#anyway I really really enjoy those Mark Brooks covers

[lovecanbesostrange]

Artist Mark Brooks (who's currently giving us a masterpiece collection of Disneyfied X-Men, please look at his Insta) did the cover art for that homestretch of X-Men Legacy (aka X-Men 1991 with a rebrand name) from #260.1-275. And I just adore it.

It's still so funny to me that officially Rogue chose Wolverine's side in Schisms. But then made a call that had Logan so mad he wouldn't look at her. So the book explored a little X-dynamic on the side at the school without disturbing the Wolverine & the X-Men plots. And when the time came for the big AvX thing the team had to sit it out, but also get one big fight at least for the tie-in and then Rogue was shoved to another planet for a bit. Only to come back for some "oh no the Phoenix Five aren't the good guys, better help the Avengers now" and then to finally break up with Magneto (in a story with a gay man dying impaled in rubble, because those two have the best date scenery start to finish iykyk).

That story with Weapon Omega and Mimic is fantastic. Oh, the homoerotic subtext in those pages is peak X-Men content. And everything is always about empathy, second chances, redemption, finding your own way, breaking free of other people's expectations. Christos Gage was allowed to write a very quiet story. Despite then having to shove in AvX (of course the Avengers looked like extra dicks, but I blame editorial decisions; sorry the escalation was on She-Hulk, I love Jen, she did nothing wrong).

[rhysismydaddy]

Felons pt. 1 (Nessian)

Nessian multichapter. Next part out probably Monday. As always, this one just sets up some stuff so it’s kinda boring. This one’s probably going to be long. And an emotional roller coaster. Just letting you know :) 

Lightly based off the book The Witness. I say lightly because I’ve actually never even read this book, but my mom told me about it. ALSO no offense to anyone who’s from/lives in Nebraska lol.

Cassian swiveled around in his chair and looked at his partner with raised brows. “She’s in Nebraska?”

“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?”

Someone’s a little testy today. He ignores the tone and repeats, “But... Nebraska? What the hell is she doing there? And why did it take us so long to find her?”

Azriel gives him a tight look, and he realizes the reason for his pissy attitude. He’s annoyed it took him so long to track her down. 

Before he can tell his partner it isn’t his fault, he says, “She isn’t doing much. She’s completely off the grid. Which answers your second stupid question, too.”

“Okay... how off the grid are we talking?”

The woman had grown up in a penthouse, for fuck’s sake. He couldn’t imagine her living in the middle of nowhere without any of the comfort she’d lived with her entire life. 

“No cell phone or bank records for the last two years. The last time she was seen by any sort of traffic camera was before that, and it was in Atlanta.” He scrolls through something on his desktop with a frown. “From what I can tell, she took all her money out in cash and hoped on a bus.”

Nothing about that sounded like the woman he’d been reading about, but he wasn’t about to argue with Azriel in such a bad mood. “So she went straight to Nebraska?”

“I don’t know.”

His least favorite answer. “How’d you find her, anyway?”

“Well, I figured that unless she was sleeping under a bridge, she had to be paying rent somewhere. So I went state by state, looking at new property purchases under her known aliases.” Azriel sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. “But that didn’t pull up any results, so I looked at all the IDs on new renter’s insurance purchases until I matched one to her.”

His eyebrows rose. “That’s...”

“Tedious as shit.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s why it took so damn long,” he mutters. “She’s been careful, Cass. I mean really, really careful.”

A laugh bubbled out of him at that. “Well, she should be. She’s a felon.”

~Nesta~

Nesta’s breath clouded in front of her as she ran up the hill, panting like crazy. Even though she’d taken up running after the move, she still fucking hated it. Especially when it was cold. 

Which, in Nebraska, was somehow year round.  

Even the summers here were cold compared to back home-

No. Not home. 

This was home now. 

California was slowly, painfully becoming a distant memory, and she had to constantly force herself to remember that Mackenzie Brooks had never lived there. She was born in Michigan. She has no family or friends. Her hobbies include reading and running (the last of which was a definite mistake to include). 

And she was her. 

God, it honestly was a miracle she hadn’t slipped up yet. 

Maybe it was still the fear that drove her. Maybe it was just that she knew she could never go back to her old life. No matter that she wanted to.

No matter that she’d picked up and left without a word.  No matter that her sisters probably thought she was dead. 

Thankfully, she made it to the top of the hill before she passed out or died, and she bent over, sucking down the freezing air. It was only October, but it was already cold enough to force her to wear three layers and a beanie. 

Despite being miserable and cold, she forced herself to go through her training course. 

Because it couldn’t just be enough to be fit enough to run away anymore. If the person chasing her was faster... 

Nesta punched her hand through the target, satisfied when the wood cracked down the middle. Her knuckles luckily had gotten used to the abuse, so when she ducked under the branch and struck again, another target went flying. 

By the time she was done, her hands and arms were tired and her body was aching for a bath. 

Or two hours on a warm, sunny beach. 

Since only one of those things was bound to actually happen, she trudged back to her cabin, praying the hot water would hold out long enough for a full bath. 

One thing about Blair, Nebraska was that somehow, the less than ten thousand people who lived here were always experiencing a water shortage. 

It rivaled the cold ass weather for her least favorite thing about the place as a very close second. 

Noticing who was parked in front of her small little house, she grimaced and amended her statement. Lack of hot water was actually third, second only to the one and only Sheriff Marks. 

He spun around when he finally heard her steps, smiling a big, ugly, fake smile. “Miss Brooks.”

“Marks.”

According to small-town social guidelines, she was being beyond rude for not calling him Sheriff. But he was a short, ugly, annoying man, and she didn’t hold an ounce of respect for him. 

And because she wasn’t completely fake, she didn’t bother hiding it. 

“What are you doing on my property?”

His smile dimmed as his eyes beady eyes narrowed slightly. “I wanted to see how you’re doing. You never come into town. And here in Blair, we take care of each other.”

That right there was the reason for her dislike; Sheriff Marks was an insatiably curious man. 

And ever since she’d shown up a year ago, he’d been trying to put together the puzzle of why a moderately attractive young woman would move to the middle of butt-fucking nowhere. 

“I’m fine.”

She wanted to walk by him and go inside, where she could blissfully lock him out, but she had a list of rules now, and not putting her back to people she didn’t know or like was at the top of it. 

“Okay, sure, but-”

“Listen, Marks. I appreciate this... gesture, but I moved here to be left alone. I’d appreciate it if you would respect that.” It was the most she’d ever said to him, and he looked a little shocked. “I think I’ve made it more than clear.”

His face went somehow even ruddier, and for a split second, she regretted the harsh words. 

She couldn’t have people caring about her, though. When people cared, they stopped by more and felt entitled to know your business. Neither of which were things she wanted. 

So she just raised a brow and shot a meaningful glance to his cruiser. 

“Yes. It’s perfectly clear exactly who you are.” 

She almost rolled her eyes at the attempted insult, thankful when he finally turned to leave. As he was pulling away, she united her muddy shoes and got her house key from her sock, grimacing at how tight her back was when she stood up. 

Inside, she went through and made sure every door and window was locked, a habit she’d picked up two years ago and hadn’t been able to shake. 

God apparently was looking out for her today, because when she finally made it upstairs, there was enough hot water to fill the tub. 

When she sunk down to her shoulders and closed her eyes, enjoying the moment of peace. But then images of her sisters’ faces, the ocean, and her old home popped up uninvited in her head. 

It was always quiet moments like these when she found it the hardest to shake the memories of who she used to be. And since Nebraska was always fucking quiet... 

Nesta reminded herself of why she was here; why it had been necessary to leave. She reminded herself that her family was safer with her gone, that she was safer. 

But the hole in her chest refused to listen and close up. 

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she was too tired to even brush it away and chastise herself. Because for the first time in twenty-five years, she admitted she was lonely. 

She’d been alone for most of her life, but there was a difference between alone and lonely. Even when she’d isolated herself from her family and friends, they’d still been there for her. 

But now... she had no one here. And she’d never felt so alone in her life. 

It was horrible enough to make her consider going back, despite the risks. 

This is home now, she told herself, dunking under the water to wash away the thoughts hounding her. You didn’t work your ass off to get safe just to bitch out after a year. 

Coming up and gasping for air, she went through her cover, just like she did every night. 

“My name is Mackenzie Brooks, nickname Mackie. I’m from Michigan, but I moved to Nebraska last year to start over. I like to read and run. I’m twenty-five.” Taking a deep breathe, she finished, “I don’t have any family.” 

No amount of time under the water could ebb the sting of those words, though.

~Cassian~

Cassian was honestly a little surprised he hadn’t gotten fired. 

He absolutely hated his orders, and he’d made that more than clear. They’d come straight from Command and “weren’t negotiable,” but that didn’t mean he hadn’t tried. 

Calling his boss a two-faced asshole might’ve been a bit much, but it felt justified in the moment.

Because in all the time he’d spent searching for Nesta Archeron, he’d always pictured the day he’d finally track her down and slap some cuffs on her wrists, haul her away to jail.

He’d never imagined he’d be given orders to find out what she knew first. 

And he’d also never imagined having to do so in fucking Nebraska. 

An hour in the state, and he already hated it. He was from Boston, so he didn’t mind the cold weather, but the lack of buildings over thirty feet was a shock to the system. 

That, alongside the fact that everyone here was wearing some form of plaid, only worsened his mood. 

It wasn���t like he cared about her or anything, but he’d never really liked undercover work. Deceiving a woman--no matter that she was a criminal--never felt right to him. 

But orders were orders. 

He had to find out why she’d run, what she knew about what had happened, and if she had any proof. The goal was to get it all recorded, so he had to carry around a stupid little tap recorder in his jacket pocket. 

Maybe she’d meet him and just spill her guts immediately. That’d be ideal, but it seemed pretty fucking unlikely. At the very least, he’d have to get her to trust him enough to talk about the events of two years ago.

He drove the crappy old truck Azriel had gotten him through the small town, gaining the eyes of pretty much every person he passed. 

Not a lot of new people, apparently.

Ignoring them, he drove to the address of a small house on the outskirts of town. Or home for however long it took him to get close to her. 

Gods, I hope she’s talkative, he thought, walking up the creaky stairs and shouldering the door open. 

Quiet and small, but at least it was clean. 

Throwing his bag down, Cassian grabbed his laptop and started to get to work. 

~

Three hours and a trip to the grocery store later, he’d learned absolutely nothing Nesta--or Mackenzie Brooks, rather. 

There had been nothing online, and no one in the store had much to say besides, “She moved here a year ago. Keeps to herself.”

Great. 

Luckily, he had a reason to go see her. They were neighbors. Kind of. 

Her house was further out of town than his, and she owned the land around it, so she didn’t actually have neighbors. But he lived within a two mile radius, so he counted it. 

Which is why he found himself sitting in her gravel driveway, eyebrows high on his forehead, staring at the place.

And for the first time, he questioned if Azriel was right. 

Because the woman he’d read about... she definitely didn’t seem the type to live here. 

The porch was missing floor boards, the roof was caving in on one side, and the paint on the outside of the house was peeling off. The only thing that looked somewhat new was the front door. 

It had three locks and seemed to be a little heavy duty compared to the house, which made it stand out in a pretty obvious way.

Stepping out of the car, he walked up to get a better look, avoiding the holes in the floor. The house was quiet, and he knocked on the door, finding it to be solid and heavy. 

No answer. 

He knocked again, waiting a few minutes. Then he decided to be nosy and peek in the window. 

A couch and dining table were all that was visible, furthering his opinion that she couldn’t actually live here. 

She’d grown up in one of the nicest apartment buildings in California. Her father had been a wealthy real-estate tycoon. She’d gone to private school and sailing camp, for Christ’s sake. 

There was no way she lived here. 

That theory was proven very soundly incorrect a second later when he felt something tap the back of his head. Repressing the jump that rose from not hearing anyone sneak up on him, he straightened and turned around. 

And found himself looking down the barrel of a shotgun into the surprisingly beautiful, angry face of Nesta Archeron. 

“You have five seconds to get the hell off my porch.” 

Shock ran through his system like lightening. For a few reasons, the least of which was the gun. 

For starters, pictures didn’t at all do her justice, because she was probably the most attractive thing Cassian had ever laid eyes on. And that was with mud splattered on her face, hair in a ponytail, and athletic clothes covering her thin frame. 

Then there was the fact that Azriel had been completely correct. Nesta Archeron, pampered little trust fund princess, was living here. In Nebraska. Completely off the grid. By herself. 

The gun was also a surprise, but not as much as the way she was holding it. Her feet were squared, her shoulders lined up to absorb the kickback if she fired. She looked... she looked like she knew what she was doing. 

She raised a brow, reminding him of the fact that he still hadn’t spoken. 

And remembering who he was supposed to be, what he was supposed to do, he ignored the gun and smiled broadly. “Or what?”

“Or I will shoot you,” she responded calmly, hand pulling back the fore-end to load the gun with a snap. 

“You aren’t going to shoot me,” he assured her. “I brought you a pie.” He held up the baked good and grinned. It was from the grocery store, but it still counted, right? “It’s blueberry.”

“What? Who the fuck are you? And why are you here?”

Sticking out a hand that she ignored, he said, “Cassian. I’m here because I just moved in to the place about a mile from here, and I wanted to meet my neighbors. I gotta say, I’m loving the hospitality.”

Nesta ignored the joke and asked incredulously, “You moved here?”

He nodded. 

She just narrowed her eyes, not buying it apparently. 

Good God, “stand-off-ish” didn’t begin to cover it. 

He was having a difficult time wrapping his head around the fact that this was the same woman who’d gone to UC Santa Barbara, liked to surf, and had dated a movie star.

“But what about the-”

“I hate pie.”

He scoffed, leaning against the crumbling wall of her house like he was unbothered by the rejection in her voice. “No one hates pie.”

Nesta shrugged, jerking her chin towards his truck in a clear get the fuck out manner. 

“I’ll leave if you tell me your name,” he bargained, acting like he didn’t know who she was already.

There was a pause of silence, and a bit of sadness seeped into her bright blue eyes. “Mackenzie.”

Mackenzie Brooks, one of her aliases.  

“Pretty name.”

“Leave.”

“Sweetheart, I honestly can’t believe you’re trying so hard to get rid of me. I’m the best looking guy around here.”

That might very well be true, considering he hadn’t seen a single person under the age of fifty when he’d gone out earlier. 

“And what if I’m not looking for a man?”

“I have a female cousin you could date instead.”

Her lips twitched, and it made him a little too happy to see. “If I take the pie, will you leave?”

“Counteroffer. We split the pie, then I’ll leave.”

Her eyebrows go up. “Who the hell offers someone half a pie?”

“I was planning on giving you the whole pie, but I didn’t know you’d be so beautiful. And feisty.” He ran his eyes over her slowly. “A quality I never even knew I liked.”

“The urge to shoot you just increased.”

Cassian waggled his eyebrows. “So passionate.”

Nesta just sighed, finally lowering the gun. She engaged the safety and leaned it against the door, then snatched the pie from his hands and walked to the porch railing. 

He noticed she didn’t turn her back to him the entire time, and she she kept the gun in arm’s reach. 

