#breaking them in was HELL and wearing white socks was NOT the vibe

[ninkaku]

man ... everything about this is so perfect, the blood on his sock, the scratched paint, the posing the hair the bandages the book on his knee like he's had to stop what he's doing and bend down to fix it ........... the FACE !!!!!!!! FACE CARD !!!!

[angryschnauzer]

Undercover Honeymoon

Summary; Having survived a helicopter crash that killed off the gang you and your senior agent had infiltrated, you hide out from the storm that brought the aircraft down by pretending to be Honeymooners at a boutique hotel... but what will 24 hours with August Walker bring you? Trouble, that’s what, and the best possible kind.

Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader (no race or body type specified)

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut, honestly this is entirely smut, its a crack fic too. Sigh, here goes: face slap, murder, August in a hoodie and grey sweatpants, oral sex (female recieving), blowjob, drunken antics, impared judgement, titty fucking, fingering, unprotected sex, anal sex, inappropriate lube, multiple orgasms, dubious consent, choking, dom-vibes, Sugar Daddy arrangement (but no Daddy kink).

I do not run a tag list, but if you go and follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and hit notifications, you’ll get an alert to any new stories i post. All previous fics can be found on there or on my Ao3

Undercover Honeymoon

The helicopter spiralled out of control, the tall pines looming through the storm of the century rain, screaming filled your ears, unsure if it was the sound of the engines failing or coming from your own lungs. The aircraft made contact with the trees and everything went black.

-

“Agent… AGENT!” a slap across your face sprang you from your unconscious state, your vision blurred and you winced at the sharp pain that shot through your temple as the face before you came into focus.

“Walker?” you muttered; “Can’t blow our cover…”

Strong arms gripped your shoulders;

“Wake UP! Everyone else is dead”

The next hour was surreal. Agent Walker - your superior officer - had pulled you from the wreckage of the helicopter, past the lifeless bodies of the gang you’d infiltrated, some of which had injuries that looked suspiciously like gunshot wounds. Either way you were alive and so was the other undercover agent, and having spent the last four days running bank robberies you were relieved to be rid of the brutal gang.

Agent Walker had half dragged half carried you through the forest, and even though it was the middle of the day, the torrential rain and dark storm clouds above made the way feel like you were travelling at twilight. When you stumbled on some roots he caught you, his arm firmly around your waist;

“C’mon Agent, not much further now…” his voice softer than usual, reassuring even.

“Where’re we going?”

“Out of season ski lodge… should be quiet this time of year, just a couple of wildlife watchers no doubt”

-

What you’d been expecting was a cute little place with checkered curtains and cutesy decor, what you’d arrived at was a luxury boutique hotel. Agent Walker had managed to spin a very convincing tale of your car leaving the highway due to the weather and he’d arrange to get it recovered after the storm so you could continue your ‘honeymoon’. The receptionist had smiled warmly and offered the pair of you the luxury suite, August merrily peeling $100 bills off a stack he’d produced from his pocket, the paper band that held them together from the robbery slyly crumpled up and you quietly picked it up from the floor, a tiny smirk on the corner of his face when he spotted you covering his rare mistake.

-

Ten minutes later you were settled in your shared room, starting to peel yourself out of your soaked boots and clothing as you eyed the enormous bathroom and ultra fluffy robes that were provided.

“I’m going to go to the gift shop…” he announced, breaking the silence; “They do hoodies and stuff, i’ll grab some dry things to change into…”

“Thanks Agent Walker… I’m going to take a bath…”

He nodded quietly, standing at the door;

“It’s August… call me August”

You must have fallen asleep in the bath, as the next thing you know there is an insistent knocking on the bathroom door;

“Honey? Honey, everything ok in there?”

“Y-yes, Sorry, fell asleep…”

“Ok Honey, just got room service here delivering some lunch”

“Thanks Aug… Augie…”

Augie? Where the hell did that come from? You mentally chastised yourself. An hour ago he was your senior agent and all round grumpy supervisor, now he was ‘Augie’? You actually facepalmed yourself before taking a deep breath and climbing out of the bath. A few moments later once you were dry, wearing the fluffy robe you stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, your breath catching in your throat;

“Augie… we have company?”

Agent Walker was standing in the middle of the room in his shirt, underwear and socks, talking to the room service attendant as he tipped the young man;

“Darling, lunch is here, you must be famished” he let a warm smile spread over his face as he turned to the staff member; “We must have a bite to eat… expending lots of energy, it is our honeymoon after all…”

Once he’d ushered the man out of the room he cleared his throat and his expression dropped, his face serious again;

“I got your new attire… it fits more with the location” he motioned for you to follow him to the bed where there were a number of things laid out, however your feet were rooted to the floor; “What?”

“You’re… you’re in your underwear…”

He looked down, almost in shock to discover he was without his cargo pants;

“Yes? And you’re completely naked beneath that fetching white robe” he motioned to a side of the bed where a bunch of things were sat on the pristine white duvet; “So unless you wish to eat lunch having me know you are naked save for a glorified towel with sleeves - and that would be a delightful thought - you may want to get changed whilst i shower”

Without another word he smirked, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief and grabbed a pile of clothing on the bed, before sauntering into the bathroom, leaving you open jawed at both his sassiness and his tight ass in snug jersey boxers.

Turning back to what was laid on the bed you looked over what he’d managed to get in the hotel’s boutique; a daringly short floral summer dress, a hoodie with the Hotel’s logo on, a pack of novelty thong panties also with bears on, and the highest heeled wedge sandals you’d ever seen. Although none of this surprised you, it was after all the kind of hotel where in good weather, the rich and famous could have cocktails on the deck as they overlooked the Rocky mountains, the fact he’d managed to find your exact size in everything was impressive.

Leaving the heels off for now, you pull the panties and dress on, throwing the hoodie on unzipped to cover up a little, before going to investigate the food, realising that you probably hadn’t eaten for close to 24 hours. You were bent over the service trolley scrutinising the various dishes that had been delivered when you heard his voice;

“Huh, didn’t need to buy you a wallet, those tiny panties show off your silken purse beautifully Princess”

Spinning around you gasped, about to give him a piece of your mind but your train of thought stopped like a record scratch. There before you stood Agent August Walker, grey sweats hanging dangerously low on his hips, chest bare as he pulled a khaki green hoodie over his still damp curls. You noticed how his beard was a little beyond stubble, his mustache curling as a small smile tugged as his lips. Your gaze unashamedly ran down the length of his entire body, emphasis on length as it was clear he was without any underwear, and those rumours that were quietly whispered in the ladies room at the Pentagon were looking to be true as to exactly why they called him ‘The Hammer’.

Still holding a cooling French Fry he sauntered over to you before grabbing a sandwich from the platter;

“My apologies… that was inappropriate” he took a bite, before talking with his mouth full; “Been a crazy 24 hours huh?”

“Y-yeah, you could say that… so, what’s the plan?”

Just at that moment an incredible gust of wind rattled the windows to the point you thought they would blow in, the lights overhead flickered before settling back to bright as he answered;

“Eat, Drink, Sleep. We’re stuck here at least overnight. We don’t have any cells or electronics people can trace, and having checked the map this is not the closest civilisation to the crash site so even if people did come looking for us, this isn’t the first place they’d think of… however in this weather the roads are impassable, at least two rivers have breached their banks, we’re basically cut off from the rest of the world here in our own little bubble” he took a bite of sandwich before grinning at you; “So eat up, the bar downstairs is well stocked, dinner is apparently served in about 4 hours, and there’s a game room if you’re up for a round or two of pool…”

-

Giggling you both tumbled into your suite, August flicking the light switch up and down before realising the power had gone out at the exact moment he’d unlocked the door;

“Oooh dark… are you afraid of the dark Princess?”

The pair of you stumbled and turned, pushing the door shut and you found yourself pressed between it and August’s body, his lips finding your neck as he pressed kisses along your jugular, his facial hair leaving behind a trail of tingling skin in its wake;

“Depends who i’m in the dark with…”

He was so close, in the faint last traces of daylight as the storm took hold of the night you could see the outline of his face, how his long eyelashes rested against his cheeks as he closed his eyes, his breath warm on your skin as you were surrounded by his scent, pine soap and single malt whiskey;

“A monster…”

“I was never afraid of monsters…”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, pressing a kiss to your clothed stomach before his hands were beneath the skirt and pulling your novelty panties down;

“Hold your dress up Princess, show me that pretty pussy”

Doing as he told you, you gripped the pretty fabric in your hands as he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, pressing kisses to your inner thighs before his thick fingers parted your folds and he dived in. His mustache and light beard pricked at your sensitive skin, but his tongue and lips soothed your aching core, desperate for attention and dripping with need as he went to town on you. He quickly brought you to orgasm before pushing you on for the next, his fingers now knuckle deep in your velvet walls, curling just right to find that spot that had you dripping, his tongue working against your clit to the point where you had to steady yourself by curling one hand through his soft chestnut curls, riding his face as you cried out his name.

Now over sensitive, you pulled his curls to get him to relent, a grunt of frustration coming from between your thighs;

“Augie… please… too sensitive…”

He quickly stood, lifting you to kiss you roughly, his tongue pushing into your mouth and you could taste yourself on his tongue as he gripped your ass as he carried you across the room before unceremoniously dropping you on the bed;

“Strip” he commanded as he staggered to the bathroom. 

You ignored his request, instead reaching for a bottle of water at the side of the bed, taking a drink from he as he returned holding a bottle;

“August… what’s that?”

He looked down at the bottle, almost surprised he was holding something and blinked a few times before looking back at you;

“Baby oil. Its... Baby oil”

“Why do you have Baby oil?” you asked, already knowing the answer but with a sly streak wanting to get him to admit it

“Because they didn’t sell condoms in the gift shop so i cant fuck your pussy because i can’t check to see if you’re on birth control” he blurted out quickly.

Whatever you had been expecting, it hadn’t been that, and as you coughed on the water you had been about to drink, August got distracted and moved to light the candles that sat on the table in the centre of the room now that the only available light was the tiny light over the sink in the bathroom that was battery operated. You watched as he somehow managed to strike the matches and light the candles even though he was visibly drunk, before returning back to the bed and standing over you;

“Why aren’t you naked?” he frowned at you; “Don’t make me rip that pretty little dress off of you Princess”

Shimmying out of your dress you bit your lip as you watched him watching you, the low light dancing over your body and enough for you to see the obscene bulge barely contained by his sweatpants. He stood at the edge of the bed, towering over you before he took hold of your ankles and roughly pulled you to the edge of the bed before he pulled the grey sweats down and you finally got sight of his legendary hammer;

“Fuck…”

“We’ll get to that Princess, but first, suck”

Taking him in your hands he was hot and throbbing at your touch, his thick shaft patterned with veins, heavy and virile. You pumped your fist, your fingers unable to meet as you worked his uncut dick. You felt his hand on the back of your head, pulling you closer until you had no choice but to open your mouth and take him as deep as you could, gagging as he immediately hit the back of your throat and started to fuck your mouth.

Holding your head in place with both hands he rocked his hips back and forth, groaning as he stretched your lips almost uncomfortably. Soon you had spit running down your chin as he rained down a stream of degrading compliments;

“Cock hungry slut, look at you with my dick in your mouth… does it taste good, Jesus christ your tongue is perfect, yeah do that thing again, fuck, i can feel your throat tight around me…” with a gasp he pulled out, a trail of spittle hanging from your lips to his angry red tip, before he grabbed the baby oil and pushed you back until you were laying flat on the bed;

“Push your tits together, i’m gonna fuck them and cum all over your pretty face”

He climbed on the bed, straddling your lower torso as you found yourself pushing your breasts together. The click of a bottle of baby oil and it was being poured in the valley of your chest, before he settled his dick against the slick skin. He dropped the bottle and with a grunt pulled his hoodie over his head, revealing his glorious chest, covered in dark hair and thicker than you had realised. 

His dick was heavy against your chest as he took your hands in his and showed you how he wanted you to hold your titties for him, rocking his hips bath and forth as his hot flesh slipped through your soft pillows, the angry tip poking out at your neck with each thrust;

“So fucking pretty, gonna cum all over that face… you wanna taste my cum you little slut? Yeah? Cock hungry slut, can’t get enough of my dick, can you?”

You didn’t answer, the lust in his eyes making you drunk with desire, instead you tipped your head to your chest and opened your mouth, letting August’s dick slide into your mouth, the salty tang of his precum hitting your senses.

His thrusts were becoming rough and violent, his hips squeezing your ribcage as he fought back against the urge to cum, but you wanted it, needed it;

“August, will you cum on my face, pretty please?” you batted your eyelashes at him innocently and it was the final straw, and you watched as he threw his head back and thick ropes of his creamy seed spurted over your mouth and cheeks as he groaned so deliciously. On the last spurt you leaned forwards and took his tip into your mouth, gently laving your tongue over the leaking slit, before releasing him softly. August had eased his gasp on your tits, and using his thick finger he scooped the cum from your cheek;

“Open wide Princess”

Sticking your tongue out you sucked the bitter treat from his finger, before he repeated it with the other cheek. Finally swallowing you grinned at him;

“Thank you August”

His hand paused on your cheek, softly cupping it;

“Anything for you Princess… now scoot up the bed, i wanna eat that pussy again whilst i get you ready for my dick”

He swung his leg over so you could wriggle up the bed, and immediately he was laying between your legs, both of your thighs over his shoulders as he started to sloppily eat you out again, except this time his lubed fingers strayed to your asshole and he already had one knuckle deep in your back entrance. You were writhing against his tongue, and although not as accurate with his targets this time now that the alcohol in his system was taking hold, that wide tongue was driving you to heaven as his fingers pulled you down into the dark pits of depravity that hell could only contain. You were uttering almost incomprehensible gibberish, begging for more which he eagerly gave, a second and soon a third finger stretching your ass as he prepared you for what was yet to come. You came with a scream as his wide tongue tormented your pussy until you had to physically pull him by his curls to stop, breathless as you watched him kneel on the bed and grab the baby oil, pouring some onto his hand to lube his dick before smoothing a considerable amount over your asshole and lined up his now raging hard on with your stretched hole. He paused, looking down at you;

“Final chance to back out… do you want me to fuck your ass?”

