do it anyway." Backhand rubbed his arm. "Empathy is some rotten stuff, Paladin Danse, but we need to be reminded that we're human sometimes." Her sigh followed the tail end of a rolling boom of thunder. "I was incapacitated by the same explosion that killed Sergeant Cathan. He bled out next to me. I was shipped home with him technically, although I wasn't in a pine box. I went to his funeral, got to listen to his widow try to keep her shit together when I knew all she wanted to do was bury every single uniformed asshole there that had sent her husband to die." Backhand scoffed. "I knew because I felt the same way."

  "I was furious with Arthur for sending Cutler's squadron out to that corner of the wastes." Danse admitted. "It was shortly after I had discovered what happened to Cutler that Ar-" He stopped short, horrified that he had nearly let the information slip.

  " Come on Danse! " Arthur had complained, rolling his eyes . " I know you did this stuff for Cutler. "

  Danse cleared his throat. "It doesn't matter." He breathed. He had always been a terrible liar and he knew Vega didn't buy it for a second . 

  Those pale blue eyes narrowed and she scooted even closer, her sleeping bag pooled around her knees as she studied his face. Danse just tried to avoid eye contact. "What did he do, Danse?" She asked softly.

  " Nothing ." Danse stressed the word, his tone sharp. "I said it didn't matter, and it doesn't."

  "Hey." Backhand murmured, "I'm on your side, okay? Don't lie to me. Whatever it is, it's eating you alive."

  Danse's breath hitched. How could she tell? How could she pierce through the stoic facade he had painstakingly crafted over the course of his military career? 

  The answer came to him suddenly and he felt a little foolish for not having seen it sooner. 

  She wanted to. 

  Ludicrously simple, almost child's play. It was because she dared to bother . In a world that was more than content to let appearances be, she did the unthinkable and probed past the first glance.

  She was like Cutler. Perhaps a bit too much like Cutler. Curious to a fault, whip-smart and witty. Danse's heart ached in his chest. The idea of opening himself up again like he had with Cutler was... terrifying , mind-numbing, it was like standing on the deck of the Prydwen knowing that one misstep could send him plummeting to his demise. He had barely survived the depression that had engulfed him after he was forced to end Cutler's life, knowing that it was what the other man would have done in his stead but also hating himself for being able to carry it out at all. What did that say about him as a person, that he could stare into the eyes of the only individual he had been truly intimate with and kill him without a word?

  Danse was a model soldier. He was relatively certain that he would be following orders until the day he died. No one had ordered him to go after Cutler. He could have left it alone, simply gone along with the " missing, presumed dead " verdict. But those damn emotions he struggled with so much had reared their ugly head, made him volatile to the point where he had gotten into a screaming match with Paladin Krieg . 

  The person he had really wanted to shout at had been Maxson, both for assigning Cutler such a far-flung post and for doing it without warning. Danse hadn't even been able to say goodbye , damn it.

  And then the hive, the empty suits of power armor covered in blood and gore and fragmentary human remains and Cutler , babbling nonsense in a voice that grated and shrieked. He hadn't recognized Danse when the other knight foolishly removed his helmet. Instead, Cutler had lunged at him, trying to tear him apart with his newfound mutant strength--

  "Danse?" 

  The paladin jolted at the sound of her voice. "It doesn't matter, Knight." He repeated dully. "We should get some sleep." Without waiting for a reply, he shifted down a bit in his bedroll and tugged the fabric up over his shoulders. 

  Backhand stayed up for a bit longer, probably finishing her tea. The rain continued to beat on the roof, the occasional flash of green lightning blazing through every crack and crevice in the dilapidated lean-to. 

  The Capital Wasteland hadn't gotten storms like these. Danse had to assume that they must blow in from the Glowing Sea to batter the surrounding landscape. 

  He heard her shuffling around, and her whisper of " good night, Danse ." He didn't reply, hoping she would believe he was asleep. 

  Vega sighed softly and Danse barely kept himself from jumping when he felt her back press against his own. He wasn't sure if the defensive sleeping position was really necessary what with his armor in front of the door and all, but he appreciated the strategic forethought. 

  It felt like he had only closed his eyes for a second, the rain pounding on the roof lulling him into a doze and then he was being blinded by a particularly vibrant beam of sunlight. Danse grunted, half-lidding his eyes to try and adjust to the light.

  He idly watched over the top of Vega's head as motes of dust wafted lazily through the beam, the paladin feeling weirdly peaceful and unhurried. As if he could take the time to simply observe the world. He noted that he had rolled over in his sleep, and so had Elizabeth. Backhand. Knight Vega . 

  His thighs were pressed against the jut of her knees, her elbows tucked into his stomach through the layers of their bedrolls. Backhand apparently slept with her hands folded beneath her chin, but her left arm was threaded up beneath the hem of her shirt to do so. It pulled the fabric to bunch just above the bottom of her breasts and only through extreme self control did Danse manage to exhale slowly through his gritted teeth, knowing that his face must be bright red. 

  He flicked his gaze back up to the sunbeam, feeling like a lech. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He could pretend like he was still asleep, but that may come at the cost of their progress. He'd rather not sleep rough yet again, although if it was beside Vega--

  No , Danse reprimanded himself sharply. Maxson had given him hell for his lack of self control the last time he had seen him. The last thing he wanted was to give Arthur the satisfaction of…

  Of what? Having something else in Danse's life that he could ruin or take away? 

  Danse reached out slowly, cautiously, taking hold of the fabric of Vega's sleeping bag and drawing it up and over her shoulder to preserve her modesty. Then, the paladin eased his body away from hers to rise, his back protesting a little when he stretched. 

  The sooner we get back to the Prydwen, the sooner I can get my armor serviced , he mused, still opting to let Backhand sleep a bit longer as he checked over their weapons and his gear.

Part Eight

[yankyo]