What the hell had she been through?

His train of thought was cut off when he heard a splat. Nesta came back to him, one crumpled half of the pie lying upside down in the lid, the other in the original container. She shoved the crumpled half toward him. “Now leave.”

“How did you even cut it? Do you have a knife hidden between your breasts?”

It was a miracle she didn’t slap him for that one. She just narrowed her eyes again and said, “Yes.”

He honestly believed her. 

Cassian sighed, knowing he had to actually leave now. “Well, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, but it’ll do. It was lovely to meet you, Mackenzie.”

“Please just leave.”

Ouch.

He laughed and walked to his truck, calling out, “I’ll see you soon, neighbor!”

Nesta frowned at that, but he ignored it and grinned back. 

She stood on the porch watching him drive away until he was a certain distance, then picked up her stuff and unlocked the door. 

Well, Azriel had definitely been right: she was being very, very careful. 

But why? 

Cassian had no idea, but he was definitely going to find out. 

_____________________________________________________

Part 2

@sjm-things​ @santas-dwynwen​ @thebitchupstairs​ @sayosdreams​ @perseusannabeth​ @cursebreaker29​ @a-bit-of-a-cactus​ @elriel4life​ @girl-who-reads-the-books​ @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​ @highqueenofelfhame​ @tswaney17​ @rowanisahunk​ @superspiritfestival​ @studyliketate​ @over300books​ @justgiu12​ @maastrash​ @aesthetics-11​ @bamchickawowow​ @b00kworm​ @sleeping-and-books​ @musicmaam​ @hizqueen4life​ @maybekindasortaace​

[pagingevilspawn]

A New Life

currently trying to create a masterpost for all of my one-shots and now fic, so this isn’t anything new if you guys have read my wattpad stories. basically, it’s just something i never posted on here and only on wattpad. read on ao3 here

____

TW// domestic violence/ abuse, abortion

She could hear the sound of her alarm clock beeping loudly, signaling her to wake up and face yet another day. She doesn't feel anything quite yet, her sense of where she was at in the world was still in a dream state. Oh, what a great dream she was having. She was at a hospital, a big- no- huge one. She was in the middle of her surgery- an appendectomy she assumed- when she looked up, catching the eyes of someone, someone she couldn't quite put a name to, but she knew that this person was smiling. And that smile? Oh, she really liked that smile, even though she couldn't remember it, nor had she ever seen it before.

She was really liking her dream.

She finally decides that it was time to open her eyes, but she couldn't.

Well, one of them at least.

It's then she feels it.

The pain.

The uncontrollable ba bump ba bump she feels throbbing behind her right eye. The pain was cursing through her, her blood, her systems. She felt it everywhere.

It was then she realizes that the pain was coming from another source as well. Her back.

Kick

Kick

Kick

She feels the tip of his expensive shoes barrel into her spine again and again as she cries out, begging him to stop.

"Paul please!" she pleads, trying to scramble her way into a sitting position before her husband can do any more damage.

But she struggles, because she forgot about the fracture of her right wrist. "Shit" she hisses out, a whole new round of pain surging threw her body from putting pressure on that one limb.

It was then that Paul stopped, towering over her broken figure, grabbing both of her wrists and pinning them above her head, so she had no way to escape his hold. "You know damn well what you did Brooke." he says venomously, little traces of spit flying onto her face.

He looks at her, his gaze so full of pure hatred and jealously. His eyes scan over her broken body. Bruises covering her stomach and back, some on the inside of her thighs. The marks make him feel a sense of pride. He was winning.

Brooke shakes her head, tears coming down her cheeks so quickly she wasn't sure is she would ever be able to get them to stop. "N-no I don't. Im sorry Paul. I-im sorry f-for whatever I did." she stutters out, choking on her own words as she feels the lump in her throat grow more and more form trying to keep her sobs at bay.

"You lying whore!" he exclaims, roughly pulling her wrists from the headboard and pushing her to the ground, causing her to let out another cry of pain as she lands on the fresh bruises on her back.

The woman whimpers, trying to crawl into the corner of the room, bringing her knees up to her chest and putting her head between them, hoping that this was just nightmare.

She hoped that the past three years were just a nightmare, and she had just yet to wake up.

But to no luck, it wasn't. It was reality. The cruel, cruel reality that she lived in.

"Who the hell is emailing you Brooke? Huh! Who the fuck is Brody?" he sneers at her, referring to the email he saw on her computer earlier that morning,

Oh no, she thinks to herself. How could she be so stupid? How could she forget to delete the email?

Brooke swallows, trying to get her breathing under control. Paul didn't like it when she stuttered. He said it made her sound too much like a little girl. "H-he is a new guy from work. He wanted to get to know everybody better, so he sent out some emails." she tells him, speaking to him the truth.

A new guy named Brody started at the Crab Shack a few days ago and was super friendly. He was a few years younger, having just turned twenty-one and was trying to get to know his fellow co-workers better. She liked him, he was nice and didn't ask her questions when she asked if he could take a few of her tables the previous day.

But she knew why she couldn't wait on those tables. It was because they were full of men. Men a few years older than her. And if Paul were to walk in on her after a long shift of his and see her taking these guys' orders, being friendly, she knew it wouldn't be pretty.

Her husband scoffs at her, looking at her like she was a piece of trash on the side of the road. "Is that so Brooke? Are you sure it wasn't just you he's trying to get to know?" he leans in closer to her face, watching with a victorious glint in his eyes as he sees her try to form he thoughts.

"Y-yes." she squeaks out. "H-he's nice. He's just trying to make friends Paul." she explains.

She watches as a new flame of anger appears in his orbs, making her curse to herself once more.

Shit, Brooke you stupid idiot.

"Oh yeah? Is he nice Brooke?" he asks harshly, picking her up off the floor and throwing her onto their bed, the grey comforter bouncing up and down as she does too.

She couldn't believe that there was a time when hearing her name roll off his tongue was a peacefully feeling. Like everything way okay when he said her name. Now, it was like someone lured ice cold water every time he spoke the six letter word.

"Is he so nice you want to screw him? Huh Brooke? Do you want to screw Brody?" he picks her up from the bed and pushes her into a wall, knocking the wind out of her.

"N-no!" she yells out, squeezes her eyes shut as she crosses her arms over her body.

Over her stomach.

Her stomach, which held her seven week old fetus. She didn't know how her baby was still alive at this point. She truly didn't know. She had somehow been able to avoid being hit in the abdomen for the past two months, since Paul seemed to enjoy kicking her in the back more recently.

"Good Brooke, because you are mine. You hear me?" he asks, physically dragging her into the living room. "Mine." he hisses at her, covering her face in his disgusting spit.

Please let me wake up. Please let me wake up.

"You owe everything to me Brooke!" he yells, practically throwing her across the room because of how harshly he shoved her. The woman crashes back onto the floor, falling into a coffee table.

Crack.

Her ribs.

"Look at what you've done now!" he roars, referring to the books and papers now spread out all over the floor of the room. He walks over to her again, grabbing her waist, ignoring how she winces at his harsh movements, "This house you live in? You owe it to me."

He traces the nightgown she had on. It was what he wanted her to always wear to bed. He wanted her to 'look like a woman and not like a homeless person'. The lace of the short, skimpy nightgown wasn't something she would prefer to sleep in, but she wore it anyways because he wanted her to. He didn't want to have to remove much when he wanted to have sex with her. "The clothes you wear? The nice, expensive clothes? You know why you have them?" he asks, tracing the thin lace with his long fingers.

"Me, Brooke." he pulls his fingers away, going to her hair and combing his hand through it. "And your food? Me. Your bills? Me. Everything you have is because of me. Don't you forget that Brooke." he stands up and shoves her to the ground, leaving her in a ball of her own pain, crying her silent tears.

Today. Today was the day she would make a change.

She waits until Paul is gone for yet another long shift at the hospital. She gets in the car, making sure to keep track of exactly how many gallons were in it. She would make sure to fill up to that amount before Paul got home. Otherwise he would know.

She drives to the hospital fifty-five minuets from their house, since the one closer is where he worked at. She cries as the OB performs her abortion, knowing that she made the right move when she schedule the appointment two weeks ago. No matter how much she had already loved this baby she knew it couldn't be born. She couldn't raise a child in a home where the father hit their mother, and potentially the children too.

She drives again. She fills out the documents. She does everything she needs to do based on a google search, making sure to clear her history. She couldn't risk him finding out. He couldn't. This was her chance. Her one chance to make it all stop.

~*~

It was time. Exactly one week after her most recent attack she knew. She knew it was time.

She waits until he leaves for work again that morning, exactly six-thirty on the dot. No later, no earlier. Always six-thirty.

She waits an extra ten minutes, making sure he wouldn't come back. He couldn't come back, not now.

It's then she packs her bags, two suitcases full of her clothes and a few of her shoes. She grabs all her necessities, her toothbrush, her hairbrush, her favorite blanket, her books. She grabs everything, shoving it into her two suitcases and large duffel bag. She goes to the kitchen and grabs some food, putting them into a backpack she found on the bottom of the hall closet.

She takes everything. She finds some his credit cards and takes those, along with the extra couple hundred dollar bills he has lying around in his drawers. She grabs her Bubby, the little tool that helped give her warm meals in her car.

If it weren't for me you would still be living in your car Brooke. That's why you don't buy the wrong milk. You owe it to me.

She shakes off his voice in her head, shoving Bubby into her bag. She didn't know why she was packing everything, but she supposed it was because she didn't know how much she would have when she got to her new home, so why not bring as much as she could and save valuable money.

She's about to grab her phone when she decides not to. She was going to leave it. He could have it tracked. Brooke puts the phone back down to the nightstand, stopping when she sees a photo.

A photo of them. Of them when they were happy. Of them before they were married. Before the beatings. Before everything. In that photo they look happy. So happy. He's looking at her like she's a pot of gold and she's smiling so wide it looks like she just found a real life unicorn.

It makes her heart hurt.

Maybe it will get better. Maybe it will stop. Maybe if you tell him, about the baby he won't do it anymore. Maybe he'll love you again.

No.

She stops the thoughts. There was nothing she could do. She used to think it would get better. Once she knew what set him off, what he didn't like. Once she knew that, it would be okay. He would have no reason to get angry at her. No reason to hit her.

No.

He wasn't going to change. No matter how much she prayed to the gods she didn't believe in, she knew. It was never going to go back to the way it was.

He said he loved her. He said the only reason he got jealous of other guys was that he loved her too much he didn't want to lose her. He said that he hit her because he loved her so much, but sometimes she just made him so mad. He just needed to hit her, to let her know why it was her fault.

No.

Today was the day. She grabbed her bags, throwing up her hair in a high, messy, ponytail as she pulls her suitcases through the front door, locking it behind her.

That day when Paul got home he would call out for his wife, only to see that she wasn't there. He would go into their room, only to see that all of her things seemed to have vanished into thin air, the only thing left being her phone, placed neatly on her freshly plumped pillow.

He would check his bank account, only to see that over $3,000 had been taken out of it total. He would be furious, throwing everything glass in the large house at the wall, knowing that his reputation would now be down the drain.

But her?

Oh no, she had never felt more free.

She was on a bus, a bus that would take her to her new home.

Seattle.

Oh Seattle, where she got accepted into Seattle Grace Mercy West's surgical intern program, one of the best in the United States. This was her new life. Her fresh start. A new beginning.

She was a few hours into her trip when she feels a presence near her. A frail old lady with a kind smile looks down on her. "Is this seat taken?" she asks.

The woman shakes her head no, signaling that the old woman could sit. The grey haired woman speaks up a few moments later. "I'm Iris, what's your name young lady?"

The woman grins brightly, a breath escaping through her lips.

"Josephine. Josephine Wilson."

[artificialqueens]

Let Me Treasure You (Branjie) - Athena2

Summary: It’s Brooke and Vanessa’s first anniversary, and Brooke has a trick (or a treasure hunt) up her sleeve…

A/N: This is a little epilogue for If You Ever Wanna Be In Love. @hi-yekaterina and I were talking, and she brought up wanting to read about the treasure hunt that doesn’t happen in that fic. I’ve had this idea for a while and after talking to her, I decided to do it! You probably need to read that fic first before you read this, just so things make sense. (The AO3 link is above, and you can read on AQ here.)

Title from Treasure by Bruno Mars because I’m cheesy and basic.

Thank you to Writ for being the best beta!!

I really hope you enjoy, and please comment if you’d like!

—

Vanessa should’ve suspected something was up when Brooke said she forgot her raincoat at the museum.

Brooke usually doesn’t forget things, first of all. The woman has a watering schedule for her plants and a color-coded calendar and remembers dinosaur names so long it’s a wonder she doesn’t choke saying them.

Second of all, it’s August, and day after day has shone with warm, golden sun. There’s not even rain in the forecast, so why does she need a raincoat?

But Brooke’s going on about how she needs it just in case, and Vanessa’s still high on the night, on the dinner and laughs and love in Brooke’s eyes. On the fact that she and Brooke have been together an entire year, a year of taking things slow and growing closer than ever. A year of sharing themselves with each other and falling deeper in love than Vanessa has ever been with anyone.

“I’ll just be a few minutes, okay?” Brooke snaps her out of her thoughts, and Vanessa realizes they’re in the museum parking lot.

“Okay.” She leans back in her seat and scrolls through pictures on her phone, pictures of Brooke sleeping with her cats and them in front of a Christmas tree and the one of them with their matching rainbow face paint at the library carnival last year, grins overtaking their faces. She’s still scrolling when the phone rings.

“Hello?” Vanessa asks in confusion, wondering what Brooke could possibly be calling for.

“I need help.” Brooke’s voice is weirdly strained.

“Help with what?”

“I–I cut myself.”

“On what? Your raincoat?” Vanessa demands, her concern clashing with annoyance. She just wants to go home, pull Brooke into her bedroom, and not sleep, and now she has to deal with this mess.

“Well, I saw a letter I must’ve missed, and my hand slipped with the letter-opener–look, there’s a lot of blood, can you help? I think I need to go to the ER.”

“I’m coming, just hang on, okay?”

Vanessa ends the call and runs, heart pounding with worry. She’s trading soft cotton sheets and Brooke’s softer skin for hard plastic chairs and puke-green ER walls tonight, apparently, but it’s Brooke, and Vanessa will take everything, the good and bad, to be with her.

She reaches Brooke’s office in less than a minute, steeling herself for what she might find–blood dripping everywhere, Brooke worried and in pain–

But the office is empty.

“Brooke?” Vanessa calls, trying to ignore the quiver in her voice. “Brooke?”

Still no answer.

Maybe Brooke went to the car? The door squeaks and Vanessa jumps in the air, all her worry replaced with fear and aggravation.

“This ain’t funny, Brooke! I’ve seen horror movies! I’m in a creepy museum at night and someone’s just waitin’ to murder me, I know it!”

Bouncing on her feet, she pulls back the door, hands out in a fighting stance in case something is waiting behind it. But it’s just a bare wall, and she lowers her arms, feeling like an idiot. Whatever trick Brooke is doing, it won’t work.