“Yes… please August, i want your dick in my ass, i want you to cum in my ass, treat me like a dirty anal slut”

With a groan he pushed forwards, slowly breaching your body and you felt the uncomfortable stretch of having a dick slide into your ass. Even with the prep and the oil it still took a while for your body to relax enough for him to push in, but when he eventually was balls deep in your ass you felt so full you were sure you would burst;

“Oh my god… You’re so big…”

“Taking me like a champ Princess, even with the oil your ass is so fucking tight i’m struggling not to blow my load right here and now”

“Fuck my ass August, do it hard, i wanna feel it in the morning…”

With a roar he started to fuck into you, holding himself up on his massive arms as his hips pistoned into you, filling your barren depths as his pubic bone rubbed against your empty pussy and your juices flooded his crotch;

“So fucking wet Princess, leaking all down your ass, its only adding to the lube so i can fuck you harder. Your poor little battered asshole, you’re barely gonna be able to sit tomorrow… apart from back on my dick as we have breakfast, don’t think this is the only time i’m gonna fuck your ass, i’m gonna use this hole until you’re loose and stretched, so i can just bend you over and slide my dick into your ass. Gonna hide those stupid panties i bought you, i want you walking around bare, my cum dripping down your legs where there’s so much inside you, you can barely keep it inside… shame the gift shop didn’t sell plugs, i woulda’ filled you with my load and have you plugged and ready lubed for me to use whenever i pleased…”

August’s dirty talk had you cumming hard, squeezing him tight and yet he fucked you straight through it. Laying limp as he continued to fill your ass he slowed and moved, kneeling on the bed as he moved your legs from either side of his lips until both your feet were over one of his shoulders, pushing and pulling you until he had one arm firmly wrapped around your knees and he could fuck into your ass as he held you like a rag doll. The new position was tighter, deeper, and as you started to pant out with lust his free hand rested on your throat, squeezing carefully but firmly;

“Harder…” you panted out, your head swimming as your airway was restricted, and as he pounded into your ass you were both getting close.

“Gonna cum in your ass, fill you up with a massive load, you want that Princess?”

You tried to say yes, but all that came out was a tiny croak as his massive hand gripped your throat. Before you could even try again your orgasm hit, your eyes rolling back in their sockets as you squirted, your body gripping him so tight he reached his peak, pushing in as deep as he could as he pumped your ass full of his cum.

August released his grip on your neck, pulling out gently as he softly lay your legs on the bed;

“Did so well Princess, such a good little slut…”

You could only hum out a response, your mind as used as your body was.

-

You woke to the sound of soft rain falling against the window, peering out from beneath the duvet you could see that the grey light of morning was filling the room, the storm seemingly blown mostly through with just a persistent rain now dampening the earth. Shifting on the bed you winced, everything was sore, but especially your ass. But then a warm body pressed to your back, a large hand smoothed over your stomach and a familiar voice spoke softly in your ear as stubble brushed against your bare shoulders;

“Rise and shine…”

“Hmmmmm no, i don’t wanna get up” you grumbled

“But…”

“Noooo. If we get up then we’ve got to think about things going back to normal, i just wanna pretend i’m able to stay in a hotel as nice as this when i’m not trying to escape a dangerous gang… too many responsibilities, too much stress… i just want another half hour of being treated like a Princess” you grumbled.

A quiet chuckle came from behind you;

“There’s no reason why we can’t do this again”

Turning in his arms, you looked at August;

“How? You’re my superior Agent, the CIA pushes and pushes and pushes, I never get enough time off to do something like this, If i had known i was literally signing my life away i would never have signed up for the academy. What’s the fucking use of earning a good wage if i can never enjoy it… and its not even that good of a wage to be honest…” you paused and narrowed your gaze; “Have you showered?”

“Yes. And i have a proposition for you…”

“Keep talking…”

August started to move, slowly climbing between your legs and you felt his hard dick resting against your folds, your pussy instinctively growing wet, slowly rubbing against you as he smiled down at you;

“As a senior agent i get a considerably better wage than you do, but i don’t have anyone to share it with, anyone to treat like a Princess and spoil with gifts that they deserve… but i also want someone that will be agreeable to my darkest desires…” he rocked his hips back before slowly parting his thighs, and you felt the nudge of his tip at your soaked pussy; “... someone, a woman i can treat like a Princess but will let me fuck them like a whore… can i fuck your pussy like a whore?”

The gentle nudge of his dick just stretching the ring of muscle that granted access to the heaven between your legs had you begging, pleading to be August’s Whore. He let out a sigh of pleasure as he slowly sank into your pussy, bare and unprotected filling you with his virile shaft;

“You’re my Slutty Princess…taking my dick like a pro”

In that hotel room August Walker became your sugar Daddy, and over room service breakfast you agreed the details of your arrangement as you sat on his lap, his dick in your ass as he fed you strawberries, before he grew impatient and bounced you on his dick until he came in your barren depths. Resting back against his chest, his softening dick still inside you he played with your pussy as he discussed the next step, trying to decide if a trip to an adult store or a jewellery store should be the first stop after returning to DC;

“How about a jewelled plug?” you suggested; “That’s the best of both worlds”

Holding your jaw he turned your head so he could kiss you, pulling away and grinning;

“See, that’s why you’re the perfect Princess, smart and sexy…”

You felt him start to harden in your ass again, wriggling and letting out a giggle as you felt him stretch your insides;

“Over the table or out on the balcony in the rain?” you asked

“Oooh lets do the balcony… its check out time so a few other guests will be able to see my little slut have her battered asshole filled with another load”

There on the balcony that overlooked the serene mountains August filled your ass again, your naked bodies soaked with the rain as he gripped your breasts whilst he fucked you from behind. 

You couldn’t wait to be August’s play thing.

[bbyboybrock--archived]

Happy New Year (Colby Brock Imagine)

Summary: *REQUEST* Can you do one where they are strangers and meet each other during a new years eve party and then end up kissing each other when the ball drops and make it super romantic (not in covid times) pretty please

Written: 2021

Word Count: 2,040

Warnings: Swearing, mention of being roofied, breakup

Masterlist

I sit in the uber, waiting for everyone to get out. Maybe they’ll be too excited about the party to realize that I went home. Maybe I should escape out the other door and disappear into the night. I didn’t even want to come out tonight in the first place. After the year I’ve had, going to an influencer party is the last place I want to attend. Unluckily for me, my best friends were tired of me staying in my apartment all day, every day, and refused to let me ring in the new year alone. Sadly, this meant that I had to go with them to a party because my apartment gave off “depression vibes” and that “wasn’t the move” for 2021. That’s the only thing that I agreed with them on, the vibe thing, not going to a party. 

After nearly a year of quarantine and processing a breakup, my place is a bit of a disaster. If it wasn’t for Janie ambushing me every day last week to help/force me to clean up, my apartment would still look like that cave where the grinch lives— minus Max. There were various alcohol bottles collecting dust on the counter. Not in a “she’s spiraling very rapidly” sort of way, but in a way that you could tell that I had a rough few weeks and the occasional wine night with the gals. There were boxes, mostly from March and April, that I still had yet to throw out after impose buying a bunch of stuff. My closet had turned into my bed because that was the only safe space that wasn’t cluttered with food packaging or tainted by memories that no longer bring me joy. I hadn’t properly seen my floor in months until we pulled back the layer of filth. I forgot that I had carpet. Still, after all that, I managed to make videos every week without fail.

“Y/N, c’mon, you’re not escaping this time. Let’s go so you can forget that asshole and that backstabbing bitch.” Persephone begs as she pulls me out of the car. Once out of the car, she adjusts her long, dark brown curls and smooths out her dress before reconnecting to her boyfriend’s hip. They both match with their gold and black outfits. All of my friends and their significant others match. Ophelia and her girlfriend are wearing silver and blue while Janie and her boyfriend are wearing maroon and gold. They all look like gods and goddesses and here I am wearing green and sliver on my own. Could I be anymore single?

“I’m not going to do it, I was just thinking about it. Don’t worry. I have to get footage for the vlog anyway. Gotta prove that I did something other than stay home this year. My fans are getting concerned.” I pull out my camera and get a few clips of everyone.

“Might as well get some pictures then so people will believe you.”1 Ophelia winks before grabbing me and leading us to what I’m assuming is the designated photo spot. There’s even a line. This is going to be one of those nights.

****

“Aw, fuck…” I mutter to myself as my drink gets knocked out of my hand. This house isn’t big enough for the number of people that were invited. 

“I am so sorry! Here, let me help you.” The guy who bumped into me extends his hand for me to grab. I’m sober enough to know not to take completely random strangers' hands at parties, especially in LA, but I’m also drunk enough to not care. He looks nice enough and I can spot Ophelia and her girlfriend Zoe keeping an eye on me from the corner of the room. I guess everyone is taking turns to make sure I don’t bail.

Against better judgment, I take this beautiful stranger’s hand and let him guide me out of the house to the backyard. It’s less crowded out here, maybe because there are more activities to do inside. Out here, I can actually breathe even though people are smoking and vaping out here. The music is quieter. The music is still loud, but like it would burst your eardrum like the music inside. I get a better look at the guy who brought me out here. He’s not bad looking, and I really hope that’s not the alcohol talking. He has the most relaxing blue eyes I’ve ever seen on a guy. His hair is dark brown with a bit of, I think, purple in the front. He looks as threatening as a pug, but looks can be deceiving.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get any on you did I?” He asks as he scans my body, not in a creepy way. Which is a nice change of pace.

“My feet but they’re just shoes so I don’t care. I call these my going out shoes, they’re made for moments like this so you’re all good. I’m Y/N by the way.” I stick my hand out for him to shake. He looks at it puzzled for a second before it registers and he grabs my hand and gives it a firm shake. 

“Right— I spilled your drink on you and basically kidnapped you from the party and you don’t even know my name. It’s Colby, Colby Brock.” Colby shakes my hand a little too long before quickly pulling it away.

“I’m Y/N, you can get the last name later,” I bite my bottom lip, close my eyes, and mentally slap my head. “That was lame, wasn’t it?”

“It’s fine. It’s a thousand times better than anything I would have come up with. Just blame it on the alcohol.”

We both laugh before Colby singles that he’ll be right back. I watch as Colby disappears a small group of people. I take off my shoes and walk to the pool, dipping my feet in as I sit. The cool night air is soothing me. It’s a nice change from the stale scent of my apartment and the sweaty bodies inside the party. I look up to the night sky. The light pollution makes it impossible to see what stars and constellations are above us. Whatever I’m staring at right now feels peaceful, like they are aligned or not in retrograde. I have no idea what any of that means, but I do know that I’ve been around Ophelia too much.

Colby taps my shoulder when he gets back. He kicks off his shoes and socks before joining me in the pool, not even rolling up his pant legs. He’s going to regret that in a few hours. He hands me an unopened can of Truly. I take it from him and open it myself. At least I know he’s not a creep. He opens a can of White Claw and sips it before breaking the silence.

“I have to be honest, Y/N.” Colby looks forward, taking another sip.

“Oh no, what is it?” I ask nervously.

“The real reason I dropped your drink is because I saw some asshole slip something in your drink.” Colby finally looks at me and I can tell he’s serious.

“Wait…what? Someone tried to… Any you thought the best was to inform me was to spill my drink all over me?” I’m more taken aback by the idea of me almost getting roofied than anything. That would have been the perfect way to end this shit storm of a year.

“In hindsight, I planned to spill your drink. I didn’t mean to get any on you. I’m not a hundred percent sober right now so that was the downside of my plan. Don’t worry about the guy, my friend Corey went after him.”

“Wow— Uh, thank you. I mean it. I don’t think I could have dealt with… that on top of everything else I had to handle this year.” I take a sip of my drink and swing my legs in the water. 

“Do you want to talk about it? I’m not big on talking about serious stuff with strangers, so I’ll understand if you don’t want to. However, we’re both getting hammered, if we aren’t already, so the likely hood of us even remembering this conversation tomorrow let alone who we are slim. So if you need to vent, vent.”

I weigh the pros and cons of actually venting everything to this beautiful stranger. Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but I decided to say fuck it. The year is almost over anyway, might as well get rid of this baggage and start the year fresh.

“Long story short: after months of quarantining together Axl, my boyfriend of 10 years, cheated on me. The entire time we were in quarantine. With my younger sister, who I let quarantine with us so she wouldn’t be alone and not have to fly back home to be with our parents. And to top it all off, I found out about it on my birthday when I walked in on them fucking each other on my bed.” I take a larger sip of my drink before leaning back and staring back at the virtually starless sky.

“Holy fucking shit,” Colby leans back to join me in looking at the sky.

“Yup! We met in preschool and started dating when we were 13. She’s four years younger than us to that’s annoying.” 

“Not to be that guy, but I don’t know what you expected when you started dating a guy named Axl.”

“… You’re right, that is a pretty douchey name. I literally ignored the biggest red flag in my entire life.”

Colby and I laugh again until it fades. I don’t think I’ve laughed this much, like actually laughed, in months. It feels good. Inside the house, the crowd starts counting down from 15. Colby must have heard it too because I watch him turn his head from the corner of my eye. I turn my head to face him. He really does have beautiful eyes. Like the ocean.

“This may be a dumb idea and I know we don’t know each other, but do you want to be my new years kiss?”

“I may regret this in the future, but what the hell.” We both sit up and adjust our clothes.

It might be risky to just kiss a random stranger at midnight, but who cares. We’re most likely not going to be in each other’s lives after tonight anyway. But by God, I could do much worse than kissing Colby. Unless I’m very drunk and the drunk goggles are seriously fucking with me. It’s not like I’m going home with him, my friends won’t let that happen. Maybe after this party, we’ll go our separate ways and never see each other again. Maybe we’ll run into each other in a random store in LA or at some creator convention.

The drunken yells of party-goers inch closer and closer to midnight.

“Three,” Colby whispers, moving his hair out of his face.

“Two,” I take one more small sip before finally setting my drink down. Colby does the same. My heart is beating a loud, steady rhythm in my chest like it’s about to burst.

“One,” We whisper at the same time before slowly leaning in.

As our lips touch, it felt like time had stopped. The beating intense beating in my heart only intensifies the longer our lips stay pressed together. One of Colby’s hands finds my face why the other reaches for my thigh, but I can only focus on how soft his lips are. My stomach starts forming knots as he tries to deepen the kiss. I don’t know if it’s everything I drank tonight coursing through my veins or the fact that I haven’t been kissed in months, but I slightly part my lips. The mixture of Colby’s scent and his body heat wash over me like they’re intoxicating my senses. The kiss ends just as suddenly as it started. We both pull away and just stare at each other in awe.

“L/N,” I breathe, fixing my hair.

“What?” Colby takes another sip of his drink.

“My last name is L/N.”  

[footballfanfictions]

The thrill of the chase - Chapter One

Pairings: Mason Mount/OC, Ben Chilwell/OC

Warnings: None for now but you know me, I like a little smut here and there...

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

"If I have to edit and upload one more post about golden boy, I'm going to scream" I groaned, rubbing my temples. It's not even 10am on Monday morning and I already want to quit my job.

Brianna is sat on a chair, flipping through a magazine opposite my desk, and although her job doesn't require her to be in an office, she spends most of her time here.

