#and rosemary was because she ended up looking a bit like her when i drew her i havent seen rosemarys baby yet

[nancypullen]

Friday

It was a long week, a weird week too. In the library we see loads of nice people, but we also see our fair share of wackadoodles. On Wednesday I arrived at work to unlock the doors, get things ready to open, take our deposit to the bank, etc. The parking lot was empty when I arrived with the exception of a woman who appeared to be intoxicated. Most of my brain focused on how sad it was that she was under the influence at 8:45 in the morning. But the curious part of my brain was entertained by her actions. She stood at the entry, looking at her reflection in the door, and raised and lowered her shirt while shouting (something I couldn't make out). She thought it was hilarious.

As I walked up to the door, hoping that our interaction would be a good one, I said, "Good morning!" She stared at me for a minute and then said, "Heyyyyy, peace lady earrings smile." I was wearing peace sign earrings, so I guess it all made sense. About fifteen minutes later a coworker came in and said that our friend at the door had made fun of her green shoes. Everyone's a fashion critic.

During my lunch break that same day I decided to treat myself to Starbucks. It's only a couple of minutes from the library so I zipped over. While sitting at a red light, I noticed a fellow on a bike waiting to cross. There was white hair poking out of his helmet so I was admiring his gusto when I noticed something else... sitting on his handlebars was a big ol' parrot.

Terrible picture because I had to zoom in and then the darn bird kept turning away. I think he was embarrassed. He knows he's supposed to wear a helmet. As the full Flower Moon drew closer things just got weirder and weirder. Patrons asked kooky questions, another coworker quit (that's 4 in the last four months!), I was asked to paint those snake rocks (shudder), and so on. But I still love a full moon and I couldn't wait to sit on the porch and soak it up. I plan to do a lot of porch sittin' for the next couple of days. Isn't it pretty?

I probably should have swept before snapping that, but this is real life, not a magazine.

There's a fern to the left of the front door. SItting beside that fern is a cute little pig that the grandgirl named Maybe, after a pig in a storybook.

On the opposite end of the porch, where it wraps around just a bit, is where I like to sit and read. It's not fluffed up just yet, but it's serviceable.

I'm short enough to sit on that loveseat and prop my legs on the railing. It's comfy. That stretch of dirt you see along the side of the house is popping up tiny zinnias and sunflowers. It'll be a glorious riot of color this summer. There's also bee balm and a climbing rose just out of the photo. From that spot, if I look to the right I can watch the chickadee family that's occupying the little white birdhouse.

All in all, a really lovely place to waste some time. Though it's not really wasted time if it recharges your batteries, right?

After getting the mulch down I poked around a bit and gave all of the plants a pep talk. The basil, dill, and cilantro look fantastic. The rosemary isn't thriving. I've never in my life had a rosemary plant that didn't do well. I wonder what she needs from me. More sun, less sun, more water, less water? She's in a pot with several types of flowers, is there someone she's not getting along with? Some plants don't play well with others. I'll figure it out. I've got to run up to Walmart and buy spray paint for the rocksssss. Since the basil is growing like gangbusters I'm tempted to pick up an eggplant and make eggplant cutlets with fresh mozzarella and a big slice of tomato. It's so yummy. Fresh basil takes it over the top.

This is the recipe I use, so simple and absolutely delicious.

I'd better wrap this up and go get some paint. I have big ideas and I'm not sure how to execute them - never stopped me before. Just wanted to reach out from my little corner of the web and tell you that I think you're fabulous. You really are. I double dog dare you to name three things that you like about yourself. Are you smart, kind, creative, hardworking, generous, witty, athletic, punctual, efficient, organized, flexible, a snappy dresser, helpful, or any number of other good things? Think about how much you'd admire those same qualities in someone else. See? You're fabulous, own it. Sending out love and full moon vibes. Stay safe, stay well, get kooky. XOXO, Nancy

[surrender-souls]

been wanting to name this oc i have after a horror character give her a name like nancy, laurie, rosemary, sally, even suzy but i think. im gonna name her freddy

[lorata]

Petra & Emory - grief

I have absolutely no memory of writing this AND I EVEN wrote little notes to help me finish it but I don't even remember ("finding the book" - what book????) so I don't think it's ever gonna happen

for @amusedmuralist, have some Petra thinking about Emory

warnings: fresh grief, I think originally I was going to take Petra all the way through to healing but I don't remember how I was going to get here there. my notes say it ends with "making the pie" so ........... ?

Petra pokes the potted soil with one finger. It gives a little beneath the pressure, cool and crumbly, not quite damp. Bits come away on her fingertip when she pulls back. She looks at it dubiously. She pinches a long, pointed leaf between her fingers, testing, trying to remember what it looked like years ago. It’s not plump and fat like the healthy plant Emory showed her back then, but it’s not thin and brittle like the first day she opened the door to the house either. Back then the ends were brown and pinched, nearly folded in half, and Petra had clipped off the dead bits and changed the soil and dripped in water, terrified of drowning it. She’d broken off a piece below the dead ends to see a trickle of the thick, clear slime that’s supposed to cure anything from mosquito bites to sunburn to minor knife wounds.

“You’re not going to die,” Petra tells the plant. “You’re not allowed.”

She can’t remember its name. She does remember walking into the kitchen, her boots tracking footprints in the grime on a floor that was never allowed to see so much as a speck of dust, and facing the curled, crumbled carnage of the dried-up herb garden on the windowsill. The soil had long dried out, the leaves little more than dust under Petra’s fingers when she touched them. She’d lifted one by its base and the entire plant came loose from the pot, its roots a shallow husk. She tried soaking them in water to see if anything took but they were gone now: the basil, the thyme, the chervil with its sweet scent and saw-toothed leaves, the long-fingered rosemary that Petra had dumped, without chopping, into a pot of soup the first time she’d helped with cooking because how should she know? — all the delicate little baby herbs that had been so carefully tended and nurtured that waited for the broad, scarred hands to return and water them, check their leaves for bugs, drain the soil, had eventually given up.

But one hadn’t. Petra almost didn’t believe it when she saw it, had cradled the terracotta pot in both hands and clutched it to her chest, breaths coming a little harsher as she checked the tall, spiky plant. And so she brought it home, found a sunny windowsill and set it up, and now she checks it daily with adherence to ritual that’s probably a little unhealthy, but who cares.

People aren’t reborn in plants. That’s ridiculous. But Emory (she can say it — Emory) loved those plants, and now she’s gone, and if Petra can save one, even one, and make it useful, then maybe the awful, hollow feeling that filled her when she walked into Emory’s empty house will finally lift.

(The looters didn’t touch the house. All those jars, all the preserves, the jams, the sauces, the cupboards stocked with homemade goods, nobody took a thing. The dust on the floors and counters was unbroken until Petra crossed the threshold. Petra never believed in magic or beauty or goodness, but if she did, she thinks it might look a little like a tall, unassuming woman with a warrior’s physique who spent her days taking care of other people.)

She didn’t expect to feel so empty.

Petra’s rage is a firestorm, her resentment a hurricane. Her defiant scream in the face of death shocked millions of viewers and stunned the commentators into silence for a full minute afterward. She has howled and flung her feelings at the moon like a feral creature since the day she first drew breath. If anyone’s grief should tear apart the sky, it should be the girl who snarled before she ever thought to smile.

And yet.

And yet.

She sits in Emory’s kitchen and stares at the dead plants in their tiny planters, the cooking pots and pans lined up in neat rows gathering dust. She lets herself in to Odin’s conservatory, scuffs away the broken glass with the toe of her boot, and sits on the floor below the trailing roses, their dropped leaves crunching underneath her.

“Emory’s dead,” she says in the kitchen.

“Odin’s dead,” she says in the greenhouse.

“They’re never coming back.”

No one answers. The wind whistles outside. A bird flutters by the window, a dark shape with inquisitive eyes. She stares up at the ceiling, unblinking, and pushes, trying to find the hidden well inside her. Petra has never had trouble with tears. In Residential the trainers had to help her stop crying every time her feelings got too strong: a tribute who burst into furious sobs because she got too angry might make for amusing television, but she’d never take the crown home for District 2.

(“I’m not crying because I’m sad,” Petra shouted at Selene once, around age ten or so, her face flaming scarlet, fists flying. “I just hate you so much and it has to go somewhere!” The trainers soon pulled them apart for brawling in the middle of dodgeball.)

She did cry once before, she remembers. Her hip aching from walking all the way to the Presidential mansion and back across the wartorn streets. Brutus hauling her up into his arms, his stubble scratching against her cheek. The smell of sweat and blood on their unwashed clothes stinging her nostrils. Exhaustion pressing behind her eyelids. The sheer relief that had unlocked something inside her and let the tears release. But they’d been tears for herself, curled up for days and wondering when Brutus would notice her, feeling useless and broken and alone, wishing the explosion had driven her skull into her brain and left Emory standing instead. She hadn’t cried for them.

She still hasn’t. She tries until she feels stupid and powerless and angry, then gives up and heads home.

“I saw them die,” she says, accusing and frustrated all at once. “I was there. Odin bled out in my lap. We all watched Emory go. I close my eyes and I can see everything. It’s not like I’m having trouble processing because the last time I saw them they were alive and my brain can’t put the two together. I have trouble remembering what Odin looks like without a giant gunshot wound leaking out onto the floor. So how come? Why is this happening to me?”

“Uh.” Claudius runs a hand over his hair. “Is there anyone else you can talk to about this? Like. Literally anyone.”

“No,” Petra snaps. “Everyone else lost someone. It would be insensitive. You only care about Lyme so you’re the only one who’s safe.”

“I care about more than — you know what, fine, whatever.” Claudius sighs. “You know that feeling nothing is a legitimate form of grief, right? Sometimes everything is too much to handle so you just —” he mimes a flatline gesture with one hand. “It’ll come, eventually.”

Petra’s lip curls. “And you’re the expert because…”

“You asked me —”

He’s right, she did, and they might not be friends but it’s not Claudius’ fault that Petra is a nightmare. At least she felt something other than rainy-day greyness for a second, even if it’s not what she wanted to feel. She exhales hard through her nose. “So, what, I’ll just wake up and — feel something, one day, out of nowhere?”

“It’s more like … the thing that makes the feelings come won’t be the thing you think it is,” Claudius says. “So if you’re going to their houses trying to trigger yourself on purpose it’s probably not going to work. Just be patient.”

[tobebugjewce]

THE WALTEN FILES: my jumbled notes on my blind run-in with this web series

first off this is gonna be long and unorganized, also this is my second time writing this as i had lost literally half of my progress and im This (imagine two fingers almost touching with a 0.0000000001mm distance between them) close to ripping all of the fucking hair out of my goddamn head. but now this will be extra long and yes, i will lose some accuracy to my first writing but thats okay ill probably edit this a kajillion times over

which brings me to my next tangent; im literally braindumping here. so to have a smidge of organization all afterthoughts, edits and corrections will be boldened, i forgot what im gonna do with italicized text but ill probably bolden it here yeah im pretty sure its for side tangents, separate from Corrections, which are in bold. also theyre for emphasis too.

so in general, this post right here is all of my notes i wrote down on my grid-patterned sticky notes (which i used WAYYYY too much of) about the first 3 uploaded walten files youtube videos transferred onto my handy dandy digital notebook, this b(l)og. yeppers peppers. you know im serious about this shit when i typed probably over like a thousand fucking words including boldened shit, italicized shit and motherfucking links, lost it ALL, and im sitting here re-typing it again.

i feel bad about this but im not gonna trigger warn right here, but this is technically a warning. if you want a list of triggers as to what this post (and the walten files in general) i will link a little list to that here

without further a doo doo, (mama mia) here the fucking fuck we go again.

THE WALTEN FILES - VIDEO #1

clarifying this now, im gonna put some useless shit which i thought was code onto this because even though it was useless it was part of my notes and im physically going to combust if i dont put down every single thing i wrote on my papers. so what i thought was code was in the closed captions, i started writing it down when i got to the second video but came back to my first videos notes to include them. i wrote down the first letter to every word that was capitalized in the closed captions, which i had on as a default because number one i knew going into this id need them because most web horror things like args and cryptic shit like that has some of the most crucial shits in the closed captions. number two i am autistic and have auditory processing issues and have most closed captioning on as a default if theyre available.

firstly jotted, i wrote down the closed captions “code” so im gonna put the rest here too: HYWITB(BSI)Y A(BSI)BJWFKWITW ILHHFSBBSBTLBWI USOISTBNBSFIRBCAWHSHCBWHTAIGRNB*C*BTWLTSFA(20)MCFP ILITIIACPH(1978, 1979)SA(4)YTSCH*C*OGSSU SFTGRPATDBBUTFBNLLCHMIHLBRALLCLAYTUKB*LC*WHATWASTHATTHING 

the numbers in parenthesis are there because i wasnt sure they should be included in the “code” or not. i also thought of this with the BSI - bunny smiles incorporated and also the years 1978 and 1979. the shits in asterisks are coughs and light coughs, which were capitalized in the closed captions so i included them too just in case

i then jotted, in parenthesis of course, the names of the animatronics when they were listed in the animation section of the video; bon aka the blue bunny, sha aka the sheep one, boozoo aka the clown<3 honk<33, and banny aka the purpled eyelashed up one who is also a bunny btw. also i got boozoo the clown and boozoo the mustache guy confused because apparently the clowns name is billy???? but they named “boozoo” in bons sleepover and showed the clown? idk maybe im an idiot and theyre the same or just an idiot and theyre different or a super mega (matt and ryan?!?!??) idiot in general which is probably the case

i started drawing little stars to write down things i thought would be super important or to 100% look at again. the first subject of this pointy torture was the part of the video where at 3:00, i marked it down to make sure to reverse the audio as it was most definitely a weird audio that has that signature warp-y effect that makes sure you KNOW its in reverse. i then listened back to it Very carefully (still got it wrong) and got this: “you finally start to remember. that old doll. they will look out for you soon” im also pretty sure i heard “sophie” at the end of that audio but im not entirely sure and dont remember and i dont wanna go back to check lmfao but anyways it didnt matter because i was wrong anyway. after i had finished all 3 walten files i watched the film theory video on the walten files (which didnt cover all 3 but was dece.) out of curiosity and to hear matpats signature silly little voice explain some stuff i already knew, and click some shit in my brain that i couldve thought up of if i was a bit more... i dont know honestly. anyways yeah so the actual audio is “you finally start to remember. that old day. they will look out for you soon.” so yeah. day, not doll.

i then wrote down “sarah evelyn”, the name on the bons sleepover animation (i dont remember if she created it or animated it or whatnot) and scribbled will she matter? under her name. turns out no, as i didnt see her name in the rest of the series, let alone the first video. this is also a great time to mention how matpat theory helped me realize that the walten files are collections of videos, uploaded onto youtube by anthony. (i already knew about anthony as he signed his name in the descriptions of the youtube videos, making me categorize this overall web series more into an arg type genre.) but yes, the tapes, recorded “irl” footage, animated clips, vhs tape recordings and other audio-visual content is all collected and labeled the walten files, as i had mistaken each video to be a tape. stupid me. alrighty, onward!

i starred this one, good for me; MISSING: Jack Walten LAST SEEN: 06/11/1974

i jotted down with an arrow that; sophie was a nightguard? she was wearing the uniform explained in tape 2 i dont know why but i went back into my video 1 notes after i had watched video 2. organization purposes. i guess.?? 

i then paused the video when the screen flickered a date, the beginning of video footage dated 10/10/1982 (Brian Stells?) god my little genius ass assuming the videographer was brian stells, based on the id card i saw earlier.

i then wrote down what text i saw on the dead, mangled, bloody body in the purple security suit; “i cant feel anything” “he thought i was her” then drew a little arrow pointing to; thought brian was sophie? or ashley? i also starred the name Brian Stells this is totally out of order LMFAOOOOOOOO also i wrote down ashley because, again, my little pea brain went back on my video 1 notes after watching video 2. but yep thats all i wrote for The Walten Files 1 - Company Introductory Tape

THE WALTEN FILES - VIDEO #2 

Tape #1 - created 07/02/1978

awesome how thats first and foremost in the captions. god. so sexy of you martin walls. /j /nsx

this pack of notes is chunkier because again, like i have mentioned before i am an absolute goober and thought the capitalized letters of the words would actually mean something. I MEAN MAYBE THEY DO AND IM JUST DOING IT WRONG but i stopped doing it after this video because holy shit it was exhausting and my stupid little fingers couldnt take the writing anymore becasue i am WEAK. 

so write off the bat (squeak) i wrote down 197[] the blacked out rectangle over the last digit of that year and everything im also now assuming its probably 1978 or 1974 because lore reasons but whos to say but yeah i also wrote down this;

Tape #2 - created 08/13/1978

then, straight up in the beginning of the video i caught it, the flash of text, as i had by now realized i gotta be SUPER stupid focused on the screen in case i miss anything, i wanted to be crazy precise on my theorizing and mental notes, among other things. but yes i saw it, the first half of a youtube link;  “https://youtu” 

claps hands together and rubs them evilly. oh yeah baby. thats the hot lunch. this shit right here? the cats pajamas. lets fucking go.

i wrote down this goofy shit i pasued to inspect when i saw bon sorting through a file cabinet and naturally scribbled down the labels and other written things i could see on the files; 

relocate X/X/75 felix

storage K-9 07/23/1975 felix k(ranken)

Bons Burgers 06/28/1974 Jack Walten

Shipping Service 1975

New Location -> 1982

i also wrote down more goofy shit, like when banny was created for some reason; in 1974

starred, i noted to go back and reverse the audio at 5:09, when played back, i didnt write it down so i dont remember. lmao.

i also marked to screenshot and brighten the darkened image i saw at 5:20, i was going to do it on my phone then realized i can just do it on my computer so i quickly took a screenshot, brightened it and wrote down what i saw; a missing person poster that read MISSING: SUSAN WOODINGS(?) Last seen: 1974 i was very unsure of the spelling of her last name because the image was so goddamn low quality and grainy but its what i saw. this is where tape #3 gets thrown in, which im gonna type again because i like how the formatting looks;

Tape #3 - created 07/09/1978 (BEFORE tape 2?!//1/1??? its more likely than you think)

i wrote down more dates, any dates i saw, i jotted down. i wrote; 

Technical Support 1978 

then, 

Brian Stells (for some reason i dont remember right now)

alrighty this is where the stupid capitalized letters come in, but before it looks like i vomit a keysmash time infinity on this, ill put down the little inbetween things i wrote in the midst of the caps lockalypse like timestamps and stuff, so here you go;

- Reverse at 8:16 which i did but of course didnt write down what i heard. i think it was too warbled to hear anything clear out of it, or it was just the good ol auditory processing issues fucking me over yet again. WAIT yep yes i did here it is: “rosemary would go to the restaurant every night hoping that [her] beloved husband would reappear after being missing for weeks but no response until one day [s]he heard a voice [saying] ‘i know where he is rosie’ coming from the back stage” the bracketed stuff is the corrections, i misheard the audio and thought the audio said “his”, “he” and “singing” like a nimrod

- Brighten at 10:14 which was another missing person poster, but i dont think it had any information on it because i didnt write it down, just;

- Sophie again (pic at 9:08?) (dismemberd and put in Sha) i was stupid and wrong haha idiot it was rosemary who was put in sha but anywho

i starred and underlined a huge thing i discovered which was;

- Walten had 3 kids which i dont remember how i found out but it doesnt matter, its good important info i uncovered.