“Well, I’m going to the car, Miss Cut-Myself-With-A-Letter-Opener. You can join me if you want.”

Vanessa takes one last look around the office for any hidden murderers or ghosts that might get her on the way out. “I’m gonna get you back for this, Brooke. Just you—wait a minute …” A piece of wrinkled parchment on Brooke’s desk catches her eye, and Vanessa’s heart leaps. “Is this what I think it is? Tell me it’s what I think it is!” She doesn’t know if Brooke is listening somewhere, doesn’t care. Because when she flips over the paper—

“Yes, bitch!”

It’s a treasure map.

It all makes sense now–Brooke insisting on getting her coat, pretending to injure herself to get Vanessa in here. Even why Brooke’s been a little shifty lately, biting her lip and her voice getting squeaky whenever they talked about their anniversary. Vanessa didn’t think Brooke had it in her to keep a surprise like this–it took everything Brooke had not to blurt out what Christmas presents she bought people–and her heart rushes with warmth for Brooke as she peeks at the map.

The map is incomplete, with a dot marking Brooke’s office and a short red line curving to the rock and mineral room. Vanessa’s seen enough adventure movies to know the next part of the map is in the rock and mineral room, and she runs, sandals echoing off the stone floors. She’s a pirate now just like she was as a kid, except this map was made by Brooke instead of her mom, and the treasure waiting will be even better than plastic toys in her sandbox.

Dim lights from the glass cases bathe the sharp rocks in an eerie glow. Vanessa’s eyes fly around the room, trying to find the next map. She sees a ragged edge of paper sticking up on one of the floor displays and snatches the next part, barely stopping to admire the rare blue mineral twinkling in the case.

“Too easy,” she mutters.

The red line twists to the mammal room, where replicas of lions and tigers and elephants stare at her. It takes nearly ten frenzied minutes of searching and cursing before she finds the next part of the map by an elephant’s foot.

Brooke’s neat handwriting jumps out at her on the map.

Didn’t think they would all be as easy as the first one, did you?

There’s a little heart after it, and Vanessa rolls her eyes fondly. Let Brooke be the one searching instead and see how easy it is. Still, she’s smiling so hard her cheeks hurt, buzzing with energy and excitement so fierce she gets what people mean when they say they could spit fire. She dashes off to the Viking room, floor blurring beneath her feet.

On and on she goes, all over the museum, through the kids discovery center where they could dig for dinosaur toys at little tables of sand; through the dinosaur room itself, Brooke’s home away from home, the fossils greeting her; through the botanical room, lush with plants and flowers of all sizes and colors. She visits every section of the museum except for the bug room, because Brooke knows she hates bugs so much she throws anything in range at spiders she sees in her apartment.

Finally, she uncovers the map with one last line leading to a giant red X.

It marks the planetarium, and Vanessa runs along, huffing and puffing from the unexpected workout. She freezes once she hits the double doors, because all this time she’s just been in the hunt, collecting maps without thought. But now she’s reached the end, and she doesn’t know what’s waiting for her inside.

When she and Brooke started their whole fake dating thing last year, this treasure hunt idea was what they decided on if someone asked about their proposal. Just a story, a way to cover their bases so they didn’t get caught. Then, after things got rocky and they weren’t talking, Brooke had planned a treasure hunt to show Vanessa her true feelings, but it never happened, because Vanessa was, in A’keria’s words, a “stubborn ass.”

What version of the treasure is behind those doors?

Will Brooke be waiting there on one knee, a ring in her hand? As much as Vanessa wants that sometime in the future, it seems a little sudden. Something she’s not sure she’s ready for right now. She and Brooke have been going slow the past year, and Vanessa’s liked having that time to be with her. They haven’t even moved in together yet, though Vanessa’s been thinking about bringing that up when her lease expires this December. Can Brooke really be planning to propose this suddenly?

Vanessa doesn’t think so. Brooke likes going slow too, likes taking her time on things. This is most likely treasure scenario number two, and Brooke is using it to show Vanessa how much she loves her. All of this–the planning, the mapmaking, the secrecy–speak clearly of her love.

Heart lighter, Vanessa shoves the doors open and gasps.

A starry black sky twinkles above her, bursting with galaxies of blue and purple and silver, spiraling into reds and pinks and oranges. The whole universe is above her, and she has to hold back from reaching out a hand to touch it.

“It’s beautiful, huh?”

Vanessa looks in front of her, and there’s Brooke. A star in human form. She’s at the front of the planetarium seats, her smile blinding, the gold necklace Vanessa gave her tonight shining at her throat. Vanessa runs and throws herself into Brooke’s arms.

Brooke kisses the top of her head. “Happy anniversary.”

Vanessa pulls back and smiles at her. “This is amazing, Brooke. Seriously. Even though you had to fake injure yourself and put me in a horror movie to do it!” She swats Brooke’s arm gently, grinning when she pouts.

“Well, I had to get you inside here somehow! It seemed like the easiest thing!” Brooke shrugs with a huge grin.

“It was still mean.” Vanessa pouts. “But I love you anyway.”

Brooke blushes, actually blushes, because Vanessa loves her, and her heart fills with even more love for Brooke.

“I know feelings are easy for you,” Brooke says. “But I can’t always say mine as well as you, so I thought this would work. Because I love you so much, Vanessa.”

“I love you too, Brooke. This is perfect.”

Brooke grins. “Yeah. My friend Steve does the planetarium shows and said he could hook us up.”

Vanessa looks up to the control booth at the back of the planetarium, where Steve gives a wave before pressing something and slipping out of the booth. A smooth, slow song pours through the speakers, and Brooke extends a hand. “May I have this dance?”

“You may.” Vanessa giggles, letting Brooke pull her into the dance, swaying back and forth beneath the stars.

“You know,” Vanessa says, “for a minute I thought you were gonna propose.”

Brooke laughs, but then her face is suddenly serious, even worried. “Are you … disappointed that I didn’t?”

“No,” Vanessa says firmly. “I’m not saying I never want you to propose! I just–right now, I just wanna be with you. Marriage is a little sudden. But … someday.”

“Someday,” Brooke agrees. She pauses, a smile on her face. “It’s not a proposal, but I did want to ask you …”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I know your apartment lease is up, and I was wondering if you’d want to move in with me?”

“Yes!” Vanessa can already imagine nights cuddled up watching movies together and not having to go home after, because she already is home. Mornings waking up and making breakfast together, coming home to Brooke after a long day at the library.

“Yes,” Vanessa repeats, holding Brooke a little tighter.

Someday is someday, but that doesn’t matter right now. Because right now, they have each other, and a dance under the stars.

And Vanessa doesn’t need anything else.

[blackleatherjacketz]

My Brother’s Keeper: Chapter 16

Negan x Reader, King Ezekiel x Reader

Summary: Your brother runs away from the Sanctuary and you pay the price. This Chapter: You try to hide and recover from your first meeting with Negan in the woods.

Author’s Note: Sorry it’s been a while, I was going through some emotional turmoil and couldn’t write for a while, but I’m back. Enjoy! (Gif by @godlaughingwhilstyoumakeplans )

Featuring: King Ezekiel, Morgan, Richard

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Supplies

Word Count: 2137

Read the rest of the story HERE!

Your walk back to the Kingdom was a mixture of both hot and cold, the open skin on your back saturated with sweat, cooling your body down while the blazing summer sun burned its hottest at high noon. You could feel your body begin to shiver as your brain tried its best to regulate your temperature. Sure, it was just a scratch if you broke it down to the bare basics, but it was still an open wound, a potential source of infection, something you needed to clean as soon as possible.

By the time you made it back to the infirmary, you only ran into a handful of villagers along the way. You’d kept your greetings short and your back against the wall as you tried to seem normal, creeping along the faces of each building like some sort of paranoid version of Spider-Man. That’ll do it, you told yourself, no one would suspect anything if you acted like that, right?

Too focused to really care, you shut the door behind you when you noticed that Dana had already left for lunch. You closed the blinds, taking your shirt off before twisting your body around in front of the mirror to get a better look. The scratches were deep and hurt like hell, jagged as they throbbed and drug you down to the ground as your blood pulsed through them. You pulled your skin toward the mirror, eyeing the damage he’d done before waltzing over to the cabinet for a bottle of normal saline. With all the shit he was up to these days, who knows what kind of bacteria was growing beneath Negan’s fingernails?

The door opened more quickly than you could anticipate, forcing you to curse yourself for not locking it as Morgan, Ezekiel and Richard all barged in. You didn’t have time to hide yourself from them before they saw the scratches on your skin. Instead, you clasped your arms around your chest and abdomen as they stared at you, Richard’s face swollen from several punches with burgundy blood dried just below his nose.

“Maria!” Morgan approached you without pretense, turning you around so he could inspect the markings on your back. “You’re bleeding. What happened? Did you get bit?” he asked shakily, slowly circling around you as he inspected the rest of your body for further injury. Apparently Richard’s situation wasn’t all that dire.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” you lied to him. “I scratched myself hopping over the fence is all.”

“Hopping over the fence?” Those skeptical eyes squinted again, practically shrinking you with their lids as they closed together.

“Maria was…” Ezekiel interjected, stepping in between the two of you, “On a special mission for me outside the Kingdom.” He looked over at you with sympathetic eyes.

“With the Saviors?” Morgan challenged, shifting his weight from hip to hip as he faced his king. “She’s a nurse, not a fighter like me.”

“Yeah, you’re some sort of fighter, alright,” Richard piped in.

“Enough!” Ezekiel shot a scolding look at Richard before returning his gaze to Morgan. “Tensions are high enough after today’s events as it is! We don’t need them heightened between our own people.” He paused, noting the bottle of saline on the counter next to your hand. “Maria’s mission involved the Saviors, yes, and she’s encountered them before. Everyone in this room knows about our deal with them now, and it shall stay that way, not a single soul more, is that understood?”

Morgan nodded reluctantly, pressing his lips together in defeat.

“Morgan, take Richard outside and get him cleaned up. Maria and I have much to discuss.” He smiled at you as his eyebrows raised into his soft gray hairline, the usual sparkle in his eyes dull with heavy burden.

“You okay?” Morgan whispered into your ear before leaving your side.

“I’m alright,” you nodded, squeezing his shoulder. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Okay,” he trusted, taking your word.

Ezekiel waited until Morgan’s footsteps had died down the hallway before locking the door and entering your personal space. “I was going to ask how your meeting went with him, but it seems that I need not even ask.”

“It went about as good as you’d expect,” you told him, turning around to look for a gauze pad large enough to cover your lower back. “And what about you? Does Richard always get punched in the face at your drops, or is that new, too?” You wanted to deflect the attention away from your reddened skin, from your jealous thoughts of Negan and your sister to find out what had gotten them all riled up.

“That’s a new development, actually. Gavin is usually very good to us, but for some reason he and his crew were on edge more than usual today.” He took a few more steps in your direction. “Maria, seeing you like this...”

“I’ll be fine, I just need to clean it and go on with my day,” you reassured him.

“Will you be?” His face softened with his words, enveloping you with the comfort he always brought with him. “Fine?”

“I have to be, right?” You laughed at this menial conversation, grabbing the bottle of saline before walking over to the mirror and attempting to pour it over your back.

“Let me help you.” He lifted his hand out as you failed miserably to clean your own wound, splashing the extra liquid onto the floor. “Please, Maria, let someone else care for the caregiver.”

You took in a deep breath as you decided to let him help you, worry weighing him down with whatever happened at the drop today. You quickly realized that both of you wanted to forget what happened on your mission, to distract yourselves with each other’s problems, and maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Maybe he needed you as badly as you needed him.

“Okay,” you resigned, turning toward the cabinets. “Just pour the liquid on my back to clean out the wound.”

“Was this from him, or...?” He asked, taking the bottle in his hands.

“Yeah, it was.” You tried to keep it simple, to spare Ezekiel’s ears from all the dirty details of your violent romp with your ex in the middle of the woods, if you could even call him your ex.

“I can understand if you don’t want to talk about it. A man does this to you, and...” he took in a timid breath, “It makes the mind wander to places I’d rather it not go.” He unscrewed the top of the bottle, setting the cap down gently on the counter next to you. “Is it always like this with him: painful?”

He brought the bottle to your shoulder blade, pouring the healing liquid over your spine in a baptism of searing comfort until he reached the other side. He stopped as you winced, the solution trickling down over your skin like rain pouring down a mountainside, cleaning out the brooks and creeks with water from the heavens.

How could you make Ezekiel understand that Negan was an ocean of anguish, raging like the tides with violent rogue waves and tsunamis of pain? That you’d been out of the water for years until your family came to the Sanctuary, and that you were stupid enough to dive in head first without dipping your toes to test out the water?

“It didn’t start out that way,” you began. “I thought Negan was something I could handle,” you admitted, breathing out as the clear liquid dampened your jeans. “I thought he was something the world out there had hardened my heart enough to deal with, but…” you trailed off, letting a tear fell onto the counter, “I was wrong.”

You leaned forward and wiped the tear from your eye, taking a paper towel and soaking up what was left of it on the counter. “I wasn’t… strong enough.” You bit your lip as Ezekiel brought the gauze pad up to your back, listening silently as he pressed the clean bandage onto your healing wound. “I wasn’t strong enough,” you repeated.

Ezekiel held onto you and finished taping a border around your lower back, reinforcing the bond with his fingertips before stepping away to give you room to turn around. “Quite the contrary, my lady,” he comforted. “You’re much stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

You grinned at the blind support, his smile almost making you forget how much pain you were actually in. “I didn’t really have a choice in all this, but thank you anyways, you’re very sweet.”

Smiling back at him, the two of you grinned at each other like idiots until you realized that neither of you were talking anymore. Every time you looked at him he seemed to grow a little warmer, a little happier and more handsome. Maybe it was just one of the side effects of living here in the Kingdom, a comparison of him against Negan, or maybe he actually was one of the most beautiful men you’d ever laid eyes on.

“He’s not worried about you, about your loyalty to him,” you interrupted yourself, making sure you didn’t fall down the rabbit hole of Ezekiel’s good looks. “There’s another community that’s giving him trouble, and he’s focusing all his energy on them right now.”

“Hilltop?” Ezekiel handed you your t-shirt, helping guide your arms through the sleeves so you wouldn’t mess up your dressing.

“No, I don’t think so. It’s someone new, someone named Rick.” You pulled the hem of your shirt down and looked at yourself in the mirror, the dried blood still pretty evident. “Maybe that’s why tensions were high at the drop today?”

“That may be so, my lady,” he paused, looking you over like a glass figurine that was about to break. “Did he say anything else about this Rick character?”

“No, not really. We didn’t do a whole lot of talking.” You regretted your words as soon as they left your lips, watching Ezekiel’s joyful features fall into solemnity. Did he care for you that way? Was he concerned for your well-being or was it something more than that?

“Your brother was here that day.” The sentence came out of his mouth so quickly you wondered how long he had been keeping it in. "Forgive me for not telling you sooner, I couldn't find the right moment."

“Alex? But you said he wasn’t here, y-y-you said you hadn’t seen him, y-you said that they would have brought him to you for review if he came looking for safe passage!” Your scratches started stinging again, the thought of your brother safe inside these walls messing with your mind.