"At least your job involves more than just washing and folding sweaty socks with your dad." She mused.

I rolled my eyes at her. She didn't quite get how annoying it is to be a graphic designer and social media manager that is only given the same images to work with over and over. My eyes flick back to my computer screen and the grinning Male on it. He isn't completely unattractive but him being a footballer and what all the praise he has been getting lately must be doing to his ego was enough to put me off. I would go as far as to say I disliked the guy.

"So if you don't like Mason, who do you watch from this window?" Bri was suddenly up on her feet and standing at my office window. It was floor to ceiling and had a good view of the training complex and sliding door access. The office had used to belong to Jose Mourinho both times he had been the manager here, shunning the actual managers office for one where he could see the pitches clearer. The first team trained about 5ft from where she was standing and if one of them were to look up from their drills they would see her staring out at them.

I pulled her away from the window by her arm.

"I don't sit here looking out of the window all the time, I have a job to do"

Occasionally, if I was on a particularly boring phone call I would let my eyes wander over to the window just to see what they were up to, but never watched any one player in particular. I didn't even know who some of the new faces were.

"Personally I think all the ones around our age are really hot -" Bri then started listing the names off and it sounded like she named the entire 23 man squad by the time she was finished.

We were then interrupted by a knock on my office door and Bri's father Dave stuck his head round it and said "sorry to interrupt girls but Bri and I have some kits to organise." He looked more amused than angry, being pretty used to his daughter avoiding her duties by now. "You wouldn't mind bringing us two of those fancy coffees of yours would you Katie?" He asked.

One of the other perks of having Jose's old office was the coffee machine. He had it installed and compared to the muck that came out of the cafeteria's coffee machines, it produced gold.

"Will do." I replied as Bri scurried over to her father and out of the door.

I decided coffee delivery was a good way to get out of having to stare at all the social media channels for a few minutes.

Once the coffees were made I tipped them from the plastic cups into two mugs from the cupboard beneath the machine, it felt nicer to take them to my friend and her dad that way.

It was tricky negotiating opening my office door with each hand occupied by a steaming hot mug, but I managed to nudge it open with a combination of my elbow and the heel of my shoe. I was just praising myself internally for getting the door open when something knocked into the side of me, tipping the contents of the mug into my right hand over whatever it had been.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry."

I looked up from the hallway carpet which I was worried was stained with coffee, into the smiling face of someone wearing a training kit.

"No that was me, shit sorry. Have I just poured boiling hot coffee all over the star striker or something? Marina will kill me." I put both of the mugs down on the floor and ran back into my office, coming back out a few seconds later with a wad of tissues. I tried to dab the stain on his top with the tissues but they were pretty useless and he knew it too because he put his hand over mine to stop me.

"Don't worry about it love, I'm not star striker, I'm just the left back."

He didn’t seem mad about having coffee thrown all over him. Being a footballer I was half expecting him to throw a fit and go all ‘do you know who I am?’. But he didn’t. Instead, he gave me the nicest smile.

“Please let me get you another training shirt at least? I was just heading to the kit room with the coffees.” I balled up the wad of tissues and put them in the bin in the hallway just to the side of us and picked the mug that I hadn’t dropped back up. Brianna would have to go without and it served her right really for avoiding her job for most of the morning.

“Alright then.” He agreed. “Lead the way, I haven’t been here long, so not sure where to go if I’m honest.”

“Oh right yeah, of course.” I pretended like I knew who he was and that he had only just signed, unsure of whether he could actually tell that I had no idea. He probably did know that as I asked if he was the star striker, when in fact he’s a left back.

He followed me silently down the corridor to the kit room. I knocked once before entering.

“Is that you Katie?” Dave called from inside.

“No, it’s Starbucks” I laughed.

He opened the door, a pair of socks slung over his shoulder.

“Cheers love, come in.” He said.

I looked back at the footballer behind me and gestured for him to follow.

“I had a bit of an accident on the way here Dave and ended up pouring Brianna’s all over…” I was about to ask his name when Dave cut me off.

“Ben Chilwell! I was so chuffed that you’d signed. It’s about time we got an English core to this team back. God Katie did do a number on your shirt didn’t she?” he laughed, clapping Ben on the back, before he went over to a stack of the blue and white training tops.

Ben. Yeah he looked like a Ben. Undeniably he was quite handsome. I saw Brianna out of the corner of my eye, she was sat gawping at him with her mouth half open.

I tried to gesture to Brianna that she needed to put her tongue back in her mouth. She seemed to get the hit and straightened the way she was sat, playing it cool. I tried not to laugh.

Dave passed Ben a fresh shirt, and I got a whiff of the freshly laundered scent as it passed in front of me.

“Thank you so much.” Ben said, accepting the new shirt gratefully. “I’ll try my best to watch where I’m going in the future.”

He gave us all a smile and apologetically said that he needed to get back to training before he left the kit room.

“Blimey!” Brianna sighed once he was gone.

“What?” I asked.

“Sorry that you have to hear this dad, but bloody hell he was fit. I’m disappointed that he didn’t want to change here.” we both started laughing and Dave shook his head, muttering a ‘you two’ under his breath before going back to matching the socks up.

“I’m going to go too, do you want to get lunch later Bri?” I asked, hoping that she would want to walk to the shops with me. I needed a few things and I wouldn’t have much time after work to go.

“Only if we’re getting it here because I want to be in the canteen when they all come in from training.” she was gazing toward the tiny window in the kit room dreamily as she spoke.

I rolled my eyes but agreed.

I spent the walk back to my office wondering if Ben Chilwell actually was as fit as Brianna was making him out to be.

Sitting back down at my desk, I logged back into my computer. I had new emails sat in the inbox. One of them happened to be pictures of the new players for me to edit. I had an edit of every player in the team that I had ready for match days. On a match day I would be in charge of adding time stamps for any goals and then uploading the goal scorer’s picture. Recently, more often than not I had been having to upload the same few pictures of Mason Mount and it was getting a bit boring. The fans loved it though, he was our most retweeted player and often I would read the social media comments, all singing his praises. Especially the young women.

———————————————————————————————————

By the time it got to lunchtime I was sick of photoshop. My program wasn’t running very smoothly, probably in need of an update and I had grown more and more frustrated as the morning went on, having to restart it twice.

Brianna came to my office just before 1 and waited for me to finish off my last edit and lock my computer.

“Good morning?” she asked. “Because no offence you look mega stressed and we don’t need that kind of vibe if we are going to be around fit footballers for the next hour.”

I wanted to eye roll for the millionth time but I cut her some slack. She had recently had a really bad break up and her ex had been a proper bellend. Unfortunately for Bri, she didn’t have the greatest amount of luck when it came to guys. Her ex had broken up with her for another girl and had then continued to hook up with Bri, who had stupidly let him until I had convinced her what a bad idea that was. She was clearly feeling really lonely.

“Someone will come along you know, it doesn’t have to be a footballer.” I said, putting my hand on her arm and squeezing reassuringly.

“But Liam supports Chelsea, so how mad would he be if I got off with one of his favourite players? He’d be begging me to take him back then.” she smirked.

“That’s not what you want though right? To get back with him I mean.” I opened the door and we started to walk down the hallway towards the canteen while we chatted.

“No, I just want him to feel the sting of rejection and know how it feels for once.” she shrugged.

When we reached the door to the canteen there was a young lad with mousey brown hair kind of hanging around. His face lit up at the sight of us and I was slightly taken aback by it.

“After you.” He said, opening the door for us. He had a really strong Scottish accent that I hadn’t heard before. I guessed he must be part of the youth team. He’d probably end up out on loan after loan and we’d never see him again.

“That was strange.” I mumbled to Bri.

She shrugged, walking over to the back of the queue to get food. I followed her and grabbed a tray for myself.

I reached into the chilled drinks cabinet and picked out an iced coffee placing it on my tray.

“Glad to see that isn’t a hot coffee!”

Turning my head to the side, I saw that it was Ben again, standing behind me in the queue and then just behind him, my favourite person of all, Mason Mount.

“Yeah I’m on a final warning about spilling hot drinks over footballers so I’m only allowed cold coffees from now on”. I joked.

“I’m sure Benj will keep you warm in the winter.” Mason piped up.

I tried not to curse under my breath that he was butting into our conversation.

“Mate.” Ben said to Mason, shaking his head.

“What? she is fitter than you said.” Mason bantered back, looking at me rather than Ben.

“Thanks but I don’t need validation from you.” I bantered back, before moving along to the next chiller and picking out a caesar salad and an apple.

I heard the word “feisty” from behind me, but couldn’t tell which one of them had said it as I caught Brianna up in the queue.

She gave me a puzzled look and I shrugged, simply mouthing the word ‘boys’.

As employees we didn’t have to pay for any of our food which was a nice perk of the job and saved me a lot of money in eating out and packed lunches.

We took our food over to one of the tables that we usually sat at whenever we used the canteen and we were joined as usual by some of the other members of support staff.

Brianna was filling them in on my mishap with the coffee that morning while I scrolled through twitter on my phone. I liked to check how our social media platforms looked from the perspective fo the intended audience.

“You’re such a workaholic” Bri scolded me.

I looked up and apologised, tucking my phone away into my pocket.

“You two are polar opposites” Jane, one of the physios said. “I do agree with Brianna to an extent about some of the new faces. If I were a few years younger…”

Jane was a bit like our work mother. She was in her mid 50s and happily married with two teenage boys of her own to contend with. Because she had never had any daughters, she took particular care of me and Bri and loved to join in with our girl talk.

“I don’t think it would be worth the hassle personally” I shrugged.

Jane grinned. “You’re so sensible Katie, and probably right. Young men with too much fame and money probably don’t make the best partners. I tried to say that about my Martin too, back in the day. He was in the army and you know what they say about them!”

We both looked at her waiting for her to give us the answer.

“You know, a girl in every base town.” she laughed. “I tamed him though. Maybe don’t write them off completely.”

I wasn’t sure that I wanted to attempt to find a partner at all. I had been single since things that fallen apart with my ex when we both left uni. At uni we had a lot more time for each other, despite the different schedules and studying. When I had started working for Chelsea I put everything that I had into my job, desperately wanting to make a good impression. Hundreds of people had applied for the position and I wanted to make them feel like they had made the right choice in hiring me. So long days in the office turned into long days and evenings in the office, especially when Chelsea had late kick offs. I just found it easier to be in my office with the radio commentary on, sending out the tweets as the goals went in.

“Katie, are you listening? You zoned out a bit again.” Jane said, waving her hand in front of my face.

“Sorry just thinking about my to do list” I mumbled, trying not to admit to them that I had been thinking about Rory again. Sometimes it isn’t the person that you miss, just the feeling of having someone.

“I was just making you aware that are three young men constantly looking over here.” she said, trying to keep her voice low.

I was curious so I looked, there were a few of them sat at the furthest table, but none of them were looking in our direction.

“Who?” I asked.

“Oh I don’t know the names, I just deal with the injuries.” she shrugged.

“Well that’s helpful then” Bri said, pouting. “I wanted to know which ones fancied me so that I could target my flirting.”

———————————————————————————————————

Ben

“Go and talk to her.” Mason encouraged me.

I shook my head, trying to focus on eating my food, although I hadn’t really been able to. I had just been using my fork to move it around my plate aimlessly.

“No.” I mumbled. “I barely even know the girl. She spilt her coffee on me then got me another training shirt.”

“Oh yeah.” Mason smirked. “Did she help you put it on too?”

“She got you a new training shirt?” It was Billy that spoke now. He looked really nervous and was pretty much doing the same as me, forking his food around rather than actually eating it.

“Yeah from that room with all the kits in” I responded.

“Oh.” he said quietly, looking down.

I caught on then. Billy had been ahead of us coming off the training pitch and I had seen him wait and then open the door for the girls with a big grin on his face. I had thought he was just being polite, but I now realised it was more than that. He had waited on purpose and obviously liked one of them.

“It was the brunette one. The little blonde was in the room too but it wasn’t here that me and Mase were talking about” as I explained I watched Billy brighten back up again. It was the other one that he fancied, not Katie, and for some reason I was relieved.

Mason caught on then too.

“Hang on, do you like that one or something? The kit man’s daughter?” Mason asked him.

He had raised his voice a bit in excitement so I gestured for him to speak quieter.

“Yeah only for the last few years, you know.” Billy responded, blushing a bit.

Mason would probably take the piss out of him for the rest of the afternoon and god forbid if Tammy or Jorginho found out, poor Billy would absolutely never hear the end of it.

“Have you ever tried to tell her?” I asked him.

“Only once, but I chickened out because I heard she had a fella” he shrugged.

“When was that?” I pressed.

“Couple of years ago, but then I kept being sent out on loan so couldnae’ really have asked her out any way” he sighed and put his fork down at the side of his plate.

I decided then that I was going to make it my mission to get Billy to ask that girl out. The worst she could say was no and he wouldn’t be any worse off than he was now. I could even use it to my advantage and casually speak to Katie about the two of them.

I looked over at her table again, she looked a little sad.

I had promised myself that I would focus on my career for a bit and not get involved with any girls for a bit, but here I was on day bloody one simping over a girl I’d only just met. I cursed myself for it.

[sohotthateveryonedied]

Always By Your Side

Read here on AO3!

Summary: 

The kid looks horrible, full offense. Tim is wearing one of Dick’s old Hudson University sweatshirts which just about swallows him, hanging a full inch over where his fingertips end. His hair is tied up in the messiest bun Jason has ever seen, and there’s a purple welt on his chin big enough that a helicopter could use it for a landing pad. His lip is swollen, blood still crusted over where Tim’s teeth must have torn it open on impact. Big yikes.

“If you’re here to raid my fridge, then you already know it’s bad pickings. I haven’t been shopping in weeks.”

“That’s not why I’m here, actually.” Not the only reason, at least. Multitasking is key when you’re a semi-contract killer who needs Sundays free for tea time with Alfred.

(Disclaimer: THIS IS THE ONLY BAD PARENT!BRUCE FIC I WILL EVER WRITE OKAY I SWEAR I ALWAYS AVOID THOSE KINDS OF FICS BUT I’M SALTY THAT THEY NEVER ADDRESSED BRUCE PUNCHING TIM IN COMICS SO I HAD TO DO IT MYSELF.)