- Tape #4 - Unkown Date

- recorded 07/12-07/14 1978 

- Hilary B, Ashley P & Kevin W i made sure to get these names down as soon as i saw them on screen but then realized shortly after i wouldnt really need to have it as the closed captions made sure i knew which person was talking by using their first initial (capitalized of course) before each line of text. this is the perfect time to announce the arrival of the clusterfuck of capital letters, which is going to include colons which will indicate that the letter before it is the initial of the person talking. without further aedue, here comes another chinese earthquake;

TCWTSTATO(K-9)TBSSFWFCNEHAWBSUBIUC(BSIIDC)OWHISF INBIJTILNSPL(K-9)LCSCKCCCWTTLTLITTTYROTFAJAMHPYYSTCSPMBBWSBIB H:NTPPCCK:DA:HH:YCPRPMWTCBCRAWK:JH:SYYTCPBACPSTBAWCA:TK(?):FMTTCMK:TCPNOA:DTOFK:ITNPPRA:YBUTIRRFH:HKIBESRAIA:TCK:WA:WPCCFTRRIDPEH:GGK:GPA:LKK:WA:HNCGTKMK:YH:IGKA:ESK:MFH:RK:HILRLBNTRPPUWHITRRTPEIFEPH:YWBEBPK:MAHPBTRPTRPEL(LN)HTACPKLIKHPFITSKLTKLB(LB?)ISIBSUBIPRW AEBATHSPUAICTPURTWBBRPHTRTIIIILTCITCUCCP S(bpe, be)WA”IDCPBPSIB

holy shit its finally over okay now onto some MORE of what i wrote down in between and also after that keysmash attack;

12 doors? (backrooms) 27? 26? i was unsure because ashley was unsure too lmfao

found cassette (6/11/78) <- says “discard”? yeah it did

Tape in clown audio, speaking voice; jack, susan, charles(?), rosemary, sophie, last word sounds like “walrus” it was walten lmfao

Ashley died? yeah she did lmfao OR AT LEAST I THINK SO??

starred this one, Reverse @ 17:06, then got this;

“they left the next day, they thought ashley left early, but she was in the backdoors, screaming as much as she could, but no one heard the screams, the following days the caretakers would complain about an awful smell coming from the backdoors, company decided to shut down facility until new advice, the relocate project was unsuccessful. ashley is still there, but she is not screaming anymore, she saw something she wasnt supposed to see and now shes beautiful” the phrase “shes beautiful” was repeating like a bajillion times in that wall of text. then, god motherfuckng bless: 

at 17:23 i found the other half of the youtube link, “.be/k07QqEDOfQ” i pieced that bad boy together as instant as i think any form of ramen could never be, but remained ever patient. because i made sure to jot down this before moving onto my next segment;

@ end of vid 2, “shadow man sees* me when lights go off” im an idiot *it was actually “feeds” not “sees”, which AGAIN, i only found out after watching the stupid little film theory video *begins snarling and foaming at the mouth*

okay im not proud to admit im editing this to post it and realized ive lost my notes. well. 

might as well post what ive got! if i find my shit ill add onto this, i suppose.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 115

Extra special thanks for this chapter go out to @baelpenrose and @charlylimph-blog. Besides being regular beta-readers for me, Bael really really wanted a chapter with more Charly/Coffey, and Charly happily obliged by joining my and Bael’s regularly scheduled live-write of the chapter. We. Had. A. Blast.  It was  a shining beacon of love and laughter in my life, let me tell you.

I walked from the kitchen to the entry just as the notification went off that someone was standing outside. Still laughing from the comment Tyche made about the chicken breasts we were currently stuffing, my smile didn’t drop an inch as I saw Charly and Coffey standing there. “Hey, you two! About time!”

Charly held her head high and ignored my comment, while Coffey grinned back. “Best for last, you know,” he tossed with a wink as he handed over a bottle of red wine. “I know it doesn’t go with chicken but…”

“Stomachs are colorblind,” I finished, in sync with Charly and Tyche like we had rehearsed it. Conor and Maverick burst into laughter while Arthur just shook his head at our antics.

Charly stretched her neck to look over Tyche’s shoulder. “Those looks like…”

“We know,” Arthur groaned, eliciting another chuckle from everyone. “Tyche just mentioned that.”

“The - feta? - cheese is not helping your case, I’m just saying.”

Tyche tried her hardest to scowl and made a shooing gesture. “Please don’t ruin dinner before it’s even cooked please?”

“If I promise it won’t make dinner sound obscene, can I ask a question?” Charly ventured. All eyes turned toward her, since it was probably the first time she had ever asked permission to ask a question. Once I slowly nodded, she took a deep breath. “Have you ever tried rabbit?” The next part was rushed. “ImeanIhavearecipeforrabbitstewthat’stodiefor, andI’mprettysureAntoinewouldlikerabbitragout-”

“Charly,” Coffey intoned softly, reaching out to gently scritch the back of her neck.

She stopped talking and bit her lips. “I just mean - “

“It’s okay,” I assured them before anyone else in the room exploded from the laughter they were trying to hold back for her sake. “I really would love that recipe, Charly. I actually have a recipe for lapine ragout that Antoine adores, but the only other recipe I have is for coney pie.”

Charly nodded enthusiastically while practically collapsing on Coffey’s lap. Still nodding, she pulled a file up on her datapad and flicked it towards me. “Can I ask about the rabbits?” she asked softly, head twitching when Coffey scowled and - I assume - gently tugged the hair above where he was still scratching her neck. “Doesn’t hurt to ask!” she complained.

“I swear, it’s fine,” Arthur stated firmly. “You would be shocked at how hilarious she finds this story.”

Tyche rolled her eyes hard enough to move her neck. “And it puts some things into perspective…” she sighed.

Conor, on the other hand, gave me a hard look when I opened my mouth. “You know the rule.”

Dropping my head back in defeat, I took a deep breath. “Yes, I will make coney pie tomorrow for dinner.” Antoine, Charly, and Coffey all looked at me in confusion. “Conor hates hearing about my near-death experiences, so when I tell this story I have to make him rabbit pie for dinner.”

“So he can eat your enemies,” Charly nodded sagely.

“Pretty much,” I shrugged.

“Wait- “ she sputtered, realizing the rest of what I explained. “You had a near death experience? With a bunny!?”

All I could do was giggle. “Yes. I have a deathly fear of bunnies because one almost killed me once.”

“Twas no ordinary rabbit - it had a vicious streak a mile wide….” Arthur added, funny accent and all.

“May I ask that no one interrupt Sophia until she explains how she managed a real-life reenactment of a Monty Python sketch?” Coffey asked, leaning forward so far that Charly had to twist to stay on his lap.

“The truth is stranger than fiction,” Arthur nodded, tapping his glass gently against the other man’s. “Sophia, take it away.”

Shaking my head with a grin, I obliged. “You have to know, Tyche and I grew up in a very backwater, uneducated family, and also in hereditary poverty.   So, it was perfectly normal - to us, anyway - to have pets like chickens, or goats… or rabbits… Food animals.  Well, when I was eight, my uncle decided I was old enough for my first pet rabbit.  A good, big one.” Tyche shook her head with a smirk, and I just shot her a glance as I kept speaking. “Well, Snickers wasn’t quite hand-tamed. And the only way to hand-tame a wild rabbit is to…. Well, hold it, honestly.  So I would sit in the yard, with Snickers in my lap, and hold him while he ate grass.”

Maverick opened his mouth to ask the question he always loved to ask, but Charly gently put her hand on his wrist and shook her head. 

I still answered the question I knew would have come. “I know, it sounds like the most harmless thing in the world, right? Pet rabbit, in my lap, chilling out and eating fresh grass.  The thing is… Rabbits are burrowers. And they have these wicked claws on their back feet just for that.  So, when you hold them, you have to hold their back feet together, or they kick to get away.”

Charly gasped softly as she realized what was coming, quickly clamping a hand over her mouth.

I nodded. “Yep. One day, Snickers got started, and I didn’t have his back feet as tightly as I should have, and… well, he opened my arm up from wrist to elbow before I could let him go.  I screamed, my mother came out, took me to the emergency room.  I’ve been terrified of rabbits ever since.”

“That’s awful!” Charly cried out, jumping up to come hug me.

As I patted her on the back, Coffey sat up straighter and shook his head. “Poppy, she’s okay now. And besides, didn’t you hear her mention how ‘backwater’ her family was?” He arched an eyebrow at me, eye gleaming. “I bet that rabbit was dinner that same night.”

“Bunny dumplings,” Tyche confirmed with a wink. “If we didn’t know what else to do with it, it was dumplings.”

Arthur shook his head with a chuckle. “I would have thought you would be upset that she ate her pet, Miss Harper.”

She made a rude noise in return. “Are you kidding!? The first thing I killed with a bow was a rabbit.” Head high, she flexed her biceps. “Do you know how fast those things are!?”

“Nice and fat one, too,” Coffey added. “And she found rosemary to roast it with.”

“And lemon balm,” she added. “And mint, but that stuff grows everywhere.”

I nearly groaned at the memory of spit-roasted wild game.

“So, you two have been through the whole After together?” Conor asked as dinner hit the table.

Charly nodded enthusiastically as she took a bite. “Yeah, we were friends Before - oh my gosh, this balsamic reduction is perfect, Tyche - and found each other not long after the End.  After a while…” she trailed off, waving between them as much as she could, considering she was still sitting on Coffey’s lap.

We all nodded.  I was, honestly, happy to see two people who knew each other that long survive the end of the world together.  “So, I knew Charly did archery - she’s shown me a few times, but I’m terrible at it, turns out. What about you, Coffey?” I paused before realizing how intrusive that might be. “And if you don’t want to answer, it’s okay,” I rushed to clarify.

He smiled in reassurance. “I was security, Before, and… security After, in a way.” Chewing thoughtfully on a bite of bread, he glanced at something none of us could see. “I had a gun, at first - being a black man who grew up in NorthAm before it was NorthAm, it was more prudent than it was deviant at the time.”

“I don’t blame you,” I grumbled, while Tyche nodded and scowled furiously. We were horrifically embarrassed to be related to some of the reasons he needed a gun in the Before.

He tilted his head in a conciliatory fashion, as though he could tell what I was thinking. “In the After, bullets were hard to come by and… not very prudent, it turned out. They drew a lot of attention. Whereas our sneaky Charly…”

“Probably made traps,” Arthur finished nonchalantly.  When a few of us glanced at him, he rolled his eyes. “Oh come on! No one can tell me the queen of pranks and engineering over here did not booby-trap anywhere she was living within an inch of her life and the lives around her.”

Charly beamed, while Coffey just chuckled. “I honestly don’t believe the margin of error was quite that wide, to be frank. But it was safe enough that, before long, we accidentally had an enclave.”

I snorted in an attempt not to choke on my drink, while Conor and Maverick were both glancing at Arthur - the resident warlord.

Arthur just blinked in an almost placid manner. “I’m actually impressed. You started rebuilding by accident.”

“Do I look like someone who decides to take over the world?” Charly pointed out. After a chorus of Yes all around the table, she rolled her eyes. “It’s not my fault that hobbit holes are a strategically sound idea.”

“Apocalyptic Tolkien,” Tyche whistled. “I like it.”

“Sophia would have loved the library,” Coffey laughed.

My head shot up hard enough to make my neck hurt. “Library?”

He nodded. “Charly had the idea to go rescue every book we could find on camping, how-tos, engineering, historical infrastructure…”

“You just passed every class you are ever in, with flying colors,” Arthur nodded. “I had to make most of my people read - though we did end up with a library and decent bathing infrastructure.”

“Siege engines, Mr. Farro. We were building siege engines.”

He muttered something that sounded like “I will make up classes for you to pass,” but I was willing to bet that he would never admit it. Out loud, he just added “The fact that you not only read voluntarily but got other people to read without being forced has earned you extra credit.” She opened her mouth to object, but he held up a hand. “I’m being entirely serious, and no I won’t take it back.”

“I wasn’t going to try to survive an apocalypse without baths,” she scowled, stabbing a potato. “We may have ended the world, but we weren’t heathens.” Chewing so fast I thought she was going to choke, she immediately started asking Arthur about how he organized plumbing for his group.

“Trenches, aqueducts, and basically I got lucky because someone had a construction background.  We had some records of how Romans built their sewers with something close enough to the materials we had to work with so… it worked out.

With that, the conversation took off in the direction of infrastructure for post-apocalypse settlements, with Conor adding his opinion everywhere possible.  I knew there was no changing the topic, so I just shook my head and tried to keep up.

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[itsmyregularcat]

Influenced by @white-cat-of-doom, and his Cats dream cast (please check it out), I have made my own.

This is going to be a tough one to figure out, but here is my Cats dream team, as of today.

I wish to see more productions to be better informed in my choices, so I need to get on some bootlegs I guess! (Some choices are actually going to be based off of assumptions of how the actors portray them).

I already know a bunch of my choices are going to be from the Broadway Revival (because I really like that production), and almost all are going to be from newer productions because I am way more familiar with them.

In alphabetical order:

Admetus / Macavity: Thomas Inge (Asia Tour 2017/2020 and UK International Tour 2018/9)

I quite like the Macavity redesign for Vienna 2019 and Asia 2020, so he gets the nod just for this. Otherwise, he is an established Admetus and seems to have fun with it.

Alonzo / Rumpus Cat: Fletcher Dobinson (Asia Tour 2020)

I have never seen him perform as Alonzo, but he has this energy about him I cannot really describe. From short videos I have seen, he seems to have a 'snarky' side, and just has a hell of a time flirting about with everyone during curtain calls. He has the moves.

Bill Bailey / Tumblebrutus: Kolton Krouse (Broadway Revival 2016 / Cats 2019)

They can fly with the best of them. Their flip in with the ball during the end of the Old Gumbie Cat is a cool addition. No strong feelings for this character though.

Bombalurina: Rosemarie Ford (Cats 1998)

If anyone exemplifies what it means to be Bombalurina, I think Rosemarie wins. The duality of caring attitude and scornful nature, combined with her moves and her voice all make her a top pick. Also, slightly older Bombas I feel are better?

Honourable mentions: Christine Cornish Smith (Broadway Revival 2016) for sure, Suzie Melloy (Asia 2017/2020), and Tanya Valenzuela (Mexico 2018).

Carbucketty / Pouncival: Joel Morris (South Africa 2008 / UK Tour 2013 / Palladium 2014 / International Tour 2016)

He does a relatively good job being juvenile, but not annoying in his role. Him screwing around during Tugger's song, Moments Of Happiness, and Skimbleshanks is actually endearing to a point. No strong feelings for this character though.

Cassandra: Mariah Reives (US Tour 6)

Another pick I have never seen during performances, but she looks like a good Cassandra. She is really pretty and appropriately tall, so ¯\_( ツ)_/¯. Bonus points for her lighting up during Misto's song.

Honourable mentions: Jessica Buckby (2013 UK Tour), Danielle Cato (International Tour 2019), and Emily Pynenberg (2016 Broadway Revival)

Coricopat: Corey John Snide (2016 Broadway Revival)

He pairs up very well with my top Tantomile pick, and cannot realistically be separated. This legend was also a dance captain, involved with Cats 2019, and did a split track cover of Coricopat and Jennyanydots during his run.

Demeter: Zizi Strallen (London Revival / Palladium 2014)

Real talk, I love her as Tantomile in Cats 2019, and her singing voice is beautiful and distinct. Her as Demeter is a good bet, and she gives off a happy vibe during less serious points of the show. That happiness she puts in 2019 Tanto is what she did with 2014 Demeter.

Honourable mention: Lisette Pagler (Gothenburg 2006 / Stockholm 2009). The OG grey Demeter. She is absolutely beautiful, and her non-rep portrayal design is neat. She is also an actual singer in Sweden, so her voice is top notch. I really like her as Demeter. Also, Ella Nonini (International Tour / Asia 2020).

Electra: Leah Sue Morland (Cats 1998) or Lili Froehlich (2016 Broadway Revival)

I cannot reasonably pick one over the other, I have disproportionately strong feelings for both. Lili made me fall in love with Electra as a character (and I mean, look who my icon is!), and Leah cemented it before and after me seeing the Broadway Revival. They both make a modest ensemble cat seem so much more important. One of my favourite Cats across any production.

Etcetera: Jo Bingham (Cats 1998)

Boundless energy and happiness rolled into one bouncy cat. No one had a better time during Cats 1998, and for a cat that does not appear in many production afterwards, Jo just said f*ck it and did whatever seemingly came to mind to forge a legacy. Biting Coricopat’s ass remains a landmark moment in cinema. One of my favourite cats in the film without a doubt.

George: Frank Thompson (Cats 1998)

He is sort of always there, enjoying himself. If I would cut a cast member, George would be it. Sorry George.