“I know what I said,” Ezekiel stated calmly, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I said what I had to keep my people and your brother safe.”

Unbelievable! How could he have gone all this time without telling you something so big when you thought your brother had died never seeing this heavenly place? That he had escaped the Sanctuary for nothing but the death of his mother and the hot sticky road.

“So he got to see this place, then?” You felt more tears start to well up in the corner of your lids, the fluid filling up your sinuses as the possibilities of his life flashed before your eyes. “He got to meet you, and see Shiva? The gardens and the children? He always wanted children, him and Bethany, they did. I couldn’t see it in a world like that, but in a world like this, well, I could see it,” you rambled on, joy and anger mixing together in a nervous dialogue.

“Yes,” he answered. “He and his wife were very kind and grateful people.” He released his grip on your shoulder and sat down next to you, leaning against the counter. “He told me that they were travelers looking to work for their keep, and I almost believed them. His wife looked a little too taken care of for them to be on the road as long as they claimed, but I had Benjamin show them around anyways.”

Benjamin, the boy with your brother’s eyes, of course he was the one to show them around. “How long was he here?” You sniffled and rubbed your nose with the back of your hand.

“A few hours. They got a good meal before our scouts caught wind of the Saviors and helped them escape out the back wall.”

“They didn’t escape,” you informed him, crossing your arms over your chest. You closed your eyes as the sound of Lucille cracking into Alex’s skull shook you into standing up. “No, they couldn’t have, could they? Somebody had to pay, and I’m glad it wasn’t one of your people, but…” you trailed off, walking toward the door. “Thank you for patching me up, Ezekiel. I’m gonna go to my quarters now.”

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

Tags: @genevievedarcygranger @letsby @negansdirtygirl22 @annablack1102 @irrelevantwriter @negans-network @rasa1945 @chamberofsloths @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash @collette04 @namelesslosers @bishsposts @bodhi-black @chloejanedecker1, @mblaqgi @haleyea @ptite-shit @jamiekingofmen @ibelongtonegan @divadinag @you-are-electric-temptation-girl, @dxloverpunk @tylersblurrylittleface @marriedtonegan @astrobabezblog @death-unbecomes-you @toxic-ink

[headcanonings]

so um here's a little playride drabble ft. jeremy :] i'm gonna respond to asks (@xlittle-graciex) soon with the assclass hcs but i also want some other content on this blog so i'm really sorry but they'll be a bit spaced out :) enjoy!

tw// brief mention of weed

christine sighed, and tied up her hair into a messy bun. it's not like this place was overly formal, right? it just looked like a nice café, quite spacious - she was suprised to see - and clean. it was one of those cafés where those young bright people would come with their laptops and phones and chill out and do work. yeah, it was a young people's café, that was for sure.

she looked over to her co-worker. pale faced, dark curly hair, freckled, and nervous looking. he looked a bit lost, and scared. slightly pathetic. christine internally scolded herself - you shouldn't judge people. she definitely needed to remember that for when she met her roomates later. who knows what they could be like... so far, she'd only briefly met one.

when she'd entered her dorm earlier in the morning - at like 4am, mind you, it was frickin' early - there wasn't anyone there apart from one guy in a red hoodie who was smoking something that smelled suspiciously like weed, playing video games in the lounge. she didn't investigate further, just dumped her stuff in her assigned room and tried to catch up on sleep. tried, but failed.

"um... hi." the nervous, freckled boy, who'd she assumed was her co-worker, addressed her, looking around at his surrounds like a lost deer. essentially, he looked fucking terrified. "i'm, uh, jeremy. heere." he looked awkward as hell, and christine felt immediate pity for him.

"oh, hi!" christine waved brightly, and flashed a smile. he looked at her in shock, as though he wasn't expecting her to respond to him. "i'm christine." she paused, and an awkward-as-hell slience ensued. "sooo..." she trailed off, laughing nervously. "pretty scary first day, huh?"

jeremy visibly relaxed a little bit, nodding and smiling slightly, his shoulders slouching, and christine spotted a soulmate mark on his hand, which was tucked into the pocket of his jeans. soulmate marks were always some strange, flowery, swirly pattern. some people liked to cover theirs up with some kinda concealer or makeup, but the majority of people just kept theirs. christine's one was on the back of her neck, so she just lived with it. it was like a pretty tattoo that doubled as a match-making site. that is, if she was ever able to actually find her soulmate.

it was busy in the café, christine had noticed. thank god she had some training in drink and food making beforehand, or she would've totally freaked out.

the bell rung. christine felt her heart pounding. it wasn't like she hadn't had training or anything. probably just first day nerves. yeah, first day nerves, she thought quickly, and laughed to herself, looking over to the door. and standing there was possibly the prettiest girl christine had ever seen. long blonde hair and smiling face.

jeremy cleared his throat quietly, and christine glanced over to him. his eyebrows were raised and he had a smile on his lips. christine blushed. had she been staring? she tucked some hair behind her ear and smiled at the girl.

"hi!" she said brightly. "what can i get'cha?"

"ooh, um... a tea, please? with milk." she smiled, the light and cheerfulness in her expression reaching all the way up to her eyes. "i'm brooke." brooke grinned warmly, and despite the blush on her face, christine grinned back. brooke paid for the drink, leaving a tip, and christine set to work making the tea.

jeremy, now obviously more comfortable with christine after them being introduced to one another, sidled up to her and muttered under his breath. "whipped." christine looked at him.

"shit, was it that obvious?" she whispered hurriedly. "ugh, i'm such a hopeless romantic. seriously, i see one pretty girl and my heart goes BOOM. and then i can't function for a good two minutes. oh crap, i need to focus- one sec-" and she got to making brooke's tea again. "sorry for all that talking... really super fast. sometimes i get lost in thought."

"nah, it's okay, i'm more of a listener, anyway." he shrugged, and started working on a drink for another customer. christine smiled at him gratefully, and continued to brew brooke's tea until it was ready.

"tea for brooke!" she called out, and the blonde haired girl came over to collect her drink.

"gosh, this looks great. thanks-" brooke looked down at christine's nametag, and christine gave her an awkward thumbs-up in return."-christine. i'll be sure to come here again." brooke grinned at her, and the shorter could feel the blush on her cheeks already. brooke waved goodbye, and left the store.

"y'know," jeremy started, suprising christine, who was a bit dazed from her recent encounter with the very-pretty-and-nice-girl-who's-name-she-now-knew-was-brooke, "she seemed kinda into you. my gaydar was going off." he said slowly, looking into the distance. "who knows, she could be your soulmate."

mkay so that was the end of this little drabble. i also uploaded this on amino if you by any chance are also on there :)

[interdimensionalskirmisher]

Wet Kisses

I sat on the cool floor, the water from the shower pouring over me. I took a deep breath and held it calming my body. I liked showers because sometimes they reminded me of the rain, although I certainly wouldn't stand clothed in the shower or naked outside when it rains.

My thoughts were interrupted as I heard the bathroom door open, I opened my eyes and peered around the curtain to see Brooklyn stripping in front of me.

"What are you doing?" We both said oddly in sync, although the tone in our voices differed; his was more humorous as where mine was more implying what the fuck are you doing I'm in the shower?

"I came to see you, what are you doing?" He said as he got his boxers off gesturing to me sitting on the floor.

"Showering," I said rather bluntly because, I mean it was pretty obvious.

"On the floor?" Brook repeated once again but with a different tone in his voice yet again, less humorous more serious. He immediately brushed it off as he stepped inside the shower and shut the curtain behind him. He stood still for a moment probably contemplating what he was doing before he joined me on the floor sitting behind me. "Being emo?" He said with a slight chuckle as he moved my wet hair around to one side of my neck and gently kissed the opposite shoulder, I simply hummed in reply. "What's up, baby?" He said pulling me back into his lap forcing me to look at him but from the angle in which all I really saw was his chin. 

"Nothing," I said laughing slightly as he started pulling funny faces which looked even more ridiculous from the angle I was at.

He slowly leant down and kissed me, "you sure?" He asked caressing my face gently, I nodded. Brooks face faded and stiffened, "mind where your head is babe," he said shuffling slightly, it took a minute to realise what he meant but as soon as I realised I couldn't help but tease him as I did it again.

I sat up and moved around so I was facing him but this also meant that the shower was completely covering me so I could barely open my eyes, I felt his hand as it came around the back of my neck pulling our faces together. 

"Come closer," he overexaggeratively whispered near my ear, his arm quickly let go of me and I heard him shuffle backwards. I rubbed the water out of my eyes and moved closer slightly but he motioned me to come closer, every time I shuffled I apparently just wasn't close enough. I sighed as I rocked back on to my knees and then pushed myself mere inches from his face. 

"What do you want," I whispered mocking him a moment ago, his hands quickly grabbed my face.

"Close your eyes," he giggled. I questioned it for a second before rolling my eyes and complying with a smirk. I closed them and for a minute all I could feel was the water bouncing off my feet, Brook's hands cupping my face and the warmth from his body in front of me. 

Suddenly I could feel Brooklyn drag his tongue across the right side of my face, my eyes snapped open and I playfully pushed him back, "that's disgusting!" I exclaimed laughing as I wiped my face more than I needed to. Brook brought his head close to me again but I stopped him with my hand questioning whether or not he'd do it again but let him continue anyway but this time I was met with his warm lips on mine, followed by him kissing down my neck pausing ever so slightly before he licked my neck but in a more seductive matter. 

"I swear to god if you give me a hickey Brooklyn Wyatt," I said laughing as I hugged his head into my chest, I could feel his laughter vibrate through me. 

"I could do more than that," he said as I met his beautiful green eyes.

"Hm? Like what?" I said stroking his wet curly noodles. He didn't say anything, he just reached over slightly grabbing the shampoo, conditioner and wash stuff and sat me so I was just in front of the shower.

"What are you doing?" I chuckled as he grabbed the shower head and soaking my hair once again.

"Taking care of you," he said with a smile and I couldn't help but smile back at the idiot-he's definitely full of surprises.

He carefully lathered my hair in shampoo and conditioner and massaged it in which sent chills all over my body. "This is better than an orgasm," I said laughing, meaning the head massage.

Brook gave a hearty chuckle, "you sure about that?" He said before continuing to wash my hair and then his. I couldn't help but to sit and admire every inch of him as he knelt in front of me, every muscle, mark, mole and dimple on his body. As he reached back over for the body wash I could help but to trace my fingers along his torso really soaking all his beauty in. Brook gave me a big smile as he held my arm up and started washing me gently before following along with everything else, the whole time I couldn't help but to stare at his beautiful face and those glowing eyes. 

After Brook was satisfied he got up and offered me a hand, "careful it's slippy," he said watching my feet as I used his arms to pull myself up. I quickly turned the shower off as Brook brought over a towel for the each of us. He got out of the shower and then held my hand tightly watching me as I followed. He grabbed me by the shoulders and quickly led us to his room as it was quite chilly.

Once we were in his room he got changed immediately into a pair of joggers whilst I sat on his bed combing through my hair. Brook sat next to me for a few minutes just watching me before he spoke up, "can I do your hair?" I was a little hesitant at first asking if he knew what he was doing. "Yeah," he said and paused, "at least I think I do." I mentally face palmed myself scared for the fact this could end up with me having to cut massive knots out of my hair but I kept quiet and let Brooklyn do this. 

I loved when he had these little episodes where he just didn't like me doing anything cause he wanted to do it for me, it wasn't often it was this intense but I admired it mentally noting that I'd do the same for him if and when he'd let me. "Ow," I said as I felt a bit of my hair pull. 

"Oh god, did I hurt you? Are you okay princess?" He stopped what he was doing loosening his grip on my hair. 

"No, it's normal for the odd hair to get pulled," I explained, "you're good, carry on," I said tilting my head back slightly and smiling at him. He was oddly quiet for the majority of it, other than apologising lots when he pulled a bit of my hair and the occasional 'thinking noise'.

"I think I'm done," he said after around 10 minutes of him fiddling with my hair. 

"You think?" I asked with a little laugh.

"Uh, yeah. No, I'm done. Have a look," he said as he sat down on the bed next to me. I stood up and walked over to the mirror to get a better look, I could see brook leaning back on his wrists looking anxious. To be honest, it wasn't awful, it looks like plaits like they were supposed to be, the majority of my hair was in it as well other than the occasional bit he accidentally pulled out at the top. 

I smiled at myself in the mirror then at the blonde boy on the bed, "it's actually really good," I said turning around fiddling with the bobbles in the end to make them tighter, "I'm proud of you," I said walking over to him as he sat up, I gave him a small kiss on his temple. 

"Thank you, babe," he said with a smile and I could tell he was proud of it. "Wanna cuddle and watch a movie for a bit?" He said shuffling up to his pillows and tapping the space next to him. 

I quickly threw on some underwear and an oversized shirt and climbed into the bed next to him cuddling up to his chest. 

We ended up putting Brooklyn 99 on, Brooklyn's arm was firmly wrapped around my waist as I used him as a pillow. It was times like these that I really enjoyed with him. 

"I love you," I whispered halfway through one of the episodes, I felt his breathing tremble for a moment and his heart speed up.

"I love you too," he said as he planted a kiss on my head.

[mckirkings]

Of Mustangs and Slow Smiles - Chapter 2

A 13 Reasons Why Clay Jensen/Tony Padilla Fanfiction

AO3 Link:

http://archiveofourown.org/works/12631431/chapters/28939563

Summary:

Sometimes distance is all you need. From a place; idea. From people. It’s replenishing, distance.

That’s why Clay is so excited to go on a summer trip with his best friend Tony. To get away from everything that has bogged him down during the worst year of his whole life. To come to terms with things, good or bad. Maybe even enter a new stage of his life, if he has the courage.

Because when did Tony become everything to him? How can he chance something more if he has nobody else?

Chapters:

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9.

(For tags, please see the AO3 link.)

Chapter 2: Cabin on The River

Length: 4,478

The sun was almost directly overhead; Clay was sure he’d be burning like an ant under a magnifying glass if it wasn’t for the shady (but eerily wilted) tree protecting their spot on the hood of the car. He knew the Central Valley was hot during a large part of the year, but it felt even hotter now with the summer sun out fresh and beaming. The almost nonexistent breeze didn’t help much either since it was dry and sandy. Still though, eating lunch on the hood of Tony’s Mustang in some abandoned parking lot on the outskirts of a tiny town, one that looked like it was ran by a cult, couldn’t get any better. Even if farmland and hazy sky were the only things he could see in any direction.

Clay leaned over in an attempt to nab a fry out of Tony’s basket only to be blocked by a swift hand wrapping around his fingers. “No you don’t. You’ve already finished all your own—these babies are mine.”

“I gave you my pickles and you’re repaying me by cutting off my fry supply?”

Tony leveled him with a mildly exasperated expression, or the best equivalent Tony could manage through a pair of sunglasses, and let go of Clay’s hand. Clay hadn’t even realized their hands were still connected. “Yup.”

“Wha—! Fine. But we need to go back and get some more when we leave.”

It seemed like Tony was making a point of slowly eating a fry. “Sounds like a plan. We need to pick up some milkshakes too.”