It doesn’t take long to break into Tim’s apartment. Record time, actually. In less than ten minutes Jason is sliding up the window to Tim’s kitchen and climbing over the sill, easy peasy. He should really talk to the replacement about his lack of security against fellow batkids. “Timbo?” he calls, closing the window and re-locking it. “You here?” He’d better have the right place. It’s so hard keeping track of everyone’s safehouses these days, and Jason is not eager for a repeat of what happened the last time he got it wrong. That old lady looked scared to death when Jason crawled in through the air duct, covered in blood that was only thirty percent his own. (The lady was super understanding when he explained the situation. She even fixed up his stab wound with her sewing kit and made him some freshly squeezed lemonade. Jason drops by every couple of weeks to check in on her and her cats.) But Tim is the priority now. “Come out, come out, you little shit.” Jason crosses the kitchen toward the living room, then stops and backtracks. He opens the fridge for a beer, momentarily forgetting that the kid is a hopeless health nut. Jason resigns himself to a package of deli ham only two days past the expiration date. It smells fine, so it must be safe to eat, right? Of all Tim’s apartments, this one is by and far the nicest, barring the expired deli meats and un-Jason-proof security system. The living room is pristine with white sofas and a glass coffee table, making the whole setup vibe more like a hotel suite than an actual home. Definitely not Jason-proof. He sits right in the middle of the fancy sofa, kicking off his boots. “If you get mud on my carpet, you’re cleaning it up.”

Jason looks up at Tim in the doorway and grins. “Don’t I always?” The kid looks horrible, full offense. Tim is wearing one of Dick’s old Hudson University sweatshirts which just about swallows him, hanging a full inch over where his fingertips end. His hair is tied up in the messiest bun Jason has ever seen, and there’s a purple welt on his chin big enough that a helicopter could use it for a landing pad. His lip is swollen, blood still crusted over where Tim’s teeth must have torn it open on impact. Big yikes. “If you’re here to raid my fridge, then you already know it’s bad pickings. I haven’t been shopping in weeks.” “That’s not why I’m here, actually.” Not the only reason, at least. Multitasking is key when you’re a contract killer who needs Sundays free for tea time with Alfred. “Just leave whatever data you have here and I’ll look it over in the morning.” “Again, not why I’m here.” “Then can you just tell me whatever it is so I can go back to bed?” It’s five in the afternoon. “Well, jeez, kid. You don’t have to rush me out the door.” Tim’s eyes flit to the ground and stay there, giving the impression of a puppy put in his place. “Sorry.” Jason eyes Tim carefully. He takes in the timid stance, the way Tim wrings and twists the sleeve of his sweatshirt until it’s stretched beyond saving. He clearly hasn’t showered or even bothered tending to his face, like keeping the wound fresh is his way of punishing himself. “You doing okay?” “Fine, why?” “Because you look like shit, that’s why.” “It’s been a hectic few days. I’ve been meaning to crash for hours.” “How about that bruise you got there? Looks nasty.” Tim touches the bruise as if he forgot it was there, biting back a wince. “It’s fine. I got it on patrol and haven’t gotten around to icing it yet.” “Must have been a big guy to do that kind of damage.” Tim’s eyes narrow. Jason eats his ham, a picture of innocence. “If you’re trying to get me to circle around and ask you about your problems, then I’m sorry, but I’m really not in the mood to play therapist tonight. You can stay here as long as you want, but I’m going to bed.” He turns and starts toward his bedroom. “You’re really not going to tell me who gave you that bruise?” Tim stops, a shudder running down his spine. He doesn’t turn, not yet. “Did Barbara tell you?” “I can’t believe you didn’t. What, did you think this would all go away if you just kept quiet about it?” “There’s nothing to talk about. Nothing happened.” “My ass nothing happened. Bruce hit you last night. He hit you over nothing.” Tim whirls around, fists clenched. “So? I get hit all the time. Am I supposed to have a breakdown every time someone punches me?” “Getting hit by a criminal and getting hit by your dad are not the same thing, and you know it.” “I’m a big boy, Jason. I can handle it.” Jason leans forward, forgetting all about his rancid ham. “You realize how fucked up this is, right?” “Oh, give me a break—” “Hey. The adult is talking now. Our father nearly shattered your jaw a few hours ago and here you are, hiding from him like it was your fault.” Not that Jason blames him for not wanting to be near the manor after what happened; he wouldn’t either if he were in Tim’s place. Hell, he was in Tim’s place. “You weren’t there, Jay. You have no idea what happened.” “Oh, yeah? Enlighten me, then. What gives that asshole the right to put his hands on you?” “The fact that I shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place! Bruce was dealing with enough as it was without me making it worse.” “Only if you call trying to help someone ‘making things worse.’ From what Babs told me, you didn’t do Jack shit to deserve what he did.” “I don’t care what Barbara told you. I was there, I know what I did wrong, and I’ve accepted that.” “Except you did nothing wrong.” “You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Tim’s voice is raised, his eyes narrowed. “You didn’t see how upset Bruce was. He wasn’t himself. I should have seen that and backed off, but I didn’t. He was hurting and angry, and...I provoked him. It was my own fault.” “Do you have any idea how insane you sound? You tried to help him, and he punched you in the face for it. I know you’ve dealt with this exact situation a million times, you know the protocol.” Tim rolls his eyes. “This is completely different.” “Why? Because you’re not a minor? Because Bruce isn’t your father? Or maybe because you threw the first punch? Oh, wait. None of those are fucking true.” “What do you want from me? Do you want me to start crying, call up child services and tell them that my adoptive father gave me a little bruise because I was being insubordinate while we were all dressed as vigilantes? Will that magically ease your conscience?” “I want you to stop fucking covering for him,” Jason says. “You know that there’s no excuse for a parent hurting their child.” “I’m not a child!” “Sorry to break it to you, pal, but you fucking are! And Bruce? He’s your father. It doesn’t matter if you’re twelve or seventeen or thirty—his job is to be a fucking parent to you. And instead he punched you so hard Babs said you were unconscious for a good thirty seconds.” Tim crosses his arms and leans on the wall. He doesn’t try to come closer or sit on any of the furniture, keeping his distance from Jason. “You’re blowing this way out of proportion. Maybe those rules apply to normal people, but we’re different. Violence and anger, that’s how this family communicates. Hell, Bruce and I spar all the time and you’ve never lectured me about it being abuse until now.” Jason runs a hand over his face, thoroughly done with this shit. “I can’t believe you’re still trying to rationalize this.” “Because it’s a rational thing!” “Is it?” “Yes.” “Would you ever hit him?” “It wouldn’t be the first time.” “No, I’m not talking sparring or some stupid teenage angst-fueled outburst. I’m asking if you, Tim Drake, would ever intentionally hurt Bruce in a way that would do damage. Even if he did something shitty to deserve it. Would you hurt him?” Tim hesitates. He bites his swollen lip. “I might. If I were really angry.” “We both know that’s bullshit. The guy’s got a hundred pounds on you and your hand would probably shatter if you tried to sock him in the face, but you still wouldn’t hurt him.” “So?” “So, he knows you’re a twig and he beat the shit out of you anyway. That’s not fucking okay.” “It wasn’t on purpose,” Tim says, but he’s losing momentum by the second. He looks years too tired for this conversation as it is. “It was...instinct. A spur-of-the-moment reaction. It’s not—I mean, he’s Bruce. He would never hurt us intentionally.” “He already did.” “And I’m perfectly fine. It’s not like he punched Damian or Cass, just me. He knew I could take it, and he was right. I’m fine. This bruise will heal up in a couple days, and then we can all forget it ever happened.” “I won’t.” “Why not? Why are you being so goddamn uptight about this? It has nothing to do with you, anyway.” Jason can feel his eyes smolder Lazarus green as he surges forward and hisses, “It has everything to do with me.” Tim flinches. It’s not major, barely even counts as a real flinch, but it happens. Tim flinches away from Jason, and the anger dissipates as quickly as it came. Jesus, what did Bruce do to this kid? Jason sits back, takes a breath, tries to make his voice gentler. “Bruce hurt me too, okay?” Tim’s expression doesn’t change but for a twinge of his eyebrows. “It was a misunderstanding, but...he hurt me. Badly. I was out of commission for two fucking months. Probably would have died if it hadn’t been for Roy.” That gets a reaction. Tim’s mouth drops open and he flounders for a moment, like he can’t put the two things together. Bruce attacking Jason? No results. Does not compute. “What—why would he do that?” “It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that, as irritating as you are, you don’t deserve to be treated like that.” Like he has any right to be saying this. Tim still has the scar on his neck from when Jason’s brains were made of gruel. “Not by a parent. Not by someone you’re supposed to trust. So this is me looking out for you, alright?” Jason reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulls out a crumpled paper. “I know you’ve got your own setup for when you need time away from the manor, but these are all of my addresses and phone numbers. If something like this happens again, I want you to call me.” Tim takes the paper but protests, “It’s okay, really. I don’t need—” “Yeah, yeah, you don’t need to be coddled. I get it. But keep it anyway. And if you start feeling unsafe at the manor, you call me and I’ll take care of it. I already gave Damian, Cass, and Duke copies too. Just...look out for yourself, alright? All of you. Look out for each other.” Tim folds up the paper and slips it into his back pocket. “What about you?” “The old man and I are…” That’s a whole other can of worms Jason really isn’t in the mood to unpack right now. “It’s still rocky between us. I’m keeping my distance. But for you guys, I don’t care. If one of you needs help, I’ll be there. Got it?” Tim blinks, and lucky for him, Jason is courteous enough not to make fun of the tears he is clearly holding back. “Thanks, Jay.”

[noir0neko]

Crime and Creation | m

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 15.5k

Summary: The Crow Club. One of the University of Ketterdam’s secret societies aimed at recruiting the finest students who want a taste of more than just lectures. Meet Kaz, the founder and president, whose self-made millions come from his dealings on Wall Street. Nina, a girl who is aching for more than the fortune and husband her family has laid out for her. Inej, whose observant nature and ability to be invisible makes her the perfect spy. Jesper, a childhood friend of Kaz’s who can’t resist getting into a little trouble joined by his boyfriend, Wylan, son of the University dean. And Cataleya, an Upper West side journalism major who has a special way with words. When Kaz finds out the Crow Club’s dealings have been infiltrated by an unknown rival, his crew enlists the help of outsiders to ruin reputations, throw lavish parties, and do what the New York City Crows do best: heist. Until something goes very wrong. 

Characters: Cataleya (OC), Kaz Brekker, Inej Ghafa, Jesper Fahey, Wylan Van Eck, Nina Zenik, Alina Starkov, Zoya Nazyalensky, Nikolai Lantsov, Aleksander Morosova and honorable Leoni mention.

Warnings: Death. Highly detailed emotion and inner thoughts that have memories of parental abuse and self harm, nothing very detailed. Mentions of murder, drugs, and illegal activity. General debauchery and scheming. Some romance, mostly implied, light kissing, fondling, and the use of expletives.

A/N: You do not need to have read any of the books in this world to understand this fic! I spent so much time and poured my heart and soul into this story and the development of my original character and building these characters into a new, modern world. Please read it and give me your thoughts! This piece was written for the @grishaversebigbang. Also, check out the art work made for my fic by these amazing artists: @corpsecro, @nantosuelta-art, @discountscoobygang, @lady-ekatherina-de-mika and @mikanviola! It is such an honor to be a part of something like this and I had so much fun! I encourage anyone and everyone to read the Six of Crows/Shadow and Bone series by Leigh Bardugo! It’ll be on Netflix soon!

I used to love cats. 

Until one showed up dead on my window sill. 

I’m still not sure how it got there. Perhaps it climbed the fire escape and lept from the metal railing onto the ledge. But once the animal had the orange pollen and poisonous petals of the lilies sticking out of my window in its mouth, it was only a matter of time before it died. I had the good sense to keep my crying quiet, at eleven years old, so that my father would not stumble in to yell or push the cat hundreds of feet to the street below. I did not know he was already gone. That I was alone.

I hid the orange tabby in my backpack and went to bury her in the backyard garden the next chance I got. 

But when I used my small children’s shovel to dig into the earth, soft from the recent rain, it wasn’t what I went to bury that changed my life. But what was already buried there. And right then, with my cheeks stained with tears and hands shaking with anger, I swore to never stop hunting. To never stop chasing the people who ruined me. 

That was one promise I kept. 

I haven’t kept many others. 

Sitting in the foyer with the rest of the Crows, wind coming in from the autumn afternoon and the scent of freshly made waffles mixing with dusty books, I don’t know if I can keep this one either. Kaz looks at me pointedly, waiting for me to answer. I glance at all of them, Nina, Inej, Jesper, and Wylan. It is rare that anyone outright refuses Kaz on anything, especially not with his position or to risk the weight of his disapproval. Nina once told Kaz to go to Hell and she paid for it with two weeks of silence and banishment from the Crow Library until she relented to do her assignment. 

Jesper clears his throat, trying to relieve the awkward vibe getting thicker with each passing moment of silence. I can’t help but allow a small smile to reach my lips, grateful for him trying to save me from the tension that I could slice with a knife. Swallowing and meeting Kaz’s dark eyes, I sigh. 

“Fine,” I relent. “I’m in.” 

The strain dissolves from the space and the other Crows break into smiles and start to chatter. Relaxing back in my chair, I watch Inej spring up and take her place next to Kaz, her lithe frame complimenting his perfectly. Kaz moves around his large oak desk, gaze fixated on something in the distance. Definitely scheming face. Best to wait it out until he speaks first.

The Crow Library is lit with the afternoon sunlight, warming the leather of our chairs and illuminating the dust gathering along the rows of books. Shelves line the walls beneath the window, behind Kaz’s study area, and underneath the stairwell, which leads to an upstairs reading room and parlor area. Nobody has bothered to read any of the books, weathered and dusted with age, but they lend the room an air of sophistication and a homey comforting smell. Kaz’s desk is littered with papers, the dark wood barely visible beneath the jumble of stock investment deals, new heists, and class assignments waiting to be done. On the front face of the desk, a large crow is carved into the surface, black and red paint covering the indentations in the wood. 

Inej puts a tender hand on Kaz’s forearm, her lips moving quickly and silently, as if whispering to him. Inej has her hair down today, an unusual occurrence from her braided coil, and the dark strands spill like silky oil over her shoulders and her waist. She must have come from the studio, sweat still gleaming on her brow and black leotard disappearing beneath dark navy leggings. Her lithe frame seems to be floating, always so modest and reserved, yet her brown eyes are intuitive and unrelenting as she studies Kaz. She has been with him since the founding of the Crow Club, never missing a beat between helping him, chastising him, watching out for him, and caring for herself all the same. It’s no wonder she’s been able to double major in both Global History and Ballet, two completely different worlds, but complimenting each other perfectly for Inej. 

And Kaz. What an interesting man he’s proven to be. 

Business major. Self made millionaire. First student to be admitted into the University of Ketterdam - UOK for short, without a full high school education. A man full of mysteries. 