Sugar Sugar - Part One

Reposting this because I'm told the first chapter isn't easy to find

~~~~~~~~~~

She was humming a soft little tune to herself as she cleaned up around her small shop, completely oblivious to the world around her - especially to the smitten demon peeping in the window. It wasn't the first time he had come around to spy on the candy shop girl, no, from the first day he had run into her, had seen her radiant smile when she laughed, the way her eyes lit up when the kids came around to talk to her, and the way her soft cheeks had flushed when she first caught him staring. 

No, this wasn't the first, and it definitely wouldn't be the last. It was strange, a demon of his caliber, of his nature to just stand idly by simply because he just didn't know what he was to say. Usually, he would just pick up whoever caught his eye - if they weren't interested then whatever, there were plenty of other ways of getting his dick wet, but... there was just something about her that made him falter. He wanted to keep seeing her smile, wanted to be the reason she laughed, wanted to see that sweet expression turn heated with lust. What would her moans sound like? Would she dig her nails into his skin? Were her lips as sweet as they looked? The lollipop she was currently sucking on was a dark green, the same color as his hair - and he was completely, utterly, stupidly jealous of the little sucker as he watched her pull it from between full lips to give it a slow lick. Fuck. The demon shifted in his spot, tugging his leather jacket lower as if that was going to hide the steadily growing bulge in his far too tight jeans. 

How many times had he skulked around her shop like some lovesick puppy only to get all excited by himself and end up having to shuffle away to try and take care of himself - as if his hand was going to be enough when all he wanted was to just bend her over that damn counter and just destroy her. Especially when he saw that little skirt of hers flutter around her appetizing thighs. And he was drooling. Yeah. Definitely drooling. Did she have to bend over like that? So that her skirt rose up just so but not enough. Fuck! Could he just bury his face in those thighs of hers and just leave his mark on that smooth skin. 

"Oh! Slick! There you are! Come in, I've got something for you!" He jolted at the sound of her voice, panic immediately rising as she waved to him. Shit. Calming thoughts. Sand worms. His mother. His bike getting a flat tire. The way her lips spread around the lollipop. How soft her short hair looked and how nice would be to find his fingers through the curls and just - this wasn't helping. He cautiously followed after her, his hands in his pockets to try and keep his erection hidden. "Ok, so it took me a few tries, but I think I've finally got it." She said as she led him to the back of the shop - and like usual, he stopped by the counter, not expecting her to send him an excited little smile as she urged him forwards. Welp. Being locked in the back room with her was a fantasy, but it definitely wasn't helping his little situation, especially when he walked past her and caught a whiff of her. Did she fucking roll in sugar every night? How could anyone smell so fucking sweet? "Tadaa!" She held up a tray of cookies with a flourish. "What do ya think?" 

Well, he thought that she was too fucking cute. And he thought that this counter was just the right height to set her on and finally get a taste of her. But, those thoughts had to be squashed back down so that he could focus on the actual topic at hand. It was an assortment of carefully decorated cookies, a sand worm, a hissing cat, little switchblades, leather jackets, him. Yeah, there was a few of him with a little smirk, a sharp fang peeking out from his lips. 

"Whoa! You made these?" He couldn't deny he was impressed, but he doubted the parents of the teeny boppers that ran around her store would be super thrilled to see their kids come back home eating cookie knives and the face of a notorious gang member. 

"Yeah! It wasn't easy, I swear the icing took forever to set but... well I just wanted to show you my appreciation." Appreciation? Apparently his confusion was clear on his face cause she quickly began to try and explain herself. "I mean, ever since you've started coming around, there's been a lot less troublemakers coming around." She had set down the try of cookies and came closer, placing one of her small hands on his arm. "I dunno, something about hearing Big Sandy and knowing that you were out there made me feel a lot safer and I just... I wanted to find some way to thank you but I didn't know what you would like." She had to stop looking up at him with those eyes of hers. Mentally cursing himself, Beetlejuice found himself stumbling back, stuttering with nervousness. Beetlejuice the ghost with the most didn't stutter dammit! But there he was,

"O-oh y-yeah?" If she noticed his nerves, she didn't notice it, no instead she just kept coming closer. 

"If there's anything I can give to you, anything you have an appetite for, I would love to give it to you." Did she mean? No! Of course not! He was just doing what he always did, turning sincere gratitude into double entendres simply because he was incapable of taking anything seriously or whatever it was that his ex had said before he had left. Why the fuck was her hand on his chest? Why did she have to smell so fucking good? Why was she looking up at him with such a sincere look while her lips did that cute pouty thing that just made him want to - the sound of a bell stopped him from making the mistake he knew he was about to make, giving the ample distraction for him to break away and practically run to the door. 

"Thanksforthecookiesseeyalaterbye!" He practically spat the words out as he beat his hasty retreat, so focused on just escaping that he didn't see the way she looked on after him, the frustration and hunger on her face before she forced herself to smile for the new customer. 

[jckelly]

updated intro / 25/09/20

Is that JACK FIELDING? Wow, they do look a lot like VAN MCCANN. I hear HE is an NINETEEN year old FRESHMEN who are studying AEROSPACE ENGINEERING  at Luxor University. Word is they are an ARISTOCRAT student. You should watch out because they can be PHILOPHOBIC and INSINCERE, but on the bright side they can also be WITTY and IMAGINATIVE. Ultimately, you’ll get to see it all for yourself. [YUNI, 20, GMT, SHE/HER]

hello to anyone who has yet 2 be cursed w my presence in their dms, i am yuni and this is  an updated intro for my demon boi jack! this one is a lilll bit more in depth but not to worry there is a tl;dr at the end ion expect u to read this. feel free to dm me if you would like to plot!

01: BASIC INFORMATION

Full Name: Jackson Noel Fielding (previously Kelly; recently changed)

Nicknames: Jack - he dislikes the use of his full first name, and only really answers to Jack, unless joking around with Caitriona. 

Date Of Birth: December 4, 2001 (currently aged 19)

Zodiac: Sagittarius sun, Leo ascendant, and Aries moon. 

Place Of Birth: Northern General Hospital, Sheffield, South Yorkshire, England. 

Nationality: Dual UK and US citizenship; he was born and raised in England so was a UK citizen from birth, and acquired US citizenship through his American adopted mother after being formally adopted in 2017. 

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual 

Course: Aerospace Engineering (Freshman)

02: PHYSICAL

Faceclaim: Van McCann 

Voiceclaim: Also Van McCann (but w ... not a Welsh accent LOL think Northern)

Ethnicity: White (English, Irish, Scottish)

Height: 173cm (5′8)

Weight: 52kg (115lbs) / BMI 17.4

Eye Colour: Blue

Hair Colour: Brown

Distinctive Features: Freckles (many), ear piercings (one hoop in his left ear), scars on his wrists which he hides with long sleeved shirts. 

Clothing Preference: Jack really only wears black, or something close to black like grey. He usually opts for simple clothes, just jeans and long sleeved shirts, and beat up black converse. His Sheffield United hoodie makes an appearance more often than not, because he has a ridiculous amount of hometown pride. 

03: PERSONALITY

Overview

Positive Traits: Witty, imaginative, perseverant, passionate

Negative Traits: Philophobic, disloyal, insincere, callous

MBTI: ENTP

Religious Beliefs: Atheist 

Description

The first side most people see of Jack is the side he wants you to see. A total asshole. It’s not an exaggeration - he’s pretty much infamous for flirting with everyone, dating anyone and as a serial cheater. He’ll actively try to worm his way into your life, and then just when you start to care, he does something to hurt you. He’s strangely persistent, probably helping him to push people even further, until they snap. There is nothing which satisfies him more than managing to wind people up to the extreme, get them to the point where they give up. Adopted parents, friends, nobody is immune to this side - he even tries it on the people he genuinely cares about, as if just to see if he’ll still be able to push them away.

The second side, which most people don’t see, is that at heart Jack is a kid. He’s the type of person to ask if owls have ears at 3am, or get some childlike joy out of dumb jokes. Of course, this is the side nobody but a very small number of people see. And even if you do see it, it never lasts long. He keeps his true personality under wraps even amongst those he does like, and it only slips out if he’s extremely comfortable with you. Otherwise, he’ll go straight back to being a sarcastic, flirty piece of shit.

04: PAST

Biography: 

Jackson Kelly was born in a council estate in Sheffield, South Yorkshire, in the UK. His life prior to adoption is not something he routinely talks about, but that’s mostly because he’d rather not give people reasons to pity him: his mother, 15 when she gave birth to him, was a drug addict; he has no idea who his birth father is or was, and no inclination to find out. Jack’s first ten years of life pretty much fell into the same cycle: get put into foster care, his mother would get clean and take him back, and then the cycle would repeat. But when the cycle ended when he was ten, and he was removed from his mother’s care for good, he wasn’t ready for it to end yet.

Sure, she wasn’t the best parent. But she was his mother. Jack quickly developed a reputation for running away, always found back at the same place. Foster parent after foster parent always ended up returning him, unable to cope with his rebellious tendencies and the constant hunt for him after he had run. As he aged, he only became better at avoiding being found. It practically became a game to him, a way for him to entertain himself. So when a wealthy American heiress and her British CEO husband decided that  of all people, they wanted to foster a now thirteen year old Jack, social workers almost wanted to ask if they’d misspoke. (Jack had assumed it was a practical joke.)

Claire and George, his new “parents,” were patient. They said he didn’t have to call them mum or dad, that even after they officially adopted him two years later he could keep his own surname, that they just wanted him to be happy. They moved him to a better school, got a private tutor to make up for lost time, tried to take an interest in his favourite things. But that wasn’t enough for Jack. Eventually, the situation resulted in drastic measures: a rainy afternoon with a social worker being told that Claire wanted to move the family to her birthplace of New York, and send Jack to the school she had attended many years prior. A fresh start would be better for him, they said. As if Jack didn’t know the real reason. He couldn’t run away if he was thousands of miles away.

And that was how a fifteen year old Jack made his way to Carnifex, with absolutely no change to his desire to wreak havoc or to his somewhat disturbing attitude towards other people. Therapists paid for by his adopted parents might say he was pushing people away to manifest emotions about neglect in early life; Jack would just say that he was keeping things interesting. Either way, the next couple years of his life escaped past him, and before he knew it he was in a school office, being told that his birth mother had died.

Obviously, Claire and George freaked, as if he would do anything. Pulled him out of school for a month, flew him back to England for the funeral, and practically wrapped Jack in bubble wrap like he was a baby or something. All he wanted to do was go back to school, ignore the guilt he felt in his stomach for letting them take him away, and go back to what he did best.

Timeline: 

December 4 2001 - Jackson Noel Kelly is born in Sheffield.

2005 - Jack is removed from his mother’s care for the first time. He is frequently removed from her care and then placed back in it for the next seven years of his life. 

2012 - Jack is removed from his mother’s custody permanently and placed in a temporary foster home. He bounces through foster homes for the next few years, including one where he meets Caitriona and becomes close with her. 

2014 - Jack is fostered by Claire and George. He resists any attempt for them to get close to him, and continues to act out. 

December 2016 - Jack is legally adopted by Claire and George, acquiring US citizenship, although he does not change his surname. 

January 2017 - Jack attempts suicide. He is placed in therapy and plans are made for his relocation to the US. 

March 2017 - Claire and George move back to America, taking Jack with them. He begins attending Carnifex. He continues to visit the UK regularly to visit his birth mother, who he keeps in contact with. 

April 2020 - Jack’s birth mother dies. He immediately disappears from school for a month, without telling anyone where he went. 

May 2020 - Jack returns to Luxor. It’s later accidentally blurted out mid fight with Zander that his mother is dead. 

June 2020 - Jack graduates and Leo tells the school Jack attempted suicide. 

September 2020 - Jack legally changes his surname from his birth name - Kelly - to his adopted parents surname, Fielding. 

December 2020 - Zander and Ches spread posters around claiming that Jack is HIV positive and gave it to Balo. They don’t provide any proof for this allegation, and Jack continues to deny it.

(These are the events ur character would probs vaguely know about!!! Anything else is personal info so they wouldn’t know unless Jack explicitly told them. Feel free to ask me if you’re ever unsure if something is ic knowledge or not!) 

05: OTHER TRIVIA

- He has a fairly strong Yorkshire accent which is obviously something other characters would likely notice when interacting with him. So if he uses words you don’t know it’s safe to assume he’s just being his dumb British self so you are free to have your character question the meaning/not know. (LMK if you’re unsure tho!)

- His favourite band is Oasis (closely followed by Arctic Monkeys), favourite film is Fight Club,  go to drink is either a double vodka coke or a pint of Heineken, and his favourite place is Leadmill in Sheffield because it’s where he’s seen some bands (and fucked girls in the bathroom. Such a romantic.)

- Dyslexic, but if you mention it Jack will fight you, although it’s partially why he leans more toward math based subjects where his spelling ability is irrelevant. 

- Notoriously has a thing for redheads, although that doesn’t prevent him from being crude and sexual towards anyone he happens to meet or interact with.

- Chain smokes anything he can get his ratty little hands on (cigarettes, weed, meh) so expect him to smell of ciggies 24/7. 

- Diehard supporter of Sheffield United and insists there is no better football team even though they really suck

- Weetabix, Weetabix, Weetabix 

06: NOTABLE CONNECTIONS

Within Luxor:

- Friendships: Caitriona, Balo, Avery, Zai, Oakley, Lennon

- Former Relationships: Oakley Prescott 

- Current Relationship: Juliet McCoy

NPCS

- Claire Richardson Fielding & George Fielding: Jack’s adopted parents, who just want to love him despite him being terrible to them. 

- Lauren Kelly: His birth mother, who he misses a lot. 

- Violet Richardson: Claire’s mother, who for some reason adores Jack and considers him her favourite grandchild. Meaning Jack will probably inherit everything when she dies, although he doesn’t really think about that. 

- Emily French: His ex girlfriend from back home, also known as the only girl who Jack truly cared about before Juliet. She broke up with Jack for being too toxic, which although fair, fucked him up for a little bit. Not that he’d admit it. 

07: CONNECTION IDEAS/WCS

Exes (Lots)

Jack has a habit of dating people, dropping them as soon as feelings get involved, cheating on them, and generally being an asshole. So if you want an ex for your muse… yeah.

Enemies

Again, he tends to happily mess with as many people as he possibly can. So he’s probably gotten on the wrong side of at least a couple people.

Friends (fake or real)

Like when he dates, he tends to get close to people before ditching them or screwing with them. So people who think they’re his friends but who aren’t really as close as they think are very welcome. I’m also down to have a couple people who can be the few he genuinely cares about.

08: TL;DR

If you already knew Jack at Luxor:

Little has changed! He’s the same manipulative dick as ever except that he has legally changed his surname. Your characters are tots fine to comment on the change, it’s not a secret or anything. 

If this is your unfortunate first experience with Jack: 

Jack is manipulative, crude, outright insulting, and nasty. He enjoys nothing more than messing with people, and often acts friendly initially just to hurt you later. He is British, adopted, and I call him rat man. 

[petriichvrs]

𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒚, 𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐘.

´   ･   .   ✶   ⧼    jessica barden, demigirl, she & her & they & them   /   mariners apartment complex by lana del rey + short nails with dirt caught beneath them and worn out jeans with muddy patches on the knees. scuffed trainers that have seen better days ( you understand how they feel ) and a handknit jumper that is somehow still too large, with stitches pulled hither and tither. windswept red hair and a stubbornly set mouth, the kind that used to twist into the most infectious smile ; but doesn’t, now that you are the girl on fire who has seen it all and yet, not enough. in the depths of those brown eyes, flames rage, good and strong, and isn’t that the savage beauty of it all? that in spite of everything, you remain - sturdy and smelling of smoke.   ⧽   ━━   hey, isn’t that GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY? i read a daily prophet article on them, once ; the TWENTY TWO year old pureblood WITCH is a GRYFFINDOR alumus, who has gone on to be a PROFESSIONAL CHASER FOR THE HOLYHEAD HARPIES. i’ve heard they can be quite RESILIENT & INTUITIVE, but i don’t know… they came off very HEADSTRONG & WAGGISH in that interview. it really is hard to know what to believe these days though, isn’t it? click HERE for ginny’s entire history ( also linked within ) & HERE for her pinterest board.

  and they call us hard women,       as if SURVIVAL could ever be delicate.

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒 !

FULL NAME:   ginevra molly weasley.

MEANING OF NAME(S):   an arthurian baby name meaning ‘fair one’. a name of irish origin and derived from ‘mary’, meaning ‘star of the sea’. a surname of unsure origin.

NICKNAMES:   ginny.

AGE:   twenty two.

BIRTHDATE:   august 11th, 1998.

BIRTHPLACE:   great britain.

ETHNICITY:   white.

EDUCATION:   homeschooled as all wizard children are, before attending hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry upon turning eleven.

JOB:   chaser for the holyhead harpies.

LANGUAGES:   english, french, german, spanish.

GENDER IDENTITY:   demigirl.

PRONOUNS:   she / her / they / them.

SEXUALITY ORIENTATION:   bisexual biromantic.

𝐖𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒 !

HOGWARTS HOUSE:   gryffindor.

WAND TYPE:     eight and a quarter inches yew with phoenix tail feather.

PATRONUS:   a horse ( an ardennais stallion ).

BOGGART:   tom riddle ; not lord voldemort. people often forget that ginny faced him all alone, aged eleven, and only barely lived to tell the tale.

AMORTENTIA:   molly weasley’s homemade mince pies, harry potter’s preferred cologne and the smell of the quidditch pitch at hogwarts, after spring rain.

MISC. INFO:   trained and registered animagus, with the ability of transforming into a ginger tabby cat.

𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 !

FATHER:   arthur weasley.

MOTHER:   molly weasley neé prewett.

SIBLING(S):   william, charles, percy, fred, george & ronald weasley ( older brothers ).

RELATIVES:   the weasley & prewett families ( and all who have subsequently married into them ).

SIGNIFICANT OTHER:   none.

EX SIGNIFICANT OTHERS:   harry potter & dean thomas & michael corner.

CHILDREN:   none.

PET(S):   arnold ( purple pygmy puff with a shocking lifespan ) & archimedes ( a screech owl ).

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 !

HEIGHT:   five foot one inch.

EYE COLOR:   brown.

HAIR COLOR:   ginger.

SCARS:   she has scars along her thighs and upon her fingertips that she doesn’t remember getting, from her second year. 'blood traitor’ on her right arm from lines she was forced to write by the carrow twins, in her sixth year. scars from the crack of a whip along her back, and scars upon her wrists and ankles from the chain bonds that filch preferred. a scar along her left cheekbone that she pairs with the gnarly one upon her knee, because both of them were sustained under the cruciatus curse. she has more scars than she can possibly remember that serve only to remind her of the war that they fought ; and she tries very hard to be proud of them, but even she finds it hard.

GLASSES / CONTACTS:   no / no.

PIERCINGS:   basic lobe piercings and a scaffold piercing in her right ear.

TATTOOS:   a tiny snitch, stick and poke tattooed on the inside of her arm - done in her third year, it glows when the weather is perfect for quidditch.

OTHER NOTABLE TRAITS:   there’s a dent on her forehead that you would only see if you were looking for it, sustained in the chamber of secrets.

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 !

STAR SIGN:   leo, the lion ( passionate, earnest, enigmatic, jealous ).

PERSONALITY TYPE:   estp, the entrepreneur ( high energy, independent, reckless, bold ).

ALIGNMENT:   chaotic good.

TEMPERAMENT:   melancholic.

RELIGION:   agnostic.

PHOBIA(S):   ophidiophobia ( fear of snakes ).

VICE:   anger, recklessness, impatience.

VIRTUE:   confidence, passion, perseverance.

𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 !

ALLERGIES:   none.

SMOKING/ALCOHOL/DRUGS:   sometimes, but has mostly broken the habit / socially, and regularly / no.

DIAGNOSES:   post traumatic stress disorder, survivors guilt and chronic insomnia.

BLOOD TYPE:   a positive.

𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘 !

click this link to be brought to ginny’s entire history.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 !

seventh child and only daughter of arthur and molly. first girl born into the weasley fam for GENERATIONS, so that makes her special. had too many brothers. biggest grievance was they never let her play quidditch with them, so she broke into their shed and taught herself. cried every single time they went to hogwarts without her. 

eventually got there herself. her first year notoriously SUCKED.

if ‘sucked’ is a good enough word to describe being possessed by tom riddle and opening the chamber of secrets, which ultimately led to a lot of people almost dying, including herself.

this, understandably, royally fucked ginny’s shit up. easily seen by her extra special hysterical reaction to the dementors. didn’t do much in her second yr other than be upset by them on the train and be hermione granger 2.0 ( overachiever extraordinaire ).

fully supported harry potter during his fourth year, when he became the unwitting fourth champion. would have gone to the yule ball with him if she hadn’t pledged herself to neville longbottom, who goes on to become one of her best friends.

got all up in order business in her fourth year, against her parents wishes. you can take the girl from the rebellion but you can’t take the rebellion from the girl. joined dumbledore’s army. also named it. became a royal pain in umbridge’s ass. was super talented at spells ( she’s special ) that they were being taught. had a rough christmas cos her dad almost got killed by voldemort’s ugly snake. hexed draco malfoy and still giggles about it to this day. fought off death eaters in the department of mysteries and was witness to sirius black’s death.

everyone rly wanted a piece of ginny in her fifth year ( understandable ). she got invited to slug club. was also made chaser of the gryffindor quidditch team ( after playing seeker the previous year when harry was banned ). she dated harry for a hot minute after she finally got rid of dean thomas ( srry dean ), but... after dumbledore died and death eaters attacked the school he broke up with her to ‘protect her’ which... sucked.