“Yeah… Wasn't that the whole reason we stopped anyway? Lunch and shakes?”

“That and I needed a break. I have no idea how we forgot the shakes though, it’s damn hot out.”

So hot that Tony had removed his leather jacket miles ago, and Clay his hoodie. “This isn’t normal, this has to be climate change in action. It’s only June and it’s already the hottest year on record.”

Tony nodded and kept eating his fries, surveying the cracked domain of their parking lot, the asphalt practically steaming under the direct sun. After Tony finished he wiped his hands and bagged their trash, gracefully hopping off the hood moments later. “C’mon Clay, let’s go get us some shakes.”

Clay smiled and slipped off the hood, scrambling into the car as Tony started the engine. Luckily the seat wasn’t scaldingly hot like Clay feared, probably due to it basking in the shade for the last 30 minutes. Tony glanced at Clay as he got comfortable, making sure he was buckled up, and since it was his turn he popped in a tape as they sped out of the parking lot.

Clay lost himself in the beat of the music, watching the creepy small town pass by on the way back to the vintage drive-thru they found earlier. “Do you think it’ll be this hot when we get up to the river?”

“Probably not. We’ll be in the shade of all those trees and the river will barely be out the back door. It’ll be hot for sure, but not like this.”

“A swim sounds so refreshing right about now,” Clay said, tugging at his T-shirt collar where sweat had begun to collect, “I seriously need to get out of these clothes.”

Clay could have swore Tony’s cheeks turned a richer shade of brown. “Yeah… First thing I’m doing when we get there…”

Clay nodded, looking forward to the coolness of a slow moving river. He refused to dwell upon the image of shirtless Tony that popped into his mind, detailed tattoos and all. Instead he turned so his face received a full blast of the hot air speeding through the window. It dried his sweat, if achieving nothing else.

Tony turned down the music as they pulled up to the old streamlined diner, still cool looking even though it was half rundown and deserted in the middle of the day. It was the promise of a drive-thru that wasn’t one of the usual international fast-food chains that beckoned them originally.

The dented intercom fizzed for a second before cutting off abruptly, a bored voice replacing the mechanical noise, “Welcome to Kasper’s, home of the quadruple-stack philly cheesesteak, how may I take your order?”

“Huh…” Tony pushed up his sunglasses so he could examine the menu easier. The shake section was particularly beat-up and sun-bleached, which is probably why they missed it earlier. “I’d like a small Oreo shake and—“ He quickly glanced to Clay questioningly.

“Chocolate. Large.”

“—And a large chocolate shake. And a side of fries, please.”

The attendant repeated back their order and they pulled up to the window. After a brief exchange of money Tony was handing Clay his shake and fries, just the chill of the cup alone was refreshing.

“Thank you for your business…” The miserable attendant sighed, someone who had to be her manager suddenly looming behind her and lightly smacking her shoulder with a clipboard, “…And have a Kaspertastic day…”

Tony paused for an awkward second, “…Thanks, have a nice day.” And they drove off, sliding out onto the two-lane interstate.

Clay let out the laugh he was holding, “Kaspertastic?!”

Tony shook his head and cracked a grin. “I’m at a true loss for words.”

Clay took a long sip of his shake, the chocolatey goodness soothing its way down his throat. “That’s way worse than the butter spiel we had to give at the Crestmont—” And there he was thinking about Hannah again, but it didn't hurt as much as it usually did. “—At least these shakes are tastier than burnt popcorn.”

Tony sucked on his straw with one hand and maneuvered the Mustang with professional ease through a slip lane with the other. “I hope that large lasts you, this is all the cold we’re gonna get until we make it to the cabin. We’re barely halfway there.”

“I think I can manage.”

“Just make sure you don't get any condensation rings on the leather. You’ll suffer the consequences if you do—and the consequences are steep.”

Clay looked at Tony with disbelief and narrowed eyes, the barely perceptible curve to Tony’s lips the only sign he wasn't completely serious. Clay rolled his eyes, “Sheesh, okay grandpa…”

“For some reason I doubt your grandpa sounds anything like me.”

Tony’s raised eyebrows shouldn’t crack Clay up like they did, but he just couldn't help himself. Tony was right—his grandpa sounded nothing like him. The slow smile crossing Tony’s face at Clay’s very dignified giggles was even better though, replacing the earlier inquisitive expression that Clay found both funny and adorable.

“What?” Tony was still smiling, looking a bit out of the loop.

Clay shook his head, “It’s nothing, you’re just… I don’t know, too much.” How could he explain to his best friend that he loved every single expression that graced his face?

He couldn’t—Clay had no idea where to begin when it came to that.

-~o~-

Shadows of the tall trees on either side of the winding road were long and dark, falling over the Mustang as it rumbled along. Beams of the low-hanging sun occasionally cast through the tree branches, covering Tony in a sporadic warm glow that Clay would have found tantalizingly beautiful if they both weren’t so irritated. They should have been on this road hours ago.

It wasn’t specifically either of their faults that they missed the turnoff; the road wasn’t marked well and they were both tired but ultimately enjoying the drive instead of paying attention. But lost time was still lost time.

They had stopped in Redding to get some groceries for the first week in the cabin and stretch their legs, and once they hopped back into the car and started the trek through the foothills leading to the mountains the scenery had become too welcome a distraction. Burbling brooks, colorful rocks, and freshly-scented trees were way more interesting than endless farmland and dust pits—the heat had also let up once they entered the deep wooded valleys closer to Mount Shasta. It was only once they reached the town of McArthur did Clay realize they missed their road a good 30 minutes behind them; they almost drove past it again going back the other direction.

Clay was just glad Tony wasn’t angry at him anymore, even though he was technically the navigator; and yeah, okay, it was mainly his fault, but still.

It wasn’t like angry Tony was particularly disconcerting either, Clay could only tell due to the pursing of his lips and general quiet he emanated, but Clay still felt bad every time he made Tony feel that way. He always felt like a burden when it happened, especially since the number of times Tony had made him mad in the last year could be counted on one hand. It always made him feel like a bad friend whenever it happened, and the thoughts associated with those feelings weren’t pretty. Admittedly though, Clay rarely caused Tony to get really angry (frustrated, maybe, but not angry) and he was relieved Tony always seemed to forgive him quickly, even if Clay didn’t say anything.

But that was just like Tony, always being such a good person.

He made sure to apologize this time, profusely, so now they were pretty much quiet and allowing the music to fill the silence rather than be actively listened to. Clay had his phone up in front of him, keeping an eye out both for the mailbox described in the Airbnb receipt and on the map detailing every curve they would have to take to get there.

They were close. Glimpses of the Pit River peeked through the trees as the road meandered against the slope of the hill—only to disappear over the guardrail at every turn. Clay didn’t allow the sights to catch his eye, he was paying close attention now.

“Wait, Tony! I think that was it!” Clay twisted around to get another look at the rusted mailbox slightly obscured by undergrowth, a narrow gravel driveway only just visible to its right.

The barely noticeable tension to Tony’s shoulders disappeared and he perked up. “Thanks Clay.”

Tony pulled a quick three-point turn and they were crunching over gravel in an instant, coming to a stop so Clay could make out the peeling numbers on the side of the mailbox.

Clay squinted. “Yup, the numbers match up. This is the place.”

Tony shifted in Clay’s direction, a tiny smile curling his lips, and patted Clay on the shoulder before switching gears and slowly driving the car down the sloping driveway. Clay relaxed at that smile, Tony obviously not disappointed in him anymore, if he ever was.

The trees were tight on either side of the Mustang, hemming them in. Clay craned his neck slightly out the window, the scent of earth and living matter pleasant and sweet, almost overwhelmingly refreshing. He could hear moving water too, the river getting closer. He felt oddly at peace, looking up at the towering redwoods before him, shafts of orange light warming his face and catching floating specks as they drifted through the forest.

“This place is so cool already,” Tony mentioned, carefully steering further down the driveway.

Clay nodded and kept looking out the window; the trees eventually parting to reveal a small gravel oval and a wide bend in the river, a short stone path leading down from the oval to the front door of the cabin. The cabin was right at the edge of the water, where it seemed to be flowing the slowest, hidden behind a few lone redwoods perched along a collapsing wooden fence to one side of the stone path. The cabin itself was small and had wide dark wood siding with big slate tiles covering the high roof. A few skylights pierced through the slate and alternating small windows dotted the walls, all framed by more dark wood. A chimney poked over the top of the cabin, and Clay could see the other side of the river and the forest there, along with the snow-capped tip of Mount Shasta.

Tony parked by the start of the path and they both eagerly hopped out, Clay taking a moment to look around and absorb the location. The light was stunning, the sun low and not visible, casting long rays over the forest and sparkling off the river. The aroma of nature pleasantly assaulted Clay’s nostrils, reminding him of the mulch his parents used for their backyard.

“It’s so magical here…”

Tony had his hands on his hips and he was looking around too, he turned and shot a dazzling grin Clay’s way. “Yeah, it is. Glad we finally made it!” He looked up at the mountains across the river and breathed in deeply, “Shame it’s too late to go swimming, the water looks nice.”

Clay was reaching into the back seat to grab his duffle, his smile dimming somewhat. “Sorry about getting us lost, if we got here on time we could’ve swam.”

“It’s fine Clay. It was a harmless mistake, we’re all good now.” Tony came around the Mustang with a backpack over his shoulder and a smallish duffle dangling from one hand. Clay stood up with his bag, the look of restrained excitement on Tony’s face making him smile again. He made his way over to where Tony was waiting for him and was surprised when Tony’s free hand came to rest on his lower back, warmth spreading as Tony gently nudged Clay forward. “I’m sorry for giving you the silent treatment for the last few miles there, I know it wasn’t on purpose. But now we’re here, let’s go check it out?”

Clay nodded and felt heat rise across his face. Tony was still really close, hand guiding him and making sure he didn’t fall as they walked across uneven stones. Clay wasn’t that clumsy, but the sentiment was nice. “I think the owner said the key is under that green pot next to the door.”

Sure enough it was. Tony retreated his hand to retrieve it, and after figuring out how the key fit into the door they were inside. Tony’s hand found its way back to where it was before, Clay feeling too much like that’s where it always belonged. He wondered if Tony knew what his casual touches were doing to him.

The inside of the cabin was small but well laid out. A bathroom was visible through a door to the right, and the kitchen was wide open to the left, only separated from the rest of the interior by a peninsula-like bar. Directly across from the front door, stretching across the opposite side of the cabin, was the living room. It was two stories tall with large windows facing the river and mountains, a deck and short dock visible just outside. Past the bar to the left was a fireplace made of smooth river stones, a comfy looking couch facing it, and to the right there was a staircase leading to the loft above, a tiny dining table pushed underneath.

Clay separated from Tony, his hand’s absence leaving a warm imprint, and dropped his duffle on the couch. He looked around, finding the quality of light astounding as it flowed golden through the windows overlooking the river. The kitchen looked really nice too, a pink binder on the bar catching Clay’s attention, immediately being drawn to it.

“This is a pretty sweet place we found,” Tony said. He placed his bags on the floor and went over to look out at the river, then turning around to look up to the loft. “There’s some kayaks out there, I wonder if we can use them.”

“I think we can…” Clay idly flipped a page of the binder and kept reading, “Yeah, it says here that they’re up for grabs. And there’s a map of hiking trails too… I guess there’s only one bed though, up there in the loft. But the couch is a foldout, any preferences?”

Tony toyed with the ring on his right hand, not responding for a second. “Nah, you decide. I’ll go bring in the groceries.”

Clay watched as Tony made a hasty exit, unsure why he left so quickly. He sighed, mentally kicking himself—he should’ve said there was only one bed. It was cheesy and probably wouldn’t have worked anyway, but having even the chance of sleeping in the same bed as Tony… No, it wouldn’t have worked even if there really was only one bed. If it came down to it Tony would’ve totally insisted on sleeping on the couch. Or the floor.

“Clay.”

Also tricking someone into bed, even if it wasn’t sexual, was messed up. If he wanted to share a bed with Tony he would just have to go about it the proper way and ask—

“Clay.”

“Huh?” Tony was staring at him, smiling sweetly. Clay flushed and looked down, embarrassed. “What? Need help, um, putting away groceries?”

“No, I did that while you were off in your own world.”

Clay really didn't like how red he was getting lately. “That’s a nice way of saying ‘zoned the fuck out’…”

Tony snickered, taking out a glass from the cabinet and filling it with water. “I’m always nice, I thought you knew that.” He took a sip and leaned against the bar, on the kitchen side, “Have you decided yet? Loft or couch?”

“Uh, I think I’d like the couch. It looks pretty soft,” Clay muttered, turning another page of the binder. “And you’re always polite, but that’s different than nice.”

“There might be some truth to that, but I think being polite is kinda a prerequisite for being nice. For example; are you sure that you want the couch? I guarantee the bed is better and I did give you dibs, so…”

Clay waved him off, “No, I’m sure. Go, claim your oh-so-comfortable bed.”

Tony huffed an almost silent laugh, Clay was curious what he found so funny. He appeared to accept Clay’s demand though, grabbing his bags off the floor and heading up the stairs, each step creaking as Clay made his way over to the sliding glass door in the living room. There was a grill out on the deck with some lounge chairs, all covered in spindly cobwebs. The sky was that deep blue color that only occurred right before the sun set, everything that odd in-between of dark and light.

“You’re going to regret your decision when you see this bed, Clay!” Tony half-shouted over the loft railing.

“Then I’m not going to see it!” Clay half-shouted back. He could picture Tony’s curled lips and shaking head in response; yeah that’s exactly how Tony would respond.

Clay watched as the first signs of pink and orange started to enter to sky off to the west, tinging the clouds those same colors. The snowy tip of Mount Shasta just visible over the forested ridge across the river was turning gold with the light, the clouds collecting around the peak creating a dramatic orangish billow.

“There’s a grill too?” Tony’s hand rested lightly on Clay’s lower back again, and even though Clay wasn’t exactly tense he felt his joints reflexively relax. “Would you like me to grill up some of those sausages we bought for dinner?”

Clay turned his head, getting a full view of Tony’s expectant expression. How could a face be so perfect? “Uh, you can cook?”

“Of course. You don’t?”

“No, not really… I mean I can take care of myself if I have to, but like, I can’t really make anything from scratch. I’ve watched a lot of cooking shows with my dad, so I know ingredients and stuff, and in theory how to prepare them but… I’ve never really tried?” Tony was grinning at him again, the pressure of his hand greater than before. “…Um, some sausages sound great?”

The presence of Tony’s hand vanished, but Tony bumped his shoulder against Clay’s bicep instead. His smile was now smaller but no less intense; more private, something sweet and affectionate. “I can teach you if you want, it sounds like you just need to give it a try.”

Tony’s voice was so soft, normally light brown eyes golden in the light. Just like the snow. Clay could feel the heat in his cheeks and how it spread down to his chest. “That would, uh, be—that’s really, uh, cool. Of you—of you to suggest…”

Tony frowned, concerned eyes examining Clay’s face. “Are you okay man? No need to be nervous, it’s just cooking.”