Gus / Bustopher Jones / Growltiger: Rory Campbell (UK Tour / Zurich / London)

Dignified Busto. A good Gus that does not play off too much about being old and decrepit. If done properly, Growltiger (for the sake of Griddlebone) should make a return to more productions. Remove the total racism and the open misogyny inherent to many portrayals of Growltiger, and make it strictly about the lovers.

Grizabella: Jennifer Hudson (for real) (Cats 2019)

I know this one will ruffle feathers, but her sad sap performance is quite unrivaled in Cats. She brought the gloom and the dejection of being casted out to life. Her singing Memory is powerful as all hell, and filled with emotion. She wins the screaming match.

Jellylorum / Griddlebone: Freya Rowley (Cats 2019)

At this point you are probably thinking, ‘my lord, what the hell is this person on about?’. Freya does not sing in the movie, and is just a background cat, but my god is she the best cat there! During her time with actual stage productions, she was a principle Tantomile, and covered Demeter, Jelly, Jenny, and Cassandra as swing. I know she can sing (even though I have never heard it), and I want to hear / see her as the most novel Griddlebone around. Big orange energy - get with it.

Honourable mention: Sarah Jean Ford (2016 Broadway Revival)

Jemima: Veerle Casteleyn (Cats 1998 / London / Dutch Tour)

The most vanilla choice, but she was the face of Jemima / Sillabub and the Cats ‘franchise’ when the 98 film first came out, and rocketed her character to great importance and notoriety. They used her for promo shots after the movie came out realizing how popular her character had become. Veerle is the innocence of youth personified. By the way, I am taking her without the overdub.

Honourable mention: Arianna Rosario (2016 Broadway Revival / US Tour 6) and Dawn Williams (UK Tour 2013)

Jennyanydots: Eloise Kropp (2016 Broadway Revival)

A younger Jenny still as wild as any other. Her greater involvement during the show is also cool to see. The changes they made to the Broadway Revival may irk some, but the Gumbie Cat scene with the choreography change is my favourite I have seen so far. Eloise does a really good job, and has a chaotic energy that draws me to her.

Mistoffelees: Laurie Davidson (Cats 2019)

On my pursuit of pissing off the purists, here is another controversial choice. He provides a character development that I think would work out well on stage. Imagine it for a second, with Tugger or Munk hyping him up. No Mistoria though.

Honourable mention: Joseph Poulton (UK Tour 2013 / Palladium 2014)

Munkustrap: Jack Rebaldi (London / Madrid / Paris / Dusseldorf / German Tours)

The man is a serious Munk, who is versatile with his portrayals. He gets so into playing the character, and seems to be having a great time doing it. Plus, how the hell can someone do Munk in English, Spanish, French, and German in the course of three years? Madness.

Honourable mentions: Robbie Fairchild (Cats 2019) and friend-shaped Michael Gruber (Broadway / Cats 1998)

Mungojerrie: Drew Varley (Australia 1993 / London / Cats 1998)

One half of the chaotic duo present in Cats 1998, with an oustanding level of dumbassery and foolishness that encompasses Jerrie. He encapsulates that attitude very well, and pairs perfectly with my top Rumpleteazer.

Honourable mention: Dante Hernandez (Mexico 2013 / 2018)

Old Deuteronomy: Nicholas Pound (London / UK Tours / Palladium 2014 / International Tour)

A bit of a different choice, considering most people would likely pick Ken Page (and for good reason). Mr. Pound has a great voice, and welcoming vibe. Behind the scenes, he is a chaotic Old D. Plus, his name is Dick Pound.

Rum Tum Tugger: John Partridge (UK Tour / London / Cats 1998 / Berlin / Dusseldorf)

Velvety smooth voice, swagger coming out the hip thrust, and a playfulness suitable for the rockstar cat. No contest with this choice. He also does not play of RTT as being childish or over the top (*cough 2016 Broadway Revival / US Tour 6*), which is appreciated. Sorry Tyler Hanes, your vlogs were delightful, but your Tugger was a bit too much.

Rumpleteazer: Jo Gibb (London / Cats 1998)

Jo Gibb is the reason I became super obsessed with Cats, and probably why my favourite character is Rumple. Having initially seen the 2019 movie before the 1998 film, seeing her smiling face and adorable portrayal made me sort of fall in love with her. She is a perfectly mischievous Rumple, and I feel is the benchmark for most others. Her engagements with other characters is awesome, and she is just the ideal actor. Also, Cockney accent Rumple is best Rumple I do not make the rules.

Honourable mentions: Every other Teazer. All of them. There is no bad one. They all have my heart.

Skimbleshanks: Steven McCrae (Cats 2019)

Big daddy Skimble, with the red pants and the moustache. Tap dancing and ballet powerhouse. WOO WOO. Enough said.

Tantomile: Emily Tate (2016 Broadway Revival)

Given all Tantos do not really have an opportunity to set themselves apart because they are more of an ensemble Cat, I liked Emily from the beginning I saw her, and I think she is really cute. Her, paired with CJS, make a pretty ideal Cori and Tanto. Maybe I am swayed by the amount of lifts and spins they do together during the show? They have a beautiful synchronization and grace with their movements. 

Weaponize your Tantomiles, helicopter her above your Coricopats and take over. Kill Macavity. Become the Everlasting Cat.

Honourable mention: Kaye Brown (London / UK Tour / Cats 1998), Melody Rose (US Tour 6), Helen Gulston (RCCL Cruise). Realistically, all Tantos are good. I like Tantomile.

Victoria: Georgina Pazcogiun (2016 Broadway Revival)

A prominent soloist with the New York ballet, renowned for her distinctive style, and you can appreciate that if you watched a 2016 bootleg show. She has also pushed out against ballet norms by being "The Rogue Ballerina" as a means of embracing the qualities that make her unique as a dancer, such as her 'bigger' (in terms of ballet) body type. Her unique style as Victoria makes her my choice. Plus, she be sneaky.

Honourable mentions: Hannah Kenna Thomas (UK Tour 2013 / Palladium 2014 / International Tour / Vienna Revival), Tyler Lotzof (Asia Tour 2020), Alicia Beck (UK Tour 2013), Phyllida Crowley Smith (London / Cats 1998). Realistically, all Vics are good.

Any way, there is my shitshow of a production.

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

Monument Woman

Pairing: Marcus Pike x OC (Rosemary Carter)

Warnings: None

A/N: God, I have been wanting to finish this story for weeks, but once we got out of quarantine, I lost all ambition to write.  So, I’m glad I finally have enough of a cushion to get part 1 out to you guys.  I won’t be following my old posting schedule, but I hope I don’t go so far between posts that you all forget about me!

Reminder: I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit.  I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tag List:

@zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @beskars , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale  , @ahopelessromanticwritersworld [please message me to be added or subtracted]

Part 1 – And So We Begin 

“Thank you for calling Fort Jamison Historical Museum, this is Rosemary. How can I help you?”  The jaunty-sounding phrase rolled off her tongue automatically with little thought behind it until she heard the wizened chuckle on the other end.

“Do you always answer your cell phone like that?”  She pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned as Robert Lancaster’s chuckle morphed into a hearty laugh.  She couldn’t help but giggle along as she dropped her pencil and took off her glasses, setting them on the desk in front of her.

“You know, sometimes I do, especially when I’m not paying attention.” Rosemary leaned back into her chair, propping her feet up on the desk.  Her free hand dropped down to fondle Banana’s ears as the dog snoozed next to her.  “What’s up, Robert?”

“I’m doing some spring cleaning at the house and shop.  I got quite a few boxes accumulated, including stuff I’d like to donate to the museum.  When do you think you can come down to look through them?  I don’t expect you to take them all, but there are a couple of items I want you to specifically have.”  His voice sounded muffled over the phone as he bent down to toss another book into the Friends of the Library box.

“It’s a little slow this week,” she started as she checked the calendar on her wall.  “Looks like I can come as early as tomorrow.  So, if that works for you, I’ll bring the paperwork with me and we can just get it all done at once.”

“Oh, great!  I was hoping you could come soon.  It’s been a while since we had time to visit.”  His smile was evident in his voice.  “Can you do the paperwork on the computer?”

“Sure, we have the fillable PDFs.”

“Even better.  Just bring your laptop and we’ll work on it as we go through everything.  We can connect to the printer here and then you don’t have to worry about doing any of this at the office.  By the way, do you think you’ll have time for lunch?”

“Robert, you know I always have time for you.”  She smiled.  They had been friends for ten years by that point and he never failed to ask the lunch or dinner question and she never failed to make time for him.  Robert had been her first friend when she arrived in Michigan and the long-running friendship between the perpetual bachelor and the bold curator was stuff of area legend.  

There had been speculation of a May-December romance between the two, but Robert saw the younger woman as the daughter he never had and on her part Rosemary saw Robert as the father figure she lost when her grandfather passed away.

“Want to do Phil’s or Coral Gables?”  She smiled.  Just as their dates were always guaranteed, she knew that their location was as well. But it was habit to ask and it never felt right if she didn’t.

“Why do you even ask the question?  You know it’s supposed to be nice tomorrow, Coral Gables’ patio all the way.”  The two chatted a bit longer before they hung up, returning to the rest of their respective duties.  Rosemary sat up and Banana whined when she stopped petting him.  Spoiled dog.

“Sorry, Baba.  Work calls.” She stood up from her desk and wandered down the hall to the director’s office, knowing Helen was at her desk.  The third floor of the museum was workspace for the staff and despite working there for so many years, Rosemary never failed to draw an appreciative breath at the stunning sight of the Kalamazoo River.

As she ambled down the hall, Banana’s nails clicked on the tile floor, hinting that she wasn’t alone on her journey.  She smiled as she waved her hand and the dog rushed to her side.  The two slowly walked to the director’s office, warming themselves in the afternoon sun that poured through the windows.

Rosemary heard the muttering first as she rounded the corner and entered the office.  The stout woman was hunched over her laptop, her salt and pepper pixie cut sticking up everywhere.  Whatever she was working on, it was stressing her out.  Helen always pulled at her short strands when she was concentrating hard.

Smiling, Helen’s head jerked up as Rosemary knocked on the door.  The older woman waved her curator into the office and leaned back.  As she stretched, both women could hear a series of loud pops and they started to giggle.

“Ugh, I am getting too old to sit like this.  I need a massage.”  Helen groaned as yet another loud pop emitted from her shoulder.  As Banana scooched under the desk to get scritches from Helen, Rosemary plopped down in one of the armchairs and it creaked in complaint. “Do you have to sit so hard? Those are collection pieces, you know.”

“Not anymore.  I deaccessioned them last week into the decorative collection.  Donor approved, mind you.  So, we can sit in these however we want.”  Rosemary grinned as she threw a leg over the arm of the ornate chair.  For being so ugly, it was comfortable and not for the first time, she wondered if she could move them to her office without Helen noticing.

“That may be, but it’s not like we have money to fix something you broke because you were being too careless.”  Helen raised her eyebrow and Rosemary sat back up in the chair like normal, having the courtesy to look chagrined.  The director sat back.

“So, what do you need?  Are you still having issues with that Gaylord order?”

“Naw, I talked to them last week, they shipped it out yesterday. Finally.”  She rolled her eyes.  “Robert Lancaster called me just a bit ago, wanting to donate some items to the museum.  I got the time, so I’ll head to Saugatuck tomorrow to handle it.”

“Well, I know Robert is quite the collector, but do you think there are things we’ll want?  I’m hard pressed to start accepting any old thing again after we finally got the collections cleared up and decluttered.  I know he’s a long-time supporter of the museum, but I don’t know if I can take another ugly piece of furniture with a smile.”  Rosemary laughed at the comment.

“To his credit, he said there were things we probably wouldn’t want, and I doubt he’ll be sad if I said no to some things.  I certainly want to see what books he’s got for us.  We have a few things in the library that probably need to be rotated out into archives for their own protection.

“Besides, I am not going to pass up a chance to swoop in and yank the rug out from underneath Saugatuck.  You know that.  Watching Fred get mad that I got the leg up on him adds ten years to my life.” Rosemary rubbed her hands gleefully, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

“You really hate him, don’t you?”  Helen laughed.  Lake Michigan History Center was a charming coastal museum, but everyone agreed their curator was a bit odd.  Rosemary took an instant dislike to the man when she came on Fort Jamison’s staff and over the years, their dislike turned into a mutual hatred.  Like her friendship with Robert, everyone knew Fred was Rosemary’s mortal enemy and vice versa.

“God, yes!  Helen, he’s a dick and greedy as hell.  I don’t trust him any further than I can toss his skinny ass. I am still pissed over the diary!  Mrs. Greenwich assured me that we were getting it and he slithered into the village last year and took it!”  Rosemary’s voice got louder.  “THAT DAMN DIARY HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH SAUGATUCK, LET ALONE MENTIONS IT!”

Helen laughed harder while raising her hands in surrender and her curator stopped herself before she got too carried away.  Rosemary cleared her throat and drew a deep breath.  Ugh, he always managed to get her riled up even when he wasn’t around.  Damn Fred.

“Sorry, sorry.  I shouldn’t let him get me so mad, but god.  I hate him so much!  So, if Robert Lancaster’s got something that would make Fred die with envy, then by god, I’m gonna bring it home.”

“Alright.  I trust you as usual.  But since you’re here, I want to go over a couple of things with you for this grant so I can get it out Friday.”

The two women moved on to other things and fell into discussion about the future of projects for the museum and how to fund them.

---***---

“Cripes.”

The word was accompanied by a deep groan.  Agent Marcus Pike sat back in his chair to rub his eyes for the third time in less than an hour.  Some intern had dumped four boxes of case files in his office and was coming back with four more.  And the intern was certain there was another half dozen.

When three art pieces were stolen in Canada last year, Pike had been notified as a courtesy from his Canadian counterparts.  Which in and of itself wasn’t unusual, but the notes from the agents there stood out to Pike and he realized that the details match another case he had worked on earlier in the year.  And further digging uncovered almost three dozen cases dating back almost thirty years that carried all the hallmarks of this most recent one.  And more importantly – they were all still open.

He had taken his concerns and theories to the Art Squad chief, Agent Maria Luisa Armand, and with her blessing, assembled a crew to explore these cold cases. Maybe with new technology and eyes, they’d get the lead to solve them all.

The dull throbbing behind his eyes seemed to get worse and he leaned further back in his chair, trying to do some breathing exercises to reduce the pressure.  He let his eyes go unfocused, letting the colored light reflected on his ceiling go blurry.  The stained glass propped up in his office window had been a bit of an indulgence for him, but Pike never regretted the purchase and, in that moment, the colored streaks help bring some sense of zen that he needed.

A knock on his door forced him out of his zone and he sat up to see his partner, Brenda Carmichael, waiting at the door.  He smiled when he saw her and she returned the gesture, coming in to sit in one of the chairs.  The two had been partners for six years and together they had solved dozens of cases and thwarted twice as much.

“Do we have a plan, Carmichael?”

“Yep.  Someone is coming to get these boxes and take them to Conference D, which I commandeered.”

“How did you do that?”

“Threatened to tell Harrison’s wife that he was spending big cash on that escort he’s seeing.”

“Ouch, a little low, don’t you think?”  Pike laughed.

“God no.  Harrison doesn’t ever play nice, so you can’t do it with him.”  She waived her hand and laughed, her tightly coiled hair bouncing as if it was laughing, too.  “Anyway, three junior agents are on the job currently preparing to create the timeline and pulling all the files.  Two more are working to create point of contact lists for witnesses and such. And finally, I think Armand is putting on the coffee.”

“So where does that leave you and me?”  He didn’t think he’d get such a big crew to do this.  Must be a slow day in other departments.  “I want Fitzbender on the NSAF search and follow up, though, before I forget. 

“That’s fine.  And we supervise.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it for now. Until we have more material to work with.  So up off your duff and let’s get going.”

Pike smiled as he pulled himself out of his chair, grabbing his jacket and gesturing to Carmichael to leave first.  If they could solve these cases, it would be the biggest win in the Art Squad’s recent history and Pike really wanted to bring those pieces home where they belonged.

---***----

“Robert, you know I love you, but you have some ugly stuff here.” Rosemary’s nose wrinkled at the stuffed monkey with murderous eyes staring at her from a box.  The only place that creepy thing was going was in the garbage.  She moved on to another open box, pawing through the items that were housed there, pulling out a couple of potentials.

“Yeah, well no accounting for taste, I guess.”  Robert groaned as he leaned over and pulled open another box. He thought he had labelled all of them for the museum, but he realized three of them got mixed up in the junk pile. “God, how did I miss all these boxes. I’m sorry Rosie, I am usually better organized.”

“It’s not a problem, Robert.”  Rosemary walked over with the contents of yet another box, a bounce in her step as she realized she snagged a two-hundred-year-old map of the area that Fred would have murdered her to get for himself.  Her grin was almost feral at the idea that she one upped the old bastard. “Hey, question.”

“What?”  Robert had moved on to a small box on his desk that had a post-it with Rosemary’s name on it.

“What’s with all the cleaning and giving away all of a sudden?  The house wasn’t like this when I visited two months ago.”  She wiped the sweat off her brow and turned to look at him.  He was quiet and she took a moment to really look at him.

She knew from long talks that Robert had been living in the Saugatuck area since the 1990s.  He had come from Chicago, declaring he needed a slower pace and his bookstore was a welcomed addition to the downtown area.  He was highly philanthropic to causes he loved, like the Fort Jamison museum.

After her Pops passed away several years ago, she seemed to lean even more into Robert to fill the empty void and he did so gladly.  As she watched him shuffle about, she grew concerned because he looked more frail than usual.  The man had always been on the thin side, but he looked scarily thin and a thought skittered through her mind that sent a wave of sadness through her.

“Robert, are you sick?”  There was no hiding the sadness in Rosemary’s voice.  When he stopped and hesitated, she didn’t need a verbal answer from him. She walked over from where she was standing and placed her hand on his shoulder, turning him around.  “Robert.”

He bowed his head and wrapped his arms around the younger woman as tight as he could, and she did the same.  He began to cry on her shoulder, and it startled her, causing tears to form in her eyes.  She silently rubbed his back in comforting circles as sobs wracked Robert’s body. They stood there a long time before he quieted down, but even then, Rosemary refused to let him go, hugging him close to her.