Jesper moves to perch himself on the arm of Wylan’s chair and adjusts his Queen shirt, the old black leather groaning under his weight. Jesper says something quietly to his boyfriend before running a hand through Wylan’s curly red hair and kissing his pale pert nose. Jesper has his hair buzzed short to his scalp, dark arms lean with muscle and legs long, his jeans riding up at the ankles to reveal bright yellow socks and black high tops. Wylan releases a wide smile, looking up at Jesper with untamed admiration. Wylan has on a pair of pressed dark wash jeans, his collared shirt maroon red with small white dots, accentuating his bright hair and pale skin. 

It just reminds me of blood. 

They are quite a pair. Wylan, being the son of the University dean and Jesper, one of the most intelligent and talented students in the Economics department. He is studying Game Theory, an extremely intense and complicated subject full of strategy, confidence, and risk: coincidentally Jesper’s three favorite words. 

Wylan, much to his father’s chagrin, is an Art History student with a hidden passion for chemistry and physics. I often find him gazing at the long since forgotten portraits on the walls of the Crow Library upstairs, reminiscing of a different time, of discovery and excitement. Of different people with different secrets. Wylan usually seems lost in thought, often internally reflecting rather than being outwardly vocal like the rest of the Crows. He is another mystery, especially because of the tenuous relationship he has with his father. 

Jesper’s brown skin glimmers in the sun, inclining his eyebrows in mischief before taking a toffee from the bowl next to him and flinging it across Wylan’s chair to Nina. 

Her tongue flicks out as it hits her arm, thick lips smirking before unwrapping the plastic wrapper and popping the candy in her mouth. Nina is one of the only Crows who was forced into attending the University of Ketterdam. Her parents, with her father being an extremely rich and powerful Russian politician and her mother, an aristocratic woman supposedly descending from ancient Russian royalty, had been raising Nina to marry a high ranking Scandinavian commander since she was eleven. The marriage was supposed to secure better relations between the two nations, as well as provide Nina with a life of security, wealth, and status for her and her children. All her parents want for her. 

In true Nina fashion, this is unacceptable. 

Her family said the marriage could wait if she wanted to go to school and get a degree, which may better serve her husband and their families prestige in the future. Seeing no other viable option, especially because she did not want to marry a “white haired barbarian” as she called her husband-to-be, she enrolled in a prestigious university as far away from Russia as she could get. Despite her parents beliefs that she is a culinary student - “because a good wife knows how to cook”, according to her parents, Nina has been studying Performing Arts and Theatre. A perfect major to fit her personality and her beauty, with her tall, curvy frame and piercing green eyes. Today, she is wearing an olive bodysuit, the neck low cutting and her legs hugged by a pair of black flare jeans. Casual and entrancing. Her style seems to change depending on her mood, from modest foreigner to vivacious party girl to preppy student. New each day. 

“We will need others,” Kaz mumbles to Inej, furrowing his dark eyebrows in thought. 

I have only been with the Crows for a few months, but I already know how unusual that is. Kaz rarely asks for help, especially from those outside of the Crow Club. But whatever he has planned seems to be a lot more serious than the other jobs, more personal than merely ousting insider trading, or infiltrating various museums and mansions, or spying on the Upper East and West Side elite to gain intel and use it to our advantage. 

Each of us has a unique purpose to Kaz. His investments. And while it has been easier to see where the others’ talents fit in, I am still baffled by my own. I adjust the sleeves of my lavender shirt, the ruffled material smooth on my shoulders. 

I had known the Crow Club existed before I set foot on campus. As a journalism major, secrets have always intrigued me. Not just the secrets. The challenge of uncovering them, of working from the inside to reveal some of the deepest and darkest parts of humanity. I had always heard whispers of the club amongst the Upper West side elite, whispers about Kaz Brekker and his Crows. Always watching. Always ready to catch you red-handed. But I didn’t even need to go out of my way to find the Crow Club.

Kaz found me first. Called me an asset. He and Inej invited me to join starting the summer before my second term. I have surprised myself by warming up to the rest of the Crows so quickly, even the ones who aren’t active members and are just extra recruits for Kaz to call if he needs them. We all mean something here, we all have a purpose, more than what the world is trying to force upon us.  

A family. Especially since most of ours are broken or nonexistent. 

After a few minutes of waiting, Kaz snaps to attention and we follow suit, like trained soldiers, eager for him to share whatever small slice of his plan that he decides to. His crisp suit is pure black, a small crow brooch pinned to his lapel. The shaved hair on the side of his head is beginning to grow out, the top slicked back with a deep, oaky smelling gel. He always looks like he is dressed for a business meeting, even when it’s just us. Inej always muses that there is an irony to it, but how, I don’t know. I suppose everything is business to Kaz. 

“Okay,” he begins, voice gruff and deep. “This is what we’ll do.” 

----

Nina and I weave our way through the busy streets, blessing the cool wind as it kisses our faces in the dying summer heat. Her hair is down, the sun illuminating the many shades of brown running through the waves and her dress is high on her thighs, the red cotton fabric hugging the curves of her waist. Being in America has done wonders for Nina, brightened her complexion, improved her spirit, and turned her from a wafer-thin girl to a full-bodied, thick thighed woman. Everywhere she goes, people stare. She is otherworldly, like a saint on Earth. 

“Where did Kaz send us this time?” Nina complains, sucking the dripping strawberry ice cream from her fingers before chucking the cone into a nearby trash. 

“He didn’t,” I grin, dodging a guy with suspicious looking flyers on the sidewalk. “He gave us his card and very vague instructions to find a wardrobe for the event.” 

Nina’s eyes sparkle, cleaning off the rest of her fingers before she entwines her elbow in mine. New York City seems to breathe with our every step, the wind moving, the heat unfurling, and the trees swaying. Taxis and cars whiz by on the avenue, the honking of horns and the laughter of tourists crossing into Central Park filling the air. Everything about New York is alive, even the concrete holds stories it’s waiting to tell. 

“Then let’s go down Fifth,” Nina begins, mischief in her tone. “I know a few places.” 

“I bet you do,” I flash her a smile, crossing the street so we walk parallel to the park. 

We trek down the street, stopping into a macaron shop in the Plaza Hotel to get a bright blue bag full of sweets for us to eat on our journey. Nina and I are bouncing on our heels, excited to have a day to ourselves, away from the Crow Club and the University and being responsible for buying dresses for not only ourselves, but for Inej, Alina, and Zoya, as well. 

Kaz had three extra students brought in for this assignment, all a part of the secret network of Crows that don’t sit in regular meetings. First is Alina, who has an international reputation for rebuilding schools and orphanages across the world since she was thirteen, and who has been a Crow since her first step onto campus. She transferred here as a graduate student from some extremely prestigious school in California to complete her PhD and teaching credentials. Every time I have seen Alina, she has been so kind and so helpful, always eager to teach, serve, and build in any way she can. It’s beyond me why she wants to be a part of these operations. Maybe every good girl has a naughty streak. 

Zoya, on the other hand, seems like the opposite of Alina. A close friend, confidant, and suspected girlfriend, of another one of Kaz’s network of Crows, Zoya is an overly intelligent, intimidating, and obscenely beautiful law student. Her hair is always smooth, a jet black slate against her back and her eyes are always piercing, judging and observing in their ice blue. Her skin always looks perfectly tanned, a deep brown that makes the pink of her lips more enticing. Her grades are pristine, her ability to argue is unparalleled, and if there were ever a force to be reckoned with, it is her. It’s a lot more obvious to understand why she agreed to join the Crows, for the prestige, the knowledge, the power. But truly puzzling, is her relationship with Nikolai. 

Nikolai, or Nik, as I like to call him, is one of the best - and funniest, Crows. Clever, self-deprecating, friendly, handsome, the list goes on. His blonde hair is a shaggy mop of artsy goodness, his skin is creamy, his style completely unmatched and his wealth bottomless. Nik and Kaz are always butting heads; most of the time it’s the only comedic relief the Crow Club has when they’re together. Nik met Zoya during undergrad, in a political science course, where apparently their discussions were lively enough to earn them A’s and lengthy enough to last entire class sessions. Nik has one of those family names that are revered in every elite social circle, making him an obvious addition for Kaz’s team and from what I have gleaned from Nik, he decided to join the Crows to give him something interesting to do besides follow in his father’s footsteps. I wish I wanted to be a Crow out of boredom. 

“God,” Nina groans, shoving her phone back into her five thousand dollar purse. “If I get one more message from my parents asking if I’ve heard from that white-haired, rule-following, stick-up-his-ass, Scandinavian inbred, I am going to drown my phone in the Hudson River.” 

“Wow,” I clap for her, avoiding the incredulous gapes of tourists at her language. “So many adjectives and I don’t even think you’ve ever said his name.”

A man opens up the glass doors to Bergdorf Goodman’s, where cool air and white marble greet us. Immediately, we drift to the dress racks, combing through all of the latest trends.

“Matthias,” she almost growls. “His letters are so proper, telling me that he has heard of my exemplary womanly skills from my parents. That he would delight to see my drawings and sewing and hear me play the piano. It’s ridiculous. I don’t do any of those things by choice.” 

I stifle a laugh. “He seems very… traditional.” 

“Seems?” She throws her hands up, shoving a silk dress back onto the rack with too much force. “He is the definition of the word! And worst of all, he’s attractive! He has snow white hair and is built like one of those huge wrestler guys that people watch on TV.” 

“Why is that a problem?” 

“Because his complete lack of competence makes him a barbarian! A man who thinks the perfect wife is silent and docile. He’s going to have another thing coming when I show up.” 

“He comes from old money in an old country,” I begin, wondering whether I need to tread lightly. “Don’t you think he’s just taught to think that way?” 

She sighs, holding up a stunning evergreen gown against her figure. “I know he is. That’s what’s even worse. I know that everyone where he is from has been taught those values. So even if he came to love me, to understand me, no one on the outside would. His station, his reputation, his fortune, all of it is dependent on how I perform. How I reflect him.” 

“That doesn’t seem fair,” I muse, holding out another red silk dress for her. 

“Money isn’t fair.” 

I blink, surprised at her words. Money is just an object. It has no preference, no deference, no opinions. But I guess the idea of money is more important and tangible than the paper itself. Money has value and expectations beyond the faces staring back at you from the press. It expects manners, it breeds tradition and hierarchy and perfect wives who aren’t allowed to make any. I wonder if Nina will end up bending to those wills, to the one’s she has been raised to. America is such a different place, but I guess money everywhere is the same. It controls you. 

“This.” 

I turn around, face breaking out into a huge smile at the dress Nina is holding. It is a deep purple, with sheer shoulder sleeves and a deep plunging neckline covered in diamond flowers. The waist is cinched, belted by more glittering gems, before it falls and flows in layers of purple silk and satin to the floor, flowers and vines curling around the skirt. Nina’s hair and eyes and skin would look angelic in the dress. I nod fervently, unable to cap my smile as she waves over an employee to open the dressing room. 

While in the dressing rooms, Nina and I talk through the divider. 

“Where was Wylan off to earlier?” I ask, taking off my clothes and folding them neatly on the small leather bench. “He never really seems to be around these days.” 

“Yeah,” Nina says, with a grunt. “He’s been trying to rekindle his relationship with his father, studying a lot. You know, the usual dysfunctional family stuff.” 

I laugh. “My family wasn’t dysfunctional in that way.” 

“I would say you were lucky,” Nina begins and I can hear her zipper up as mine does. “But I know you weren’t.” 

At the same time, we step out of the dressing room, identical smiles breaking open our faces before we clasp our hands together and squeal with happiness. The dresses look perfect, we look perfect, everything looks perfect. 

And now we just have to find dresses for Alina and Zoya. 

With these price tags, Kaz is going to regret lending us his credit card. 

----

“Something Kaz Brekker doesn’t know how to do,” I tease a few days later,“drive.” 

He shoots me a healthy side glare, uncurling his fingers from around the steering wheel. The sun is shining through the left side of the car, illuminating his high cheeks and arched brow bones with dazzling light. If Kaz weren’t so… him, I’m confident he would have made an amazing Calvin Klein model. Especially because his lips are always relaxed in a bit of a natural pout and his resting stance is so relaxed, yet also confident. He is striking. 

And he doesn’t belong to me. Nor do I think he ever will. 

Despite their claims and attempts to put distance between their relationship, it has become common knowledge in the Crow Club that Kaz and Inej are a package deal. And it doesn’t take a trained Journalism major to read between those lines. It is blindingly obvious in the subtle ways she touches him, the way his gaze softens when he looks at her. She is the ice to his fire, and when needed, he is the same for her. A complimentary pair in every way, even if it seems unlikely on the surface. 

“Okay,” I begin, gesturing to the automatic gears between us. I explain what each of the letters stand for, instructing him to move the clutch into reverse and slowly ease up on the brake. With a bit of a jerk, Kaz obeys, turning the wheel to back us out of the spot in the empty parking lot. It had taken a bit of a road trip to find this place outside of the city. I had driven Kaz and myself into New Jersey, where the early morning dawn had just begun to crest, giving our driving lessons an advantage. Kaz had immediately, and somewhat reluctantly, urged me to teach him, claiming we would need it for this assignment. Inej had pushed him along with the conversation, rolling her eyes at how his own pride blocked up his request. 

“Now go back into drive,” I say, lurching forward when he does and pushes his foot down too forcefully on the gas pedal. He turns in circles around the empty lot, taking care to avoid the lamp posts. On every straight away, Kaz seems to hit the gas with a little more force, graceful turns giving way to concussion-inducing races. It seems he has the turning part down, but the lurching and jerking of the car would get him pulled over quickly. 

And although Kaz will no doubt be having a new fake I.D. made by one of our extra Crows, the risk of involving a police officer is not one any of us want to take. 

“Slow down there, Nascar.” I laugh.

He eases up, taking his time to get used to the ebb and flow of the vehicle. Where he got the car is beyond me, but I am also beyond questioning Kaz’s ability to secure random and often, complicated, objects for our heists. He has become my biggest puzzle, my biggest mystery to solve. And if it hasn’t been one hell of an adventure trying to figure him out. Observing him and listening and learning his subtle tells when he is angry or pleased or scheming. Lately, though, it feels as if the obsession for uncovering his truths have blossomed into something else, something that makes my heart race a little faster and my palms sweat. Something I haven’t been able to control. And how I hate not being in control. 

“Turn out onto the street,” I instruct, forcing myself to speak and get out of my own head. 

He obliges, the car absorbing the bumps in the curb as Kaz makes a graceful right turn. His black gloves glide smoothly along the steering wheel, the sleeve of his shirt riding up to expose a sliver of his pale wrist. My mind begins to wander again, to whether or not Inej has touched them, if she has held his wrists down as she gracefully slid on top of him. I wonder if she has kissed him, if he whispers her secrets to her like some sort of sexy spy pillow talk. 

“Cataleya,” Kaz is saying, the four syllables of my name like chimes from his mouth. 