Clay scratched the back of his neck, glancing out the window before looking back to Tony. Eye contact was so hard. “I think I’m just a bit tired… From the drive and all.”

“It’s been a long day,” Tony agreed.

“Yeah…” Clay felt his cheeks settle, he was curious what Tony made of all his blushing. “But I do want to learn how to cook. And, um, it’d be cool if you taught me. Just not now—too tired to focus.”

Tony’s smile was back, but only in the sense that the skin around his eyes crinkled. “Alright. Let’s do that some other time then, for now I’ll go prep the sausages. Can you get rid of the spiderwebs and make sure the grill works?”

“Sure, no problem.”

Tony clapped Clay on the shoulder and headed to the kitchen. Even though the way Tony constantly kept in contact with him was starting to cause Clay some problems, he still loved them—the easy touches that told him Tony cared. Even if it wasn’t in a romantic way.

Clay opened the sliding door and stepped out onto the deck, the woody scent of the cabin immediately replaced by the smell of water teeming with life and the earthy aroma of deck oil. It was noticeably cooler now too, the sky wholly in sunset mode with a burst of color to the west.

There was a greasy rag hanging off the grill, Clay took it and wiped off all the spiderwebs encasing the legs and hood. He then wiped the deck chairs, afterwards hanging the rag over the railing. Clay crouched down and opened the compartment under the grill, it looked like the propane tank was properly disconnected and just had to be hooked up again. There was a chance it wouldn’t work, what with the tank having sat for so long, but Clay gave it a try and connected the tubing and opened the valve on the tank, just like his dad showed him when they used to do backyard barbecues. He stood up and flipped open the hood, examining the dials. When he determined the master burner Clay flipped it on and hoped the grill would spark to life.

It did, just as the door slid open behind him.

Tony nodded to the flames, setting the platter he was holding down on the grill’s left side tray. It was laden with sausages and a pair of tongs. “That’s one fancy grill, we should get some more meat so we can take advantage of it.”

“Yeah that’d be cool—“ Clay stopped short when he turned to see empty air where Tony was nanoseconds before. Tony could be shockingly stealthy and light on his feet when he wanted to be, even with how bulky he was getting. “Hey! Where’d you go?”

“Just getting these,” Tony said, exiting the cabin brandishing a beer in each hand. “Hope they had enough time to chill…”

Clay took the bottle Tony offered him, recognizing the brand from the mini-fridge in the Padilla’s garage. “How’d you get these?”

Tony opened his bottle using some trick against the edge of the grill. “I had Mateo buy some cases for us before we left. I thought you noticed when we put the groceries in the trunk?”

“Obviously not, it’s cool though… I thought we’d be dry this whole trip.” Clay stood there with the lukewarm bottle weeping condensation in his hand, unsure what to do. They usually had a bottle opener in the garage for when they occasionally drank back home.

Tony took a swig, his Adam’s apple bobbing distractingly, “I don’t think it’d be a vacation in the forest if we couldn’t indulge a little whenever we wanted.” Tony smiled in Clay’s direction and noticed his problem, taking Clay’s bottle and repeating the trick to open it.

“Thanks!” Clay took a small sip, when he drank he liked to keep it slow. Tony and him were pretty similar in that way. “This was a nice surprise.”

“That’s what I was aiming for,” Tony said, gesturing with his beer to mountains across the river. “What’s better than a cold beer, good company, and an amazing view?”

“…Okay, now you seriously sound like my grandpa.”

Tony laughed, brief but musical, and smirked. He picked up the tongs with his free hand and began to place the sausages on the grill. “It’s the simple pleasures, Clay. Take a cue from your grandpa and learn to enjoy them.”

Clay rolled his eyes and settled down into one of the lounge chairs, stretching out to find maximum comfort. “Yeah… Guess I should try. Not like your advice has led me astray before.”

Tony did a little shake of his head that told Clay he was silently laughing; his warm eyes glancing Clay’s way before focusing back on the grill, taking another swig. Clay could see the happiness practically radiate off his friend and thought it suited him nicely. Tony was someone who was wound pretty tight most of the time, when they were at school or around other people. Just like Clay—though Tony passed it off as ‘uninterested cool’ while Clay could only manage ‘socially inept’.

It pleased him greatly that he was the one Tony allowed to see through the layers he put up for everyone else, even his past boyfriends. Even though Clay couldn’t find it in himself to confess his feelings to Tony, not yet at least, he knew that Tony was closer to him than anyone else. Clay allowed him through his own layers too.

The smell of applewood smoked chicken sausages wafted around them, Clay taking little sips of his beer as the sky turned from orange and pink to deep violet and blue. They exchanged sarcastic jokes, the beer creating that numbness in Clay’s mind that he craved every now and then, Tony’s laughs and quips making Clay all tingly in an inexplicable way. He could hear nocturnal life awake around them in the forest, and Clay felt himself awaken too, allowing himself to let go.

At least in that moment.

[megcapulet]

Reminders

Who: Jared Brooks and Megan Capulet

Date: 9/12/17

Notes: Megan goes for her punishment with Jared and secrets are revealed.

Megan was nervous as she arrived at Jared's door. Not only was he punishing her for being disrespectful, which while she wasn't thrilled about she could agree she deserved, but following on from her date with Oz she was freshly bruised and had a feeling that wasn't going to go down too well. She hadn't mentioned her date to the Dominant and as he was already cross about her not telling him things she was nervous about how he might take this news too. Megan knocked at his door and dropped to her knees not willing to give him any further reason for complaint.

Jared was completely annoyed with his friend. He had no allusions about what they were to each other. But they were close. He would have thought that something as big as going home with the Lord of the Montagues would warrant personal revelation. She'd only added insult to injury by being a complete brat about his annoyance. He didn't relish the idea of punishing Megan but she didn't leave him much choice. Seeing her kneeling when he opened the door let him know that she knew the punishment was deserved. "Crawl to the living room, Megan and kneel in front of the sofa."

Megan looked up as the front door opened but as she had expected she wasn't greeted by a cheery smile but rather a serious look. She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes when he told her to crawl through, clearly he was taking it seriously and wasn't going to just tell her off. With a slight huff she crawled inside and through, leaving her bag with her things for work the next day on the doorstep for him to bring in. She knelt as instructed, a small hiss leaving her lips as she caught one of her more prominent bruises as she moved into position.

Jared picked up her bag and sat it inside the door. He caught the huff and frowned, following behind her. He waited till she was on her knees before sitting directly in front of her. The hiss of pain didn't go unnoticed either. "Are you sore, Megan?"

Megan bit down on her lip to stop any further sounds but she clearly wasn't quick enough. Her eyes flashed up to the Dominant before dropping to her lap again. "A little Sir," she said quietly.

Jared sighed. Really? She had the nerve to show up for a punishment sore? "Seriously, Megan? Tell me why you are sore."

Megan felt her stomach flip when she heard him sigh. It was clear he wasn't happy with her but the question just made her shoulder's sag. "I had a scene on Sunday," she said plainly before adding. "A sort of date type scene." Whatever she said wasn't going to make him happy but not telling him the truth would no doubt annoy him further.

Jared "And were you aware of having a date before or after you knew you would be punished," Jared asked. He shook his head. Part of him wondered if it was even worth it to punish her at this point. "So do I have to ask who you went out with or are you going to share that information this time?'

Megan didn't like the tone of his voice but studiously studied her lap, feeling even worse at his question. She waited a moment before she answered, "I knew I had a date first but you wanted to punish me as soon as you could." She finally looked up at his second question, "I had dinner with Lord Montague."

Jared stood and left her alone for a moment. The fact that she'd known and still hadn't told him made him livid. He went and fetched some water and brought it back. "So, to recap. You went on a date that you knew would probably end in a scene that would leave you sore but you scheduled time with me anyway. That sound right? Because right now, Megan, I'm tempted to send you right back out the door."

Megan didn't know what to think when he walked away. Turning her head she watched him leave, knowing better than to say anything. When he came back and ran through everything she had to admit it didn't sound good at all. She didn't want punished even though she knew she needed it from him but the thought of him sending her away was more than she could bear. "Please Sir, I'm sorry. Don't send me away. I should have told you but I was mad at you and wasn't thinking. Punish me for this too if you want but please don't send me away Sir."

Jared ran a hand through his hair with a sigh before reaching out and taking her chin between his fingers and making sure she was looking at him. "Megan, I won't send you away. I care about you too much for that," he said, brushing a thumb over his cheek. "Being mad at someone is no excuse for disrespect, however. So, it appears that because my choices of punishment are now limited by your extracurricular activities that I need to find a plan B."

Megan had no choice but to look at him and she nodded as best she could. "No Sir, there was no excuse," she agreed quickly. In many respects she was glad he was changing the punishment because it meant she had been due to get a spanking and the thought of that on top of the bruises she already had was not pleasant. "I'm sorry Sir," she whispered and genuinely meaning it. She enjoyed her time with Jared and hated him being cross with her in any form.

Jared "I appreciate that and you are forgiven," Jared said sincerely. He wasn't relishing this punishment. Though he'd have been far happier to turn Megan over his knee and bruise her ass himself. "There is a small wooden stool in the kitchen, go get it. Take it to that corner over there. You will sit facing the wall for at least 30 minutes. Movement of any kind will only prolong your punishment. Are we understood?"

Megan felt she could breath a little easier as he accepted her apology but that lasted as long as hearing what her new punishment would be. She went to the kitchen, groaning to herself when she saw the stool and well aware it was going to be a very uncomfortable thirty minutes and that was without considering that he was punishing her like a naughty child. By the time she had picked up the stool and carried it back through to the corner she was in a foul mood and determined not to talk to him. Pouting like the petulant child she felt she dropped the stool down with a thud before she sat down, tipping her hips so as little of her bruised ass as possible was touching the solid wood. Her arms folded and her lips pouting she tried to ignore how uncomfortable and unbalanced the position was and she knew there was no way she could maintain it for any length of time.

Jared said nothing as Megan turned from apologetic to brat in the blink of an eye. He covered the smile on his face and watched as she dropped the stool and sat. He waited a minute before standing to grab some more water and some paperwork he needed to look through. "You are setting yourself up for failure, love," he called, the comment almost offhand.

Megan huffed when she heard his words. She was so frustrated with herself - for getting mad during the texts and getting herself in this position and then for upsetting him and not scheduling it for when she was better although she did know that would have been difficult to organise and now for being in this ridiculous position. Her legs trembled and she knew that she was doing her body no favors trying to hold the ridiculous pose. Much as she hated to give in she had no choice and placed her bottom properly on the stool so her knees were bent up putting most of her weight on her ass. She could feel every mark and while usually she would enjoy that her headspace wouldn't let her think of the fun she had had getting the bruises, only the pain that they were causing during her punishment. In her own little protest she still huffed loudly and folded her arms and hoped that thirty minutes would pass quickly.

Jared shook his head as he watched her. The settling on her ass, he could ignore. But those crossed arms broke the rules. "Another five minutes, Megan. I told you not to move."

Megan turned with a frown, her arms flying out to grab the edge of the stool as she did. "I didn't move," she protested loudly.

Jared sighed. "Forty-five minutes," he intoned. "Keep it up and you'll sit there all night."

Megan was livid as he added on another ten minutes but she also knew him well enough not to doubt he would follow through. She turned back to face the wall, her chest heaving and her blood boiling but not going to say another word.

Jared was happy to see Megan finally acquiesce. He noted the time and then sat down to read the documents that he grabbed. He occasionally looked up, monitoring any signs of real distress, though he doubted he'd see any.

Megan rolled her eyes so many times she was surprised they didn't fall out. Her back to him it was the biggest protest she could without him adding any more time and even after just a short time she was really regretting her outburst. She had always hated this as a punishment, a spanking was over quickly but corner time dragged and not being able to move was even worse. All she could do was sit and think and try to ignore the pain and while she tried not to think about her behaviour that brought her to her current position she couldn't keep the thoughts out of her head. Her eyes began to water and she knew she owed Jared another proper apology.

Jared was pleased to see that Megan at the very least resigned herself to her punishment. There was no more movement and he didn't detect any heavy sighing. Knowing Megan, the wall had probably been subjected to some serious eye rolling and death glares but that was fine. As the clock ticked on, he waited until exactly 45 minutes had past before rising and walking over to her. "Your punishment is over, you are forgiven. You can stand up now," he said gently, holding out his hand to help her stand.

Megan was beyond bored and in pain but she decided she didn't want to have to sit any longer than necessary. As much as she tried to think of other things her attitude to Jared kept coming back to her and she did feel very guilty. When he finally came over and told her the time was up he eyes were still glistening and her lower body was definitely very sore. Holding his hand she stood up and stretched herself. "Thank you Sir and I'm sorry - for the disrespect and not properly informing you of my plans," Megan said as she looked at him. She stood awkwardly, not sure if he would still want her to stay now he had had to change his plans.

Jared leaned down and kissed Megan's cheek at the apology. "I am sure you are sore, love. What do you need? Aspirin? Anything else?" He lead her back to his couch. "If it is more comfortable to lie down, please do so. I'd like for you to stay. I can order food and we can just be lazy."

Megan gave him a slight shrug, "Aspirin would be good Sir." She lay down on her stomach at his instruction and smiled brighter at him, feeling things were a bit more on a familiar course. "That sounds lovely Sir. Can we have Chinese please?" Laying her head on her arms she looked up at him with bright eyes.

Megan joined the chat 2 days ago

Jared joined the chat 2 days ago

Jared chuckled and bent over to kiss the top of her head. "Yes, pretty girl, we can have Chinese," he said. He fetched aspirin and a bottle of water and brought it back for her. He sat on the floor, back leaning against the back of the couch by her head. "Your usual?" He asked pulling out his phone.

Megan sat up and took a couple of asprin and swallowed them down quickly. Putting the water bottle down on the floor she lay back down on the couch grinning as she heard his question. "Yes please Sir," she replied quickly as her stomach gave a growl in agreement. "You don't happen to have an open bottle of wine do you?" she smirked.

Jared leaned back and returned the smirk. "I don't have an one open but I think, for you, I can open one. You have a preference?" Megan knew what he kept handy. He quickly placed the order and flopped his head back on the couch.

Megan leaned her head forward and kissed his cheek at the offer. "Do you have any more of that lovely Chardonnay? I think it was from New Zealand." She picked up the remote and switched on the TV calling up Netflix, "Your choice tonight since I've chosen everything else."

Jared smiled at the kiss. "I believe so," he replied, not moving yet. "My choice, huh. How gracious of you, love," he said, not particularly caring. "I'm not terribly fussed about what we watch. Something mindless will be fine."

Megan took back the control and flicked through finally settling on some singing show that was vaguely familiar. "Hmm, maybe this isn't such a good idea, am I going to have to deal with your singing if we watch this," she teased.

Jared would have reached back and pinched her ass if she wasn't already in pain. "My singing is respectable I have you know. Stop comparing me to my mother," he said, defending himself. "Be nice or the wine will stay unopened."

Megan giggled at his warning. "It's wonderful, I never knew why you didn't go into the performing business." She pouted at him as he warned her about not getting wine, "You wouldn't Sir, you want deprive me or you of alcohol."