He was her friend and she loved him dearly, so if he were dying, it would devastate her.  Robert made a move to pull back and she reluctantly let him go but held onto his arms with her hands to keep him close.  His red-rimmed eyes crushed the broken pieces of her heart.  He sighed.

“Rosie.”  He took a deep breath.  “I met with my doctor last week and I have stage four pancreatic cancer.  He only gave me a few months to live.”

“Oh Robert.”  The tears started up again and she threw her arms around him.  They cried together a second time and the sadness enveloped them. As she held him close, her tears made her voice rough.  “That’s what spurred this on, isn’t it?”

“Yes.  But you’re the only one to know right now.  I didn’t want to tell anyone else until you knew.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“Well, for starters, this hug is pretty good.”  He chuckled a little bit.  “And get some of this stuff out of my house.  And then just be my friend until the end.”

“Always.”  She pulled back to look at him.  “But it will be a cold day in hell before that ugly ass monkey comes with me.”

The tension and sadness were broken, letting them laugh a bit through their tears.  They stepped apart and let themselves smile at each other.

“Let’s get lunch and come back to this stuff later.  It’s too nice of a day to miss out on the patio.”

[prodigalsonheadcanons]

68?

68. “Well, this is where I live.”

She welcomed him in with a warm, “Don’t touch anything.”

He figured he might as well comply.

The second she was inside, Dani was rushing off to get her badge. Stupidly, she’d left it behind this morning; they were quickly stopping by to fetch it. Which left Malcolm to awkwardly trail after her. It hit him in that second that he could have just waited in the car. But the thought hadn’t occurred back when it would actually be useful. And besides— he would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious to see Dani’s apartment. So he elected to stay silent. He shut the door behind him and turned around, initially just trying to see where she’d rushed off to. But he stopped short at two things. The first being she was already out of sight, somehow. And the second, being the sight that met him.

The apartment was clean and neat, just like he expected it would be. There was nothing out of the ordinary; the door opened up into a small, comfortable sitting room, fit with a couch and television. The thing that drew his attention were the windows to the left. Pushed against the windowsills was a long table that was outfitted with dozens of potted plants. The crowded sight was unexpected in the apartment— or at least, he hadn’t been expecting it. Not waiting for Dani’s invitation, but certainly keeping her initial ‘welcome’ in mind, Malcolm walked over to the little garden, looking over it with rapt interest.

There were big pots and little pots, spanning the table. He recognized a number of the plants. There was a pot of rosemary, of thyme, and a jade plant nearest to the window. There was aloe, and a number of succulents. On the floor, next to the table was a high-growing hibiscus plant currently drinking in sunlight as well. The variety was large and he could have continued to go through them, had footsteps not cut off his concentration. He turned to see that Dani had reappeared, currently lingering in the entryway of the sitting room like he had been earlier.

Their eyes met and there was an awkward pause, before Dani gestured vaguely and gave a blunt: “Well. This is where I live.”

He remembered himself quickly. “I…like it, it’s nice,” he offered, knowing that his opinion would likely mean nothing to her. But he gave it anyway, just in case. Thankfully, she smiled a little, and nodded. The sentiment wasn’t too lost on her. He turned back to the potted plants. “I really like all of these,” he said. “I didn’t take you to have a green thumb…they all look really healthy.”

Dani hesitated, looking between him and the plants. Her eyes flickered to the door, and they flashed. But she abandoned the thought and instead walked over to stand at his shoulder. “I…didn’t always have a one,” she admitted. He looked at her, curiosity sparking off of him at once. Which was to be expected. She tried not to smile in too much exasperation before she went on. “Gil actually introduced me to gardening.” She hesitated for a couple of seconds before she tilted her head to the side and caved. She continued, though her voice was a little quieter when she said: “It was…after my stint undercover. When I was…recovering.” Malcolm sobered, looking at her again, much more solemn this time. “I was…pretty everywhere,” she tried to laugh off. “I didn’t have any…stability, I guess. Gil brought over a plant…told me that I should try gardening a little bit. That it might help.”

“Did it?” Malcolm asked. A frankly unneeded question, but regardless.

She smiled, not calling him out. “It did.” She reached out and pulled one of the pots closer— the jade plant that Malcolm had noticed earlier. “He gave me this one. I bought all the rest…over time.” Her smile grew. “I realized I liked it. It’s not much, because I don’t have too much room. But…it helps. To have something to take care of, I guess…”  

Malcolm smiled back at her. “I understand.”

Dani glanced at him and they held one another’s gaze for a couple seconds, completely silent. At first they just smiled at each other, but eventually Dani stiffened and shook herself out of it. She cleared her throat, shaking her head and turning abruptly for the door. “Well. Come on— we’re not getting anything accomplished by staying around here.” Malcolm turned and followed her, undeterred. The entire way down to the car, his smile stuck.

The next day, he came to the precinct with a small, potted lemon tree. “It won’t give too many lemons,” he warned. “But hopefully the ones it does give will be good.”

She had no idea what to say. She ended up just giving a mumbled, rushed, ‘Thank-you.’

She tried not to smile too big, when she took it.

But she had a feeling Malcolm saw right through the effort.

[winterisakillerwrites]

Realization

One Shot: Last Minutes & Lost Evenings 2/16

Character/Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/ Rosemary Mathews (OFC)

Genre: Romance/Angst

Summary: Love was never supposed to be part of the equation.

Rating: PG

Warnings/Authors Notes: This is the second part of Last Minutes & Lost Evenings, this series is currently on-going and will flit back and forth between past, present and future.

Previous

For the first time in far too long, Tom felt as though he could breathe.

The past few months had been nonstop motion. He seemed to fly from promotion to promotion. An interview here, a photoshoot there, pre-production meetings, it never seemed to end. He had smiled and flirted and been the Tom Hiddleston everyone expected of him. It was draining. He had felt himself slowly dwindling down, his temper flaring far more often and far hotter than situation allowed. He was tired. Not just physically, though god knows he could feel the weariness straight to the bone, but emotionally as well. Exhausted and weary and frighteningly near the end of his tether.

But here, now, he felt at peace. It amazed him still, the comfort her small apartment brought him. Or well, if he were being completely honest, that she brought him. Everything was simpler, easier. He could just be and dear god it was wonderful. It was his own personal heaven and he would guard it fiercely.

The apartment was quiet. He could hear the soft patter of Rosemary in the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets; the soft chink of a spoon against the sides of a mug. Tea, he realized, lovely. It brought a smile to his face, these simple things she did for him. The quiet, warm affection she bore him.

His smile widened as she appeared in the doorway, a steaming mug in each hand. He took his, offering her a small nod in thanks. A warm smile spread across her features, answering his own. “Sleep well?”

“Yes,” he nodded, pushing his admitted shaggy hair back from his forehead, “Very much so,” His voice was still scratchy with sleep. He waved his hand, beckoning her to join him. Her smile grew as she climbed onto the bed, settling comfortably against him.

She felt wonderful pressed against his side, her head resting against his bare shoulder. He kissed the top of her head, rubbing his free hand quickly up and down her arm. He’d always found any excuse to touch her, to hold her. She always seemed to fit so perfectly against him. They had passed countless hours in just such a manner; huddled together in her bed, on her couch, in her minuscule kitchen. They had talked about everything and nothing. It was comfortable. Just to be simply Tom and Rosie. No commitments, no demands.

He cherished these stolen moments. He had done so for the nearly year and a half that they’d been doing this. She was a safe harbor.

His eyes landed on the digital clock sitting on her bed stand. It was fast approaching late morning and he knew she would have to leave him, if only for a few hours. Usually their time together was just theirs, neither letting their real lives encroach for as long as possible. But his arrival had been unannounced. He’d found himself free and in desperate need of her so he’d come, knowing full well she very likely had commitments that she could not shirk. He was being utterly selfish.

“When do you have to be off?” He tried to keep his tone as neutral as he could.

“I don’t,” She smirked, snuggling tighter against him. “Perks of being your own boss. Jules is running things today. So it looks like you’re stuck with me for the time being, mister.”

He grinned, delight etched across his features. “Wonderful.”

I love her. The thought flitted  across his mind so swiftly he wasn’t quite sure he understood it at the time. Rosie was wonderful; simple and elegant, warm and open. She had become something so vital in his life, it was impossible for him not to care for her. But love? It was ridiculous. He couldn’t love her. But I do. God help me I do.

What he didn’t know was just what he could, or honestly should, do about it. He was well and truly fucked.

“You alright there?” Her voice snapped Tom back to himself.

It took him several moments to gain hold of his voice. “Yes. Sorry, my mind went on walkabout for a moment there.” He took what he hoped wasn’t a shaky breath, pushing his startling revelation aside. He would think on it later, because venturing down that rabbit hole could only lead to disaster. Better simply to let it be.

He placed another kiss to the top of her head. Just let it be, Hiddleston. Just let it be.

~*~*~

He really was absolutely stunning. Rosemary could easily spend all day just watching him do the most mundane of tasks, truth be told she often did in the sixth months that they had been doing this. He had an unassuming grace about him that effortlessly drew you in. He was currently working through an impressive pile of laundry. He’d come straight to hers from the airport, something that happened more often than not lately, his large and rather beaten lone suitcase in tow. How he managed to cram so much into one case she couldn’t fathom; even if it consisted of several of the same jumpers and dark jeans with a handful of t-shirts and dress clothes for variety.

She smiled at the way his forehead wrinkled, his mouth upturned, as he focused on sorting through each article and loading them painstakingly in her tiny washing machine. Why he didn’t use his own, she’d never understand. She knew better than to offer help, she’d tried the first time he’d descended on her and he’d outright refused. “I’m already invading your life, the last thing I want, darling, is to ask you to do my washing.” She had protested this, but Tom had stood firm. Whatever they were, and she never dared ask him to provide a label, she was neither his laundress nor his mother. Stubborn bastard.

“When you sit there staring at me like that, I can’t help feel a bit like a performing monkey.” He announced, his voice warm with humor, his attention never wavering from the pile of clothing before him.

“I thought you liked putting on a show?” she teased.

His eyes flicked to her then, a knowing smirk crossing his features. “If this is your idea of a show, Rosie my dear, you most certainly need to get out more.” She felt the familiar flutter in her stomach when he called her Rosie. He was one of the few who did. She lived her life as Rosemary, occasionally Rose to an older acquaintance. She was Rosie only to her family, and now to him. It was silly, really, that something so simple could mean so much. It made her feel special. Cherished. She mattered enough for him to give her a pet name. God, she was ridiculous.

“Well I wouldn’t say it’s the most entertaining show I’ve ever seen. It could use a bit more skin for my taste…” She quirked an eyebrow, returning his smirk.

Tom sighed, turning his attention fully to her. “You only want me for my body.” His eyes were wide, plaintive and forlorn. “And here I thought you actually cared.”

She groaned internally. Fuck this man and his fucking expressive face! God, he must have been an absolute terror as a child. “You really don’t understand the concept of playing fair, do you Hiddleston?”

“Why ever would I do that?” His face transformed once again into a bright smile. “It’s far too much fun this way.”

“You’re a jerk,” she retorted, unable to mask her own smile.

He laughed heartily, his attention turning back to the clothing piled before him. “And yet you love me anyway.”

Rosemary nearly started at the statement. It had been a throwaway line, she was quite sure he hadn’t even realized what he’d said, but she knew in that moment that it was true. She loved him. She had to fight to keep herself from laughing aloud at the thought. Jesus, she loved him. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

Of course she loved him, how could she not? He was a good man. Stubborn to a fault, yes, and guarded at the best of times, but a good man. He was kind and patient and he cared. She knew that, it was clear in every action, every touch, but she was no fool. Caring for someone and loving them were two vastly different things. And while she was assured in her own feelings, how she could ever not have realized how deeply she cared seemed utterly absurd, his were less certain. He cared for her, he was fond of her, that she knew without a doubt. He seemed content in their arrangement, though, in their careful construct of sex and companionship, in the ability to hide himself away in their tiny, little world. There were no commitments, no complications, no demands. And given the life she knew he led, the fluidity of their arrangement had to hold a strong appeal.

This revelation would throw a wrench in that, she was well aware. Feelings weren’t ever a concrete part of this. She was an escape, pure and simple, she knew that. Accepted it. Putting a voice to to her newly realized emotional state could well drive him off. Not that she believed Tom would be so callous. No. But he could, probably would pull away. And somehow that seemed worse. And even if he didn’t push her away, if he loved her in return, what would that honestly mean for them?

She shook herself from her thoughts. There was no sense in fretting now. Not while he was here. There would be plenty time after to figure things out. To make sense of it all. He was here now and that was what she needed to focus on. Tom, it seemed, hadn’t even noticed her inattention and for that she was grateful. She swallowed and forced herself back into the present. He was with her now and she would make the best of that. There would be time later to dwell on just what she was going to do.

Next

[thedyingmoon]

💜 This I Promise 💜

***

LIII. Lovers

***

So, that's what Elvis meant when he told her to say that she's alright the next morning when she woke up.

Hell, even getting up was a chore; she had a freaking headache.

"Drank too much, eh?" Rosemarie uttered as she gave (F/N) some pills and a glass of cold water to ease her pain.

"I think,..." (F/N) answered as she finally managed to sit. She took the pills and the glass from her cousin and immediately consumed the medicine.

"You think? You even had Lord Shunerman bring you home last night. That's how wasted you were." Rosemarie reminded her as she removed her slipper and tucked her feet neatly beneath her on (F/N)'s bed.

And reminded (F/N) was. She and Elvis arrived home at, if she recalled correctly, about forty - five minutes past eleven. Her aunt, uncle, and Rosemarie, herself, arrived at approximately two in the morning. Or so Elvis mentioned. After all, he stayed with her until her family returned from the ball. He was also the one who mentioned to her uncle that she was too dizzy to stand that evening, so he took it as an initiative to take her home so she could rest.

Nile just uttered his thanks, but he seemed too suspicious of Elvis' motives. Who could blame him? Erwin Smith was her escort and not Elvis Shunerman.

But, other than that incident, she could not recall what else happened that night because she often drifted on and off sleep.

"Why did you leave him?"

"Sorry?"

Rosemarie faced (F/N) solemnly and took a few seconds before answering.

"Lord Smith. Why did you leave him last night?"

"What are you talking about - ouch!" (F/N) jolted after what she heard from Rosemarie that her headache kicked in again.

"Hey! Easy,..." Rosemarie said as she reached for her and helped her lie on the bed once more. "So, from the looks of it, you,... didn't leave him, yes?"

"What? I did not! Or maybe,..." (F/N) muttered as she rested her head on the soft down pillows. "I can't even remember. It was such a blur, and,..."

All of a sudden, memories of last night flooded back inside her head. Of him and Lord Reiss, those haughty nobles,...

... That seductive courtesan,...

Her heart dropped for a second.

Was it true what they said? That he had a mistress?

That he wanted her so she could be his next whore?

"It was such a blur, and,..." She repeated. "... I think he was the one who left me. That's how I got into drinking in the first place,..."

"That's a silly explanation. Why would Lord Smith leave you like that, huh?"

"How would I even know about that? And what's this Lord Smith business, anyway? I thought he's just a Commander,..."

"Of course, you haven't read today's paper!" Rosemarie grabbed (F/N)'s shoulder. "He is now - "

Suddenly, a knock on the door interrupted her, making her stop mid - sentence.

"Come in!" Rosemarie called, allowing the person to enter.

The door slowly opened and their shy servant came in.

"Miss (F/N), you have a caller."

"A caller? At this early hour in the morning?" Rosemarie said and crossed her arms. "Who is it?"

The servant looked at (F/N) nervously. "Lord Smith wishes to see you."

"Alright. Tell the Lord that we'll get ready."

"Yes, miss."

"Thank you." Rosemarie uttered and dismissed the servant, who bowed and simply left the room, closing the door and leaving them.

The moment they could no longer hear the servant's footsteps on the hall just outside the room, her cousin hastily stood up and snatched away (F/N)'s comfortable blanket.

"Hey! What are you doing?" (F/N) complained.

"Speaking of the devil. He sure doesn't want you getting snatched away by other callers, eh?" Rosemarie said, helping (F/N) get on her feet. She led her towards the bathroom and practically shoved her inside.

"Rosemarie, you seem,... different today." (F/N) said as she stepped on the cold, marble tile of her fully furnished bathroom.

"What are you saying? I've always been different." her cousin answered and closed the door shut. "Don't forget to wash behind the ears!" she called behind the door like she was scolding a brat who refused to take a shower.

Thirty minutes later, (F/N) came out of the bathroom, wrapped in a thick towel, ears fully cleansed, and hair dripping wet at the ends. To her surprise, her cousin helped her dry her hair. She helped her get into a lime green dress she picked, herself, and she even brushed her hair.

"You are different today." (F/N) uttered as she watched her cousin in the mirror as she fussed over her like a maidservant.

Rosemarie didn't answer. Instead, she offered her hand, which (F/N) took, and helped her get up. Slowly, her eyes surveyed (F/N)'s form, appraising her from head to foot.

"Rose?" (F/N) began, but was interrupted when her cousin hugged her as tight as she could. She couldn't do anything but hug her cousin back. Was something bothering her?

(F/N) was still thinking about it when they finally arrived in the library.

"Anyway, There's a reason I woke you up, (F/N)." Rosemarie whispered. "I wanted to tell you something."

(F/N) turned to her in surprise. "What is it?"

Rosemarie gazed at her with that solemn look once more.

"Each of them have a secret of their own, but I don't see anything in them that would hurt you. They both love you, (F/N). You just have to,... choose carefully. It's all up to you."

"What are you saying?"

Her cousin hugged her once more, but this time, she whispered something to her that raised her suspicion even more.

"I'll miss you, (F/N)." she whispered.

"What? Rosemarie - "

"Alright! You're ready."

"Wait - !"

But, she was too late. Her cousin quickly left and closed the door behind her, leaving her in the quiet room.

I'll miss you.

That's what Rosemarie said.

What does that even mean?

"(F/N)?" a deep male voice said. She turned and almost gasped in awe at the sight before her.