honestly. summer in general sucked. her bro got attacked by a werewolf. her boyfriend dumped her for her own good. there was a wedding, for some reason.

sixth year also sucked. the da was reformed ( by ginny & her friends ) but could only do so much in the face of the gross misuse of power by grown ass adults. ginny did all that she could even when they were actively torturing them all, but was made go into hiding at easter. 

followed her fam to hogwarts for the battle. almost had to sit the whole thing out, but ran off after she was forced to leave the room of requirement.

let’s recap the battle real quick : her brother? died. her friends? died. the love of her life? never even said goodbye and died. ginny? almost died! she did not have a good time. 0/10 stars on yelp, in fact. but they prevailed! they made harry proud! love when you succeed and get ptsd for your troubles.

ginny helped rebuild hogwarts over the summer, and went back in september to finish her seventh year, but... it wasn’t really home anymore. a war will do that. loss will do that. she was trying very hard to be okay - and in a lot of ways, trying a little too hard to be who she had ALWAYS been. she probably could have done with being told that no one expected her to be unchanged, but... everyone was going through their own stuff. 

she tried to honor the one’s that they lost by living, but... that was easier on paper. ginny didn’t seem to make it all the way through the five stages of grief. she was angry, and she was sad, but she couldn’t deny it and she couldn’t change it - and acceptance was impossible. her grief turned into a persistent feeling of emptiness, and that took a toll on her, as a person. 

a lot that made her happy once didn’t, anymore. she was scouted by the holyhead harpies fresh out of hogwarts, but when they asked her to sign, she didn’t immediately take them up on the offer. quidditch was about the only thing she had left at that point that brought her some measure of joy, and it felt...surreal, to be considering taking such a small pleasure and turning it into her life work. it felt not right, for some reason. doing something so ‘normal’ felt insulting, almost, to all the people who wouldn’t do anything normal again - but she couldn’t do nothing forever, and eventually, she was convinced.

she took the offer. she never looked back. things haven’t really gotten better in all the time since then, but at least they can’t get any worse.

𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 !   /  talk of scars & death & trauma.

ginny’s scars tell more stories about her life at hogwarts than she has ever uttered. from her first year, she has marks that she can’t name the cause of. scarring along her thighs and upon her fingertips that were obtained in some of her black outs, that her parents BEGGED madam pomfrey to remove, but who she quietly told to not bother. there’s a small dent on her forehead that she sustained when she collapsed in the chamber of secrets, and you wouldn’t see it, if you weren’t looking. she doesn’t point it out.

of course, she sustained some in her fourth year. she fell over during a dumbledore’s army session and she scraped up the palm of her hand, something that they all laughed about, back then. she broke her ankle badly enough that it continues to click, even now, but luckily was never a hassle in her chosen career. maybe she’d have been even worse of, if bellatrix had tortured her like planned. ginny counts her blessings.

but it’s her sixth year that ruined her. that instilled within her a LOVE of long sweaters and a fear of being seen entirely naked. ‘blood traitor’ is carved into her right arm from lines she was FORCED to write with her own blood, over and over, after being caught putting graffiti on the side of green house number five. she didn’t cry, to them. she didn’t shed a tear. along her back there are criss cross scars from the CRACK of a whip, so many of them that ginny still closes her eyes when she’s getting into the bathtub, so she doesn’t catch a glimpse in the mirror. she’s been suspended by her ankles, by her wrists, and she has the taut skin there to show for it, and under one instance of the cruciatus curse, she FELL and sustained two wounds most commonly paired together in her thoughts - a scar along her left cheekbone, and a gnarly one upon her knee.

the war scarred her too. scarred her deeper. scarred her truer. she has more now than she can possibly remember that serve as a reminder to the war that they fought, together - and she tries to be proud of them. she really does. but even she finds it difficult.

ginny still keeps a bag packed and ready to go at the drop of a hat under her bed, just in case she has to run. it’s a habit instilled in her by her parents from when they went into hiding, and it’s one that she’s finding almost impossible to break. she still sleeps with her wand underneath her pillow every night, fingers curled around the wood - terrified, always, to be caught without it.

her nightmares vary, but they’re there. sometimes she wakes in a cold sweat, blinking away the MEMORY of green light that came all too close to finishing her off. sometimes, all she can see is the rotting body of her older brother and his open, vacant eyes. sometimes it’s harry, and he’s all alone, and she’s screaming at him - just screaming and crying and begging him to turn around and stop and come back, but he never does. sometimes she’s back in the dungeons of hogwarts, hanging by her ankles, and when she’s shakily sipping coffee in the morning, she can still hear the carrow twins laughter in her ears, clear as day.

she’s suffered from sleep paralysis, too, though this predates the war and began in the weeks after the chamber of secrets. her limbs too heavy to move, the demon that stands over her is tom riddle - her longest and most withstanding nightmare. she’s ashamed of the fact that though she fears she’s forgotten the exact sound of fred’s laugh or the feel of harry’s hand in hers, she’ll never be able to forget the features of sixteen year old voldemort.

ginny can throw off the cruciatus curse, now, and perhaps can even resist imperio. she’s never wanted to TRY, but after the many times it was used upon them in her sixth year.. she believes it possible.

she trained to be an animagus, more out of… boredom, than anything else. she’s registered as an orange tabby cat, and it’s not uncommon for her to run off in this form in the direction of the lake, where she can sit for hours.

ginny is bloody awful at all of the things her mother tried to teach her. knitting, cooking, general housework. she would sit for HOURS with molly in the lead up to christmas, a pair of knitting needles held awkwardly in both hands, fingers incapable of making the loops and stitches that molly is so skilled at doing, until SHE had all the christmas jumpers done… and ginny only had a rather pathetic excuse of a scarf. similarly, she tried many a time to lend a hand in the kitchen, or memorize the recipe and replicate her mothers famous homemade fudge - almost always creating some sort of inedible goop at the end of it all. she tries, god bless her, but she just doesn’t seem to have the knack that came so EASILY to molly, and years ago after a particularly disastrous attempt at knitting the weasley family matching jumpers that ended with tears all around, ginny gave up that particular hobby.

she can garden, though. BOY can she garden. neville taught her how to take care of plants she thought were beautiful, and when she moved into her little bedsit, ginny pulled up the entire garden in her allotment - redoing it in her image. she spends hours out there, knee deep in mud, hands covered, and she comes in, sunburnt, smiling, blazing and beautiful. it’s such a simple joy to her, but it is one, nonetheless.

she always had an interest in muggles. ginny idolized her father ( and still, perhaps, does ), and some of her earliest memories were of clambering onto piles of scrap in the burrows yard, just to peek through the little dusty window on arthur’s shed and watch as he tinkered with some new muggle artifact. she was the one who told fred and george about the car, you know - though she never thought even for a MOMENT that they would end up driving it.

she learned the concept of ‘stick and poke’ tattoos from a worn out fiction book she borrowed from hermione, and learned how to replicate them with a good quill, some magical ink and a couple good spells. she gave herself her own one, in fact - the little snitch inside of the crook of her left arm, that isn’t a perfect circle, but still manages to glow BRIGHT when the conditions are perfect for quidditch. she got pretty good at them, too, giving many of her classmates their own magical tattoos as the years went by - though, like many things that brought her joy, she stopped doing them after the battle of hogwarts.

[holyfourthofjulyweenieroast]

Notes on Season 15- Part 1 (contains spoilers, are mostly complaints about Torres), and are my personal opinions, don’t @ me)

Since Season 15 started rerunning in Australia on 19 November, I’ve decided to write down things I forgot or would like to emphasise upon:

Family Ties (originally Ep. 13, but for some reason it aired as Ep. 12)

Kayla #3 makes her first appearance

Ouch, poor Jimmy

Yuck, Torres is just so sleazy (plus hanging Bishop out to dry, again?)

That court-ordered breathalyser thing should be put in every car (or at least on the first offence rather than repeat offenders)

What sort of idiot would leave their garage unlocked with the keys in the car

Aww, Jackie mention

I love Sloane and Vance’s friendship

Abby doing the same thing she did to Tony and Ziva!

Plot twist, anyone?

‘Shave and a Haircut’, nice knock

Nice inspiration from ‘Family First’ there

More Sloane-and-Faith foreshadowing

Kayla is such a good person- she takes after her parents in loyalty and friendship, among many other things

Vance is such a good father, and it really showed throughout the episode

NCIS is always great at incorporating legal issues into episodes, just like this one

WHY COULDN’T REEVES HAVE BEEN THE THIRD AGENT SO TORRES AND QUINN WOULD HAVE NEVER EXISTED AND CBS WOULD’VE SAVED HEAPS OF MONEY HIRING ONE MAIN CHARACTER THAT AUDIENCES ALREADY KNEW AND LOVED INSTEAD OF TWO NEW ANNOYING ONES

Keep Your Friends Close (originally Ep. 14, but for some reason it aired as Ep. 13)

Stop showing off, Torres

Go, McGee

Classic Fornell humour, I’ve missed it

Fornell and Vance annoying Gibbs will never get old

Poor Gibbs- I’d be acting the exact same way

Aww, Jimmy

Another example of why military personnel, and Americans in general, need better healthcare (not to say that nobody else needs better healthcare, but the US’ is notoriously poor)

Abby’s bedtime story for the twins was so cute

I feel sorry for Hicks’ lawyer

Do all prisons give inmates clothes with their name on them?

Reeves definitely doesn’t believe McGee

I’m with Bishop- that place sounds awesome

STOP SHOWING OFF, TORRES

I absolutely love Fornell, and I gotta say, this new look is really working for him

Vance, you’re the absolute best

‘brass mole’ is my new favourite phrase

Poor Fornell

That’s usually what ‘victim’ means, lady, and you’re a total asshole for getting a married guy to cheat on his wife

I’m on the wife’s side- she deserves jail time, sure, but she should also get the life insurance money

Fornell and Gibbs have such a great friendship

WHY COULDN’T REEVES HAVE BEEN THE THIRD AGENT SO TORRES AND QUINN WOULD HAVE NEVER EXISTED AND CBS WOULD’VE SAVED HEAPS OF MONEY HIRING ONE MAIN CHARACTER THAT AUDIENCES ALREADY KNEW AND LOVED INSTEAD OF TWO NEW ANNOYING ONES

Keep Your Enemies Closer (originally Ep. 15, but for some reason it aired as Ep. 14)

Being insensitive and showing off- two of Torres’ most prized qualities

Seriously, Torres? Stealing food again, ugh

Hicks really is a great villain

Reeves’ Brummie accent is fascinating when you listen to it properly

Oof, poor McGee- that’s gotta hurt

I love how Fornell rubs the getting-fired in Gibbs’ face every opportunity he gets

I feel sorry for Vance, having to put up with everything the team does

Bishop and Reeves standing close together again, aww

Jimmy is such a good friend

That’s what blowing your nose is for, idiot- also, go Fornell

That was a probie move, McGee

Fornell and Gibbs save the day!

Triff had great lines this episode

WHY COULDN’T REEVES HAVE BEEN THE THIRD AGENT SO TORRES AND QUINN WOULD HAVE NEVER EXISTED AND CBS WOULD’VE SAVED HEAPS OF MONEY HIRING ONE MAIN CHARACTER THAT AUDIENCES ALREADY KNEW AND LOVED INSTEAD OF TWO NEW ANNOYING ONES

Double Down (originally Ep. 10, but for some reason it aired as Ep. 15)

Bishop being intentionally annoying to get the case was great

Chet, while funny, is not someone I’d be want to be stuck with

I miss Analyst Bishop

Bishop and McGee’s sibling bond is the best

Torres has been rubbing off on Bishop way too much, and I do not like it

Stop being such an asshole, Torres- Sloane knows the area way better than you

Can something be uncalled-for but fair at the same time?

The Senator getting shot while saving Chet? Oof

Ouch, hiding stuff from Vance is not good

Poor Senator

Don’t be so dramatic and time-wasting, Torres- nobody likes or appreciates it

Pretty good scam, but pretty illegal (and by ‘pretty’ I mean ‘very’)

NCIS is great at doing emotional moments

WHY COULDN’T REEVES HAVE BEEN THE THIRD AGENT SO TORRES AND QUINN WOULD HAVE NEVER EXISTED AND CBS WOULD’VE SAVED HEAPS OF MONEY HIRING ONE MAIN CHARACTER THAT AUDIENCES ALREADY KNEW AND LOVED INSTEAD OF TWO NEW ANNOYING ONES

Handle With Care

Torres should know by now that you should save everything work-related, especially if it’s financial

Writing a helicopter off as a company car is a power move

The care-package organisation is such a sweet thing

Bishop and Reeves’ standing-close-together is on par with Tony and Ziva’s

Torres, this is nobody’s fault but yours

This Dexter guy is like the Fox News of podcasts, if my knowledge of US TV channels is accurate

I hate it how people shit on the military all the time, especially if they have no idea what it’s like

Go, Gibbs- this guy’s an asshole, and besides, his teeth creep me out

Ugh, seriously, Torres? Neglecting work for personal stuff again

Sloane and Vance are such a great brotp (Voane? Slance?)

That takedown was amazing

Torres is so insufferable

The Sloane-and-John scenes had a lot of foreshadowing to the Faith reveal

WHY COULDN’T REEVES HAVE BEEN THE THIRD AGENT SO TORRES AND QUINN WOULD HAVE NEVER EXISTED AND CBS WOULD’VE SAVED HEAPS OF MONEY HIRING ONE MAIN CHARACTER THAT AUDIENCES ALREADY KNEW AND LOVED INSTEAD OF TWO NEW ANNOYING ONES

One Man’s Trash

Kasie’s first episode!

Don’t be so judgemental, Torres

This Wyatt guy’s collection is pretty impressive

Oof, a stolen war stick is not good

Shut up, Torres

Abby’s lollipop idea was so sweet

God, Torres is such an asshole

Ducky and Kasie have such a cute relationship already

Kasie being a huge Abby fan was super-relatable, and their hug was so cute

It’s pretty cool how they incorporated American Pickers into the episode

WHY COULDN’T REEVES HAVE BEEN THE THIRD AGENT SO TORRES AND QUINN WOULD HAVE NEVER EXISTED AND CBS WOULD’VE SAVED HEAPS OF MONEY HIRING ONE MAIN CHARACTER THAT AUDIENCES ALREADY KNEW AND LOVED INSTEAD OF TWO NEW ANNOYING ONES

Death From Above

At least Ducky’s book is going over better than Deep Six did

Torres is so disrespectful- at the bare minimum he could’ve read at least one page, and not complained loudly for everyone to hear

Trust Torres to slack off and find something to do other than work

Senior! I almost forgot he was in this episode

Reeves is so much taller than everyone else and it’s kinda hilarious- also, he’s honestly the sweetest person ever

Way to state the obvious, Torres

NYB mention, so sad

Poor Reeves, I’d be reacting the exact same way

Aww, Senior protecting Abby (and lying pretty well)

Torres wouldn’t get into half the problems he does if he listened and followed orders once in a while

Seriously, Torres? Yuck, also you’re a terrible liar (but Lady Bait is a great song/piece of music, I gotta admit)

Ari mention, ouch

Is Torres incapable of not having a massive, pigheaded ego for even one second?

Sloane shrinking Leslie was super-awesome

Vance saves the day!

Gibbs knows better than to tell two different people two different lies- I wonder why he did

The scene with Bishop, Jimmy and Vance in the lab was peak comedy

Was the Burke guy talking like Batman on purpose?

The directing of this episode was incredible

WHY COULDN’T REEVES HAVE BEEN THE THIRD AGENT SO TORRES AND QUINN WOULD HAVE NEVER EXISTED AND CBS WOULD’VE SAVED HEAPS OF MONEY HIRING ONE MAIN CHARACTER THAT AUDIENCES ALREADY KNEW AND LOVED INSTEAD OF TWO NEW ANNOYING ONES

The Numerical Limit

Torres has been rubbing off on Bishop way too much

Another day, another insensitive remark

LVM mention!

I don’t like Asshole Bishop as much as Analyst Bishop

Again with Torres assuming that he has a monopoly on speaking more than one language

The ‘bleachorexic’ conversation instantly reminded me of McGee when he over-bleached his teeth

Oof, taking Reeves down is not easy feat

I don’t know why anyone would want or need their own mattress salesman, but you do you, Sloane

I’d absolutely love a whole truck full of icecream

I don’t envy Vance’s situation- he has to be the example even when it sucks

Cue the tears

This episode conveyed such an important message and issue- refugees are such a contentious topic

WHY COULDN’T REEVES HAVE BEEN THE THIRD AGENT SO TORRES AND QUINN WOULD HAVE NEVER EXISTED AND CBS WOULD’VE SAVED HEAPS OF MONEY HIRING ONE MAIN CHARACTER THAT AUDIENCES ALREADY KNEW AND LOVED INSTEAD OF TWO NEW ANNOYING ONES

Sight Unseen

Hypocrite much, Torres?

This is just like the sick lieutenant all over again, ugh

SHUT. UP. TORRES.

Abby and Reeves have such a sweet friendship- it sucks that we didn’t get to see more of it

TORRES, I HATE YOU SO MUCH

I love Petty Sloane

Yuck, can he be any more of an insensitive asshole?

That is a really big tooth

Torres always has to ruin nice moments by opening his big fat mouth

Why is it that lawyers are always involved in the crime

Ugh, the end scene was so awkward

WHY COULDN’T REEVES HAVE BEEN THE THIRD AGENT SO TORRES AND QUINN WOULD HAVE NEVER EXISTED AND CBS WOULD’VE SAVED HEAPS OF MONEY HIRING ONE MAIN CHARACTER THAT AUDIENCES ALREADY KNEW AND LOVED INSTEAD OF TWO NEW ANNOYING ONES

One Step Forward

Neglecting work to slack off yet again

WHY DOES TORRES HAVE TO BE SUCH AN ASSHOLE?

Slance brotp ftw!

Abby’s so sweet- ‘angel in platform shoes’ is right

Poor Reeves, this resonates so much with him and it’s so heartbreaking

SHUT. UP. TORRES.

The foreshadowing was so sad, especially because we didn’t know it was at the time

Ouch, poor Jimmy

Reeves is the best, I want to cry (I am)

That scene was terrible to watch

Oof

Sweetest scene ever

AAAAAAHHH

Homeless vets is such a terrible issue, and so unfair- it’s great whenever NCIS features it in an episode

WHY COULDN’T REEVES HAVE BEEN THE THIRD AGENT SO TORRES AND QUINN WOULD HAVE NEVER EXISTED AND CBS WOULD’VE SAVED HEAPS OF MONEY HIRING ONE MAIN CHARACTER THAT AUDIENCES ALREADY KNEW AND LOVED INSTEAD OF TWO NEW ANNOYING ONES

Two Steps Back

I’m digging Fornell’s look (and this poker group)

The reveal was terrible

CRYING

Aww, Gibbs

Bishop crying made me cry even more

Jimmy and McGee being brothers, aww

Post-autopsy Reeves was even worse than pre-

You have to be nice to Major Mass Spec, Torres- you should know that by now

Tony being Tony

McGee’s voice breaking was tear-inducing

McGee helping Abby with her pigtails was so sweet

Rolodex- now there’s a word I haven’t heard in a while

What do you know, Torres is stating the obvious

‘Wild Goose’ was honestly so funny

Torres is a total dumbass for getting himself trapped in the coffin- he should’ve known Abby would try to trick him somehow (and in a really funny way at that)

Gibbs trying not to smile was hilarious

The in-depth flashback of the shooting was horrible, especially seeing Reeves die

Abby talking to Reeves in Autopsy made me cry so hard

Caf-POW! pills was ingenious

The parallels between these café scenes and in Toxic were so clever and sad at the same time, especially the dialogue

I cried non-stop for the rest of the episode when I watched it for the first time, and I still am now

Abby’s apartment was awesome, and I love how things from past seasons were incorporated- it was so bittersweet seeing all the memories

They really pulled out all the stops in this episode with bringing characters back, and it was so special for Abby’s last episode

The acting in this episode was amazing, and the flashbacks made me cry so much

WHY COULDN’T REEVES HAVE BEEN THE THIRD AGENT SO TORRES AND QUINN WOULD HAVE NEVER EXISTED AND CBS WOULD’VE SAVED HEAPS OF MONEY HIRING ONE MAIN CHARACTER THAT AUDIENCES ALREADY KNEW AND LOVED INSTEAD OF TWO NEW ANNOYING ONES

Fallout

Torres is so bigheaded

Reeves mention, so painful

I love the way Vance delivers lines

Was Torres the landlord?

Kasie!!!

Snarky Gibbs!

Oof

Aaah, so sad

Bishop and Reeves had such a great friendship

Jimmy time! I love it when he gets moments to shine

I love it when Sloane says ‘hiya’

Deep Six mention!

Uh-oh

Poor Phil, that’s one of the worst-ever situations to be in

Aww, that photo is so sweet

Kasie is babie

Phil has BFE (Big Fornell Energy), right down to the puttanesca- I’m glad he wasn’t a one-time character bc he’s great

WHY COULDN’T REEVES HAVE BEEN THE THIRD AGENT SO TORRES AND QUINN WOULD HAVE NEVER EXISTED AND CBS WOULD’VE SAVED HEAPS OF MONEY HIRING ONE MAIN CHARACTER THAT AUDIENCES ALREADY KNEW AND LOVED INSTEAD OF TWO NEW ANNOYING ONES

Date With Destiny

What would Torres know about being handsome

Vance is so supportive, I love his and Sloane’s friendship

Shannon’s birthday, so sad

It’s a ship, not a boat- you tell him, McGee

I’m loving Kasie’s taste in music

Bishop and Sloane are another great brotp

Aww, Admiral mention

Eek

Damn straight Torres is sexist- and incorrect, remember the S1 episode with the explosiver hersteller who faked her memory loss (yes, I know Torres wasn’t there then so he likely wouldn’t know, but anyway the main point is that he’s sexist)?

Kasie’s so adwarkable

Not good

Sloane’s got a great innocent face

Jimmy and Kasie have such a great friendship already

That’s such a terrible thing to live through- Sophie’s choices suck, especially when it’s two lives

It’s Ziva’s ‘death’ all over again- no body, no proof

That was incredible, showing the effects of PTSD and how it affects people

Ya think, Torres?

I almost forgot he kidnapped Vance

WHY COULDN’T REEVES HAVE BEEN THE THIRD AGENT SO TORRES AND QUINN WOULD HAVE NEVER EXISTED AND CBS WOULD’VE SAVED HEAPS OF MONEY HIRING ONE MAIN CHARACTER THAT AUDIENCES ALREADY KNEW AND LOVED INSTEAD OF TWO NEW ANNOYING ONES

[crabby-gothgirl]

Netflix, stop bringing down black women.

Netflix, just fucking stop already.

The 2 most popular shows on Netflix, as of this moment, have renewed seasons that both use black women protagonists to depict them in unhealthy relationships with serial rapist white men-filling out the caricaturized film roles of black women being seen as “the white master’s wench”. 

This triggers me deeply, as they are trying to promote and ingraine into young black female viewers who may watch these shows, with a systemic sense of colonialism and degradation. As if black women can’t have appropriate healthy relationships if they choose to date interracially, and are only meant to serve as “therapists” or “caretakers” by catering to clinically insane white men who go out and hurt other women.

The shows guilty of being problematic asf doing this, are Thirteen Reasons Why and End of the Fucking World. The last show fervently disappoints me, as I used to be a fan of it.

-----

Let’s start off with the infamous Thirteen Reasons Why. A show that’s already culprit for romanticizing mental illness for teenagers (suicide ideation and escaping your problems through use of suicide).

 From Season One, it’s served off of pure controversy and...

*ahem* the fact that the suicide rate in teens went up as soon as it aired *ahem*

https://www.npr.org/2019/04/30/718529255/teen-suicide-spiked-after-debut-of-netflixs-13-reasons-why-report-says

But hey, as it’s executives will try and say in its defense:

 “Correlation isn’t causation.” 

(yeah, sure it isn’t)

In their recent season, they have a British black girl named Ani who has a romantic affair with the show’s notorious antagonist, Bryce.

Keep this in mind:

Bryce is an upper class privileged American white male with a toxic upbringing of entitlement due to his white privilege and socioeconomic status. Not to mention he’s a quarterback for their school football team and is popular among the school body. Being raised with this parents that don’t care enough to regulate his actions, he rapes several girls at the high school, including the show’s former character Hannah Baker.

A white privileged male athlete that gets away with raping girls with little to no repercussions for his actions?

 Isn’t this dynamic sounding familiar to anyone?

*cough* Brock Turner *cough*

 As the experience is so traumatic for Hannah, she suffers from PTSD and, by the end of season one, decides to take her own life and is shown doing so.