Jared rolled his eyes. "Because it's respectable and my mother is an Opera singer. Enough said." The doorbell rang and he pushed himself to his feet. "Unfortunately, you are right. You also cannot eat lying down. I suspect the couch is considerably more comfortable than the stool though." He left her for a moment and fetched the take out from the delivery person. He brought it back and set it on the coffee table before retrieving the requested wine and cutlery.

Megan chuckled at his comeback but before she could say anything the doorbell rang. She groaned as he told her she couldn't eat lying down. "I don't see why I can't eat lying down," she complained, pulling herself up to sitting anyway. Once he had brought everything through Megan handed him his food before she settled down with hers. "So what is new in the amazing world of Jared anyway?" she asked lightly.

Jared ignored the complaining, knowing that Megan would comply. He chuckled as he sat down next to her with his food. "You make my life sound like a tv show..." he chuckled, taking a bite while he thought. "Really there hasn't been anything knew or terribly exciting. Still wrestling money from nobles with too much of it." He shrugged. "Watching the madness that the decree has caused as been about as exciting as it gets." Though he was admittedly curious, if Megan wanted to share what was going on between her and Lord Oz, she would do so without prompting.

Megan teased, "Your life is amazing and entertaining and full of intrigue and mystery." She ate her food and nodded appropriately as he spoke, her lips twisting as he mentioned the decree. "You don't feel compelled to see what is on offer from the Montagues then?" she asked curiously. "Most people I have spoken to are at least having a look at the goods so to speak."

Jared "Oh yes. Intrigue and mystery," Jared said blankly. The question was valid though he didn't really relish answering it. "A look at the goods? You make it sound like a meat market, Megan," he said, and it a lot of ways it was, he supposed. "I don't feel terribly compelled to walk down that road again, no. I'm not even sure I would count as a Capulet anyway, job notwithstanding. My nobility still lies in Venice, after all." It was a tenuous argument but one he planned to use if he were in anyway pressured to claim.

Megan looked down, examining her food at his slight chastisement. She wasn't wrong, everyone was viewing each other in a different way since the decree and it wasn't necessarily pleasant. "You don't want to try again, if it was someone you really cared for?" she questioned gently. Finishing off her food Megan put everything down and lay down again, her head resting on his lap. "What if it was me? I don't care about where your nobility lies. We would be a wonderful claim."

Jared: "I never say never," Jared said, nearly cryptically. He would have to be head over heels to consider claiming again. His own food finished he set it aside and leaned back against the couch, immediately beginning to card his fingers through Megan's dark hair. "You are right we would." In fact, if not for the decree they would have probably gotten there eventually. "We should have thought of it before the Prince became involved." He stroked her hair and hummed in contentment. "Are we going to make one of those hideous pacts now...the one that says if we aren't part of the twelve we will claim?"

Megan smiled up at him, humming softly as he began to stroke her hair. She laughed at his pact suggestion, "Absolutely we should. Especially if there aren't the twelve claims and we all get exiled. You can take me with you back to Venice." For a moment it all seemed very serious again but then Megan tried to lighten the mood again smirking up, "After all I need to be in a claim with someone who knows my takeout order and favorite wine and doesn't get too mad when I become a brat occasionally."

Jared laughed and smirked down at the dark-hair submissive. "Occasionally?" he teased, tugging on her hair. He could picture it, really. The two of them settling down into something permanent. But it didn't seem fated to happen so it would likely remain a lovely thought.

Megan giggled at his teasing but she could so easily see herself with him, before the decree for definite. But now, the decree was a complication and so was Lord Montague and her strangely growing feelings for the Dominant. "It was Lord Montague," she suddenly blurted out, her cheeks flushing at her boldness. "My date the other day, it was with Lord Montague again...but you can't tell anyone Sir. Especially not Drew, he'll go mad."

Jared 's hand stilled for an instant. Of course it had been. "I won't tell anyone, Megan," he said softly, suspecting that Drew's anger had been a bit like his own at the revelation. He also suspected that he wasn't ready to hear about her exploits with the head of the family.

Megan felt the pause and her heart sank. She should have kept it quiet for a little longer, Jared was her friend but Oz had a reputation and if she pursued something with him she was going to have to get used to this kind of reaction. "Thank you," she replied as quietly at the assurance he wouldn't tell. It would all come out soon, she wasn't naive enough to think otherwise but for a little while she needed to keep it quiet.

Jared sighed. "Megan, if you are happy and safe, that is all that matters to me," he said sincerely, despite the fact that he had serious doubts that she'd ever be truly safe with Lord Montague. Whatever they could have had between them was surely no more than a dream now.

Megan turned so she could look up at him. "I like him Jared, more than I probably should but I've had two nights with him so it's hardly a long term thing." She turned away again leaving out the 'yet'. The dominant had got right under her skin in a way nobody, not even Jared had done before but she was clearly going to have a lot of concerned people if it did continue.

Jared stroked her cheek with his thumb. "I know you, Megan. It's easy to see that you like him. Maybe it won't be long term, but I'm betting that you wouldn't be opposed to seeing him more, especially if you are concerned about keeping it quiet."

Megan closed her eyes at the soothing touch. "No, I would happily see him again. He's different, he takes me even further than I thought possible and demands so much more but all without talking above a whisper. It's like he knows what he wants and is in control the whole time and he just ...it's just already he's had me so deep in subspace it's incredible. Everything he does just hits my kinks and it's amazing." With Jared being so sweet and understanding Megan's reservation talking about Lord Montague waned and she was happy to have someone she could tell.

Jared listened, though it was difficult to hear Megan wax poetic about another person. But he was sincere enough in his wish for Megan's happiness that he managed to stay silent. He wasn't sure what he could say to all that. "I'm glad for you, love."

Megan smiled as he said he was pleased for her. It was a relief to know that at least one person was happy that she had some prospects. "Thank you Sir," she said softly before turning her gaze back to the TV.

Jared returned Megan's smile and resumed petting as he rested his head on the back of the couch and turned his own attention back to the screen. Despite his bruised ego, he did wish the best for her and if this was what she wanted, he'd support her.

[colourinside]

This Moment Belongs to Us

Weeell... I did announce that this story would still be coming and here it is :) I’m really sorry for the delay but I just wasn’t happy with it at the time and I actually still have some troubles with it, but I figured I might better post this now before it drives me crazy! Anyway, I hope you’ll still enjoy reading it! Allow me to wish you all a happy new year! I guess it’s not too late yet to do so :) 

Rose and the Doctor join a New Year’s celebration. At the stroke of midnight, Rose finds herself questioning the meaning of time and change.

Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler

Word count: 1895

Read it on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9211952

She watched as the newborn fire feasted on the dry branches. It exhaled a joyful crackling and sizzling, spat blazing sparks at the crowd as it consumed its New Year’s meal. Her face burned and blushed while she gazed at the flames that towered over her, high as a building, and the heat they radiated reached through the fabric of her clothes to her very skin. Her front was all hot while the stinging December cold sat at her back. But the bonfire had cast a spell on her and she was unable to take her teary eyes off the dancing flames, the wisps of smoke that spiralled towards the starless sky. The stars had covered themselves from view, hid behind a blanket of heavy clouds, but the bonfire shone and blazed in their stead whilst emitting orange sparks – stars of its own. It was the night of its life.

The small crowd chatted and laughed. All they did was consciously wait for the time to pass. They stood on the brink of a new year, the beginning of a new chapter in their lives. It was a gathering of young people, all looking forward to new chances, new challenges, new adventures – the making of new promises, the discovering of new talents, the thrill of new kisses, the excitement of new friendships. But for planet Earth it was just another round of a perpetual course.

They were anonymous in the crowd. Rose had taken the Doctor’s hand, squeezing it with a bright smile.

“This is amazing,” she said. “It’s like a big wall of fire, I mean really big… I’ve never seen anything like it…”

He returned her smile but she picked up on the only faintly belittling look in his eyes. It was as if he meant to say he knew better – bigger, brighter, higher, more impressive, more magnificent, more awe-inspiring. He kept it to himself.

“Yeah, it’s kind of brilliant, isn’t it?” he said instead, as if he meant it. It made her laugh.

But it was. She could see why he would take her here. Of all places on Earth he could have picked to join a New Year’s celebration, this was clearly the most magical one Rose could imagine. Breathtaking even. They were at the top of a hill, the city of Reykjavík at their feet. The roofs of the buildings were topped by a thick coat of snow, the electric lights drew a trail of gold and copper through the streets and on the opposite side of the patch of city there stood a firm, mighty range of snow speckled mountains, keeping watch, touching the misty clouds above.

For the first time since they had arrived, Rose took a moment to glance at the people around them. The couple to her right barely took notice of her and was obviously hoping to be overlooked in the bustle of the last fleeting minutes of the past year. Two young men, both wearing hats. They were huddled together even though there would clearly be enough space for them to stand apart, their gloved fingers tightly entwined. The three people in the row in front of them – two girls with pig tails and a young man – were fervently singing a folk song. Rose was just about to look to her left, when a tall bloke in a long, olive green felt coat addressed the Doctor.

“Just six more minutes to 1953,” he said with a childlike grin, looking at a worn pocket watch. “Are you excited?” Next to him stood a woman. She was wearing a crimson bonnet, short blond curls bobbing up and down as she turned her head to peek at the man’s watch.

“Well, I don’t know,” the Doctor said. “It’s just time passing as time tends to do… But I suppose it can be exciting, feeling time so closely, watching it fly…”

“Absolutely,” the man said, “I also love watching the fireworks! When I was a lad I was terrified of them but now I find them quite entrancing.”

“They certainly are,” the Doctor agreed.

“Pardon,” said the man, seized by a sudden intuition. The innocent excitement in his face gave way to an apologetic smile that was clearly meant to soothe the grim glare he received from the young woman at his side. She had pinched his elbow and now shook her head at him in exasperated disapproval.    

“Allow me to introduce myself,” he added and extended a hand to the Doctor, gripping firmly as he accepted.

With an uneasy stutter, he recited their names as if he had memorised this very introduction phrase like one would memorise one of Shakespeare’s sonnets. His name was Lars and the young woman was his wife, Adele. Lars appeared to be heady, like a child, a little awkward, enthusiastic as if he was preparing for the biggest adventure of his live and didn’t want to miss a minute. Evidently, his wife Adele was the one in charge, a governess, a caretaker, reprimanding him whenever he showed himself too impulsive.

After they had completed their round of handshaking, Lars checked his watch again. His hands had kept twitching towards it as if he was aching to see, his big bulging eyes followed the time ticking by, rather controlling it than checking it. “Only four more minutes,” he declared with a start in his voice.

Adele put a gentle hand on her husband’s shoulder. “He is truly obsessed with measuring time,” she said, barely able to keep herself from fondly rolling her eyes. It was as if his odd behaviour embarrassed her. So, she explained him in order to make people understand him.

“Three more minutes,” Lars exclaimed, “the last three minutes of 1952!” He clutched his chest in devotion.

Rose felt herself holding her breath even though she didn’t entirely understand why. This moment was her past, a place where time should not have any power over her. Those last three minutes to a year long gone should not move her as much as they did. Wherever she went, time held an unspoken significance. It guided, it rushed, it dragged but it never passed at the right pace. It was impossible to freeze moments and keep them in a snow globe because they would fade into the past. Time was not tangible. One could never catch it with a string and keep it still, it would always run, run, run – run away. Like a gargling brook. Time was a sovereign that shaped the way people understood the universe. It created things that mattered, marked ends and beginnings.

“Did you make any resolutions?” Adele asked, holding up the conversation while her husband was preoccupied with following the passing of the seconds.

“Oh,” the Doctor said, looking at the sky. Occasionally, there were a few lonely bursts of colour sprinkling the air, heralds of the anticipated spectacle.

“I have some all-time resolutions. They never really change…” He turned his head, facing Rose. “What about you, hm?” he asked.

“Well…” Rose said. She hadn’t made up her mind yet. However, she could think of one permanent resolution and a smile tugged at the corner of her lips at the thought. She squeezed the Doctor’s hand once more. “I suppose not… I think I will just go wherever the new year takes me…”

She used to put together a list of New Year’s resolutions. Find a more exciting job, be a support to mum, stop wanting to live other people’s lives, read Charles Dickens, drink less… A new year used to mark a new try, a new chance to do the right things. But the tradition of specifying resolutions had lost meaning once Rose had left behind the mundane temporal order of her former existence.

“Here we go!” Lars interrupted her thoughts. The fireworks had started. “Happy New Year!”

The crowd ended their conversations as they broke into murmurs of oooh, aaaah and variations of Happy New Year at the sight of the colours exploding above the city. Flakes of red and green, of blue and gold rained down on the roofs, the bursting and cracking sounds they made even drowned out the hissing and sizzling of the big bonfire. Rose didn’t know where to look first. There were pillars of smoke and colour rising everywhere, and as they grew they filled the air with patterns of grey mist and gaudy sparks. The Doctor laughed out loud with joy.

“This is fantastic!” he shouted through the noise.

“It’s a new year… 1953… right here and now…” Rose said, quietly. “I can’t believe it…” Suddenly, time stopped making sense to her.

“Why not?” the Doctor asked, “It’s right in front of you… a new beginning!”

Only it wasn’t. This was an old year but she experienced it being new. She was frozen in a today with people who would have a different line of tomorrows. She came from a different present and she felt like an intruder.

“It’s strange…” she whispered. “There are new years all the time…. We could have gone to any place, any year… And now, we just stand in this day as if it was our own, but it isn’t, it belongs to those people... This is not our new year, not our 1953.”

Instead of the fireworks, Rose looked at the people. The friends, the lovers, the husbands and wives, the mothers, the fathers, the children, the brothers and sisters. Just minutes ago, they thought they could grip the future and now the future had caught up with them, at the stroke of midnight, the tick of a clock. This was the moment where the past met the future, where the ending touched the beginning to create an infinite loop. And this was just another day, taking its place, passing.

The Doctor remained silent. Rose could see the thoughtful furrow of his brow as he watched the sky, the colours of the fireworks tinting the edges of his face.

“And while all that happens, we are just spectators,” Rose mumbled, more to herself than to the Doctor. “We will never fully understand…

“How do you do that, Doctor?” She studied his stoic face. He never saw the seasons change, never saw a whole year pass in its consistency. He could enter the years at will and now he had just walked into a new one in a blink of an eye and it had happened without his conscious doing.

“I enjoy the little things, the bits and pieces…” he said merrily, after a while. He smiled down at her and moved closer. “Happy New Year.” Rose could hear the endless line of “new”s in his voice. She returned his smile.

All around them, couples greeted the new year with a kiss. To their left, Lars clumsily kissed Adele. To their right, the two young men used their hats to shield themselves from scrutiny as they brought their lips together in a quick peck.    

Rose’s eyes met the Doctor’s. The blazing bonfire and the colours of the fireworks reflected in the comforting darkness within them. He slowly put one hand on her cheek that felt hot beneath his touch, despite the biting cold around them. And then, he kissed her. Gently, sweetly, briefly. The kiss held a thousand unspoken resolutions. And even if 1953 didn’t belong to them, this moment of it did. 