There was no mistake that this man's Erwin. But, something about him is entirely different. Was it his white casual shirt that emphasized his muscular upper body? His rich mahogany riding breeches that called attention to his long and lean legs? Or was it his gentle smile and deep blue eyes that could disarm an entire battalion of female soldiers?

"Are you alright?" Erwin said as he went closer to her and touched her cheeks.

(F/N) flinched at his touch and drew back. Erwin was visibly disappointed at what she just did and let his arms drop to his side.

"Look, I deeply apologize for what happened last night." He uttered. "I shouldn't have left you there."

"No! It's f-fine,..." she stuttered nervously, feeling like a giddy teenager in front of a suitor.

"It's not fine. A gentleman should never leave his lady alone."

"Well," she said nervously, her heart beating a bit faster, heat rising up from her cheeks.

Why did he have to look so devastatingly handsome?

"Well?" Erwin whispered, his charming smile creeping up his lips once more.

"Forget about it." (F/N) said and mustered enough courage to look up at him with confidence. "Anyway, what brings you here?"

Erwin's eyes gleamed as he offered her his right arm.

"I want to show you something."

The moment (F/N) touched his arm, she was led outside the library towards the garden, where a huge, white stallion was waiting.

"Okay. Where are we going?" (F/N) asked, her amusement making her instantly forget what her cousin mentioned a while ago.

"You'll see."

It took them about an hour of horseback riding to reach the far side of the Capital where there were less houses and buildings. From there, they entered a huge gate that led to a massive private property that seemed to belong to a very rich nobleman.

"Commander Smith, aren't we trespassing a private property here?" (F/N) asked as she held unto Erwin's broad shoulders for support.

"Trespassing? No. I own this land." He simply said.

It took (F/N) a few more seconds before his words sunk entirely into her system. Yes, he was a Commander who was given the privilege to be one of the Capital's Honorary Nobles.

But, to own this too much property?

Rosemarie called him Lord. So, therefore,...

"Commander?" (F/N) said.

"Yes?"

"Are we - ?" she began, but could never get the courage to complete her sentence as the man led her past a huge, beautiful manor towards the denser forest behind it. Erwin brought the stallion to a stop and dismounted, helping (F/N) do so afterwards. And from there, he gently took her arm and led her to the forest.

"Commander, where are you taking me?"

The man faced her with a huge, proud smile plastered on his face. "Quite impatient, aren't we?"

"Because, you're not saying anything! You - "

"Yes?"

(F/N) was completely awestruck as she surveyed the beautiful city beneath them. Somehow, Erwin had led her near a cliff and she didn't even notice.

"I can't believe we're this high above the city." (F/N) muttered as her eyes drank the beautiful scenery before her.

"Do you like it?" Erwin asked.

"Yes. It's so beautiful."

"You know, it's even more beautiful in the evening."

"Sorry - ?"

As (F/N) turned to face the man behind her, she was so surprised to find him kneeling on the ground before her. What's more, her wildly beating, treacherous heart almost betrayed her as Erwin reached for his pocket and took a blue velvet box and showed it to her.

"Erwin, you can't be this serious,..." (F/N) said as he opened the box, revealing a gorgeous golden ring with a deep blue gem in it. It was the color of Erwin's eyes. He took it from the box and took her left hand.

"I see you have already called me by my first name." Erwin whispered, his seductive, yet gentle tone giving her a very sinful sensation.

"No! That's not true. I - "

But, before she could even blurt out any excuses, the man had already slid the ring into her finger where it perfectly lay like a princess to her throne.

"And I'll make sure that you'll say my name over and over as I make you mine. I will do anything to make you happy, (F/N). I will give you everything you deserve. I will protect you, no matter what."

(F/N) nervously swallowed. He didn't even propose to her. He insisted it upon her. But, how could she do anything? Here was a man who promised her all the world. A man who would protect her, no matter what.

A man who truly loved her.

"(F/N), I love you so much." Erwin whispered as he stood up once more and took her in his arms.

"Erwin, listen, I - "

"There you go. You said it again,..." he whispered as he gently touched her cheeks, making her look up at him. God, he's so tall!

"I didn't!" (F/N) breathlessly muttered as their foreheads came into contact, their breaths mixing.

"Let's see how far that will go,..."

"Erwin - !"

But, her objections came in too late as his lips came into contact with hers in a gentle kiss. The instant his lips move against hers, her body instantly melted, betraying her as she let the man pull her into a really tight hug. The moment his tongue demanded entrance, she could no longer think of something else. Her mouth opened and she was so shocked when she realized how far his tongue could go. But, what even shocked her was her body's instant response to his demands. She felt her weak self surrendering to his caress, and when she finally gave in, he crashed her body into his as their kiss went from shy to passionate. His huge hands went up and down her back, caressing her as his mouth savor the taste of her lips. She was about to push him away when, instead of a fair protest, a soft moan came out of her throat, giving the man much more motivation to kiss and caress her. Another moan, louder this time, sent him into oblivion as he slightly lifted her up, making her stand on her toes due to his overwhelming height.

However, something hard in his thighs that was starting to grind into her made her senses jolt as unknown feelings started invading her mind. And it was enough to make her gently pull her mouth away from him, a thin line of saliva still connecting them. An embarrasing wave of heat overwhelmed her as she wiped the saliva off her lips. She looked up at him,...

... and saw a raven - haired man with steel blue eyes.

She closed her eyes shut, and when she opened them once more, she saw the blue - eyed blonde giving her a worried look.

"(F/N)? Are you alright?"

"I'm - " she said, then inhaled a breath of fresh air. The feelings that Erwin gave her through his kiss were something new altogether. But, it felt like she experienced something similar.

And that man with the dark hair,...

She was positive - it wasn't her first kiss.

But, how did she know about that?

"(F/N)?" Erwin asked once more.

"I'm fine. Just,... a bit of a headache." she lamely lied.

But, Erwin bought it, anyway, as he offered to take her back home. He helped her get down once more, took her hand, and kissed her hand. And after that, he was gone.

(F/N) was still thinking about the kiss as she made a detour round the manor towards the garden. Back then after the kiss, she thought she saw that dark - haired man. In fact, it wasn't the first time she envisioned his image.

She was positive that her memories were giving her a clue about this.

If so, then that dark - haired man must've played a huge part in her life before she lost her memories. She looked at her left hand and saw the engagement ring that Erwin placed there.

No! She thought. I mustn't have accepted this ring from Erwin! That man is the key. He can bring all of my memories back,...

... I must find that man!

"(F/N)?" a voice that was deeper than Erwin's muttered not far from her. She looked up and was so relieved to find Elvis standing just outside the door that led to the library. Somehow and by interesting coincidence, he decided to call on her, as well.

She knew perfectly well that this was wrong, for Elvis Shunerman was an engaged man.

But, she couldn't stop running towards him, her heart telling her that there's nothing wrong with what she's doing. His arms spread open wide, waiting for her to crush into them. And when he finally held her, she couldn't stop the tears that flowed out of her eyes.

Levi thought that someone hurt her, so he instinctively checked all parts of her body.

"(F/N), what happened?" He said, his voice hoarse with utter worry. "Did someone hurt you?"

"I'm sorry! I shouldn't have,..." she cried, clinging unto him tightly, making his perfect white shirt crumpled. It was then that he noticed the ring on her finger. "I shouldn't have accepted!"

So, it was Erwin, after all,...

For a few seconds, he only thought of nothing but murder towards his former Commander. Until (F/N)'s cries and apologies brought him back to the present, pressing matters regarding her future. Erwin really was doing everything he can to take her away from him.

Levi pulled her into a really tight hug and caressed her back.

"I'm here. No one can hurt you." he whispered to her.

"I don't know why,..." (F/N) sobbed as she looked up at him. "I know this is wrong. But, oh God, I love you, Elvis! God, I'm so sinful! I should've said no to him."

"Forget about it. I'm here,..."

"I don't know why. I lost all my memories, but I truly felt different towards you. Like a friend I've lost for such a long time. But, now I want you back. I don't understand what I'm saying, but,... oh, God, I want you back!"

Levi's eyes widened. She may have lost her memories, but one thing's clear,...

Her feelings for him never vanished.

"(F/N), you never lost me. I lost you. And, I will bring you back to me. This I promise."

"Elvis,..."

But, she could no longer utter a word as the man crushed his lips unto hers in a very passionate kiss. She instantly gave in as Levi's tongue demanded entrance inside her. And when she opened her mouth, he hungrily took her, his arms crushing her tightly against her soft and fragile body.

He knew that someone might see them, but at that point, he couldn't care less. He had made up his mind. He will take her far away from here. Away from the Dawks, away from Erwin!

But, he wanted to take her!

Levi lifted her and brought her inside the library. He carried her towards the sofa where he gently put her. He positioned himself on top her, removed his cravat, and threw it away. She pulled him closer to her and started kissing him.

Jonas was humming to himself as he strutted towards the library to fetch the fairy tale books for Ivanna when he heard some moans coming from the sofa. It was there that he found (F/N) and Levi making out. Well, not that Levi was engaged to anyone. He's not Elvis, and, therefore, is an uncommitted man.

But, no! No one must see them! The poor souls didn't even notice or hear him coming in. And, for such a long time,...

Damn it all, they fucking deserved each other, no matter what anyone says about them!

"Jonas, I want Snowpunzel!" Ivanna suddenly invaded, making Jonas slightly shriek.

"Sweetpea! It's not here." Jonas said, shoving Ivanna away from the library and hastily closing the door behind him.

"But, you said it's here!" complained the little girl.

"I said that?" Jonas said, feigning innocence. "I thought I said the living room."

"But!"

"No buts! Move!" he said and finally managed to divert Ivanna's attention away from the library. And then, in a whisper, he said, "Go get the girl, Captain Levi!"

"But, I want Snowpunzel! Not Captain Brook!"

"Whatever."

"Elvis, I - ahh!" (F/N) moaned as Levi playfully bit her on the neck. He moved his lips on her smooth skin and found her lips once more. He kissed her to oblivion as he started to undress her, untying the ribbons on her dress. (F/N)'s mind seemingly whirled both in excitement and anticipation as Levi deepened the kiss, his skillful hands working their way to undress her. Her mind instantly died and went to Heaven when Levi removed his shirt, revealing his muscular and scarred body.

"(F/N), I love you so much,..." he said in a hoarse tone as he started grinding against her.

The girl moaned even louder as she felt Levi's hardness grinding against the middle of her legs. He was about to remove his pants when something screamed inside her, telling her to stop him.

"Elvis, wait!"

"Why?" he said, irritated and wanting to have her already.

"I'm sorry. We can't." (F/N) sat up and gave him an apologetic hug. "Not here."

Levi sighed in disappointment. Of course, they were still in Nile's house. How could the two of them do such a thing in his roof?

She said, not here, not no.

The poor girl was giving him permission, but, unfortunately, it wasn't the time.

He hesitantly calmed himself, drowning away the pleasure that was about to overtake him.

"I understand." Levi breathlessly uttered, feeling the unbearable pain in his abdomen. "We'll go away. Away from here."

"Where will we go?"

"Anywhere but here." Levi enveloped her in his arms once more. "Two days from now. Don't bring anything else. I'll meet you on my mansion."

"Yes."

"I love you, Elvis."

"I love you even more, (F/N)."

It was the happiest moment of (F/N) and Levi's life. And they were going to start a whole new life away from the glamour of the Capital. And although Levi didn't get to give her pleasure that day, he went home with a huge smile on his face.

They were going to be the happiest couple on earth.

The next day, (F/N) found Nile comforting Marie in the library. She was crying uncontrollably. On her hand was a note.

"Uncle Nile, what happened?"

Nile looked at her, his tired eyes even more tired looking than ever before.

"It's Rosemarie." he began.

"What?"

"My daughter,..." Marie cried. "She ran away!"

Jonas couldn't fathom the situation. His sister was a very obedient girl. He was aware of her defiance to their father's wishes.

But for her to run away from home?

The teen shrugged his head. All of a sudden, something on the floor near the sofa caught his attention. He looked at it and saw that it was a little leather - bound book. He picked it up and instantly realized that it might be Captain Levi's journal. He must've left it there when he and (F/N),...

"Oh, well. I'll give it to her later." he said, then shoved it in his pocket.

********

~ @levi4mikasa , @chocolate-mmilk , @super-peace-fangirl , @fangurl-ontgeside , @yepps , @unhappysap , @shewolfofficial , @nerdyphantomlady , and @emilyackerman78 💜

***

💜💜💜

***

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Clover and Lace, Chapter 9

Happy Friday! **edited to add: Well shit- hit post on accident. Enjoy the early update!** Hope you’re enjoying. <3 Masterlist can be found by searching ‘kit’s masterlist’. As a reminder- this series will contain smut and is rated M. As always, Thank you to @winterisakiller who has listened to me moan over this story for the last almost four months. 

Steve lead the team into the warehouse. Their steps were swift and calculated to  minimize sound. It was dark and they moved as close to silently as the five of them could, keeping their breathing in check. In their ears Tony fed them information from his vantage point in the sky. The Iron Man suit was powerful but a last defense. The ability to have eyes in the sky in multiple places. The team moved swiftly, taking out enemy agents as quickly and silently as possible along the way.

Still, the alarm called out as the moved deeper. It was only a matter of time.

They searched for scientists who would likely be held under heavy guard. They would be the ones that needed to be captured or neutralized as a last resort. The world as a whole could not afford to have biological weapons being produced. It seemed that no matter how many battles they fought the fighting never ended.

Gunfire erupted around them. The team returned fire and the battle was on. Each had been aware of how different the battle could be going if they had not taken the advise of the Lady Ramsey. They were able to locate a few small canisters of the biological weapon and secure them before they could be used against the team. None was sure what would become of the secured weapon but for the moment at least they were content enough in the knowledge that it wouldn’t be used against them.

Rosemary hadn’t slept much for the last few days. She existed off of coffee and little else while she buried herself in work. A knock at her door drew her out of her thoughts. Shutting down the computer, she slipped out the drive containing the Black Rabbit program just as the front door opened.

“Sara, dear?” Mrs. Jones’ voice called out through the small apartment.

“Coming, Mrs. Jones.” Rosemary answered with a roll of her eyes. It was a matter of time before the old woman found her way up the stairs again.

“What did you do with that fine young man- I haven’t seen hide or hair of Steve since his last visit. You best not have scared him off, Sara Wilson. I liked looking at that side of beef whenever he came in.” Rosemary rolled her eyes as she joined the old woman in the living room.

“He’s away working for a few weeks. I didn’t scare him away.”

“Avengers mission I take it?” Mrs. Jones asked with a knowing smile.

“You knew who he was?”

“Fine men like that are hard to come by and harder yet to mistake.” Mrs. Jones rested a hand on Rosemary’s arm and gave her a look of understanding. “You didn’t know and that was good. He needed that and you needed him. You’re alone too much Dear. He likes you.”

“I like him.” Rosemary admitted. “A lot.”

“Good, that’s how things start. Have you heard from him or is this mission super secret?” Mrs. Jones settled herself into a chair at the table.

“We were able to talk for the first week. Then he had to ‘go dark’ and I haven’t heard anything in almost two weeks. He said he would let me know when he’s on his way back or get in touch as soon as he was safe.”

Rosemary was worried about him. The mission had appeared to go off with minimal issues since she had fed the team information but still it was nearing a week since they stormed their target and she hadn’t heard word from Steve.

Could she have missed something? Could something have happened? Since she tipped them off to a leak from within their ranks they were monitoring their security more making it nearly impossible for her to fish for more information. The silence was driving her crazy. Was it normal to worry about someone else this much?

“It’s scary- his job. So many unknowns.” Mrs. Jones softly spoke as she took Rosemary’s hand in her own.

“Yeah.” Rosemary agreed, sitting across from the old woman who had her hand trapped in her own.

“You know what else is scary? Maybe even scarier?” Mrs. Jones asked but didn’t wait for her to answer. “Falling in love.”

“It’s too soon for that.” Rosemary protested.

“Sometimes love comes hot and fast. It’s not always like they say- slow to build. Sometimes love comes too soon and fizzles out. Sometimes it doesn’t.” Mrs. Jones spoke as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

“Have you ever been in love?” Rosemary asked and felt dumb, the woman was old enough to be her grandmother.

“A few times.” She nodded with a smile. “Sometimes it came slowly with time. But the time I always will cherish was the love that burned like fire right away. I thought I couldn’t have him and sent him away after a while. I didn’t trust my heart.”

“Why?”

“I was about your age and I thought it wasn’t safe. It wasn’t wise. My family wouldn’t have approved of him. I thought I’d forget him. I never did and to this day that love still burns right here.” She tapped her chest with a shaking fist. Her voice was thick with emotion.

“There is no way we can make it work?”

“Why?” Mrs. Jones asked sharply. “Because you’re not who you seem? None of us are, Sara Wilson. Do you love him?”

“What do you- How do you-?” Her questions came quickly and half formed. The very idea that someone in this little town could possibly know her identity was terrifying. She would have to leave. That wasn’t something she was ready to do, that she wanted to do yet. Perhaps it was better not to know what the old woman knew.

“Do you love him?” Mrs. Jones pressed again before sighing. “I don’t care who you are. You’re always going to be you to me. Sara, Mary, Joan- the name means nothing. The woman you are matters and don’t pretend like you live a lie every moment I’ve spent with you. Now, do you love him?”

“I think I do?” Rosemary looked down at where her hand was held in the wrinkled old hand of her only friend and landlord. Tears welled in her eyes and she tried her best to will them away.

“You think or do you know?” Mrs. Jones pushed.

“I do.” A tear slipped down her cheek at the admission. “I do. I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t intending to. I didn’t set out to. I told myself I wouldn’t. I can’t- if he finds out-” Her words where rushed and choked, ending in sobs. Mrs. Jones rubbed her thumb comfortingly over the back of Rosemary’s hand.

“I was like you. I lived in the darkness little Spider. It’s good to see that the occupation continues on. But I let the man I love go because I was scared to let him see the darkness. That man- Steve Rogers, if you let him I’d wager that he can free you from the darkness. You don’t have to keep living like this. You can change your life.”

“What if?” She couldn’t finish the question. Tears dripped off her chin.