~~~~~

Now, after doing something as abhorrently inhumane as that, violating someone and then having that person become so depressed, that they decide to take their own life, one would have hoped the executives could have been like:

Executives: “Wow, this Bryce guy sure is a disgusting fellow. Let’s keep him as an antagonist to show how negatively his actions can impact others and use this as a moral message to amplify the seriousness behind the issue of date rape for young girls.”

Instead, their logic is:

Executives: “Wow, Bryce raped all of these girls in his HS, one having to commit suicide for it. For Season 3, let’s make this guy seem like a precious cinnamon roll for our preteen audience and make it seem like he did no wrong!”

Me:

Now here we bring, Ani.

A new face to the cast. An African-British girl. Something that admittedly that had me curious for a hot second.

My mind: Black female representation in a character? It’s not often we see a show where a full colored black woman is the main character. (Ignoring the context of the god awful show said character is a part of).

But then, the curiosity kills the cat as soon as we see what Ani’s character is meant to serve.

Ani’s mother is an immigrant from Kenya. They live in the UK but then decide to move to the US to find work. That work ends up having her mother work as a nurse for Bryce’s wealthy white family. Being immigrants, they live in their plantation house. 

While working under this white family, Ani develops a sexual “relationship” with Bryce where they become friends with benefits.

Is it just me...or is anyone else getting slave-master x mammy vibes from this shitty ass relationship dynamic? 

Thirteen Reasons Why writers be like:

“This is a picture of a healthy interracial relationship.”

...

Disgusting motherfuckers.

Thirteen Reasons Why has always been complete shit, but they seem to be growing into more of a shit show, as Netflix keeps sucking their dick and renewing their contract to make more and more unnecesesary seasons of their show.