“Sorry,” I shake my head, swallowing and casting him a glance. “What?” 

“Where are we going?” He repeats, monotone and bored. 

His driving has already gotten smoother, his feet steady on the brake and gas as I tell him to pull onto the dirt on the side of the two-lane road and turn around. There are still no cars out here at this hour, an Amtrak just beginning its morning route on a station in the distance. I can see the outline of the city beyond the valley, half blocked by trees and tall grass. The skyscrapers are haloed by the rising sun, like a safe haven calling me back home. 

“Who taught you to drive?” Kaz says, his raspy voice surprisingly light. 

“A friend I had growing up,” I reply, surprised.

“That’s a nice friend,” he comments, voice taking on an edge I don’t understand. 

I snort. “Yeah, well, I didn’t have any family to do it.”

His hands tighten on the steering wheel ever so slightly and if I weren’t observant I probably would have missed it. The way he tenses up. The way his jaw clenches and the car begins to move a bit faster as his foot locks onto the gas. “Me either.” 

“I found my mother dead.” The words are out of my mouth before I realize it. Kaz’s gaze shifts a bit, but he keeps his focus on the road as I continue. “I went to bury a dead cat in my mother’s old garden. We never touched it, my father never tended to it, or let me, after he said she left us. But when I went out to the garden and began to dig, I lost track of time, I dug far deeper than I intended. My father wasn’t home, I wanted to be there, in that garden, and away from him if he came home, for as long as possible. I didn’t realize how far I had dug until,” I swallow, inhaling and turning to Kaz. “Until a hand began to form beneath the dirt, and then an arm, and I saw the wedding ring, the bruises, the blue of her dress…” 

Kaz’s lips part, the only admission of emotion he gives. 

“The coroner said she had been dead for four months. Four months,” my voice broke, splintered on the fragments of my memories. “That she had been beaten and buried there. They couldn’t… couldn’t prove it was my father. He had money, lots of it. And he paid a lot of people to keep quiet.” 

“Is that why you love journalism?” Kaz asks, slowing the car to ready his turn back into the empty lot. “Exposing them? Making them pay with more than their blood money and with plain blood?”

I inhale, lips curling back in more of a snarl than a smile. “Everyone I knew. Everyone I knew who was involved. I have made them pay. In some form.” I throw Kaz a true smile, a devilish gleam in my eyes. “Although I suppose you already know that. It’s why Inej noticed me in the first place.” 

“One of the many reasons,” Kaz replies, words back to being clipped, tight. 

With a smooth arc of the steering wheel, Kaz turns the car into the same spot as before, hitting a little too hard on the brake before coming to a stop. My hair moves in front of my face at the jolt, a blessed curtain separating me from him. I can feel him thinking, churning over my words, assessing me. 

Kaz hardly seems fazed as I peek at him around my hair. His dark eyes are far away, his gloved hands slack on the wheel. I still myself, hearing the purr of the car engine, hearing Kaz’s breathing, shallow and uneven, as he goes into the place he so rarely dives. His eyes are almost glazed, like he’s been drinking, completely lost in his own thoughts. I know some of his story already. From Nina. From Jesper. From my research. 

“Your brother,” I murmur, soft and low. 

His hands tighten on the wheel until they are bone white, staring straight ahead at the tree lined landscape. “Jordie,” he pushes through his teeth. “His name was Jordie.” 

My spine straightens. Kaz has never said anything about his brother, and has never allowed any of the Crows besides Inej into his life in this way. And I wonder how far he has even let her in. I swallow, questioning if I should press or let it be. I am just about to get out and switch places with him to take us back into the city, when he opens his mouth and to my bewilderment, continues to speak. 

“My parents were mixed up in some bad stuff before we came here. We lived in the countryside, with a bit of land and no one around us for miles. My brother was older than me, only by four years, but enough to know how to keep me from looking where I shouldn’t. From keeping me happy and sheltered.” A muscle flickers in Kaz’s jaw, his pale skin going ashier with each word, “I didn’t know what was happening when they came. The thugs my parents had been hopping between towns, cities, and states to avoid for over a decade. Jordie took me, the remaining cash from the safe, that my father had stolen, and fled to New York City. He hoped we would be invisible among so many people.” 

I don’t know I am holding my breath until I release it, low and shaky. Kaz is silent again, staring off, flexing and unflexing his fingers against the steering wheel, like a silent reminder that he is here. 

“Are they alive?” I ask, voice so silent it’s almost nothing. 

“I don’t know,” Kaz admits. “But we never heard from them. I’ve never heard. So I can only assume not. And I don’t think I would want to see them if they were.”  

“And Jordie…?” I venture, terrified to hear more, but also terrified he’ll clam up. I am desperate for more. Desperate to know him. 

“We weren’t safe here. They found us. Or, found Jordie. While I was gone.” Every single syllable from his lips are forced and painful, laced with self loathing and regret. Survivor's guilt. “I was supposed to be there, but Jordie had sent me away. On an errand down in Brooklyn. He knew we were trapped, and wanted me to live, if he couldn’t. If Jordie could convince them he was alone and I had been shipped somewhere else... ” He breathes in and out, slowly and deeply, focusing on some point in the distance. “They ruled it as a suicide. He had cut his own throat, only his DNA on the knife, only his blood… I don’t know if he did it before they came. Or if they staged it. The not knowing. The guessing. That’s what makes it worse.” 

“So you look for control in other places.” I say. “In the market. In investment. In the Crows. I do the same thing.” 

“The Crows stand for the same thing you do, Cataleya.” Kaz says, looking at me with an intense stare. “Exposure. We want things to be different. We want people to pay, truly pay, for what they have done. Instead of buying silence. Buying lies. We want the truth. Only the truth.” 

His words pierce me, his black hair stark against his forehead, shaved sides longer than he normally keeps them. His eyebrows are set in a hard determined line, lips closed, and jaw locked in determination. I know he made those people pay, the ones who took his brother from him. I can see it on his face. 

“How did you survive?” I begin, “without him?”

Kaz licked his lips and let out a low chuckle. “Our money was gone. But we knew some people. Kids we met on the street. They made me a fake to get into bars with; I was barely sixteen by that time, but I looked older. Rougher. I had a skill for counting cards and made a small fortune quickly by playing in run down joints and eventually, working my way into larger, more expensive establishments. It was hard, I lived and breathed revenge, for Jordie. I wanted to have him back. To have something that was mine. I built up a small fortune, studied the market, and began investing. By the time I applied to the University of Ketterdam it didn’t matter that I only had my GED and no family, my self-made fortune was enough.” 

“But why here?” I ask, furrowing my brows in confusion. “Why school at all?” 

Kaz continues to look at me, eyes blazing. “Because we had a dream. Jordie and I. We had a dream that we would never forget what happened. That we had to run. And that when we were older, more settled, we would build something here. In New York City, something that would last. Something with a legacy. Like Crows, Jordie had said, symbolizing death but themselves being alive. We were dealt bad luck and would bestow it on others who deserve it.” 

“Thus, The Crow Club,” I finish his sentence, gaze roaming his face. “A secret society at one of the world’s best universities that would have a legacy. Have prestige. Have a family.” 

“Something that is mine,” Kaz’s lips part, wet from his tongue. 

“Yes, yours.” I echo. 

We are both silent for a few moments. Weighing our words. Our truths. Even the trees outside seem to stop in the wind, leaves quiet and branches unwavering. Kaz has opened up in a way I have never seen before. Never expected. He has been through so much. So much like me. Dealt with death. Loss. Life. We aren’t so different. None of the Crows are. 

“What about the others?” 

“Those aren’t my stories to tell,” Kaz responds, voice returning to its detached state.

I nod, once, accepting. I know a few of them already. Nina. Wylan. The new recruits. But Inej and Jesper are mysteries. Complete and whole geniuses shrouded in questions. I don’t like questions. Especially ones I can’t answer. 

“How did you survive? With him?” Kaz’s voice rings again, reflecting my earlier question. His words are too big for the small car, inhaling deeply through my nose as a small smile graces my lips. His long fingers move the shift into reverse to back out of the spot to drive us back to the city himself. The true test of his skill on the Manhattan streets.  

“That friend. The one who taught me how to drive,” I reply, a bit of wistful nostalgia filling my tone. “He helped me. Took care of me. Looked after me.” 

“Past tense?” He inquires, feet smooth as he presses on the gas pedal. 

“We are still friends,” I say. “I think. Things are just… different.” 

“Different. That’s an understatement.” He replies, voice drenched with irony. “Everything is different, isn’t it, depending on how you look at it.”

I nod and laugh, giving him a compliment on how swiftly he picked up driving before we settle into a comfortable silence. Crows. Allies. Friends. If we can call ourselves that. 

I hope we can. 

----

Today, I am supposed to meet the enemy. 

Kaz told me yesterday he set up a rendezvous at one of the campus coffee spots and that there would be someone waiting for me there. Someone he wouldn’t name. Someone that I am supposed to gather information from. Someone who thinks we are on a date. 

I had almost hit him when he pulled up his phone to show me the fake dating profile that was made for me. Pictures of me smiling, laughing, most of them pictures I didn’t even remember taking, all glowed brightly at me, accentuated by a bio that said I liked my men tall, dark, and tortured. 

How cliche. 

“Nina made it,” Kaz had shrugged then returned his phone back to his pocket. 

“And you would be surprised by how many matches you made,” Inej’s voice was laced with humor, lilting into the room without a trace. 

“She’ll walk you over,” Kaz said, gesturing around the room to her unknown location. “Like any dutiful girl would for her best friend about to go on a date from an app. Then, you’ll just need to proceed as normal. Ask him about his life, his job, his degree, his connection to UOK. All the basics. The main concern is reading him out for a vibe, his family has had a lot of influence in some shady shit and he’s from another society here.”

So that’s what this was about? Some sour deals that probably put Kaz out of some easy money and a rival society that was challenging Kaz’s position in the control of campus secrets and his standing legacy? I don’t feel like that is the whole story, but that’s all that Kaz was willing to give me at the time. 

And he hadn’t said anything this afternoon when I had gone into the Crow Library to meet Inej. He acted like nothing ever happened, like he hadn’t revealed some of his darkest secrets to me. Like we hadn’t shared a moment of… something. He barely looked at me from his desk, hair rumpled and face flushed from stress, in my tight long sleeve dress and tights, combat boots laced up around my ankles in case this random guy got the wrong idea. 

The air outside had turned to autumn, giving us an unusually cold and windy day. I was puttering around and trying to think of something to say to Kaz, when Inej came down the staircase with silent feet, dressed in a pair of black leggings and a cream knit sweater. Her hair had been mused in the back and her face also looked a bit red. I had almost laughed, looking between her flushed state and Kaz’s slightly red cheeks, before giving Inej a knowing quirk of my eyebrows. 

And now, outside of the library and alone, walking across the cobblestoned campus paths with autumn leaves falling around us, I turn to her. “Do I even want to know?” 

“It’s college,” she replies, so quiet it’s almost to herself. “Things happen.” 

“Things don’t just happen with Kaz Brekker.” 

She looks at me, face breaking out into a blinding smile that splits her beautifully baked face. “They do when he’s in a rather… compromising position.” 

“Inej!” I release the laugh I’ve been holding, the now pulled back coil of her hair showing off the reddened tips of her ears. Since I have known of Inej, she has always been rather modest. Sure of herself in a quiet way. The kind of confidence that doesn’t need reassurance or shields. Inej herself is a shield, a force of silent secrets she keeps hidden beneath the unsuspecting lithe of her dancer’s frame. 

We take a right turn down one of the main campus paths, small walkways opening up into a large courtyard. Students mill about, sitting on statues, kissing underneath the garden archways, reading books on their way into classes. The University of Ketterdam has always been such an eclectic place, not only because of its location in New York City, but because of its campus. Lush, green, beautiful. An ode to history and architecture and modernity all the same. The programs here are some of the best in the world and while tuition isn’t cheap, the value of a Ketterdam degree is worth it. 

“Is it bad that I kind of do want to know though?” I begin, not even sure what I’m saying. 

“No,” Inej says, voice thoughtful and not defensive in any way. This is why I love Inej. So honest and unafraid. “I think everyone wants to know about Kaz. Everyone wants to be the hero that solves the mystery or the lover that turns a prince from darkness.” She pauses, looking around at the students, seeming lost in thought. Her dark eyebrows crease together, as if in thought or sadness. “Some people just can’t be saved.” 

I can tell she’s referring to Kaz. But I’m not sure if I agree. I think everyone can be saved. I think darkness lives in everyone and all a person needs is a bit of light to show them through. People weren’t born into darkness, or evil, they were made that way. Through that, they could be unmade. And Inej has enough light and strength in one of her hands to see any person through the blackest of tunnels. I think of what Kaz had said to me, in the car, about his story, about his desire for revenge. For retribution. Maybe I want to believe we can be saved from the darkness because I want to be saved. Because like calls to like. And there is a deep chasm within Kaz that sings to me. 

Inej moves her head to look at me, a full and unabashed gaze that somehow makes me uncomfortable. Like she can see straight to my soul. Like she can see every lie I have told or every promise I have broken or every secret I have kept. Like she can see my desires and my shame and my longing for things I can’t have.

“But we love them anyway, don’t we?” She finishes, giving me a contemplative look. 

I think of the people I love, the people I did love, when there were still people in my life that were capable of receiving such a thing; people who were dark and painful and I still loved them anyway. Love can be such a blinding thing. Blinding and binding. 

“Yeah,” I echo, her reflective tone rubbing off onto my voice. “We do.” 

The both of us descend into silence as we continue to walk across the quad. I begin to feel my stomach turn, my palms sweat. No matter how many times I have done this, not dates, but encounter new people, this feeling returns. Every time I have to meet someone new, report on something, present something for a class, I would feel anxiety grip my insides and twist. When I was younger, that anxiety was terrifying, it made me cower, it made me scared. But as I got older, I began to use it and cling to it. I began to form it into an entity that gave me courage instead of taking it, something that would ground me to myself and propel me into my fears. 

Inej begins, “Kaz texted and said he’s outside. Reading. Good luck.” Then she’s gone.

Steadying my breath, the smell of coffee hits my nostrils as I round the library steps to the small path beside it. The coffee shop is nestled into the side of the huge, brick building, almost like a tumor sprouting from the side. Inej has completely disappeared, only leaving the familiar scent of herbs in her wake. She is supposed to be going up the library steps to find a good vantage point from one of the many windows facing the coffee shop on the building’s side. Students move around through the cafe windows, in and out of the doors, little bell ringing to signal both arrival and departure. 

But I am not paying attention to any of them. 