“What if?” Mrs. Jones parroted the question. “That is always the question. What if he doesn’t love you? What if he thinks your darkness is too much? What if you fall out of love? What if he hurts you? Isn’t it better to have the answers to those questions?”

With one last squeeze of her hand Mrs. Jones stood with a groan. “Those stairs ain’t getting any easier. Sara, your secrets are safe with me. The ones I know and any you decide to tell me.”

Rosemary was on the edge of sleep when her phone went off. She was groggy and tired. Not once had she slept well since Steve went dark. Blindly, she groped for the phone. She didn’t look to see who the caller was and schooled her accent as best she could. Sleep would excuse it being heavier or lighter than expected.

“’Ello?” She mumbled into the phone she had balanced on the side of her head. Holding it would take far too much effort right now.

“Rose, did I wake you again?” Steve’s warm voice came through the line and she was instantly more awake.

“Steve?” She sat up straight, phone falling into her lap only to be quickly snatched back up and held to her ear. Her hands were shaking, though she couldn’t pinpoint why. Relief flooded through her.

“You okay?” A warm chuckle came over the line and she smiled. It relaxed her instantly.

“I’m fine, Steve. Glad to hear your voice. Got a bit excited and dropped the phone is all. How are you? Are you okay?” She chewed her lip as she listened to the sounds on the other line.

“I’m good. We’re good. It was an easy mission for as long as it was.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” She doubted that he would tell her if that wasn’t the case but at least he sounded well.

“Hey...” Steve trailed off as if he was doubting what he was going to say.

“Hey?” She copied him.

“We land in about two hours. I’ll be doing debriefs and reports for a few hours but I should be done by four or five.”

“You should make sure you get some rest.”

“I’d rather rest with you.”

“It’s a two hour drive.” She insisted.

“I’ll be there around seven or eight, if you’ll have me? Gives me time for a shower and a bite before I head out.”

“Steve.”

“Rose. I want to see you. I need to see you. The mission went good, easy but it could have not. We got lucky and I Just- I need you. Can I come?”

“Okay.” She gave in. Hearing him say that he needed her was too much. There was a hint of weakness in his voice. He knew how close they had come to the mission going fatally wrong even if he couldn’t tell her.

“Get some rest. I’ll call when I’m close.”

“If I don’t answer have Mrs. Jones let you in.” She knew that was a terrible mistake but she spoke the words before she thought.

“I’ll see you before you know it. Goodnight, my Rose.”

Steve called twice as he sat astride his motorcycle. It was early, nearing six in the morning and he wasn’t at all surprised that she didn’t answer. He was a bit earlier than he expected to be.

The team had commented on his improved mood and cracked their jokes. For all the shit they gave him however he could see the benefit they got from his more balanced work schedule.

With something new to focus on, Steve wasn't pushing them to find the next missing as soon as their boots landed back home again. He didn't drag out debriefing or reports anymore. For a change, Steve had somewhere else he would rather be and he couldn't wait to be there.

As the voicemail clicked on a third time Steve disconnected the call. He would be there in less than thirty minutes. Turning his face skyward, Steve enjoyed what he could see of the morning sunrise.

It felt good to enjoy things again. It felt good to have someone waiting for him. Still, in the back of his mind he felt guilty. No matter her secrets, she still didn't deserve having to worry about him, to worry and fear for his safety. The idea that she would decide he wasn't worth the worry and turn away from him nagged at his mind. He could mostly ignore it except in the deep darkness of the night.

Steve attempted to make his way through the cafe and to the stairs without being stopped by Mrs. Jones. It didn't workout for him however and she called him over just before the sole of his shoe touched the first step.

“Mrs. Jones, how is that hip treating you?” Steve smiled warmly at the old woman who had grown on him. He had missed her while he was away.

“I was worried Little Sara scared you away!”

“I don't think she could ever. I was away for work for a few weeks.”

“Avenging keeps you busy.” The old woman nodded to herself but laughed at the look of surprise that crossed Steve's face. It was a pleasant but raspy sound. “What? I'm old, not dead. Unlike Sara I don't Live under a rock.”

“Mrs. Jones…” Steve sighed.

He knew caring for anyone was a risk. Clint went through great lengths to keep his family safe and the reality of the situation was that they could still be targeted. What he had with Rose was so new and fresh that if he made an effort to hide her it could be perceived as being ashamed of her. If by some miracle it wasn't taken that way, she could take it as rushing things. She could decide he was too dangerous to be with.

He could lose the woman he loved before he had a chance to earn her love any number of ways. The thought hit him like a bucket of ice water. She had secrets he didn't know, fears he didn't know and he couldn't protect her from the world. Even without him, her life was somehow complicated.

But he loved her just the same. He had come so close to saying the words before. They came naturally to the tip of his tongue and before he didn't understand why even as he bit them off.

“You love her.” Mrs. Jones observed.

“It's too soon.” the argument was weak in his own ears. “It's dangerous, she could be targeted to get to me.”

“She has her own enemies, her own secrets. We all do. She's scared because she thinks she can't have you.”

“Why?” Steve didn't want to press but couldn't help it. “What does she have to fear? To hide?”

“Her story is hers to tell. Just trust that she's a good person, no matter what. Love conquers all. Now take her some coffee, key’s under the mat if she’s still sleeping” Mrs. Jones set the travel mug in front of Steve and turned, leaving him with his thoughts.

He took a few moments before making his way up the stairs. As soon as it was, he loved Rose. He could only hope that she felt similarly. What could have happened in her life to make it so she didn't trust Captain America? If she was in some sort of trouble, could he pull her out? If she was on the dark side of the law, could he ignore it to be with her? Surely she wasn't but what if she was?

With his mind and heart conflicted, Steve knocked on the door. He gave her a few moments to answer before trying again. Logically he knew she could be sleeping. It was still very early and she had sounded so tired. Still, worry sank into him like hot lead.

When the door swung open, he found the living room dark and empty. Nothing looked out of place as he silently checked the space. There was absolutely no reason for him to be on guard, yet realizing how much he cared about her brought the need to protect her to the surface.

The door to her bedroom was partially opened and light slipped into the dim room when he opened the curtains to the large glass balcony doors in the living room. For a moment he just stood in the doorway, coffee in hand and took in the sight of her. It was something that made his heart ache with longing. What would it be like to sleep next to her at night? To wake and bring her coffee in the mornings? Was all she could give him worth risking his heart?

In truth he knew she already had his heart. He couldn't take it back no matter what happened unless she returned it to him broken. After setting the coffee on the unstable closest to her, he turned and opened the bedroom curtains to let in more of the soft morning light.

God, was she the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Red hair, waves and curls tangled together spread out around her. The morning sun caressed her pale skin. Her lips were parted and such a light pink. Without lipstick or stain to color them, he could see the redness from where she had chewed her lip raw. Steve wondered if she chewed on her lip when she worried. Was that spot raw because she was worried for him?

She shifted on the bed and a soft sound slipped between her lips. Steve took a moment to look around the room. It was simply soft. The hard wood floor was covered by a plush green rug and the bedding was a light blue that complemented the dark wood of her bed frame.

A desk sat against the far wall with a simple black laptop sitting closed. Steve ran his fingers over the surface, smooth and polish worn away with age as he went to walk by  it but stopped when a small drive was nudged to the floor.

He knelt to pick it up and he couldn’t help but notice he had seen drives like it before. They were not the kind he saw in the electronic stores. He wouldn’t have seen seen them in Tony’s lab. It wasn’t the kind he had seen the young Peter Parker using.

Drives like this were distinctive and often used by those would lived and worked in the underground. They were hyper secure and expensive. Tony often had a hard time cracking them when they fell into the team’s hands. They didn’t always contain dangerous information but more often than not they did. Steve wondered why Rose would have such a drive as that?

It was better not to ask. He said he wouldn’t ask. He said he wouldn’t push. He said he wouldn’t pry. He said he would wait until she was ready. Still warnings screamed inside of him. With how little he knew, how could he justify trusting her?

Whatever she was involved in, he wished she would tell him. Whatever it was she was tangled up in, he wished she would trust him. Whatever it was she was trapped in, he wished she would let him save her. For a moment he wondered if she wanted saving or if it was simply his selfish desire.

The drive clicked softly against the desk as he set it down. He looked at it for a moment as if it was a snake before turning and doing everything he could to pretend he hadn’t seen it. In the end, the drive didn’t matter. In time she would trust in him, he hoped. She would tell him herself.

With footsteps muffled by the rug, he hardly made any noise as he moved around the room. The scent of her was all around him and relaxed him. The bed was soft as he sat down on it next to her sleeping form. She turned into him as his weight settled on the mattress. A stray curl swept across her face as she settled on her side with her knees drawn up partially. She was almost curled around him as he twisted to look down at her.

Reaching out, Steve brushed the stray curl from her face. Green eyes opened into slits only to blink a few times. A small smile curved her delicate lips.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” Steve whispered as he leaned down closer to her.

“It’s a good way to wake up.” Her accent was thick with her sleep and the sound of it drew a smile to Steve’s face. It was good to be back.

Tag list: @bambamwolf87, @theoneanna, @0-0-0-0-0-0-0-7, @dangertoozmanykids101, @alexakeyloveloki, @j-u-s-t-4, @missaphrodite23, @princesspiamia671, @fairlightswiftly, @nonsensicalobsessions

[taeddybearkim]

The Hidden World // Part Seven

cr.

Genre: Hogwarts!AU, occasional angst & comedy, fluff

Pairing: Jongdae x Female Reader, ft. EXO

A/N: Well hello there, it’s been a while. I started this series with really good ideas but now I’m kind of stuck. Oh well. The end is near.

Warning: character death

Series Masterlist

***

Y/N’s Point of View

The speed at which I dashed out of the library was truly incredible. Not only did I give neither of the twins a chance to speak, but I myself barely had time to take a deep breath before I ran out of the double doors, probably pissing off multiple library users that were present at that time. I decided to stop running once I was at the bridge that separated the main grounds from the outer grounds.

Trying to catch my breath, I looked down on the river and the countless trees that were surrounding it, all tinted with the slightest touch of the morning fog.

Well, there you have it Y/N, Jongdae is your soulmate.

For the first time in my life, I was mad at my inner voice for being right. 

I don’t feel ready for this.

My grip tightened on the railing as I closed my eyes, still trying to breathe at a normal pace, and gather my scattered thoughts. Even the blackness of my closed eyes was suffocating.

I was so zoned out that I didn’t even notice the footsteps approaching. “Bad day already? It’s only 8 in the morning.”

Professor Lupin landed on my line of sight, with his neatly combed hair and charismatic coat. He looked like one of those sad characters mentioned in books had come to life, but in reality, he didn’t look that sad at all. Just melancholic.

Book character or not, Professor Lupin was someone I knew that I could trust without doubt. Despite his past and his other self being exposed to the entirety of the school, the other teachers and the students had chosen to accept him, because all the good he had done outweighed whatever trouble he had gotten himself into.

“Just... a lot on my mind, Professor.” I tried to form a smile that would mirror his, but failed miserably.

“Oh dear, I know the feeling.” He nodded with a solemn expression. “Take a walk with me, won’t you? What time does your class start?”

“I still have some time.”

“Wonderful.” He cracked another small smile, before trudging up next to me so we could walk together.

“So tell me, what is going on inside that incredibly smart brain of yours?” he spoke after we had finished crossing the bridge towards the light areas of the forest.

“I think I may have found a way to reach out to my parents, to know what they were like,” I said, without giving much detail, but it wasn’t like he needed it anyway.

“Ah yes, I think Professor Trelawney mentioned that the other day while she was looking for Professor Slughorn. I am happy for you, dear Y/N.” Another smile, before he answered the question that had formed in my mind. “I overheard her in the Teacher’s Lounge. I think she may have your ingredients ready, so I would suggest you pay her a visit later today.”

“Thank you, Professor.” I was finally able to smile again.

“That can’t be all of it now, can it? The Y/N I know wouldn’t fuss over this.” He looked at me, an eyebrow raised.

“There’s... also other parts of my past that I have recently remembered. And that past includes someone that I was really close with.”

“An old relationship, I see. Is this person someone you care about?”

“A lot. In fact, he’s even my--” 

I stopped, realizing what I was about to say, and praying that Professor Lupin hadn’t caught on. To my dismay, the grin on his face told me he had.

“This person is your special someone, huh?” He winked, causing me to shift my gaze in embarrassment. I wasn’t ready for this at all.

“I see that you do not feel ready to bear this burden. But let me tell you, love is not a burden, dear Y/N.” He motioned with his arms for me to walk next to him again, as he led us down a path donned with vivid flowers and sweet trees.

“It may feel like a weird obligation at first, but nobody is telling you to jump into something that you don’t feel ready for. You have all the time in the world to make up your mind. But at the end of the day, if you and this person were truly meant for each other, you will regret not being there for them sooner.”

His gaze fell on one of the cluster of flowers as we came to a slow stop. I could tell that he was heartbroken before, too.

“I’m... so sorry, Professor, for whatever happened in your past.”

“How did you know?” His head shot back up at me, slightly surprised.

“You sounded like you were speaking from experience. I’m sorry. And also, thank you for sharing this beautiful insight. I will definitely consider it.” It was my turn to smile.

“I know you will, Y/N.” The smile on his face was back too, as we finally made it back to the bridge and started crossing it once more to the main grounds.

***

[Later that day]

Professor Trelawney was waiting for me when I walked into her class at the end of my schedule. My whole day was spent dodging any interaction with Jongdae and the rest of the boys, so I was pretty tired as I slouched onto one of her puff seats.

“There you are, Miss Y/N. Catch your breath for a bit, the potion is almost ready.” She looked up at me through her giant spectacles as she continued to mix a cauldron in front of her. I did as I was told, resting my back and my eyes before she announced that it was ready.

“Are you ready, my dear?” she asked, as she held a vial full of the potion in front of me.

No. Not at all.

“Yes. I am ready.”

***

The potion blurred my vision and shifted it into a haze. My mind raced at a million thoughts per second, before I focused on what I was specifically trying to remember.

“My parents,” I whispered to myself, and soon after, the blur faded into a clear view of a room with gray and blue walls, centered around a baby’s crib in the middle. On another bed nearby, a pale-looking woman lay on her side as she watched the baby in the crib with endless adoration and affection in her eyes. Her eyes were the same color as mine, down to the tone. She still had the small bump of having carried her baby inside for 9 months, so she must have recently given birth.

“Vera, we have to leave, quickly!”

A man burst in through the plain door, looking frantic. He had the same nose shape and hair color that I did; even his movements seemed similar to mine.

“What is it?” The woman stood up slowly, waiting for an answer.

“The town, they’ve gone wild. They’re hunting down every witch and wizard to execute them in the town square! We have to get out of here as quickly as possible!”

The woman barely had time to place her baby in a traveling basket before there were the sounds of knocks and shouting coming from another door nearby. The man and the woman shared a quick look and then, without even thinking, both of them jumped out of the open window, the woman clutching the basket close to her chest as the door to their room burst open upon the rowdiness of the mob behind it.

Both the man and the woman looked badly injured from the fall, while the baby simply watched without a single sound. It had no idea what was going on.

The couple began running at full speed, assisted by their magic, to get out of the town as quickly as possible. They managed to zoom through the mobs and entered the next town, then the next, then the one after that.

Nowhere seemed safe. All of the towns that they had passed seemed to house the same anger of the mob that they had escaped back in their temporary home. Temporary, because it seemed like they were moving around a lot, given that they had so little to pack and carry with them.

“We can’t keep running like this forever,” the man spoke, when they had finally come to rest on top of a hill. “They are catching up to us, I can feel it. We aren’t safe, no matter where we go.”

The couple shared a gaze before both of their eyes fell onto their baby, who was asleep in the basket.

“Our baby. We need to keep her out of this.” The woman choked back a sob, but her eyes were already filled with tears to the brim.

“We can take her somewhere nobody knows her, away from growing up with us and all the magic folk in town. Somewhere like...” His wandering gaze finally landed upon the building that was also located at the top of that hill. “... an orphanage.”

“But she’s not an orphan, Atticus!” The woman finally burst. “She’s our baby! She’s our daughter, Y/N!”

“I know, Vera, and she always will be. But this is for her safety.” The couple shared a sad hug and a short kiss, before they both stood up after the woman gave a small nod.

“For her future,” she whispered, and the man whispered it back.

They set the baby’s basket in front of a building that read Madam Rosemary’s Orphanage, giving her lots of kisses and hugs before the sound of a mob grew louder in the distance.

“Together?” Atticus asked, as they slowed their pace to a casual walk, still walking away from the mob but with a sense of surrender.

“Forever.” Vera replied, as they both held hands with the mob growing ever louder, closing the distance between them and the couple.

***

When my vision shifted back to normal, I was crying.

I was crying so much that my eyes felt like there were no more tears left inside, and instead I was crying out blood.

“Oh, my sweet Y/N!” I barely noticed Professor Trelawney wrapping me in a tight hug, but I returned it nonetheless, the tears showing no sign of stopping.

“Are you alright, dear? Do you need me to escort you back to the dorms?” Professor asked as she drew back a little bit.

Composing myself, at least in the slightest, I shook my head to say no.

“What did you see, dear? Would you like to talk about it?”

“They died,” was all I could mutter repeatedly. “They died to save me. They died because people were hunting them down.”

“They died to give you a better future,” Professor Trelawney held me by my arms. “And look at you now. The top student in all of her classes. A marvel of the magical world at such a young age.”

Her praises snapped me out of my endless repeat of the phrase “They died” and caused me to crack a small smile. “Thank you, Professor. You overpraise me.”

“Nonsense,” she waved. “Now get back to your dorm, and take a nice, long nap. It will help you process things. Drink a cup of tea, if that helps. Or do anything that you do to relax your mind.”

“Thanks again, Professor,” I said as I got up shakily. “I will.”

“Off you go, then. Take care of yourself, will you?”

I nodded before leaving her class with a final wave.

***

The Gryffindor Common Room was not that crowded when I arrived, not that I cared anyway, because my mind was too preoccupied with what I had learned about my parents today. I didn’t even notice bumping into someone that was standing on my route towards the Girls Dormitories.

“Y/N?”