[mystic-scripture]

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Fandom: Riverdale

Pairing: None/ Wayward serpents (Nat Dwyer, JD Dwyer, Ratchet Marks, JD Maxwell, Ty Brooks, Harley Davis)

It was Harley’s favorite time of year: Christmas. Which meant going all out on decorating everyone’s houses, lockers, and doing all sorts of crafty little things for the other serpents throughout the month, but she also made a big deal out of secret santa. Mind you it was only the six of them, since they added Ratchet and JD to the list, but Harley always made sure everyone kept it to themselves until they did a big reveal Christmas Eve at Nat’s. Usually, there is booze involved, so no one really complained.

This year was no different. No reveals had been made yet, and no gifts exchanged until the reveal, though Dax broke it and she’d gotten a promise ring,and she had no idea what people got. Okay, so maybe this year being no different is a lie, since this year they decided to forgo any limits they had set the past couple of years, making it a wild card gift based on who you had. Where Nat and Harley didn’t really care about the money, the boys did, the older two especially. There was also the fact that wrapping was a dead giveaway, or least Nat’s was, so they decided to keep it simple. Fit your gift in a certain sized box and that’s it. No wrapping involved, nothing too too bad.

The others were sure that Harley regretted that though as Dax ‘unwrapped’ his gift from Nat to find a bunch of packaging peanuts and one of those dinner and a movie gift card packages at the bottom. JD hadn’t been much better with her gift, but the necklace he’d gotten was far more than what she expected. Now, it was Ty’s turn as he shoved his box towards Nat, scratching at the back of his head.

“So, I did kinda cheat this year and tell someone I had you.” He admitted earning a glare from the raven haired girl. “But! It was my mom who isn’t in this and it’s because I needed her help.”

“Dear God what would you need Gloria’s help with?” Nat grimaced, looking at the box like it was a pipe bomb.

“Just open the damn thing, yeah?” Dax punched his frustrated friend in the arm, getting a laugh from the others. “It ain’t gonna kill ya.”

She raised an eyebrow as if to question the validity of the statement, but pulled the box’s lid off anyway. The top had a couple of pieces of tissue paper along with a card. Nat took it and read it, a small crinkle appearing in her forehead. “A tribute to the most Badass Chick I know.” She read aloud, pulling at the tissue paper here eyes widening as she saw underneath it. “You sentimental dip!”

Sitting in the box was a small scrapbook that read “Nat’s Serpent Tail” across the top of it. As she took it out and flipped through it, they saw various pictures of her from during her initiation, tastefully leaving out the female version, and various after fight chats they’d had. Nat was trying not to smile, but failed as she looked at a picture of her holding the baby tooth she’d lost in her gauntlet, grinning wide with a split lip and shiner on her forehead.

“Wait…these are pictures from my camera…” she realized, looking at him accusingly. “Is that what you needed my SD cards for? I thought you said you were making a collage for Harley of all the pictures I got of her and Dax together.”

“It was, and it is.” He nodded, ducking from her impending fist. “But I couldn’t tell you it was for your own present!”

“He’s got a point, you know.” Ratchet stated, passing his box over to Ty, “But I still think I did better.”

“I doubt it, do you know how long it takes to scrapbook?” Ty exclaimed, taking the box and shaking it gently. “This does feel kinda heavy though.”

They all looked in anticipation as he opened his gift, a frown sagging across his face as he pulled out a bunch of papers and a large journal out of the box. At first he papers seemed random, then they started to become apparent. In the box sat dozens of crumpled paper receipts and notes, bits and ends that he probably left at Dax’s during a cram session or something. The girls laughed, and the boys looked confused.

“Oh! Sorry, uhm open the book.” Ratchet said enjoying the look on Ty’s face a little too much. “I may have been a dick about the wrapping.”

“May have?” Nat rolled her eyes. “How long have you been collecting his trash for?”

“Long enough to cover that.”

He said, nodding towards Ty who had discovered that the journal was actually a box, bright chrome shining brightly. Everyone scurried over to see what it was, letting out gasps as they took in the gleaming new set of socket and C wrenches that sat there, a few other mechanical tools in there as well. Ty went to wipe a tear from his eye, the new tools something he’d never had before, always getting JD’s spares or hand-me-downs from the various serpents. They were new, and they were his. They even had T. Brooks monogrammed into them.

“That is fantastic, Marks...thank you.” He murmured looking at his shiny new toys. “Now I kinda want something to be wrong with my bike.”

“Never say such things.” Came the serious reply from JD, who turned to his friend. “Dude, you never got me anything this nice before, what the hell?”

“You never asked.” Ratchet shrugged, “All he’s ever done is complain about how crappy his tools are when he’s hanging at the trailer.”

“Whatever.” He waved a hand in frustration, his finger moving between the group, okay so, Nat is done, Ty is done, and we have given two other gifts? So...Dax or Harley,  you give your gifts, I guess, then we’ll reveal whoever is left. Then you all can get the hell out of my house.”

“No need to be a grinch!” Harley protested, scooting towards her boyfriend. “You go first babe.”

“Well, I got JD, so-” He groaned, standing up and making his way over to his mentor. “Kinda a thank you for things more than a secret santa.”

“You have nothing to thank me for Kid.” He said, opening the box with a laugh. Pulling out another box and spun it to show off a very nice whiskey set. “Damn but you can keep doing so if you want to, and I don’t even want to see you breath on this Nat.”

A pout spread across the blondes face, as she stared lovingly at the stones and one of the glasses. “But it’s a set for two! There are two of us!”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Okay!” Harley jumped up, moving her box over to Ratchet. “I also kinda cheated, so your present is outside, but there is a part of it in the box.

Everyone looked at Harley with shock, slack jawed and eyes wide open. She had broken the rules? Her, the enforcer of said rules? This had to be good. They all turned as Ratchet opened it, finding a small booklet and paperwork in side. Moving it around, he found a key and his eyes snapped towards her.

“You didn’t.”

“Look outside.” She grinned, I most certainly did.”

Everyone scrambled, limbs tangling into each other as they followed him out, trying to see what the two were talking about. Dax however, saw the key and instantly knew. He went over to his girlfriend, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. Giving her a soft squeeze, he spun her around to face him.

“I’m pretty sure you just made his year if that’s what I think it is.” He said, “Given he’s been looking for that thing seven years, maybe the past few.”

“Mom was able to pull in a favor with the Sheriff.” She shrugged. “It wasn’t even doing anything, just being stripped from all the ghoulie mods from when they stole it off the original buyer.”

“You amaze me, you know that.” He touched his forehead to hers, letting out a sigh. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

She closes her eyes, falling into his embrace. “You and those goofballs outside are the family I choose, I should be asking how I deserve all of you.”

Dax merely kissed her forehead, “Merry Christmas, Harls.”

“Merry Christmas, Dust.”

“Oh geeze get a room you two!!!” Nat shouted, the door slamming open as the other piled in. “And preferably not mine.”

Harley broke away from her boyfriend to roll her eyes, and grab her drink. “Merry Christmas to you too, ya filthy animals.”

They all toasted to that, taking the time to clean up and sober up before driving home, Ratchet driving Harley to her house in his shining, almost brand new car that looked the same as the day that he’d sold it seven christmases ago.

Yeah, Christmas was Harley’s favorite time of the year.

[airadam]

Episode 111 : Pay Attention!

"Classical soul, I got the nastiest flow"

- Sean Price

We had to open the show with an Aretha Franklin track to mark her sad passing this month, and you'll hear her essence at various points throughout the episode. I'm just about beating the buzzer to get this one out on time, but I'm sure you'll agree it was worth the effort!

Manchester shows for the month;

Beatnuts, The Bluntskins, Didjit, Air Adam | September 19th, Whiskey Jar

Havoc, Big Noyd, DJ L.E.S, Seven Spherez | September 24th, Joshua Brooks

Twitter : @airadam13

Playlist/Notes

Aretha Franklin : Rock Steady

We had to start things off with a classic from the Queen. This 1971 single from the "Young, Gifted, and Black" album isn't short on legends, with Donny Hathaway on electric piano and organ, and Bernard Purdie doing the business on the drums. A much covered and much sampled record, all trying to get just a hint of the flavour of the original. 

Pete Rock : Aretha

A perfect instrumental for me to come across this month, drawn from the golden period in which Pete Rock was on production for InI's unreleased (but heavily bootlegged) debut album. This beat wasn't used, but it comes to us courtesy of the 2017 "Lost Sessions" release alongside nine other previously-unreleased instrumentals.

[DJ Premier] Gang Starr : 92 Interlude

I just had to include this - an interlude beat from the "Daily Operation" LP that built around just a tiny incidental piece of a famous Aretha Franklin track and put other producers on notice when it comes to how Primo picks gold!

JR & PH7 ft. Chuuwee : Meadowview Morning

Thank you Spotify for dropping this one into one of my playlists! The German producers JR and PH7 have made a brief appearance on the show previously, but their work on this track from "The South Sac Mack" is really something. They come up with a jazzy but sombre instrumental which perfectly fits the trio of Sacramento MCs telling tales of life in their corner of the world. 

Hieroglyphics : Oakland Blackouts

Keeping it over on the West Coast, the Hiero crew have always been reliable as a source of bars upon bars. The "3rd Eye Vision" album is creeping towards twenty years old, but is still an excellent listen! Opio of Souls of Mischief is on production for this one.

Termanology : Are You Sure?

We don't hear Erick Sermon's name brought up enough when it comes to some of the greatest producers, so I'm glad Termanology linked up with him for this head-nod groove on his latest album "Bad Decisions". This is almost Term's version of Gang Starr's "The Planet", with him telling the story of coming to New York from Massachusetts and having to work to establish and hold his position. I won't give away the hook sample in case it's uncleared, but it's also a quality record :)

Sean Price : Director's Cut

This one has an unusual structure - a series of short two-bar "scenes" separated by two-bar sections of commentary. It's raw street business with a dash of humour as you'd expect from Sean P, gracing the Khrysis beat with some classic jewels. If you like this track, then the "Jesus Price Supastar" LP is a must in your collection.

DJ Agent M : Keeping Me In The Dark

Agent M is a producer and DJ from Leeds whose 2018 beat tape "Closure" is the sound of him working through a period of loss. This track is based around a classic sample, which is not just flipped for the sonics but also for the title.

Kev Brown : Voltron

It's been an extremely long wait for a proper follow-up to Kev Brown's 2005 debut LP "I Do What I Do", but finally he returns with "Homework" - twenty-nine tracks for a grateful audience! It's a partly vocal and partly instrumental album, with many tracks clocking in at under two minutes long. This was an initial standout for me, and while it's tickling my head as though there's a familiar sample, it wouldn't surprise me to find out that everything was played from scratch - Kev certainly has the capability.

The Game ft. Faith Evans : Don't Need Your Love

I've got to be honest - the lead-up to the release of The Game's debut album, "The Documentary" felt like one of the first times I felt as though the industry was really trying to force-feed an artist into the scene. He'd only been rapping for a relatively short time (for that era) before this LP came out, and has to be credited for building his skills in such a short time, but the Dr. Dre co-sign and G-Unit affiliation was of course what put him over the top. He's still active nowadays though, and has absolutely earned his place. Anyway, the first album had two tracks I really enjoyed - "Put You On The Game" and this, a track straight from the heart with Faith Evans blessing the hook. Havoc of Mobb Deep is on production with a beat that isn't what you might expect from him in terms of sound, but is right there at the standard of quality that he'd set.

DJ Cam ft. Cameo : Love Junkee (Dilla Remix)

You may or may not know it, but you cannot deny that this is a serious tune! The original was cool, in a relaxed and organic way, with Cameo an extremely welcome guest to proceedings,  but Dilla turned it into a banger. Incredibly minimal on the surface, but packed with lots of little subtleties if you listen closely enough. If you can hear past that thumping low end! Get yourself a digital copy of both versions, and thank me later.

Zapp : Computer Love

I've said it before, but Zapp were something like fifteen years ahead of the advent of internet dating! This is a stone classic record, sampled and flipped countless times, and one which I'm glad to have enjoyed as a new track when it was released back in 1985! Shirley Murdock features as half of the lead vocal duet alongside Charlie Wilson of The Gap Band, and the great Roger Troutman (RIP), who also wrote the song, comes in on the talkbox. Apparently Charlie Wilson's record label thought this wasn't going to be a hit...I assume much crow has been eaten since! You can find this as a single, on the "The New Zapp IV U" album, and on many compilations.

Onra : Wait A Minute

This needed a bit of additional looping to be long enough to fit here, but it fit so well in terms of sound that it had to be done. It's taken from the new "Nobody Has To Know" album, the instrumental story of a secret relationship.

Sean Price : 60 Bar Dash

Sean P again with a stream of the disrespectful lines we love him for, on a record from relatively early in his solo career - you can find this on the B-side of the "Boom Bye Yeah" 12" single. PF Cuttin is on production, working a break you might know from the first Diamond D album.

De La Soul : The Art Of Getting Jumped

I always enjoyed this one and the 80s Aretha sample that makes up the hook! Underrated but big tune from the "Art Official Intelligence : Mosaic Thump" album, all about those times when the pack strikes and isn't concerned with fighting fair...

Eric B & Rakim : Set 'Em Straight

If you don't have the "Let The Rhythm Hit 'Em" album, then you probably don't know this track - it wasn't a single, it's not a club track, but my goodness, it's dope. The title is perfect, as Rakim takes the time to primarily put other MCs in check, but also correct one or two false rumours of the time, including that that he was supposedly locked up on Rikers Island for selling drugs. Pure heat from the very early 90s.

Blade : Rough It Up

Long before his union with Mark B (RIP) that many of you will know him for, Blade was an MC who absolutely personified the grind and the real DIY attitude. His first LP, "The Lion Goes From Strength To Strength", was in my opinion the original crowd-funded album, and the determined and defiant nature required to undertake such a task in 1991 is evident on this early 12"! He's talking about his real life right down to washing dishes to pay the bills, over a soup of funk cooked up by his own hand alongside the underground legendary engineer/producer "No Sleep" Nigel. I learned about this record when Pete Tong played it as a brand new tune on Radio 1, and it made me a Blade fan for life.

K-Def : Get A Clue

I needed something funky for this spot, and with the help of a bit of looping to make it a suitable length, I found it on K-Def's "Willie Boo Boo" collection, which is one that the beat heads should definitely have in their collections.

Aretha Franklin : Young, Gifted, and Black

What can you say? I thought this soaring anthem would be a great record to end the episode on. Nina Simone was the original writer (with Weldon Irvine) and performer of this song, back in 1969, but just three years later Aretha released this incredible version as the title track of her eighteenth (!) studio album. I certainly remember hearing many versions of this track as a child, and this is the perfect time to bring it out for all of you. Turn up the volume and take in the mastery.

Please remember to support the artists you like! The purpose of putting the podcast out and providing the full tracklist is to try and give some light, so do use the songs on each episode as a starting point to search out more material. If you have Spotify in your country it's a great way to explore, but otherwise there's always Youtube and the like. Seeing your favourite artists live is the best way to put money in their pockets, and buy the vinyl/CDs/downloads of the stuff you like the most!

Check out this episode!