Problematic triggering themes are their only motivation. They’ll do things like show a girl committing suicide in the most gruesome way possible on-screen, then have the nerve to claim mental health “wokeness”.

I have always despised these people, and this just adds to the fuel of hatred I already had for them.

~~

Now onto the next show, End of the Fucking World.

Out of the shows mentioned on this list, I have to say that I’m personally affected the most by this one.

The first season admittedly had me going. I was actually looking forward to watching the second season. Until...it turned into a huge slap to the face for black women :/

SPOILERS FOR ANYONE WHO WATCHES THE SHOW:

Remember the creepy professor dude that tries to rape Alyssa in the first season?

Remember this crusty motherfucker?

The character Clive Koch, who is a serial rapist murderer who kills his own students. Is probably the most appalling character to do some of the most unspeakable things in the EOTFW universe.... 

(A straight up Ted Bundy in a nutshell).

Guess who found it was a good idea to start off the second season with introducing a backstory for a new character, a black female, who is somehow made to be his....romantic interest??

Yes.

They actually did this.

Netflix you need to get your shit together. 

Writers of these shows, get your shit together.

These shows are straight up damaging, you are hurting your young black female audiences by marketing these shows and depicting us in such damaging portrayals as mammies and coons to toxic mentally ill white men- in the 21ST FUCKING CENTURY, ARE YOU KIDDING ME Y’ALL?!

And don’t hide behind the excuse of “it’s not about the color” when it is DAMN WELL ABOUT THE FUCKING COLOR. You could have easily chose a white woman or any other POC woman for such a role to nurse a criminally insane white man with sexual favors but BOTH times you made it a damn black woman- your self-insert mammy to feed off your sick twisted desires!!!

Black women deserve to have HEALTHY relationsips portrayed for them, we are the most marginalized group in terms of dating, we don’t need to endanger our women by portraying them, telling them that they can only be loved by mentally ill SICK white men! We deserve HEALTHY romantic love! Shows and movies about us having HEALTHY relationships, with men of any race! Stop using us as mere race bait to push for marketing your shitty teenage drama shows that already have enough problematic themes as is! 

It’s time to STOP!

[hellospunkiebrewster]

wait so who would you pair the d&d characters with??

I assume you’re referring to my teeny tiny comment at the bottom of one of my asks that says I don’t particularly agree with the pairings PB is potentially going to give us for other characters in Desire and Decorum...

Take all of this with a grain of salt. It’s the product of crazy spaghetti flinging with @shwarmi. Some of these pairings are more compatible with the Desire and Decorum universe in my head, than the one PB gave us. Like this first one.

OOF THIS GOT LONG.

Here’s one you all know I like. Hamid x Holloway. I think she’s precisely what Hamid needs to make his time as an envoy in England more successful. She’s no nonsense and commands attention. I can just see him helping her realize that her life doesn’t have to be only domestic endeavors if that’s not what she wants (and if she’s honest with herself, she thinks she’s capable of much more than that even though she does still want children and a great home down the line). Like Hamid’s got a meeting with some MP or another and just...

Footman: Sir, the envoy from the Ottoman Empire has arrived for your appointment.

Random kind of shitty and stubborn MP who isn’t planning on negotiating with Hamid at all, crossing the study and shuffling in a drawer for some cigars: Fantastic! Send him in.

Footman, trying not to look uneasy: Are you sure you wish to receive him in here?

Random MP: Why wouldn’t I?

Footman, not making eye contact any longer: Well you see sir, he’s brought his wife.

Random MP, knowing Felicity is notorious for not taking ‘no’ for an answer any time she accompanies her husband anywhere: Shit.

And then the couple leave the residence several hours later, the random MP looking frazzled, Felicity looking smug, and Hamid positively giddy to get home and write to his cousin, the Sultan, about today’s meetings and how successful they were. 

POWER COUPLE.

Nextly, Annabelle x Theresa. I just love the dynamic here of loveable dumbass (who is a legend and has your back) and absolute badass. Theresa does mention in the shop in Book one that she thinks MC would look good in anything. I wanted it to be flirting so bad, and so, in my book IT IS OKAY?!

Just think of the two of them at dinners and balls and other events and just being able to know how to call out all of the kind of shitty other members of the ton on their bullshit. Because they know all of their secrets, because Annabelle is an expert people watcher and Theresa has the hearing of a bat. Just imagine Annabelle taking Theresa to all the popular literary clubs and Theresa feeding off that energy and turning even the more serious attendees into ladies who can’t wait to hear more of all the actually true juicy stories she has to offer.

YET ANOTHER POWER COUPLE.

Lastly... Luke x (wait for it) Harry. The Viscount Foredale is such a fucking disaster and mess that even after his father said he’d support him if he didn’t think he was ready for marriage, HE STILL FAKED HIS DEATH AND RAN AWAY. Harry needs a centering and stabilizing presence in his life and while Vincent was alive I think it was him. But Harry was never truly open with his father, because he felt the need and desire of his father for Harry to be the next Earl superseded all of Harry’s own wants. If he had been more open, perhaps he’d have realized that wasn’t the case, and that Vincent was kind and supportive and unwaveringly devoted to his children. I think this is something Edmund realizes better than Harry, even though he’s “only” a stepson.

When Harry returns in a whirlwind he has a hard time connecting to everyone he knew at the estate before due to the crippling guilt he feels after what he put them all through. The lies he had Edmund tell on his behalf. The grieving he put both his parents through. The way he had to grieve his own father without the proper chance at a goodbye. Like can you JUST imagine the regret gnawing at him when he hears the news his father has fallen ill from Gideon Paynard? Even if it’s too late for him to make the trip back it destroys him.

He finds solace in escaping his mother’s prying ways insisting he marry soon to save Edgewater from his treacherous sister by spending time in the stables and there he gets to know Luke Harper (who is also hiding out, but for other reasons, the fact that he really doesn’t feel like he belongs in the house among those of the ton). The two become fast friends, Luke a grounding presence for Harry when he feels like no one is listening to him. Harry provides Luke with a close ally who isn’t so preoccupied by pending nuptials, planning them, reconstructing an estate, or keeping the call to return home a continent away at bay. It isn’t that his other friends don’t have time for them, but he more feels that they have bigger things to worry about. Harry helps him take up his role, giving him tips for setting up his own home, helping him find a gentleman’s wardrobe, and along the way something more blossoms from it. 

IN THIS HOUSE WE STAN MUTUAL SUPPORT.

[softforcal]

director's commentary on choosing harry to be such a huge part of Luke's arc (like being the first to know birdie was pregnant and that Luke wanted to marry her). bc I was lowkey bitter like the boys but at the same time I love the harry x luke dynamic

okay this is like my favourite question ever okay lets dive in!

so basically. this is a SUPER long answer and i’m sorry for that but yeah. the easy way to answer this is that first: i don’t control anything my characters do, they just take over and that’s always been the case with me, so Luke does what he does and i can’t fuck with that. second: Luke was already friends with the boys and i enjoy doing character development so it felt natural that a relationship to be worked on was the worst one, ie: Harry and Luke. third, you will see in this super detailed run down of instances between Luke and Harry that there are reasons for everything :) 

yeah, again, fucking ADORED this question so THANK YOU!

examples:

1:Luke telling Harry and Olivia about the wedding ring: 

    “Need to show you something.” Luke said, hand finding the velvet box in his pocket.

     He pulled it out and Olivia’s eyes widened, “oh my god-”

     Luke opened the case and Olivia’s words caught in her throat, staring at the massive rock.

     “So this is the wedding ring, the engagement ring is smaller-” Luke began.

     “It’s beautiful.” came Harry’s voice as he sat on the other side of Olivia, eying the ring, “that’s some titanic looking shit mate. Must be a blue diamond.”

     “You sure?” Luke asked.

     Harry leaned forward, looking at it again, “yeah, looks like it.”

     “Who knew,” Luke closed the case, “you’re good for something.”

-so, Luke is still a bit of a dick to Harry here, but he’s called because Olivia is Birdie’s cousin right, so he had to show Olivia and Harry is ALWAYS with Olivia so in this case it was honestly just because of Olivia. Olivia is like Luke’s little sister, he pulled her under his wing when she moved to town because it’s been mentioned that her and Birdie grew up together so they’re practically sisters too you know? Olivia is, for all intents and purposes, practically his sister in law once he marries Birdie. 

2: Harry knowing first (technically)

     “I can’t believe Luke is getting married.” Michael sighed, taking a shot.

     “Yeah, it’s kind of hard to believe isn’t it?” Ashton agreed.

     “Luke mentioned it months ago.” Harry said absentmindedly, shooting his whiskey.

     “What? Months ago?” Ashton narrowed his eyes at Harry, “since when did Luke tell you shit like this?”

     “Birdie had threatened me, said she’d send Luke after me if I hurt Olivia, and Luke made a side remark about marrying her someday.” Harry shrugged.

     “So… so you’re the first person he told.” Calum reiterated, fingers clenching on his glass.

     Harry looked between Luke’s best friends, “I guess?”

     “Who even invited you?” Puppy quipped, feeling the tension rolling off of her boyfriends in waves.

&

   “She said if I hurt Olivia she’d let you hurt me.” Harry said, “even touched the scar you gave me, thanks for that by the way.”

     Luke couldn’t help but smile. Pride welled in his chest. His little baby was off secretly threatening people and he had never been more in love with her in his entire life.

     “Gonna marry that woman.” Luke said before he could help himself.

     Harry looked up, eyes widening as he blinked away the sleep, he studied Luke for a moment, “for real?”

     “Yeah. Not now. But. soon.” Luke stated, realizing Harry was the last person he wanted to be talking to about this. He took a deep breath. Luke wanted to make this work. Birdie had made some valid points the night before and Luke had to admit that holding a grudge was hard when he was so in love all the time. And Olivia had looked really happy with Harry… “hey, I’m going to take Petunia for a walk, do you…” he cleared his throat, “do you want to come?”

-so here: when Luke originally told Harry, it was because she’d threatened to let Luke kill Harry and Luke was swooning over her. he realizes immediately that he fucked up, but this is also a turning point for him because Birdie pointed out to him like bruh, this is Olivia (who is practically my sister) this is her BOYFRIEND and you have to get used to him and he’s gonna give it a try.

-it was such a side remark most people wouldn’t have even remembered it but this is HARRY he is notorious in this for being smart as FUCK (as you’ll see in the final chapter) so yeah, this was accidental for sure

3: Harry at Luke’s bachelor party

“Yeah, you, Ash, Cal, Dove and I guess Harry because Birdie said I had to invite him.” Luke groaned.

-Luke is still kind of meh about Harry. he was trying to be friends but then he found out that Harry had kissed Birdie and went back to square one so we see a lot of Birdie influence on Luke and Harry, Luke doesn't want Harry at anything but he knows Birdie wants Harry to be involved so he suffers through it. (back at Limerence, Luke went to go talk to Harry when he found out about Harry and Olivia’s ‘fight’ for OLIVIA, not really for Harry, he knew something was fishy but he knew it would make OLIVIA feel better if Luke sorted things out. and he advises Olivia not to take Harry back for a while so Luke still is not a fan of Harry.) 

4: Harry competing for Luke’s affection

     Harry returned with four shot glasses and two full bottles of vodka and whiskey. They all knew that those bottles must have cost Harry a grand or two and Michael’s jaw dropped, “did you seriously just buy those whole bottles?”

     “It’s Luke’s bachelor party, of course I did.” Harry scoffed, sliding the vodka to Luke.

     Ashton narrowed his eyes at Harry, upset that Harry had been the first one to drop cash on his friend/fake cousin.

     And just like that, a competition between Ashton and Harry began.

-so Harry REALLY wants Luke to like him. he knows he and Olivia are in it for the long haul and he knows it’s his own damn fault Luke doesn't like him, so he’s willing to do what he has to to make Luke like him, later on, Luke will use this to his advantage in situations where he needs someone around cuz he knows Harry will do ANYTHING to get him to like him

5: Harry sitting with the family at the wedding

     Harry was in the family section next to Birdie and Olivia’s parents. 

&

     Martha, Olivia’s mother, offered the tattooed man a tissue and he accepted it with a small smile, wiping at his eyes while Martha tried to hide a smile. The whole family adored Harry and Luke, and this wedding was just confirming it.

yeah, Harry is sitting WITH THE FAMILY at the wedding, he is practically part of the family now, Luke can’t ignore that shit anymore, he and Harry are practically gonna be brother in laws if Harry gets married to Olivia and everyone knows he will, its just a matter of time, because Harry was looking at wedding rings after a MONTH, this boy gonna marry her some day

6: Harry being there to get the pregnancy test

     He’d been surprised at the one AM call from Luke, but it hadn’t taken long to figure out that no one else was an option because they all fucked like rabbits, not that Olivia and Harry didn’t, but Olivia and Birdie had synced periods, a fact that Harry was not happy Luke knew about.

-so we see Luke calling Harry because he’s the last resort. the other couples are ‘busy’ and Luke knows Olivia and Birdie are synched so he knows Olivia and Harry don’t have anything going on. he’s not ecstatic that Harry is there but he needed SOMEONE and Harry was available. he knows Harry will do anything possible to get Luke to like him so of course he hauled ass down at one am to be there for him.

5k celebration

[mysunfreckle]

ER with 1? E is A and R is B?