That sweet voice, the one that I had heard a click! with just this morning.

Oh, this is absolutely fantastic.

“I’m sorry, Jongdae, I really don’t have time for this right now.” I tried to push past him but the other guys had already surrounded us, looking equally concerned.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Junmyeon tried to reach out and touch my arm, but I quickly yanked it back and pushed past Kyungsoo and Sehun to reach the stairs.

“I’m sorry. I just want to be alone,” I muttered, before climbing up the stairs without a second glance. My tears had betrayed me once again.

“Y/N, wait!” I heard Jongdae shouting out, as well as his footsteps, before they were stopped.

“Let her go, Jongdae,” Chanyeol’s deep voice filled my ears before I finally reached my room. “She said she wanted to be alone.”

None of my roommates were back yet, so I took the liberty to kneel down on the ground as my sobs finally took over. I was crying again, so much that I was shaking against the floor. I managed to pull myself up and jumped right into my bed, hoping that suffocating under my blanket would distract me from the pain in my heart.

***

A few days had passed before I finally had the courage to speak with Jongdae and the other boys. I only spoke to Jongdae first, forgetting about the fact that we had felt the click of being each other’s soulmates, and thankfully, he didn’t bring it up either. I knew I would talk with him about that later, I wasn’t planning on completely overlooking it. But for now, it had to be pushed aside.

One night, I came down to the Common Room because I was cold and wanted to sit in front of the fire. I didn’t expect Jongdae to be there, sitting on the window sill all by himself. That was when I decided to talk to him again, and I told him the story of my parents. I teared up again, but Jongdae was there to wipe them and embrace me with all of his warmth. There was something exceedingly familiar about his embrace, yet distant at the same time. His arms felt like home, even though I didn’t know what that was, but they also felt like a completely foreign yet sweet sensation. We stayed like that for a while, the heat from the fire matching the warmness we shared between each other’s arms.

“I’m sure that your parents are looking down on us and smiling from Heaven right now,” Jongdae spoke, his voice softer than the feathers of a pillow.

“You really think so?” I asked, it was a childish question really, but I was too emotional to care.

“I know for a fact that they are. They sound like they were beautiful people, Y/N, and it reflects onto their beautiful daughter.”

Jongdae’s cheeks flushed red after realizing what he had said, but he seemed too locked into my embrace to run away and hide in embarrassment.

“On the inside or the outside?” I asked, slightly wiggling my eyebrows.

“You must already be fine if you’re in the mood to be cracking these kind of jokes,” Jongdae laughed. I was definitely feeling better, now that he was beside me. “I’ll say both.”

I smiled, before speaking again. “Aren’t you mad at me?”

He looked confused. “What reason would I have to be mad at you?”

“I completely ignored you and the guys for a couple days,” I looked down in guilt. “I’m sorry. This wasn’t your fault, you didn’t deserve to be treated like that.”

“Y/N, I’m not mad.” He tightened his arms around me. “And you don’t need to feel sorry. I’ll admit that I felt like a useless piece of garbage without you around, or being able to help you, but I know that it was because you needed to recover on your own. And here you are.” His smile shone brighter than the fire beside us. “Besides, with people like Baekhyun and Chanyeol around, it’s so easy to get caught up in completely unrelated things.” We both laughed.

“I have so many things I want to tell you,” I told him, after finally catching his gaze.

“Take all the time you need.” He smiled, glancing at one eye, then the other. “I would love to hear every single word you have to say.”

I smiled, feeling lighter than before. Jongdae was such an understanding person.

“Even if I say ‘useless piece of garbage’? That’s solid, I might use that to insult somebody.” I grinned to myself.

Jongdae caught on as well, grinning along with me. “Oh yeah? I’ll have to find something in response then.”

“I’m sure you will.” A tiny yawn came out of me as I rested my head against Jongdae’s shoulder. We stood like that for a while, feeling each other’s body heat become one.

“Go back to bed. It’s getting late.”

“What about you?” I asked, looking up to his face.

“I have a little bit of studying to do.” He nodded towards the notebooks piled near the window sill, which I hadn’t noticed before. “I’ll go to bed soon, I promise.”

“You better.” Another yawn. Jongdae ruffled my hair as he helped me get back up.

“Good night, Y/N. Sweet dreams.” We exchanged a final wave before I started climbing up the stairs, Jongdae’s eyes on me until I was out of his sight.

***

A/N: Greetings, my dear friends. I know this chapter was shorter than the other ones but the series is truly coming to an end. Be on the lookout for the finale soon!

***

Masterlist

Asks/requests are open!

-  ~.~

[lukesbum]

Dark Heart: Part One

a/n: hi guys/anyone who stumbles upon this! this is my first fic and i’ve been wanting to write this story for a while, so if there are any kinks please give me some slack until i get the hang of things!! like/share/give me feedback!! im going to be posting this in parts and i think there are going to be a lot! im already editing part two, so give that a read when i post it!! 

a hogwarts!5sos fic. enjoy. 

_____________________________________________________________

Rosemary hated potions.

The professor never had office hours, the room smelt like burning hair, and frankly she just wasn’t very good at it. She would read and read and read, practice tons, and had potions memorized to the point where she could recite the ingredients like you could recite the alphabet, but for some ungodly reason her perfectly measured components would blend together in every and any way but the way they should have.

Her best friend Mikey would try to help her out, he showed her all of his tips and tricks that earned him an A in potions every year, but his tricks weren’t in the recipe. If she couldn’t even master the recipe then why in god’s name would she stray from it???

“My way is just so much easier, Rosie.” Mikey would say, shaking his head and laughing at the frizz her hair was taking on by the second. “If you do what I’m telling you to do then it’ll make it easier to get a perfect end result.”

“Mikey, I can’t just...not follow the directions.” Rosemary had told him this time after time, but he just wouldn’t drop it.

It wasn’t until her professor asked her to stay after one day that she regretted not listening to her friend.

“I want you to work with Ashton on your upcoming project. He’s my top student, you could learn a lot from him.”

“Who even is Ashton?” The thought of working with a stranger on something that was such a large part of her grade put a pit in her stomach and she could feel her palms beginning to sweat. “And isn’t Michael top of the class? I’ve been working with him and-”

“I adore Michael, I really do, and while he has been earning nearly perfect scores I think Ashton would be a much better teacher.” The professor shrugged and gave Rosemary a small smile.

“Well, why can’t I just meet with you? I know you don’t do office hours but-”

“Miss Dare, please. You’ll be working with Ashton Irwin and that’s final. I’ve asked him to meet you here tomorrow at noon, does that work?”

Rosemary just nodded, not wanting to talk back to her professor for a second time.

She didn’t even have the energy to go back to the common room, solving a riddle did not sound appealing when Rosemary was giving herself a headache from worrying so much. Rosemary had her friends and that was that. She never really went beyond them because her anxious interior presented a somewhat bitchy exterior that strangers got a taste of and chose to leave it at that. Even Calum considered never talking to her after the first night they met. After both being sorted into Ravenclaw, the two shy first years found themselves seated together at a then very intimidating table full of older kids who already knew each other. Rosemary kept giving Calum clipped answers to all of his questions and wouldn’t look up from the plate she was picking at. To say he was surprised when she sat with him in the common room the next day- even if they just sat in silence while he drew in his sketchbook and Rosemary read- would be an understatement.

Later, Rosemary found herself sitting with Calum and one of his friends- a Gryffindor- in the great hall for dinner. His friend was okay, she had met him more than a few times at this point and could tolerate him for the time she was forced to hang out with him (Calum never forced Rosemary to hangout, but she wasn’t going to deny Calum of having one other friend just because of her pre-decided dislike towards Gryffindors).

“Luke,” She interrupted whatever Calum was saying to pose her question. “Do you know an Ashton?”

“Ashton Irwin?”

“Uh,” Rosemary pursed her lips and thought for a moment. “I think so. Do you know anything about him?”

“Do I?” Luke let out a mix between a laugh and a sigh. “Yeah I know him. Why? You fancy him?”

“No. No, god no. I don’t even know who he is. My potions professor wants me to work with him on our next project.” With a shrug, she chose to omit the fact that the reason she was paired with him was because he was exelling and she was not.

Luke tapped his ringed fingers against the table, he was always trying to add something different to his uniform to make it..well, less uniform. Rings, painted nails, even makeup were all things he dabbled in. Honestly, Luke was hot. If it weren’t for the gossip Mikey had told her about how he’s been working his way around all the Hufflepuffs in their year then she would totally go for him.

“Well, Ashton’s a bit of a dick. I don’t think he’s rude, but he’s not pleasant to be around. I had divination with the blockhead and he was just kind of an asshole, didn’t even try and wrote off the class as bullshit.” Luke shrugged. “I got on well with him though. Overall a nice guy, I’m sure he’ll cooperate for your project.”

Rosemary nodded, the information made her a little less on edge about the whole situation. “Thanks. I’m meeting him tomorrow at noon.”

“Where?”

She looked at Calum with her brows drawn together. “The potions classroom?? Where else?”

“I just wanted to know. Jeez.”

With that the raven haired girl let out a sigh and started to stand. “Can we go now? Both of us?”

Calum rolled his eyes. “You just go, ya grump. I’ll meet you later.”

“Calum I just don’t have the energy to stand there and not be able to figure out the riddle. Last time a first year had to let me in. A first year.” Rosemary pouted. “Please? I’ll give you whatever  homework answers you want.”

“You really think I trust your potions homework?” Calum smiled and stood. “Bye Luke.”

___

Rosemary had been sitting in the potions room since five minutes before noon and twenty minutes later she was still alone. Leave it to her to not appreciate Mikey’s help and be left to work with some lazy, rude, probably overall dumb-

“Are you Rose?”

Rosemary jumped from her stool and placed a hand over her chest. Jesus. Very smooth

“Hello?? Don’t tell me you’re stupid and deaf.”

She finally turned to face him. “Excuse me?”

And she thought Luke was hot.

Ashton was tall and had broad shoulders, his hair fell in loose waves to the nape of his neck and one curl sat on his forehead. He wore his uniform without a tie and had his pant legs rolled so you could see his deep green socks peeking out. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows exposing his forearms.

The boy smirked and walked towards her, placing a book down on the table and leaning  back on it with his elbows. Rosemary took in his uniform one more time, of course he was a Slytherin. His whole presence just carried cockiness with it and, frankly, she didn’t have the patience for that.

“You heard me. I’m Ashton by the way.” He stuck out a hand and all she could do was stare at his lopsided grin and bite the inside of her cheek. “Pleasure.”

Turning away from him, she opened her textbook and leaned forward to read the directions printed inside of it.

“Are you ready to start?” Ashton took a step closer to you, he was too close now and you could hear your heart beating in your ears.

Rosemary cleared her throat. “Yeah, but can you not stand so close to me?”

“Why sweetheart? Am I making you nervous?”

“Just-” She took a deep breath. “Personal space. Please.”

Surprisingly, Ashton moved to stand on the other side of the table and set himself up across from her. Once everything was in its place he held his hands out in front of himself. “Good?”

“Uh. Yeah, thanks.” She set up her own cauldron and avoided his eyes. “And it’s Rosemary.”

“What?”

“My name isn’t Rose. It’s Rosemary.”

Ashton let out a chuckle and raised a brow at her. “Same thing, darling.”

“Rosemary.” She huffed, seeing how her afternoon was going to turn out.

“Fine. Rosemary. Let’s start.”

Ashton turned out to be an okay teacher, just not a very friendly one. He followed what was written exactly and worked at a slow pace so Rosemary could keep up. She couldn’t help but stop to look at him a couple times, how could she have not noticed him before? His confident stature was one that demanded attention and even the sound of his voice was sexy. With tousled hair and large hands that knew exactly when to reach up and adjust it, she couldn’t see one flaw in his appearance. Even the flaw she could detect, his attitude, seemed forgivable when she was looking at him; his eyes and jawline, his prominent adam’s apple, and-

“Hello, did you hear me? Let’s call it a day, my arms are starting to get sore from stirring.” Ashton pushed a strand of lock from his forehead and shut his book, looking up at Rosemary as if inviting her to do the same.

“Sounds good to me.”

“Are you doing anything right now?”

She stared at him for a moment.

What?

“You mean after this?”

Ashton shrugged. “Well we’re done now so. What are you doing now?”

“Oh, uh,” Rosemary started packing things into her bag and kept her eyes trailed on the ground. “I’m supposed to meet with my friend Michael and-”

“Fuck him. Come with me.”

Excuse me? “Michael is my best friend so-”

“He’s a Puff right? I know ‘im. It’s fine, he won’t mind.”  

“What? How-”

“Well we-”

“Ashton.” Rosemary rolled her eyes and swung her bag over her shoulder. “Stop interrupting me. It’s really fucking rude.”

“Watch your mouth, sweetheart.” Ashton’s smile fell and he took a step towards her.

Oh. Rosemary’s mouth went dry and she knew the right reaction should be anger. The audacity of this boy to tell her how to speak as if she were a child? How dare a complete stranger stand there and reprimand you with that look. Although those were truly her thoughts, her body betrayed her. Her breath hitched in her throat and she knew Ashton could tell, her bottom lip went between her teeth and she felt heat in her cheeks.

“C’mon. You’ll have fun.” Ashton passed Rosemary and at the same time took her bag from her shoulder, shrugging it onto his own and standing in the doorway, expectantly. “Please?”

As if she had a choice.

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

Monument Woman

Pairing: Marcus Pike x OC (Rosemary Carter)

Warnings: A bit of angst

A/N: Sort of trucking along, now into chapter 4, which gets us into the meat of this whole story, so I guess this sorta qualifies as a slow burn?  Not sure.  Anyway, enjoy!

Reminder: I ain’t ever seen Pedro Pascal in FUCK ALL, I’m just coming up with this as I go along, using imdb.com, wiki, and 84,000 tabs I got open to plan out this shit.  I also write soft versions of his characters so if you’re craving asshole vibes, I ain’t got any but my own to offer.

Tag List:

@zeldasayer , @beskars , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale  , @ahopelessromanticwritersworld , @lilkermit14 [please message me to be added or subtracted]

Part 2 – Well, It’s Valuable for Starters

Coral Gables Restaurant sits right on the banks of the Kalamazoo River, serving as the perfect backdrop to any lunch or dinner date.  It was Robert’s favorite place to eat and the whole staff knew him.  So, lunch dates for the two history buffs could last hours and no one would say anything to them.

Long after the lunch plates had been taken away, Robert nursed his beer and Rosemary leaned back in her chair, letting the early summer sun warm her skin.  As she sat there with her eyes closed, Robert let himself just watched her.  She was tall with a brunette pixie cut – the only hair style he’s ever seen her sport – and he noted there was greyer hair than when they first met and finer lines on the youthful face.

She took up a lot of space with her personality and that’s what he loved best about her.  Of all the people Robert called his friends, none were close to him like she was. When he met her not long after she started at the museum and it was an almost instant rapport.

He never had children of his own, never even gotten married.  But something about Rosemary drew him to her and he felt this love for her like he hadn’t ever felt for anyone else in his nearly seventy-two years.  When the doctor gave him the prognosis, he realized the sadness that had washed over him wasn’t about his death but the fact that he had someone he was leaving behind. It both hurt and consoled him.  He wasn’t going to be alone.

“Rosie.”  His voice was soft, but she still heard him and opened her eyes.  He smiled at her and she sat up and nodded, pulling her chair closer so she was more comfortable to chat.  The waitress appeared with refills for Rosemary’s lemonade and another beer for Robert.  They stayed quiet until she left.  When they were alone again, she raised her eyebrow and gestured for him to continue.

“If there are things in those boxes that you can sell for the museum, go for it.  There are a few I want the museum to have and one item it needs to take.”

“Well, I doubt I’ll take anything that will cause me extra work, but we can draw up the deed of gift on the other items as normal.  I already have my eye on a few things, which are probably among what you are already giving us.”  He nodded. “What’s the item you want us to take for sure?”

“The Cornucopia.”  Her eyebrow raised in confusion at the comment.  “It’s a priceless art piece, a friend of mine valued it at three-quarters of a million dollars. On the low end of things.”

“WHAT?” Rosemary’s jaw dropped.  Holy shit.

“I know, I was surprised it valued so high as well.  I bought it at an antique shop in Chicago years ago and given how valuable it is, I want the museum to have it.”

“Uh, hell yeah!”  Rosemary’s eyes began to gleam with glee and Robert laughed.  He knew she was thinking of Fred and he was pleased he could help her get a leg up on the man.  While Breyers had never been anything but courteous towards the storeowner, there was an underlying hostility to the curator’s words and actions.  Something about the greedy curator never sat well with Robert and he shared in Rosemary’s dislike of him.  

“When we head back to the house after lunch, we’ll talk more.”  The two sat back and grinned at each other.

---***---

“But, ma’am. . . Ma’am. . .” Agent Horacio paused, the murderous look on their face not even showing up in their voice.  “Ma’am, I get what you are saying.  I’m asking you to set up a meeting with me to go over the case. Yes, we reopened it.  Yes, we’re working on it.  Now if you would just. . .”

The ever-patient voice of the agent faded into the background as Carmichael skirted the table with a handful of photos, a small smirk on her face. She walked up next to Pike as they filled the evidence board with the last of the pictures from the case files.  A second and third board were set up on the other side of the room, allowing the team to make further critical connections to the cases they had so recently linked together.

They worked quietly for a bit, Carmichael subtly shooting glances at Pike, whose brow was furrowed in concentration.  Finally, her curiosity got the better of her and she turned to look at her partner.

“Okay, spill.  How did the date go with Lucy in Accounting?” Her voice dropped to a whisper belying the eager look on her face.  Pike grimaced at the question as he pressed on the last of the push pins.

“There was no date. She stood me up.”  Her loud gasp caused a few of their team to look their way, but she ignored them, giving Pike a look to continue.  “I called twice, and she never answered.  Never even showed up to the date itself.  I don’t think I can go back to Bobby’s anymore.  Lindsey is starting to feel sorry for me.”