Because there is a boy. A man. Sitting at one of the tables outside, his long legs stretched underneath the opposite chair, wearing a pair of leather sneakers. His long fingers are thumbing through a novel, covers worn and pages yellow with age. He can feel someone there, looking, sitting up and turning in that little metal chair to see who. To see me. 

It’s Alek. 

I blanch, mouth going dry and jaw slackening. I know him. I more than know him. I- 

“Cataleya,” his voice is pure night, laced and dripping with stars. He doesn’t seem surprised to see me, not even phased. Not that I have ever seen him look surprised. I flash back to that day in the garden, to his hands on my face, wiping my tears, to his arms around me, murmuring condolences, to the face that I could see through my blurred tears. Dark hair, pale skin, beautifully big gray eyes. I had barely known him, barely seen him despite our houses being right next door, despite our windows being on opposite sides of the alley and me being able to spy on him when his curtains were parted at night. 

“Aleksander?” I stand a little straighter, gathering my shock and shoving it deep down. 

He smiles, standing up from the chair on the patio of the coffee shop. He is so tall, taller than I remember. His dark jeans are fitted against his legs and the black long sleeve button down he is wearing shows off a large portion of his impeccable chest. I don’t remember when the last time I saw him was, but I definitely don’t recall feeling the pulsing and intense heat that flashes through my body when I look at him. I suddenly feel naked. And stupid. 

Is Kaz trying to kill me?

Swallowing thickly, I scan the windows on the side of the library for Inej, wondering if she has already found a perch to play spy. The sun reflects off of each glass surface in the afternoon light, making it impossible to see through any of them. Blowing a breath through my lips, I attempt to quell the storm brewing and churning in my stomach. 

“What a wonderful surprise this is,” Alek starts. 

I catch the edge in his voice, the way the tone lilts at the end. A tell of how much this encounter is not a surprise. For him anyway. But I smile, I nod and I watch as he fluidly closes the distance between us and takes me in his arms. 

I hate how I exhale. 

How my whole body relaxes. 

I hate how good it feels. 

Like coming home. 

He smells like winter and barren tree branches, like snow and absence of light. Like a dark night wrapping me in its embrace and taking away the pain that days bring. Peaceful and mysterious all the same. Just as I remember it. Just as I remember him. 

“Since when did you start wearing all black?” I joke as he pulls away, gesturing to his outfit. “Are you some kind of darkling now?” 

He gives me a blinding grin, chuckling under his breath. 

“Something like that.” 

He gestures us back over to the table and I sit across from him, back rigid and legs crossed. I feel like a mannequin, still and stoic, despite the intense pounding of my heart and rush of blood through my veins. 

“How have you been?” He asks, leaning back in his chair with an amused look on his face. “I must say I was very surprised when your profile popped up Tinder.” 

I clench my jaw, working my teeth against each other. “Yeah, so was I.” 

Tilting his head to the side, Alek studies me, eyes unabashedly roaming from my face to my chest to my waist, to my legs visible on the side of the table. I swallow, trying to clear the unfamiliar lump in my throat before I speak. 

“But I’m good. Great, even. But I didn’t even know you are here. That you went here in the first place.” 

“It’s a temporary thing,” Alek responds. 

“Temporary?” I push. 

“I’m just getting a business credential for the semester,” he says, airy and dismissive. 

I narrow my eyes at him, hoping he can feel the suspicion and annoyance radiating from my look. He drums his fingers on the table, weighing my stare with a measured, even gaze that infuriates me further. I always hated when he did this when we were kids. Always challenging me. Always trying to get me to back down. Luckily, our time apart has sharpened my detective skills and my comfort with confrontation. 

Alek sighs, blinking slowly. “Fine. I’m here because of you.” 

My jaw slackens. 

Because of me? 

“I missed you,” he whispers, in a rare display of vulnerability and affection, before reaching across the table to take my hand. 

Fire lashes up my wrist and arm, chills spreading in its wake. His touch is electrifying me, his skin like a hot branding iron pushing into me with delicious pain. Alek’s jaw is set, the hard lines on his chin lined with stubble. I want to take his face in my hands and kiss him. I want to feel him against me and get lost in the impossibly deep gray ocean of his eyes. 

“Where were you then?” I venture, pushing down the pressing anxiety. 

“I had a lot to deal with after my dad died,” he responds, voice detached and noncommittal. “I’m really sorry I let our relationship fall away, but I didn’t want to drag you down into my grief. You’ve always had enough on your plate.” 

“You helped me through grief.” My tone steadies. “I wanted to help you.” 

He huffs, “I didn’t want your help.” 

The words are like a slap in the face, pulling my hand from his with a start. His dad’s death had been very abrupt and unexpected, launching Alek into a world of unknown wealth and property and an accumulation of other assets he wasn’t even aware his father had. His death was ruled under suspicious circumstances, but no leads were ever found for a murderer or any other sort of foul play. And with Alek’s mother long gone to cancer, he found himself newly eighteen and alone in the world. Except he wasn’t alone. He always had me. 

Alek releases a breath, eyes softening as he leans back in his chair, aware of the mistake in his harsh words. He pushes a hand through his hair, the dark waves parting for his hand like a saint in the sea. 

“I don’t mean it like that. I wanted you to be there, Cataleya. But some things you have to do on your own, you know? I had so much to figure out and sort through and… it was overwhelming.” 

I nod, chewing on the inside of my cheek. Alek was never the kind of guy to ask for help, especially not from people he is close to. He always did things alone, always felt weak for not building his own empire, his own legacy, his own destiny, without anyone else. But two years, I haven’t heard from him in two years and now here he is. In front of me. Asking for some sort of forgiveness. Is there anything to forgive? The pit in my stomach says yes. But my throbbing heart and other throbbing parts of me say no. 

“I missed you, too.” 

A small smile blossoms across his face, the sight beautiful and stupefying. 

“I can’t help but notice you walked here with Inej Ghafa,” he starts and my alert senses begin to tingle. “Isn’t she a part of Kaz Brekker’s Crow Club?” 

“How do you know about that?” I ask before I can help myself.

“Anyone who is anyone knows about Kaz,” he responds, almost spitting his name. 

“Okay…” I begin, unease settling into my stomach like a stone. “But why do you?” 

“He has something I need.” 

The stone becomes a boulder. 

“Are you-” I stop, then start again. “You’re the one that this is for.” 

“If by “this”, you mean whatever scheme he is planning to trap me in, then yes.”

“But why? How do you even know him? Don’t you know who he is and what he does? What are you thinking going against Kaz?” I ask urgently, struggling to keep my voice low. 

He pins me to the chair with a dead look. “He has debts he needs to pay.” 

“You’re going vague again?” I shake my head, irritated with his bipolar intensity then flippancy. “You need to back down. Or you’re going to end up hurt.” 

A smirk tugs at his full lips, “Your lack of faith in me is really inspiring, Cataleya.” 

“It’s not that,” I retort, exasperated, crossing my arms. “Kaz is really powerful. With more networks and connections than you know. If you don’t stop whatever crusade you have on him, you’re the one that’s going to end up indebted.” 

He laughs this time, a full and deep laugh that surprises me. “Has he really dug his talons that deep in you? That you’ve forgotten how wide my own connections spread? How cunning I can be?” 

“We haven’t spoken in two years,” I respond, pettily. “I don’t know you at all anymore.” 

He leans forward, eyes incredibly dark and face serious. “You know that’s not true.”

I hold his stare, raising my eyebrows, feeling satisfied that I made my point. Alek reaches across the table and places his palm up on it in invitation. I can see the veins of his inner wrist, with dark ink snaking across the blue and disappearing under his shirt sleeve. He didn’t have any tattoos when I last talked to him. My fingers itch to push back the fabric and see them. His secrets. Like Kaz’s, they are so plain on his skin yet hidden through metaphors and signs. 

Licking my lips, I push out a breath and put my hand atop his, feeling his eyes follow mine to where the ink is displayed. Without saying anything, he pushes the sleeve of his shirt up his forearm, stopping at the inner crook of his elbow. 

Inhaling and holding, I blink at the constellation on the inside of his forearm. A night sky, swirling with black and dead space, with creatures in between zombies and ghosts with huge demon wings flying through it. There is a ship at the base of his wrist, a small stern gliding through dark sand, a tiny speck compared to the massive size of the creatures flying above it. It is dark and torturing and incredibly impassioned. I let the pads of my fingers drift softly up Alek’s arm, watching goosebumps form on his skin. 

“What are they?” I ask. 

“They’re called volcra,” Alek says. “Beings that live in darkness and are afraid of light. They feed on those who come into their path, who are unable to see or defend themselves in the black sea of sand.” 

“It’s so… intense.” I search for the right word to describe it, coming up short. 

“I want to remind myself to not be afraid of light. Of happiness. That the things that I may think make me weak, really make me strong. I need to find more light, to find my light. I have been full of darkness for a long time, Cataelya. I’ve lived in a thousand moments of it.” 

I tilt my head, fingers pressed into the inside of his elbow and looking up at him through my lashes. His eyes are trained to the spot where our skin is meeting, his lips parted and eyebrows furrowed a bit in the middle. I resist the urge to flatten it with my thumb, letting the wind and the sound of other students fill the silence between us. 

“You were the only light in my life for a long time,” I say to him, tracing the volcra’s deformed bodies with my index finger. “I had nothing. I had no one. You pulled me from that nothingness. From the darkness. And held me in your arms. Brought me up to somewhere better. Where I can hope. Where I can not only see light, but make my own. That is invaluable to me.” 

He catches my hand and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to my palm. “Can you help me, then? Can you bring me back my light, too?” 

My breathing stalls. I know what he’s asking from me. I know it’s more than just offering a flashlight through the tunnel. I know it’s more complicated than I can currently imagine. Alek stands up, coming around the table to kneel in front of my chair. Some students stare, wondering if they’re about to witness a proposal. I ignore them, keeping my eyes trained on Alek’s imploring gaze. I know in this moment, I will give him the world, the moon, and all of its stars. I will give him all of my sun and then some, I will summon everything I have to fill the darkest parts of him. 

He takes my face in his hands, palms impossibly soft on my cheeks. Subtly, slowly, I nod, watching his face break a part into a smile. Without pausing, Alek leans forward and kisses me. His lips are smooth and plush, completely stunning me into inaction as he runs his fingers along the sides of my throat. I sigh into his mouth, body realizing what is happening just as he is pulling away. Parting my lips, I stupidly sit in my chair as he gets up in one flowing movement.

Alek looks down at me with a smile. “I hope to see you soon then, Cataleya.” 

Just like that, he scoops up his book and walks away. Gone as quickly as he appeared. 

----

The room is completely aglow with light, chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and candles lit around the room. Everything has a soft, burnt hue, like the room is on fire from below and the blaze is lighting the space. It must be the size of the University of Ketterdam quad, with hundreds of people talking, dancing, eating, and drinking. I recognize some students and faculty, but most are a blur of unfamiliar gowns and tuxedos. 

“They know how to throw a party,” Nik says appreciatively. 

“If they didn’t, no one would take them seriously.” Zoya retorts, leaving Nik’s side without so much as a glance to drift into the crowd. The smell of honey and sweet drinks spreads through the room, long tables lining either wall stacked with a massive spread. 

“That’s where I’ll be,” whispers Nina. 

I smile at her, gathering my dress in my hands and descending the few flat stairs to the main rooms. The floor is a beautiful tile, mosaics and colors that I can’t decipher flowing from the entry way beneath the mass of bodies. There is something magical about it all, something historic, like stepping into a time machine. The walls are lined with thick tapestries, with small halls leading into different areas of grandeur. I shouldn’t be surprised that wealth like this still exists, but every time I see it, I am. 

Scanning the space, I see Alek from across the ballroom, near one of the food tables, his gaze drifting across my body before a smile forms on his lips. He is wearing an all black suit, lapels crisp and smooth, with a single blood rose pinned above his heart. It mimics the read of my dress, the stain of my lips, the seduction in his eyes. He cocks his head slightly, dark hair falling over one of his beautifully arched eyebrows. 

I hold his stare, letting the bubbling pit of fire burn deeply in my stomach. The pit that forms when he looks at me, seated low and hot. The pit that would cackle and seethe if he would touch me, if his pale hands would settle on my hips and his lips would touch the shell of my ear, whispering sweet nothings and dirty everythings into my ear. Snaking my tongue between my lips, I watch as Aleksander tracks the motion, his posture straightening ever so slightly. 

And then Kaz is there. In my line of vision. 

The fire sputters out, replaced by something else. Something that grips my lungs and forces my heart to beat faster. His suit is a deep navy, bringing out the smooth pearl of his skin and accenting the night of his hair. He looks like a shooting star, dark and light at the same time. I wonder who picked it out for him, or if he selected it himself. I can’t imagine Kaz in a tailor’s shop, trying on suits and drinking bourbon with the upper elites with him. 

But then again, maybe I can. He is a business man after all. And great at faking it. 

Kaz catches my stare, tipping his head up in greeting before disappearing into the crowd. Nina and Nik dissolve from my side as well, going to observe and mingle before the drama begins. Alina is the only one left next to me, her golden dress sparkling in the chandelier light. She turns to me and sets her hand on my arm gingerly, sun earrings dangling from her ears. 

“Be careful,” she whispers. “He’s not who you think he is.” 

I open my mouth, about to ask her what she means before her hand is gone, and so is she. I watch her move into a group of people, hugging a man in a dark gray tuxedo from behind before giving him a kiss. Must be Mal. I don’t feel right, especially after what Alina said to me. I feel like something is amiss, but I don’t know what. 

I spot Kaz again, whispering something to Inej along the back wall. Her dark eyes drift to me, cementing the feeling in place. 

Alone, I cross the space to Alek. I had seen him twice since our fateful coffee date and both times had been very formal and full of business. Full of me trying to help him get his light back. Through some sort of grand scheme, it seems. One that required me to also recruit Nik, Alina, and Zoya to help Alek while seeming like they are helping Kaz. Sort of like a double agent, except I don’t know which side I want to be standing on at the end. 

“How are you?” Alek asks, tone casual to an untrained ear, but clipped enough for me to hear the true question behind his words. 

“Something’s wrong,” I respond under my breath before I loudly declare my happiness.

He lets his gaze linger on my face for a moment, schooling his features into neutrality. 

“Can you handle it?” 

“I’m not sure,” I admit, dropping my fake smile. “I might need help.” 

Vague enough, but he clearly gets the message, rolling his shoulders before giving me a dazzling grin. Alek reaches a long arm to stop the waiter passing by, grabbing two flutes of sparkling gold champagne and extending one to me. As if this is only our second time meeting. As if we both happened here by incident and he is looking to get lucky.

“I could never refuse such a beautiful woman.” 