Angst to Fluff promt: Enjolras just caught Grantaire in a lie, andnot a harmless white one. [ ~1.3k ]

@impetusofadream I think you asked for this one too! And thank you anon ^^

Enjolrasnever tries to sneak up on Grantaire, he honestly doesn’t. It’s just thatGrantaire is notoriously easy to sneak up on sometimes. Because as lively and loudas he is, he has these moments where he seems to zone out, going completelyquiet and momentarily unable to hear any noise around him. It’s a littledisconcerting sometimes. Enjolras is so used to Grantaire’s presence beingannounced by noise, be it humming or tapping or the erratic movement ofobjects, that it’s always a bit of a shock to enter a perfectly quiet room andfind his boyfriend standing there, wrapped in one of his moments ofabsent-mindedness.

Grantaireis looking down at something in his hands, staring with nearly unfocussed eyes,and a very odd look on his face. Enjolras steps slow and he tips his head tothe side involuntarily to see.

He stopswalking.

Grantaireis holding a pair of baby’s shoes.

Enjolras isfairly sure there is absolutely no reason for there to be baby’s shoes anywherenear Grantaire and even less for Grantaire to be looking at them like that, butthat is unmistakably what they are. They look like tiny green sneakers. A bitlike the kind R has himself. They’re not, of course, they’re more like softlittle loafers made to look like sneakers, but they have the aesthetic down.Maybe that’s why he has them? Because they’re like his own pair shrunk down. Asa joke?

“R?”Enjolras’ voice is very gentle, but clearly it still startles Grantaire.

His eyes dartup, his head following with a hasty movement. “Oh,” he grins sheepishly. “SorryI was off for a second.”

Enjolras smilesreassuringly, but he can’t help but notice Grantaire just tried to close hishand around the pair of little shoes. If he’s trying to hide them he’s doing aterrible job.

On theother hand, he himself is clearly not doing a very good job himself of not lookingat them too obviously, because Grantaire clears his throat uncertainly andsays, with slightly uncomfortable smile:

“Chetta.”

If it hadbeen paired with an eye-roll or a scoff that might have been enough explanation,Enjolras feels like a lot of both their explanations consists of merely thename of one of their friends and a look of mutual understanding. But in thiscase…

He closesthe distance between them and puts an arm around Grantaire. “Chetta gave youthese?”

Grantairenods, opening his hand in a vague gesture.

Enjolrastakes one of the shoes. They’re cute. Stupidly cute. And quite useless of course.A child small enough to wear them wouldn’t be walking yet.

Grantairegives him a slightly helpless look. “I know it’s stupid.”

“What is?”Enjolras asks, looking up from the fake laces.

“Gettingsentimental over undersized shoes.” He grimaces. “I’m just. They’re fuckingcute okay.” Something tense releases in Grantaire’s shoulders and he tips hishead back defyingly like he’s declaring towards the heavens. “I’m a sucker forthis stuff and if I had a kid to clothe I would buy them so much impractical shit.” He waves the shoe in front of Enjolrasface. “I’d put these on them and watch them start a bet with themself on howfast they could get rid of them.”

Enjolras canfeel he’s smiling and he’s not sure whether that’s in reaction that that imageor just because R is suddenly smiling himself, but that smile can’t get pastthe frankly shocking tangle of surprise that’s unfurling itself in his chest.He looks from Grantaire to the tiny left shoe and back again. “…but you don’twant kids.”

Grantaire’ssmile fades. He looks away, but Enjolras has been with him long enough to catchhis eye anyway.

“You’ve always said you don’t want kids,” hepresses. That is knowledge he owes to before they were dating even. Whenever itcame up in conversations among their friends, in vague plans for the future andhappy hypotheticals, Grantaire had been vehementlyagainst it. Enjolras looks at Grantaire, with each of them still holding one halfof that daft pair of shoes.

“Well,” Grantairemutters. “Easier to say that than to own that I’d be the worst parent on theface of the planet and that no child should be subjected to me.”

He says itpretty matter-of-factly, but it’s been a long time since Enjolras heardGrantaire talk about himself like that and for a moment he’s genuinely shaken. “Doyou still feel like that?”

Grantairehesitates. “…no. I mean. I’ve worked through some of my shit since then.”

Enjolrasexhales a short breath of relief and Grantaire places a hand over whereEnjolras’ fingers are suddenly digging a little into his side.

“You know Idid, you were there for most of it,” he quips.

“Well…good,”Enjolras mutters. “And for the record-” He can hear a bit of old defensivenessslip into his voice, but it’s making Grantaire smile so he leaves it. “I thinkyou’d be a great father, if you wanted to be.”

Grantairestares at him.

“…what.”

There’s astrange sort of blush rising up from Grantaire’s neck and there’s a jumbledmoment of silence before he says: “Youwant kids?”

Enjolrasmakes a thoughtful movement with his head. “I don’t have to,” he says. He looksinto Grantaire’s eyes earnestly. “I like the idea of a family. But there’s alot of ways to build a family.”

“I—” Grantairelooks slightly stunned. “I always thought you were the ‘this is no world tobring a child into’ kind.”

Enjolrasfrowns slightly at that, both at the implication and at the fact that this is apparentlysomething Grantaire has been thinking about. Maybe while he was thinking about the same thing. “How are we ever going tobuild a better world without better people?” he says.

Grantaire’ssmile trembles slightly in the corner of his mouth.

“Also,”Enjolras continues. “Adoption.”

Grantaireis still making a very strange face and Enjolras smiles at him bemusedly whilehis boyfriend drags his hand through his curls a couple times.

“Now what?” Enjolras grins.

“Nothing,”Grantaire says. “I’m just…your kids would be a force to recon with on the playground.”

Enjolras wrinkleshis nose a bit. They would be, of course, but he’s not taking full responsibilityhere. “Well, they’d be our kids,” hesays.

Grantaire’sgrin is no longer sheepish, it’s wide like sunshine and completely out of control.“Don’t say stuff like that,” he begs. “Don’t-”

“Why not?”Enjolras says defiantly. He pulls on Grantaire’s waist, wrapping his other arm aroundhim as well and linking his hands together, slightly squashing the little shoein between them. “A second ago I didn’t even know raising kids with you was anywherein the realm of the possible!”

“It’s beenmore than a second.”

“Shut up.”Enjolras presses a hasty kiss on the corner of his mouth. “I’m not saying weshould have kids,” he says seriously. “I’m just saying that we could. Some day.”

Grantairebites his lip, his pale eyes lit up brightly. “Could we?” His voice is shaking likehe’s about to burst out laughing.

“You’re theone gushing over tiny shoes,” Enjolras retorts.

“Touché,”Grantaire says. “But you try to hold this against me and I’ll ask Chetta to geta pair of red ones.”

Enjolrasisn’t quite sure what his face just did in response to that, but now Grantaireactually does laugh. Out loud, with that sunshine-bright grin still beaming onhis face. And Enjolras laughs with him, softly, and with his arms still wrappedaround R’s waist.

[resetmypatientviolence]

Conflict of Interest : Cold Blooded, Part 2

Characters: Jaela Abdi-Walker and Kimiko Amaya (TRR MC’s)

Word Count: ~5,500

Rating: PG

Warnings: None

Description: While Kimiko spends a day in luxury (glued to her phone), Liam’s final candidate for the open Royal Council seat has both him and Jaela up in arms, but for two entirely different reasons. 

Author Note: Welcome back to Cold Blooded after... forever. This is a crossover TRR AU (that takes place post STB-verse) with @trr-fangirl‘s and I’s MC’s, Jaela and Kimiko. Part One is on our blogs if you need to catch up. Otherwise, thank you for reading and please enjoy! Both of our Masterlists are link in our blogs headers. 

“Are you listening?”

Liam watched the incoming text messages flood his phone screen before locking it and turning his attention back to Jaela. “Of course, we were discussing all the candidates for our open Council seat.” He shot her a small smile, waiting for her attention to move elsewhere.

It didn’t.

“I can tell something else is bugging you, you know,” she said with narrowed eyes, coffee in hand. “Is it something at the palace?” She asked but he shook his head. It was Jaela’s idea to get him out of the palace and away from his usual routine. Brunch sounded like a nice idea and both their schedules were clear for the morning. But, these messages had nothing to do with his kingly duties— for once.

“It can wait, I assure you.” Jaela appeared ruffled, displeased with the shift of her shoulders. “Now, to our candidates.” He sat up in his chair and picked up a sheet of paperwork then handed it to her over the croissants and near empty plates, much laughter and talking-- and little work-- done over the first part of brunch.

She set down the coffee and stared down at the paper before taking it from him, frowning, “What’s this? I thought you brought the applications?”

Liam leaned back and grabbed his phone, lips quirked at the new message on there. “I’m not bringing confidential documents out of the palace, Jaela.” Jaela frowned deeper-- as he expected-- and he quickly texted back while Jaela scrutinized the six names on the list. “Besides, it’s brunch. I knew we wouldn’t get that much done, nor would you accept a stain on the applications.”

Jaela smirked at his all too accurate joke and met his eyes just as he sent off a message to…

“Kimiko…” she murmured, tapping the sheet. Liam gulped, adjusting his collar. Her emotions are clear as day, still, to him. He knows that tone. It’s unmistakable.

“Yes?” He said in his best attempt to mask his emotions around that name. He can’t tell her about Kimiko, not yet. If she found out…. “What about her? She’s a diplomat’s daughter, one of Cordonia’s most trusted, actually. One of my final six to fill the open seat.” Why am I worried if Jaela finds out? Wouldn’t she be happy for me? Focus, Liam.

“Just…” Jaela pushed hair over her shoulder, wrinkling her nose. The sun hits her cheeks just right, highlighter sparkling across the planes of them. Liam blinked, rapidly, and glanced away. “She’s the only one here not on mine.” As if Jaela expected this, she pulled out her own list, passing it to him. Indeed… all the same, except her.  Liam bit the inside of his cheek to hide the disappointment from her. Why did her opinion matter so much, still?

Jaela placed the list down and picked up her coffee, finishing it off, eyes still on Liam’s list before her. On the name flashing on his phone. “So, who is the diplomat?” She asked, her eyes still on the paper.

“Mr. Takashi Amaya. His wife is an esteemed lawyer in Japan.... My father worked with them occasionally before he stepped down.”

Jaela repressed a snort, but raised her eyebrows high, instead. Her opinion of his father didn’t change, he should have expected that. Probably not the best thing to first mention about her…. “Seems like you know a lot about her…?”

He shrugged, his eyes still glued to his phone. Kimiko. “Hm, I wouldn’t say that. We are talking about her parents who work for our country, are we not?”

Liam did not miss the dramatic roll of her eyes, or the frustration she exuded again. Well, what did she expect him to say? To offer? He had to keep neutral, emotionless in the matters of Kimiko.

Jaela sighed and finished the last bite of her food, meeting his eyes with a sip of her water, her mind filled with a million questions she wanted to say, wanted to ask, but knew it would be futile.

What was the point of asking him any more questions when he was going to dodge them all? There was something up. Liam couldn’t keep his eyes away from that phone, nor did she miss his controlled speech when he spoke about this Kimiko despite the slight flush to his cheek when she said her name. Just because he could smoothly deflect one minor question doesn’t mean he could for all of them. But she had to leave it at that. At least she had one idea of why she was on his list.

There was another reason, too, Jaela just knew. But for now...

“I’ll look into her application tonight but you should do the same for Brianna-- since you didn’t consider her either,” she muttered, standing up and smoothed down her skirt, flicking her gaze to him… Liam looking respectfully away, of course...and to his phone. Jaela ignored the flutter of a long distant pang and picked up the papers. “So, you’ll look into Brianna’s app?”

Liam looked up at her, lips tight, but a smile was there. So he wasn’t too annoyed. Or whatever. He was too easy and too hard to read all at once. “Yes, of course. The same for you to Kimiko’s application.”

“I’ll give it a through second look tonight, Liam,” she agreed, smiling as well. “I’ll see you at the meeting later and...” Jaela bit her tongue, resisting making a joke about whoever he was texting. Something told her it wouldn’t go over well. So, she gave his shoulder a squeeze instead and headed towards to front her car, she had a lot to go over before the meeting, Kimiko’s name burning on the page.

She had a feeling, that’s all. She couldn't tell if it was good or bad, either. Jaela hated those limbos-- the between. Lord knows her and Liam experienced enough of that, already.

*

“Oh, my gosh! This would look gorgeous on you, Kimiko!” The older woman, Avery, enthused from across the large, empty boutique. She rushed over to her younger sister and held up a bright pink floral dress. “Look!”

Her dark brown eyes flicked up from her phone-- I can’t wait to see you again-- for a split second before pulling out the lollipop in her mouth. “Oh, hell no,” she snapped then placed the candy back into her mouth and continued to tap the screen rapidly, heartbeat faster than her fingers. You have no idea how much I miss-- Ew no, don’t be clingy-- :) -- no, you’re not a child-- I can’t wait to see you too, Liam-- better. Good. Perfect.

“Oh, come on! It’s so pretty and I bet your little friend would love to see you in anything else than but black!” Avery whispered mischievously.

Kimiko ignored her sister’s comment but she couldn’t hide the heat that rose in her body as she thought about.... She cleared her throat and turned to her sister, a faint blush still on her cheeks. “I don’t want to wear a pink fucking dress, Avery!”

Avery rolled her eyes and tossed the dress into the nearby tailor’s face then shooed him away. “You’re so damn annoying! You need some color in your life… God, you’re so basic--”

“Will you shut the hell up already?!” Kimiko shouted, her eyes shooting daggers at her sister.