“Hell, I feel sorry for you, Pike.  That’s the third date you’ve been stood up on in, what? Two months?” Carmichael’s voice softened.  The poor man was having a rough time of it, what with Lisbon breaking his heart, his divorce before that, three failed short-term relationships after he came to D.C., and now this series of no-show dates over the last year.  She frowned and laid a hand on his wrist, which had stilled on the last pin as his words died on his tongue.

He didn’t look at her and she could feel him stiffen underneath her touch. He pushed down his growing frustration at the situation and turned to smile at her, the grin not coming close to reaching his eyes.  His shoulders squared up as if to say the conversation was done.  She had known the man for six years and just wanted him to be happy, but for the moment, she gave him a small smile to help him with his charade.

“It’s okay Carmichael, maybe I’m just not meant for a relationship.” His voice sounded almost sad at the tone and she bowed her head.

“I don’t think that’s true, Marcus.”

“Yeah, well the universe is working hard to tell me that I’m meant to be single. I should be listening instead of fighting it.”  He sighed and turned away, walking out of the room before anyone could comment on the large frown that had formed on his face.  She looked after him, a defeated look in her eyes.  No one loved as hard and as loyal as him, he deserved the world. She knew that the right person for him was out there, but she couldn’t understand why Pike hadn’t crossed paths with his soulmate yet.  

She turned back to the board, picking up the marker to begin labeling the photos they had posted.  While she wrote, she silently prayed to the universe that her partner’s heart found its home sooner rather than later.

-*-

Pike looked at himself in the mirror, droplets of water still on his skin and the strands of hair framing his face were damp.  Splashing water on his face helped cool down his skin, but Carmichael’s words of sympathy had stung, even if she meant well, and he had to leave the room before he got upset even more.  As he leaned against the sink, he bowed his head and took a few deep breaths. The small moment of zen from earlier in the day had faded and the headache had returned.

It was known that the agent wore his heart on his sleeve, that he was loyal and generous to a fault.  Most of his colleagues loved him for it and it inspired loyalty from those who worked under him.  But none of that seemed to translate into anything romantically successful.  At this point, he was certain that he was a running joke throughout D.C. and that women agreed to a date to see how long he’d wait at his favorite diner for someone to show up.

Last night, Lindsey comped his dinner because she just couldn’t take the defeated slump to the man’s shoulders one more time.  She even went home and hugged her wife, hoping a little of her joviality would seep into her bones.  If Pike knew that, he would have bitterly laughed at the idea that he can help other people love harder, he just couldn’t get people to love him back.

After letting the dark thoughts swirl through his brain for a little longer, he stood up straight and glanced into the mirror.  He wiped his face one more time and straightened his tie. Without looking back at his reflection, Marcus Pike vowed to himself that he wasn’t going to let anyone in anymore. He was here to catch art thieves and that’s what he was going to do.

He just prayed the yearning in his heart heard the declaration, too.

---***---

Rosemary huffed as she staggered up the walkway to the front door of the museum with the heavy box in her arms.  She cursed herself for thinking that she could carry such an awkward and heavy load by herself, but she was a stubborn mule and was determined to get it all done in one trip.  She sighed when she reached the top of the short staircase.

She reached out and kicked the frame of the door into the building knowing that their long-time volunteer, Bob, was at the front desk.  There was something about him that grated against Rosemary and if truth be told, he was a bad volunteer, but he was the only reliable one and so she had to put up with him and his nonsense.

She realized with a start that she’d been standing there for several minutes, and no one had come to the door.  She peeped through the glass and saw Bob sitting there, looking her way. Grimacing as she shifted the box, she kicked the door again, harder this time.

And he still didn’t move.

With a low growl, Rosemary shifted around and pressed her butt against the handicap button on the wall and with a sigh of relief, she walked through the now open door.  While the June day wasn’t particularly hot, the sun was still warm and the physical activity overheated her.  The cool air of the lobby felt like kisses of heaven on her skin and she slightly closed her eyes at the sensation.  When she opened them, she looked directly at the man in front of her.

“Bob, did you see me kicking the door?”

“Yep.”

“So why didn’t you come open it for me, you clearly saw my hands were full.”

“Kicking is rude.”  The man’s rheumy eyes stared at her and it took two deep breaths to ensure Rosemary wasn’t going to start screaming.  She gave him a tightened smile instead and she walked over to the elevator. “Rosemary, the elevator is for handicap people, you’re not handicapped.”

“Bob, the elevator is for everyone.  Goodbye!”  She entered the small space and leaned against the wall.  We need him, we need him, we need him, she chanted to herself, nothing convincing her that it was true.  The ride to the third floor was a short one, but the heavy box made it seem longer.  When the doors opened, she took a left down to the staff offices and her workspace.

She did her best to carefully set the box down on the bench, but she grimaced as she heard rattling inside.  When it didn’t sound like anything broke, she heaved a sigh of relief. She turned her head as she heard footsteps from the hallway and within moments, Helen enter the room.

“How did it go?”  She had a small smile on her face, coming closer to the work bench

“Not bad, I took one big box of stuff – good stuff, too.”  The curator grinned and Helen grinned back, curiosity all over her face.

“Nothing ugly?”

“God no.  As my grams liked to say, ‘God don’t like ugly.’”  She lifted the lid off the box and suddenly Rosemary screamed, scaring Helen and causing her to scream, too.  The latter jumped back towards the door, unsure of what was happening.  The sounds of the two women yelling echoed in the room until the scream Rosemary let out evolved into a laugh, tinged with adrenaline. “FUCKING ROBERT!”

“WHAT? WHAT? WHAT?”  Helen was now on edge and creeping back closer to the work bench, still wary. Rosemary reached into the box and lifted out the stuff monkey she passed over earlier.  Helen recoiled at the sight.

“I thought you said you didn’t bring back anything ugly!”

“I didn’t!  He must have put it in here after I told him it was worthy of the dumpster.”  The laughter continued as she looked at the stuffed animal.  Finally, she sighed and set the monkey down on the bench.

“You’re not putting it in the collections are you?”  The director still looked at the item with wariness.  It was truly ugly with its almost realistic eyes. She shuttered before looking away.

“No, but I’m going to keep it, though.  He’d probably make a better watch dog than Banana.”  Looking around, Rosemary turned to her boss.  “Speaking of which, where is that dog of mine?”

“He’s in your office, conked out on the couch and snoring away.”

“See?!  I need the monkey now.  My own dog, of whom I am his whole world, didn’t even come hither at my screams.  I am abandoned and unloved.”  Rosemary ended her dramatic comment on a sigh, her hand against her forehead.  The two women began to laugh again.

“By the way, please for the love of all that is holy, find someone to replace Bob at the front desk.  He watched me kick the door to get in and refused to get up.”

“Did he say why?”

“Yeah, ‘kicking is rude.’”  Rosemary mimicked the old man’s gravelly voice and rolled her eyes. Helen patted her shoulder and said she’d chat with Bob about it, but the curator didn’t have much faith in the forth-coming conversation.  The director left the room and Rosemary dove back into the box to pull out the rest of her treasures.

---***---

“Here is the paperwork on the history of The Cornucopia. Please promise me that you’ll list this as a restricted item.”  Robert sat down, a file folder in his hand.  “I know better than to make outrageous demands, but I want it in the paperwork that this item cannot be loaned out, it cannot be displayed, and it is to remain the collections for the rest of the museum’s existence.  I don’t even want it announced that you have the piece.”

He took a breath and Rosemary’s eyebrows furrowed.  He hadn’t been kidding when he said he had restrictions on the item.  He continued.

“The piece is valuable; I don’t want the museum becoming a target for it. I’m giving it to you because I know you’ll protect it.”  Rosemary nodded as she thumbed through the file, skimming the history of the sculpture. She looked up at him.

“Let me write up the deeds for you and we’ll note everything you want me to list in terms of restrictions.”  She got up and went to her computer set up on the table.  For the next hour, she sat asking Robert questions and filling out the forms, using the printer to create physical copies. After she was done, she sat back.

“We’ll take good care of it.  I promise.”

---***---

The next day, Rosemary sat at her desk, imputing the new collection pieces into PastPerfect, transcribing notes she had scribbled in her binder.   Most of the pieces she had taken were worth it; besides the map, she took a few pieces of pottery from a celebrated local artist, a couple of prints that dated back to the Fort’s early years, seven quilts, and several history books.  And of course, The Cornucopia.

She pulled the file out for the sculpture and sat back in her chair. After opening the folder, she began to read the files she had skimmed earlier.  The more she read the appraiser’s history more her eyebrows crawled up her forehead.

The Cornucopia was created for Russian Tsar Nicolas II by renown Ukrainian artists Artem Chumak.  The bronze sculpture was inlaid with rubies, sapphires, yellow diamonds, jade, pearls, and opals, most mined from around the Russian Empire.  Ukraine historically has been known as the breadbasket of Russia and the piece was commissioned by the Ukrainian government as a gift to Nicolas upon his marriage to Princess Alexandra of Hess.  It’s value at the time of creation was $250,000 USD.

It is known that Dowager Empress Maria took the piece, along with several other valuable items after the fall of the Empire and she sold it to the Grand Duke of Luxembourg in 1920, who in turn loaned it to the country’s National Museum of History and Art the following year. The museum returned it to the family during World War II to protect it from the advancing German army.  It was again loaned to the museum for another twenty years before the family chose to cease ownership.

The piece was then sold via Sotheby’s Auction House in 1965 to a private collector in the U.S. and has remained in private ownership since then.  Because of its history and the materials used, the value of The Cornucopia is approximately $750,000 for insurance purposes, but on the auction block, could fetch upwards to . . .

“Three million dollars?!”  Rosemary shrieked, her feet dropping to the floor as she sat up.  She looked at the sculpture sitting on her worktable and her face broke out in a grin.  Oh, ho ho ho, she really got the leg up on Fred Breyers this time.  This was the best gift that Robert could have ever given her.

[adobe-outdesign]

BATIM Chapter 5 Liveblog

I am in no way emotionally or mentally prepared for this LET’S DO THIS

Spoilers under the cut (duh).

Henry, stop calling Joey your friend

I like the perspective from the cartoons, very interesting

Hehe, she drew Tom

Allison seems to be fairly unlucid compared to Alice

oh hey I was right, he did doodle the Bendy animatronic’s hand

Tom. dude, not cool

what the fuck else do you watch us to watch Allison

why the fuck did you call him Tom to begin with if you didn’t know it was his name

hehe, invisible ink

oh, she does have a halo, it’s just invisible. I thought the headband was her halo, but maybe not

true bros fix other bros arms

oh, so that’s why they leave, that makes sense

TAKE THE SPOON

aw, such a charmer

I’M ON A BOAT, I’M A BOAT, EVERYBODY LOOK AT ME

oh, okay, this is happening

SAMMY, MY BOY, GREAT TO SEE YOU. or not. actually no

is it pretentious to start an “outdesign is right” count? too bad I’m doing it

Outdesign is right count: 1

I wonder if he joined the hivemind? It’s not his voice and it’s got a bit of an echo to it

HE AIN’T NO FACE

yes, yes it is.

Henry, why do you break everything you touch

“GO BACK TO YOUR PUDDLES” Allison is just an angry mom

oh shit, there’s a lot of miner searchers

JESUS CHRIST

boy, if that ain’t evidence for the “Henry is an ink creature” theory than I don’t know what is because literally all his bones should be broken by now

it would be really clever if it was Henry who left the messages on his first visit to the studio, given that he managed to escape once and Allison says whoever left them knew how to escape

ah, maybe the last reel refers to the last reel used to make the final cartoon? possibly Bendy? or Henry if he’s an ink creature?

This could go against Joey being Bendy - but at the same time, if the Ink Demon was made on the first attempt, wouldn’t everyone be dead because all he does is murder the shit out of people? If that’s the case there’s definitely a secondary Bendy running around.

Alternatively: Maybe this was before they figured out the sacrifices? Thomas doesn’t mention anything about anyone going missing. Maybe that’s why you need the people - cartoons without people are just moving ink with no personality or anything. (”there’s just something unworldly about him”).

am I hallucinating or is that Charlie, like, huge? though it’s probably the same one in the trailer so maybe not

“likewise, we would also like to dismiss the idea that our accountant had a complete mental breakdown and is now drinking gin in the closet”

leader because Bendy’s the main character, maybe?

did... did wally get killed over a chocolate cake

Though more importantly: food-lover, even at the expense of other’s? Another check on the Boris checklist

was that Sammy’s cake

spoilers: first-attempt Bendy was Beta Blobby Boi (though once again, I think this goes against the idea of it being the Ink Demon, because Thomas would be very dead if he got near him).

Also, the whole “these things are soulless” thing - IE this Bendy doesn’t have a soul and thus isn’t a person. And it’s only at this point that he says he’ll get them a soul, which the Ink Demon definitely seems to have

Surprisingly, Joey’s office isn’t as over the top as I thought it would be

Joey you’re such a piece of shit

“I’ll be straight with you” no part of Joey is straight

this also adds up - first abominations made, then Alice is the first cartoon with a soul made using the CK1

well this looks safe (get it? because vault? I’m a genius)

please be a tape from norman in here I miss him

ink demon has the last reel, maybe?

“I need three gears, a crowbar, AND THAT GUY’S PROSTHETIC ARM”

okay, that was legitimately hilarious

reminds me of Norman’s stroll in 3

“death” okay this sounds promising

christ on a fucking cracker

that sounds like confirmation that Henry probably isn’t an ink creature (yet?). He’s waded through ink before

you’re here because Joey’s a dick

oh, now you say that

maybe this is where cartoons are re-created? Looks like a Boris in there, though impossible to know if it’s our Boris

hey, new cartoon clips on the walls!

mildly suspicious that there’s a Joey tape in Bendy’s space. could be nothing though

wait. wait this isn’t a tape. Joey where are you

BOY IF THAT AIN’T CONFIRMATION I DON’T KNOW WHAT IS

Outdesign is right count: 2

oh great, now you can fucking shape shift

CHRIST HE RUNS FUCKING FAST

Joey why. do you have this

I like how the wall animations are actually animated shorts, mostly from the contest winner’s. Rosemary’s Babysitter and Hell in a Handbasket are in there

his horns are so.... wiggly

good fucking riddance

HOLY SHIT, THAT POST I MADE WAS RIGHT, THE REAL WORLD IS IN COLOR. THAT WASN’T EVEN AN ACTUAL THEORY

Outdesign is right count: 3

no wonder Henry complimented Jack, he’s clearly a hat person himself

these storyboards seem to be for AUs? One is called “Bendy wins”. or maybe these are all the alternate endings that can be unlocked?

1963 adds up with the present day - 1933 was when 30 years was, according to Mike Mood

the rendering here is really freaking cool, as it actually does look realistic

so this is a good ending, I think? Like, this is... heaven, maybe, seeing as there’s sketches from the studio and good AU things (Wally has grandkiddens!), but Joey(? I think) is also here? And it’s not like Henry knows where he is? plus it kind of seemed like he died at the end there

and badabing, there’s Joey’s wheelchiar. all the way from my chapter 2 theory baby

wait, is that why we keep having flashbacks? so the “we’ve been here before” thing is correct?

holy shit, this animation is fucking gorgeous

HENRY HAS A LAST NAME BABY

So is the idea here that Henry is also a drawing/character that Joey made, and that’s why he keeps going back to the studio?

Maybe the entirety of BATIM is a story? You can see the characters and inspiration on the walls, even down the studio going bankrupt

I mean, overall I really enjoyed it, but I still have a ton of questions (what happened to Shawn, Grant, and Lacie? What about Norman and Alice’s corpses and the Bendy animatronic? Plus the ending is... strange and Gainax-y.

This should only be one ending according to the achievements (the Main Ending), so let me see if there’s more that might explain things...

Hmm, okay, not seeing anything right now in a quick search. There definitely is more than one ending according to the achievements (and even the storyboards at the end) so I’ll hold off judgement until then. Might update this post later if there is something.

[fly-off-the-handle-blog]

Good Luck Spell Jar 🍀

So my roommate/friend has mentioned to me for months that she’s felt like she’s had bad luck her entire life. I wanted to do something to change that for her, so I poured myself into this chaotic beauty!

—

Ingredients Used (feel free to add or take away any!):

• Sea Salt (for protection, courage)

• Himalayan Pink Sea Salt (same as above)

• Orange peel (for luck, prosperity)

• Rosemary (for protection)

• Lavender (for long life, peace, love)

• Black pepper (to banish negativity)

• Oregano (for joy, strength, vitality)

• Sage ashes (for wisdom)

• Basil (for harmony, peace)

• Bay leaf (I made a wish on it before I crushed it)

• Dried Pink Rose petals (for happiness, admiration)

• Edible pearl dust (for fun — I tailored this to her a bit!)

**I don’t include quantities of my items for my jars, because I believe you should make it your own!!**

Additional Items:

• Small chunks of Aventurine, Tiger’s Eye, and Crystal Quartz (for luck, protection, healing, clear mind)

• A penny from the year she was born

• White candle (for protection)

—

1. Mix the salts and add to the bottom of the jar as the first layer.

2. Add rose petals as second layer.

3. Mix black pepper, bay leaf, basil, and rosemary. While doing this, I chanted: “Little spice, little spice, grinding up so fine and nice. My gratitude I can’t repay, bring <name> some good luck today!”

4. Then add the herbal mixture to the jar as the third layer. Then a layer of rose petals, another layer of the herbal mix, the sage ash, and orange peel. I then added a generous amount of the edible pearl dust.

5. Step 5 wasn’t planned, but it felt right. I then shook ALL of the ingredients in the jar together, mixing up the layers. I wanted to show her that although her life seemed chaotic, it could still be beautiful and end up positive 💓

6. Add chunks of crystal to jar.

7. Add a layer of lavender with a bit of sea salt. Put the penny on top and seal the jar with white wax. While I sealed the jar, I repeated my intentions — luck for my buddy, of course!

8. I then drew a good luck sigil on the outside of the bottle. Charged and ready to go!

—

That’s really it! The pearl dust gets all over the inside of the bottle and adds the most beautiful GLITTERS when in the sunlight! ☀️ Questions, comments, suggestions? I’d love to hear from you witchy babes!

* Not the best looking, but it definitely has the most love and energies poured into it! ✨

* credit goes to @black-raven200 for the sigil!