Avery threw her hands up into the air as she stalked off to the leather couch. “Fine! Don’t ask for my help if you’re just going to yell at me. You’re notorious for doing that shit.” She plopped onto the chair and kicked off her heels. But not even a moment later, a smirk appearing on Avery’s face. “Now, tell me about this girl you met at the club the other night.”

Of course. Avery would do anything to get her fill of gossip. It was her guilty pleasure, besides being an instigator. Kimiko raised an eyebrow and slid her phone into her back pocket, giving her sister the undivided attention she wanted from the start. Liam can surely wait. And I thought I was the clingy one…

“Oh… Her,” Kimiko mumbled, a flash of annoyance spreading across her features. Her face always told on her… no matter what emotion she was feeling. Everyone in the room knew.  

Avery snickered-- her tone mocking, “Aw, what did the big bad duchess do to you? It’s not often that little Kimi gets upset over some chick.”

“Well, that chick is the reason why my top smelled like whiskey!” She blurted while eyeing the jewelry section a little ways away from her. Her sister laughed again and Kimiko narrowed her eyes. “The hell is so funny?”

Avery flipped her hair, “You’re seriously still pissed about that... when that same woman holds your career in the palm of her hands? Tch, someone needs to get their priorities straight.” The smile on Avery’s lips spread wider when Kimiko didn’t respond. “Tell me I’m wrong. I dare you.”

Kimiko’s nostrils flared. “What are you trying to say?”

The older sibling shrugged, nonchalantly. Kimiko hated when she did that. Avery knew exactly where she was going with her little speech— she just wanted to be difficult. “I don’t know, Kimiko.”

“Whatever, Avery. I don’t have time for your stupid mind games. Besides, I’m pretty sure Daddy will raise hell if I’m not on that council. I’m not worried about her,” Kimiko said with a mischievous smile on her face as she finally made her way to the jewelry section.

Avery frowned and pursed her lips to keep from scoffing, “Using Father’s power, huh?”

“Well, you certainly don’t give a shit about him and your guess as to where our brother is as good as mine. So, why not use my daddy?” She asked, her black stiletto nails ran over the enclosed case of expensive necklaces and bracelets, eyes glittering as she studied each of them. A small, almost unnoticeable smile appeared on her lips when her sister didn’t come back with a witty retort.  

Avery ignored her sister’s dirty comment as she walked over to her. She leaned onto the case, her eyes burning with something more than just anger… Her eyes burned with resentment. And Kimiko knew all the reasons why.. Even if she continued to block them out. “He’s a shit person and you know it.”

Kimiko opened her mouth to reply, she still felt the need to protect him.. To protect her father. After everything he’s done for her in order for her to get this far in the political world… She felt obligated to. But the persistent vibration in her back pocket told her otherwise, she’d have to save that argument for another day. He wanted her attention. Her hand flew to her back pocket just as Avery looked over at her.

Avery looked at the phone in her hand and shook her head, “Can��t even hold a conversation.” She muttered before she called over an employee to open the enclosed case.

Despite the overwhelming urge to roll her eyes, Kimiko unlocked her phone and began to type right away, ignoring the world the best way she knew how to.

*

Jaela thumbed through the small stack of applications on her desk, skipping over some to get to what she was looking for. She stopped when she found her name and pulled it out. Leaning back in her chair, her eyes flew across the words, though she took moments to carefully scrutinize her qualifications and the apparent reasons Liam felt that she was right for the job. Reasons he wouldn’t elaborate on.

Jaela scribbled down notes as she read, biting the tip of her tongue. “Why does he want you so much…” she muttered as she read where she was from, how old she was, her experience, how long she lived in Cordonia and any given information about her time in Japan. There were no flaws in her application.... Not even one. This woman may have even been more capable than the candidate she picked. But... there was something still wrong.

Something that didn’t feel right about this applicant.

Kimiko Amaya...

She placed the application back into the stack and pulled out her keyboard, her fingers hovering over the keys, for what she didn’t know, after all, she did tell Liam she would do a thorough investigation, but there was a short knock on her office door that pulled her away from seeing that name before her eyes.

“Dinner?” Drake said, smiling, hot plate in his hand. Jaela smiled and stood up, greeting him with a kiss, taking the plate.

“Thank you for bringing me dinner,” she said. “I’ve gotta look into this… Kimiko Amaya… for a bit.” Drake raised an eyebrow and followed her to her desk, setting his hands on her shoulders, massaging them.

“You didn’t this afternoon?”

Jaela nodded, head falling back, looking up at her husband, plate set on the desk to the side, hands on his wrists. “Nah, too busy with the Council, bills and stuff to sign. But… I promised I’d give her another look, like Liam promised he’d look at my candidate.”

Drake offered a reassuring squeeze and leaned down, kissing her forehead. Her wore an odd expression, one she can’t read, but it didn’t matter. The chicken smells good. “Alright. Just don’t stay up too late, okay? I love how hard you work, but I love my wife more.”

She smiled, circling her thumbs over his skin. “I promise. You’ll get all the cuddles tonight.”

He smirked and ran his hand to the back of her neck. She shivered at his tender and tantalizing touch, biting her lower lip. He’s certainly tempting… but she needed to work for just a bit longer. “And more…?”

She rolled her eyes and smirked, kissing his palm, squeezing his hand. “I’m sure this can’t take too long, but if somebody is making me procrastinate…” She hinted with a pointed eyebrow raise, Drake shaking his head and chuckling.

“Alright, alright,” he said with one final kiss. “Don’t work too hard, Abdi. I’m sure we’ll have a lively debate tomorrow about who to choose for our final six.”

“I won’t,” she said, and that was enough to get Drake to finally leave, leaving the door cracked.  She let out a small sigh and glanced at her monitor, ready for a truly thorough look into the life and qualifications of this Kimiko.

In a few minutes, multiple tabs were open-- some articles (various tidbits of gossip about her family, not that gossip held any weight in her decision) , some social media (she seemed to like champagne and martinis and getting paid for advertisements) and others of general information about her and her family… and their history, so to speak.

Maybe it was excessive. She shouldn't have gone beyond the application, which has everything and more-- after all, she didn’t do this much digging with the other candidates she reviewed. But she was serious about her research and she hoped Liam was the same way. After all, these were the two candidates they disagreed on, so perhaps more was required than a second look at their applications.  

Jaela blinked and swallowed the chicken, refocusing on the screen. Enough of her thoughts. She had notes to take, replacing the empty dinner plate with a notebook as she truly dug into the mystery of why Liam wanted Kimiko Amaya so badly on the council… and why he blushed over this woman. First things first… one thing was for sure, her social media was always updated.

The last post was from three hours ago and it was of a boutique somewhere in the capital with the caption, ‘All to ourselves’ with tons of heart emojis next to it. Jaela raised an eyebrow as she continued to scroll through her feed, tons of pictures of bags from designer stores, at extravagant events with the same few people or out in the city with another woman, her sister, most likely. Had to be… But something about her seemed familiar. Oddly familiar. Nothing usually got past Jaela but this woman surely did. But she’d didn’t have time to rack her brain to why she looked familiar, not when there were notes to draw up.  

The more Jaela scrolled through her social media, the more annoyed she got. She had only scrolled past a handful of photos and announcements about charity events she attended, one of her working in the Apple Orchard catching her eye but that was the year before and there wasn’t much else after it.

Just of her partying... or shopping. Such a revolutionary pick over Brianna. Liam probably didn’t even look at Kimiko’s social media, he barely knew what a hashtag was-- “Hey...” Jaela jumped and turned to look at the door. She bit her lip when she saw the expression on Drake’s sleepy face. It had been almost two hours since he left the first time. “I thought you said--”

“I’m sorry. I’m coming right now,” she muttered and began to log off her desktop and clean up around her desk. Bedtime. She said she’d give Kimiko a second look… and she did, through nearly every photo, including one of of her shoes… on that carpet…. Something nagged  in the back of her mind, but she tried to push it back, letting her sleepy husband lead her to their room, Chance happily waddling at their feet.

*

Jaela tried.

She really, really tried to fall asleep, to accept that she looked at all she could and her mind wasn’t changed about this girl. Her social media was enough to disqualify her. Let alone her family, even if her father was a friend of the crown. Did Liam really want a woman with such little world experience to help run a country? He was better than that. She knows him.

But hours later, Drake snoring quietly next to her, out like a light (and he would be, she knew exactly how to get him dead to the world), Jaela stared at the canopy top of their bed, covers up to her chest. She can’t sleep. She can’t quiet her mind. She can only think of this Kimiko, a disastrous fit for the council once you looked past the paper. Her damn pictures… flaunting her travels and wealth for the world, despite only wearing basically black and white (did the girl not know how to wear color?), she still has to show off everything that says, “I haven’t worked a hard day in my life and only took Daddy’s money to get where I am”, even if those shoes are mediocre at best, and with that carpet-- fuck, that carpet.

Jaela’s heart leapt into her throat, eyes wide, cool dread settling form head to toe. His carpet.

Silently, she slipped out of bed and threw on a robe, wide awake and back into her office with the half finished notes and bullet points of her argument to Liam as to why Kimiko cannot be a part of the Royal Council. Chance followed her and curled at her feet as the desktop loads to right where she left off. All tabs opened, and back to her social media, array of pictures, whether genuine or a paid advertisement, that are everything Jaela doesn’t want to be associated with before her.

Jaela scrolled to the picture that left her so unsettled. Shoes, they’re just shoes, that stupid #ad in her caption. She frowned. The carpet is… it’s so familiar. It looks like… Liam’s office. Jaela gulped hard, stomach twisted at the mere thought, the possibility. Does Liam not realize that she’s a conflict of interest then? But… Jaela leaned back, rubbing her eyes with a heavy sigh. Liam’s not the only one who has to have a carpet like that… and he’s not the only powerful person she would visit.

“Does he even know her…” Jaela mumbled turned her attention back to her notes. If she was going to argue against this woman who was clearly not fit,  she needed good points. Everything about her social media proved one thing: she was a liability and so was her family. Jaela needed to prove Liam wrong, to prove that she was right. It wouldn’t be her first time doing so….

And before long, Jaela was knee deep in articles, looking through this woman’s tweets, as much as her Facebook as she could, her friends, family-- almost as fucked as hers--, and everything about this woman, her dark eyes staring through the screen, boring into hers. Jaela’s notes made barely any sense as the night dragged on, words turning into scribbles, sentences half complete ideas, reasons to argue against her weak and repetitive, but she just-- she couldn’t describe it-- she needed to protect Liam from this woman, she thought in her half asleep daze, scrolling through those pictures again, wondering why she looked so familiar. There’s no reason why she needs to do this search, digging everything, printing out articles, other than a gut feeling, present even as she nodded off.

“Gotta… protect… she’s a liability…”

“Time for bed, Abdi,” Drake whispered in her ear, arms coming around her. He lifted her into his arms. She tried to resist, but it was weak, head on his chest, hand on that damned scar. And she was sound asleep before he set her on the bed. Drake kissed her forehead and tucked her in with a frown, brushing hair off of her cheek. “Why do you care so much about her?” he whispered, question only heard by Chance, dutifully curled at Jaela’s feet.

*

“I have to ask, Jae,” Drake said after spitting out his toothpaste. Jaela paused brushing, then continued, waiting for him to carry on. “Why are you so… hyper-fixated on this Kimiko girl? If you don’t want her…” Drake kept his voice pretty even. Huh. Pretty alert for the morning, too. But… Jaela spit out her toothpaste in her sink, eyes narrowed in the mirror on him. “Why not just tell Liam no? Why did you need to...  I don’t know…” He trailed and looked away, hand through his wet hair.

“Finish your sentence.”

Drake sighed, gripping counter edge. “Why did you need to look her up like that? You know Liam didn’t do that to yours. Are you… intimidated by her or…?”

She blinked, incredulous. Her? Intimidated? “Me, intimated by her? Drake, you’ve got to be kidding me.” She wiped her mouth, then ran the water, getting some on her face before the cleanser. “I’m just... “ How could she explain this to him? The carpet? She’d seem crazy if she threw accusations like that into the air. “I have a gut feeling that she won’t work as a council member. I don’t know… she can’t be on, that’s all I know, Drake.”

He frowned and watched her, tugging on his hair. Jaela paused cleaning her face, then continued with a racing heart. Drake knew something, didn’t he? “She seems okay on paper, Jaela. It’s invasive to look her up like that. It’s not like we’re selecting anybody today.”

Jaela shook her head and rolled her eyes before washing off the bubbles. “It’s just a gut feeling. And when Liam listens to my arguments against her today, he’ll agree. That’s all, Drake. She’s not a fit, I’m glad I investigated her as much as I did, and I’m certainly not intimidated by a girl who hasn’t worked a day in her life and had everything handed to her. That’s final.”

She would have preferred a more impassioned response from Drake but she didn’t comment on his shrug, nor the way he said, “If you say so,” while avoiding her eyes in the mirror, leaving the bathroom after that. Maybe she seemed crazy. But she was right-- she knew it. Kimiko Amaya wouldn’t set one designer sponsored foot inside the council chambers.

*

“I wish I could have breakfast with you before the meeting but my father wants me in Japan, ASAP. You understand, right?”

Liam stared at her message before replying back with sincerity, trying his best to hide his disappointment.  Of course he was looking forward to having breakfast with her. He wanted to see her dark brown eyes, her cute smile and even the wrinkle in her nose when she laughed. She was his good luck charm and that’s why he wanted to see her. Yet, maybe things would run smoothly without seeing her. She couldn’t always be around... but he hoped that small inconvenience would change very soon.

“Of course I understand, Kimi. Have fun at your charity event.”

He put his phone down on his desk, a sigh leaving his lips as he wiped his eyes. Seeing her would have made his day ten times better but he couldn’t let her consume all of his thoughts, he had a country to run and an all important council meeting to attend. But it didn’t take long for her to text back and for a smile to appear on his face.

“I will for the both of us! Good luck in the meeting!”

That’s all he needed. For the next two hours, Liam handled proposals and bills and trade negotiations-- and gave Brianna’s application a final look (Kimiko was far more qualified and deserved to make it to the next round, in his objective opinion), texting Kimiko here and there, grinning each time her name popped up, a welcome distraction to the paperwork on his desk. She was… something special. A bright spot in his life, growing brighter each day, the days without her dragging and the days with her passing by too fast.

There was minutes until the council meeting that would narrow down the candidates to the final six. For a brief second, his stomach twisted-- he knew what would face him in there: Jaela. Unless she agreed with his choice to move Kimiko on to the next step… but he knew her. Did she ever back down from her convictions?

Liam stood up from his desk and grabbed all the essentials-- the applications, his notes and pens when his phone lit up. Just a simple reminder about the meeting but there was an overwhelming urge to text her back. A quick text wouldn’t cause him to be late. He picked up the phone again and sent a quick message to her:

“Would you be up for a date when you come back?��  He hadn’t even looked away from his phone-- she texted him back so quickly.

“Yeah, anything to spend more time with you.” With that, he slipped his phone in his pocket and exited his office with a smile on his face. The meeting would go as he expected, he knew it. Jaela had to change her mind after reviewing Kimiko’s application; she’d love her when they’d officially meet, and hopefully forget about that drink spilling incident. She’d see he’s never been happier and would welcome Kimiko into the council and friend group with open arms. For the first time, things would go as planned in his life. It’s what he had to believe, still smiling from Kimiko’s texts.

Liam silently greeted his staff as he quickly walked through the hallways, glancing at his watch. He was already running a bit behind just from sending a quick text message (though, it was worth it). It wasn’t like him to be late and it would start the meeting on the wrong foot if he was. He sighed in relief after rounding a corner when he noticed Hana and Maxwell entering the council room and not a minute too soon. But that wasn’t the only thing that caught his eye as he approached, people filtering into the chambers.

Jaela covered her mouth as she let out a short yawn, her appearance was spot on as usual but even the makeup she wore couldn’t cover the bags under her eyes. Not to mention how she appeared to move slow, further evidence that it seemed as if she didn’t a wink of sleep. He contained a frown. It’s Jaela. She worked tirelessly on anything-- there was no way she stayed up all night over Kimiko.

When she noticed Liam, she gave him a small nod, pausing for a moment to adjusted the files in her arms. Liam moved quickly, noting the notebook filled to brim with words-- but before he could get a good look at it, she turned and slipped into the room with another yawn.

Drake looked up from his phone after Jaela entered the room and locked eyes with Liam. Liam stopped-- dare he ask Drake what was going on?-- and then moved to stand next to Drake, leaning against the wall. Liam gulped as Drake searched his concerned face. Drake didn’t need to speak for Liam to know what had happened, why Jaela was so tired. Liam knew his visions of what should happen… wouldn’t be that easy, even with Kimiko being his good luck charm. Why can’t things be easy? Doesn’t he deserve to get what he wants, too?

Yet, despite Liam knowing what would happen, he had to ask. “Is Jaela alright? She seems particularly tired.”

Drake nodded, a hand deep in his pocket. “She’s fine. She was…” he paused, apparently search for the words. Liam nodded, urging him to continue. Drake sighed, apologetic brown eyes meeting Liam’s worried blue eyes. “She was up until like three or four, I forget, doing research on you know who,” he said quietly.

Liam’s stomach dropped and he sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, containing his reaction. There was no denial that Jaela might have dug a little deeper than Kimiko’s applications. But how deep? He couldn’t deny the flare of anger within him at the possibility that Jaela overdid it, infringing on Kimiko’s privacy by prying into parts of her life that would be erroneous to her qualifications and work as a council member. It’s no surprise: but how far? Why was she up that late? “Of course…” Liam muttered, lowering his hand. “How… how much did she do?”

Drake shrugged. “... I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.”

Liam went to respond, to pester for more information-- he’s her husband, after all, Drake surely knows more-- but Jaela appeared in the doorway, glaring at the two. She tapped her foot with a frown. “I’m glad you two are having a thrilling conversation, but I believe we have a kind of important meeting to run. Come on.”

Drake and Liam grimaced and wordlessly followed Jaela into the chambers, doors shutting behind them. Liam took his seat next to Jaela, as usual, and she started the opening statement, voice not showing a sign of tiredness. While she spoke, Liam glanced down to her extensive notes.

Too extensive notes. One jumped out to him-- more so slapped him across his cheek-- and he clenched his fist on his knee while Jaela flawlessly began the council meeting. It read: “Reckless, Spoiled, Had everything handed to her, Flaunts her money around, Not worth a second look.”

Not worth a second look? How can Jaela think that? Assume that? If she’d actually meet her--

“I see you’ve done your research,” Liam whispered to Jaela as Hana spoke, about what Liam didn’t know, fire burning within him. Kimiko… she was worth everything. And Jaela didn’t give her a chance.

She shrugged, moving her notes closer to her, blocking her words from view. “I said it would be a thorough review of your candidate.”

Liam’s nostrils flared. “So, she’s not worth it but you’ll stay up till three researching her?”

Jaela narrowed her eyes. “You shouldn’t have looked at my notes, Liam. Besides, you’ll hear all of this.”

He wanted to pull her aside and discuss this now. But… he only clenched his fist tighter, thinking of Kimiko’s laugh, or how she looked at him after they kissed, under her thick lashes and like he was the only man in the world. “Oh, I can’t wait for you to enlighten me.”

Jaela brushed back her hair and smirked for one second. “You seem a little touchy about this candidate. Any reason why…?”

“None,” he snapped and looked away-- he couldn’t give into her prodding. This wasn’t the time nor place. If Kimiko made it past this round, and the next, and was selected… then they could know. He couldn’t give Jaela any more ammunition against the woman he was falling in love with day by day.

Falling in… the heat in Liam’s cheeks now wasn’t anger at Jaela’s false assumptions. Maybe, he’s falling for her. It would be the first time in years and it’s a love like he’s never experienced before-- and will do anything to hold on to.

He’ll do anything for Kimiko, no matter what Jaela thinks of her. He’s put his happiness on the backburner for too long for Jaela. She hadn’t even formally met her, so how could she formulate an opinion on her by just picture? But... None of that mattered anymore. Her thoughts didn’t matter-- but his happiness does. That’s a first for the first time years, too.

It felt… simply indescribable.

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[romanovcain]

( BILL SKARSGÅRD, MALE, HE/HIM ) I, CAIN ROMANOV am a LEGACY student and would hereby like to submit my application to Kingswood Boarding School. I am EIGHTEEN years old and will be a SENIOR I would describe myself as RIGHTEOUS and AMBITIOUS, but also AVOIDANT and UNTRUSTING which I plan to work on during my time here. This is my request to join the HENRY building as a house MEMBER and look forward to hearing back from you. [ jimbo, 19, est ;)] 

hi this is cain and i love him treat him nicely ok thanks

tw: cults, abuse, heroin, weird religion shit

son of vaughn and adelaide romanov

vaughn being one of the senators of the state [whichever one that kingswood is located in] and his wife being a huge contributor to charity work over the years

adelaide was born and raised in england to a very, very, noble family and still keeps in close contact to them--often visiting them with the children

cain is the eldest of five children and always had a strong sense of duty to protect his younger siblings from harm’s way

the only one allowed to bully them is cain himself

right off the bat, cain could do no wrong. he was a perfect child who never threw tantrums or tracked mud throughout the house--he was obedient and had a great deal of respect for his parents and their reputations

they practically grew up down the street from kingswood, and he had always known he was going to attend the school. it was in his blood, both lines, and cain strove to never disappoint

being of such high status did, admittedly, give cain too much of an ego

he wasn’t boastful about his family, but he did give off an almost untouchable air

he either acknowledged you, or ignored you completely. often decided on who your parents were

at kingswood he was practically their golden child; the poster child.

he was respectful and charming, his smile could get him free of a month’s worth of detention, and he never let himself get into any bad publicity

he was part of several clubs, and was the star jumper on the track team

his presence at kingswood was known, and it was that simple. either you knew of him, or you wish he knew you

he was elitist and didn’t acknowledge those he considered ‘less than’ him; scholarship students, henry boys and victoria girls--anybody who would tarnish the reputation he had from birth was a no-go

he never sought out problems, himself, having always avoided unneeded conflict

that being said--when there was needed conflict, he wasn’t afraid to have it...handled

his best friend died sophomore year and it affected him pretty badly, though he would have never showed it

if anything, he became colder--if that was even possible. he was practically the ice king.

he went into senior year as head of edward house, the president of student gov, along with a member of several other clubs, and captain of the track team. 

and months later; on january 1st, 2018--cain disappeared

nobody knew where he had gone; it sent the nation into a panic.

months long search hunts, constant activity checks on his cards and phone, national broadcasting of his information. radio silence.

cain was, not dead--but seemed like it

in reality, he had given up his life of luxury to pursue what he thought was a new beginning

his recruiters were carefree children of god; who believed wealth was the root of all evil, and that those corrupted by capitalism had to be saved

they were part of a much, much, larger cult--with many, many more followers

they met cain by coincidence; small talk in a bank. they knew who he was; everybody knew who cain romanov was.

the fact his name was cain, was a message from god

they had to have him

they managed to impress cain with their intensive knowledge of life, and from there they had stayed in contact

right until january 1st, when cain was ‘initiated’ into their cult

the new year symbolized new lives, and they stripped him of his sins.

it was fine, at first. cain enjoyed the simplicity of their lives and didn’t particularly mind the worship--he had grown up religious

they were minimalist, and didn’t want cain to own any personal belongings, but he managed to hide a secret journal inside his mattress.

it was at first, just something to record his days with, or write letters to the people he missed, despite the fact he could never send them

it soon proved to be his means of survival

as the months passed by, cain was finding it harder to please his new family. they wanted more out of him. they wanted him to bless them, but he was just a boy

he was just a boy.

they found reasons to punish cain, no matter how small the error--he was punished

they involved him being grabbed at and tugged at, dozens of hands pulling at his limbs and clothes and begging him--chanting at him--to repent, until he did so

other times, they’d cleanse him via baptism, repeatedly, until water nearly filled his lungs

one of the worst things they did, were their attempts to subdue him and force him to conform back into their ways. everyday, they’d inject him with a small dose of heroin

this action led to cain’s eventual memory loss; his memory became fuzzed, shattered, only pieces and bits of his previous life left behind

but his journals reminded him of what he used to have. even if he didn’t remember it fully himself, he could read his own words and know that no matter what was going on--it was not right. and he had to get out.

he let the cult thing he was conforming, for a few months after that--to just, avoid the punishments.

it worked for a while, up until new years eve.

he had done something, unworthy to their god, and he was to pay in a terrible way.

they held him down, and attempted to brand cain with--well, the mark of cain

he bit them whenever they tried to come near his head, so they settled with his chest--right over his heart

at their cleansing ritual, that was when cain made his escape--running through woods and woods and woods until he collapsed in the middle of the highway, nearly causing an accident

it was soon reported, on january 1st, 2019, that cain romanov had been found

despite having been, running for hours, and extremely dirty--cain had been forced to recount to the police exactly where he had gone, what he had endured.

he broke down several times, sobbing, though it is a fact he keeps strictly to himself

and just like that--he was taken home.

the family reunion was....tough. some of his family had accepted the fact he was dead, others had always known he was still alive, somehow.

regardless, it was all very emotional.

despite how emotional, it was, every time somebody went to hug him, or shake his hand, or anything--he’d back away, cringe, with a repulsed look on his face

it was an extremely quick decision, but after a brief amount of thought--both kingswood and his parents thought it would be good for publicity if he finished the school year he never got to see--enrolling him for his senior year. again.

his father took advantage of the heartfelt reunion, and took the chance to announce his campaign for presidency--in name of his found son, who gave him hope once more. or some other bullshit.

cain is not the boy he was previously. he is much more reserved, yet not nearly as elite as before. he doesn’t give a shit where somebody came from. he just wants to finish his year and go about his life again

suffers from pstd and goes to therapy once a week; he still journals because his therapist told him too

also took up sketching (often, abstract portraits) as a way to help him think, or process, or cope. it was a method of healing.

looking at his old journals helps him with recognizing people, but he doesn’t really remember them

he doesn’t remember too much of his time at kingswood, and is struggling. it’s weird to know he meant so much to specific people, even though he has no memory of them anymore

he’s gradually regaining his memory, but is also dealing with heroin withdrawals. after all, they had been forcing it into his system everyday

he cant stand being touched, contact with others repulses him and often triggers flashbacks to the cult

he has no interest in any of his former positions, choosing to focus on schoolwork.

there’s probably more that i forgot tbh

EDIT: the police found the recruiters of the cult, but not the entire ordeal. cain is obsessed with the investigation, and follows it extremely closely. if anything, he’s creating his own mini investigation in following.

wanted connections !!!

past connections, mainly

old friends

ex-relationships

people he should really remember but doesn’t

he was an idol for many, and was notorious around the school. if theyve been at kingswood for a while, there is a huge chance they knew of him

god i dont know

just. give me angst. he doesn’t remember a lot about others.