I return his smile, throwing back the entire drink for some liquid courage. It tastes sweet and fizzy against my tongue, a faint acidity coating the roof of my mouth. Alek takes a long and thoughtful sip of his own champagne, much more graceful than me and folds my arm into the crook of his elbow. He begins to lead me from the ballroom, towards the Crow’s meeting spot. I look behind my shoulder, searching for their familiar faces. But all I see is Nina, already watching, her eyes focused intently on the joining of my arm with Alek’s while she pretends to listen to Nik, whose lips are moving with passionate fervor. Her mouth parts ever so slightly as she catches my eye. 

“Careful,” Alek mutters, forcing me to turn my head back in front of me. 

Dread and fear coil in my gut. I have never seen Nina look that way. I have never seen her look at me and not see me. I still don’t spot any of the other Crows at their reported positions around the room, where they were supposed to stay until I could get Alek alone and before I could lead Kaz to Alek and they could duel it out and I could decide who to side with then.

 I swallow, mind racing, trying to calm myself by believing that there’s a reason for their absence. 

 Alek seems to sense my trepidation, holding my arm a bit tighter as we meander from the crowded room into a near empty hallway. 

“Something’s wrong,” I repeat, trying to unravel everything quickly. Too quickly. 

Kaz, pushing everyone into this heist with such force. The others, more quiet than usual, less pressing for Kaz to give them details. Kaz, letting me teach him to drive, letting himself be vulnerable for me. Inej, barely talking to me a week into our plan. Nina, completely open and honest and warm until she saw me with Alek. Jesper, less happy than usual, less enthusiastic, more solemn and quiet, often excusing himself when I came into the room. And Wylan, always seeming to be off rekindling his relationship with his father. 

I didn’t need to help them with appearances at all. 

When fear arrives, something is about to happen. 

“It’s a trap,” I breathe, clenching my jaw and letting my stomach pit out inside of me. 

“I know,” Alek replies, cool and distant. 

My blood turns to ice. “What do you mean, “I know”?” 

He doesn’t respond, turning right down the hallway that leads to a back patio exit, and not to the left, to that private seating area where the Crows were supposed to be waiting. Alek increases his pace ever so slightly, giving me a glazed and lusted look when people come out of the rooms to pass us by, too high or drunk or exhausted to care. 

I try to stamp down the panic in my bones. How could I be so stupid? How could I get so caught up playing both sides that I didn’t see what was right in front of me? This is not the part where things are supposed to go wrong. I am supposed to get to choose. I am supposed to see them interact, gauge my feelings, myself, my words, and decide which side I want to be on. If I want to be a Raven or a Crow. If I want to be crime or creation. Of course, Alek is one step ahead. And so is Kaz. 

“We need to be more casual, less uptight,” Alek states as he pushes through the glass doors leading into the large mansion courtyard at the end of the corridor. “If any of them are watching, they’ll hurry things along if they sense we’re onto them.” 

“I think they already know,” I swallow, the night air turning cold and bitter. We hover on the cramped patio for a moment, not descending the small set of stone stairs into the gardens beyond. I can hear voices from inside, music drifting about, people laughing and heavy breathing from behind bushes. I wish I could have gone to this party with no other intentions than for fun. 

Maybe in a different life.  

“Doesn’t hurt to try,” Alek shrugs. 

And then I am up against the thin black railing behind me, Alek’s hands settling into the curve of my hips. I can feel his warmth through the satin of my dress, bleeding fire into my skin, my heart, my core. He licks his lips and pushes me tighter against him. Our bodies are flush in all of the right places; hard and soft in all of the right places. 

“Kiss me, Cataleya,” he baits me, voice low and raspy. 

He doesn’t have to say it twice. 

I surge forward, his lips plush and velvet against mine. He smells like winter, like snow and frosty tree branches and endless starry nights. I grew up with this smell, revelled in it, fell in love with it. His dark hair brushes against my forehead, the strands so soft and gentle in a way I had never known Alek to be. He is always pushing, moving, plotting. 

He reminds me of Kaz in that way. 

Kaz. 

Alek’s tongue slips along mine, sparks flying and thundering in my ears. Haven’t I wanted him like this for so long? Haven’t I imagined what this would feel like since our first kiss, being barely a peck? Haven’t I dreamed that he would want me? That he would have me in the way I desired? 

So why is this falling so flat now? 

Kaz. 

The voice reverberates through me, like a Crow picking from a dead body, peeling flesh from bone until I am stripped bare. My head begins to pound, a dull ache in the base of my skull. Alek runs his fingers up my bare arms, drawing goosebumps in his wake until I am shivering beneath him. 

“Cataleya,” he murmurs, deep and throaty. 

The old feeling returns, the burning desire, the expectant eyes. The little girl waiting for her master to approve. The little girl waiting for someone bigger, someone better, to grab her hand and drag her from the dirt. I feel ridiculous for not being able to squash it down, to tamper it. I don’t know if that feeling would ever die. The feeling of dependence. Of unworthiness. 

Alek seems as if he’s about to say something, but his head whips to the side. I follow the movement, the stone of dread in my stomach sinking deeper when I realize the courtyard has gone quiet around us. Not a single sound from behind the bushes, not a giggle or a whisper or a moan. Too quiet. The sound of death. 

The headache threatens to split my brain a part, eyes blurring as I watch Alek attempt to stumble down the stairs. He gets one step in before a figure blocks his path. My breathing becomes laborious, squinting through black spots clouding my vision before I can see who it is. 

Wylan. 

His suit is a forest green, dark velvet tailored for his tall lanky frame. The color perfectly offsets the ruddiness of his hair and his shoes are a deep brown leather, squeaky clean and new. Leave it to Kaz to outfit all of the Crows with his endless bank account. 

“I’m sorry,” Wylan says, face truly betraying some measure of regret. 

The pieces click together, like a lock sliding into place. 

He hasn’t been working with his father all these weeks. He has been working on something else entirely. Something that would take lots of time, lots of care, and lots of studying. When Nina said those things I thought she was talking about how he was mending the relationship with his father. She was not. And not just that, but his studies most likely required more than himself for success. Probably Leoni, the incredibly kind and intelligent biochemical engineering major who Kaz sometimes recruited for special missions that required more stealth, less blood. 

Wylan was studying poison. 

And we had ingested it from the champagne. 

----

My head is throbbing when I come to, the sound of a car engine roaring in my ears. I don’t know how I got here. All I remember is Alek, his hands on me, his warmth leaving me to spin me into the arms of someone else. The shaved hair, the deep brown eyes, the palor of his skin, the stability of his grip around my waist. Then Alek again, his lips on mine, my back against the wall.

 I force myself to swallow, trying to see anything through the blindfold at my eyes. I am still in my dress, the silk smooth on my skin, and I can feel the car coming to a stop as I struggle to find the strength to say something. 

My bones feel like liquid, muscles weak and shaking. But Alek had been the only one who offered me a drink, he had been the only one I trusted enough to gulp heartily. Wylan. I remember Wylan. Standing at the ledge of the stairs in the courtyard. Me and Alek. 

Poisoned. 

The car’s back door opens and I feel a rush of the cold night air as two gloved hands drag me by my feet from the vehicle and out onto the street. Dread coils in my stomach and my skin pricks with goosebumps, the cobble stones ripping at my exposed ankles and arms. After being dragged a few hundred feet, hissing at the burn of scapes and tearing on my skin from the uneven street, I am forced onto my knees.  I don’t feel right. Nothing feels right. Where is Kaz? 

As if in answer, the blindfold is yanked down my face from behind, my eyes blurring and struggling to adjust to the dark light of my surroundings. I am in an alley, wedged between two buildings built of collapsing brick. I can hear the faint whiz of cars, but in front of me is only a few hundred paces of the alleyway and then trees. I am not being brought here to talk. It’s too secluded. Too quiet. And the smell, bark and sap and something else… I clench my jaw. 

A shadow fills my periphery and I struggle to stay up on my knees as a figure takes shape in front of me. The navy suit, clean white shirt, the black leather gloves, the hard lines of his jaw and set of his eyes. I know why I am here. I know what this is. His stare is furious, rage and ice and merciless vengeful eyes boring into mine. 

He made the choice for me.

“Kaz,” I rasp, voice cracking and broken. 

He snarls at his name from my mouth, shoving me up into the nearest building. I stumble in my heels, his movements fast and forceful enough to drive my back into the wall with no problem. The rough edges of the brick dig into my back, clawing at my skin. This is nowhere near the last experience I had against a wall, with Alek. Caressing me, kissing me, igniting me. I try to stay calm. I try to think. But all I can see is Kaz’s face in front of me, burning with hatred and disdain as he rams me harder into the unforgiving bricks. 

I try to hold in my scream as a knife plunges into my side from one of the roofs above, deep and intense pain bursting through me. I don’t know who threw it, I don’t know how many of them are up there and how many stayed behind. I don’t know how long they’ve been in on it, I don’t know if Kaz has been aware the entire time. But I do know that now he knows, they all do. And that I won’t be leaving here alive. 

I can’t move enough to take the knife from my side, the hilt small, but the blade curved and lodged deep above the bone of my hip. Blood seeps through my dress, the red becoming impossibly darker, and the drip drip of the liquid pings against the stone street as it runs down my legs. It’s the only sound between us besides my ragged breathing, pained and desperate. 

“This was all a test of loyalty,” he says evenly. “You failed.”

And I would die for it. 

Kaz’s hands close around my throat, gaze steely and intent. I try not to panic, my jaw locking and lungs constricting with the pressure of his grip. The warmth of the blood continues spreading and soaking through my side, red and sticky and filling my nostrils with the scent of copper. I can already barely breathe, trying and failing to make it through the pain. It makes sense how loose Kaz’s lips had been with me, all the questions he had asked to try and taunt me, to reveal my relationship to Alek, how he let me teach him; he thought I would be a dead woman soon. And dead women don’t spill secrets. Or give lessons beyond the grave.

“We knew it was you all along,” Kaz says in my face, tone even as he chokes me. “Funny. You didn’t even know he was here until we flushed him out for you. Until we set up that date and watched you become the person we suspected you were. Until you crawled back to him and pretended he was the only light in the pit of darkness that’s been your life.” Kaz’s gloved fingers are hot against my pulse and his hair is falling down his forehead, sides freshly shaved. I can see every prick of stubble along his chin, see the muscles feathering in his jaw. I’ve never been this close to him before. Not even in the car. A day that felt so long ago. Like a lifetime. 

“Don’t you know why we scouted you in the first place? We knew he would try to ruin us from the inside out and use you to do it, it was only a matter of time. But that game can be played by both sides.” His voice is low, a snarl that roars in my ears, my side throbbing. “Nikolai, Alina, Zoya… you thought that you were bringing in new recruits to then turn against us. We had them first. They were always Crows, not one of Aleksander Morosova’s ravens. They have even more of a reason to want revenge on him than I do. And I’ll bet they’re being even less pleasant with him than I am with you right now.” 

A pit burns inside of me, low and feral, deepening with each of his words. 

“But even before that, I wanted you.” 

And I know, at the tenor of his voice, it’s not the kind of want that I would ever seek. At how his voice drops, so no one else can possibly hear, that I will not like what he is going to say. 

“I wanted you the moment I saw you and your father’s face in the news. When I heard what he did to your mother even though no one would believe he could have done it. I knew he did.” He is seething, spitting on me as he goes on. “I knew that he was capable of ordering violence. Of committing it and buying people’s silence. I could see it in his eyes, I could see it in the way he held you against him. Possessive and consuming.”

I have gone completely still, the very blood in my veins seeming to stop, the pulsing at my side ebbing into a dull ache. His words are in a bubble, trapped between our lips. Each syllable pops and rebuilds it, over and over. Trapping me, over and over. 

“I didn’t leave the day they came to kill Jordie.” He continues, “I thought something was wrong, for him to force me out the way he did. I hid on the roof of our building and climbed down the stairs of the fire escape a few hours later. Then I saw him. Your father. Positioning my brother’s body on our couch, I saw him take the bloodied knife and place it on the floor, beneath Jordie’s fingers. I watched as he cleaned off any fingerprints, stole away any evidence. He had no blood on him and by the two men that stumbled onto the street and disappeared down an alley, I knew he hadn’t done the actual act...

“But what’s worse? Following an order for murder or sanctioning it?” 

I feel tears slipping down my cheeks, dropping like flies on Kaz’s gloves. 

“I followed him. Learned everything I could. I learned that he had been involved with an underground drug operation for decades. That my parents had been in debt with them due to some bad decisions in my dad’s twenties. And that your father had been sent to collect or kill. To send a message to the other debtors. Little did your father know that the victims had two children, that they escaped. And that they would be coming for him.” 

The air around me turns infinitely colder, everything still and quiet except Kaz’s voice. 

“I watched you too.” He continues, fingers losing their grip a bit on my throat. “I watched to see who you would be. If we would indeed become enemies, as our parents were. I observed you grow with Morosova, how he controlled you, how he led you away all those years, how he kept you quiet and kept you in the dark so you would never find out the truth and be killed, like your mother was.” 

His words stab me deeper than the knife, my heart in ribbons. Hearing him confirm my darkest fears unleashes the worst parts of me, the parts I tried so hard to keep hidden. Terrified. Insecure. Silent. Obedient. The little girl with an abusive father and dead mother. I hadn’t been her in so long, but Kaz is stripping me down. Shredding me. 

 Kaz’s voice drops lower, as if he’s telling me a horrible secret. “He knew about it, Cataleya. Aleksander,” he purrs the name like a curse, “he knew everything. His father was one of the men your father ordered to kill Jordie. Who was a part of the team dispatched to eradicate those who didn’t pay, eradicate my parents. Your parents were working together, how fitting that you and Aleksander would, as well. Fate is funny that way.” 

The world shatters around me, broken and splintering into a million pieces. Alek knew. He sat there and listened to me while I cried about my mother, how I had desperately wanted his help to look into what happened. He had warned me to want anything was to give myself up. That the only way for me to find peace was to move forward and never look back. That if I continued to want for closure, I would never find it.

 “The problem with wanting is that it makes us weak.” He had said, over and over. 

How ironically true that had become. 

Kaz isn’t done. He continues to pick at me, the Crow in him unable to stop, his dark eyes burning with hate. “Where your own father failed, Aleksander’s father succeeded. He remembered seeing pictures in my house, of me and of Jordie. He remembered that there were two boys. And when I killed him by placing a bomb under his car to be rigged as an oil problem, his son stepped into the role to finish what his father started. To silence me too. But he didn’t and for me, for Jordie, I swore I would destroy them, brick by brick.” 

My breathing is coming out in short rasps, eyes blurred with tears of anger and embarrassment and white hot pain. I have been played. So horribly. By everyone in my life. Lied to. By every single person I had known. Even Alek. Alek, who had been the one person I thought would save me. Would be the one in the end to stand by me, to see me, to understand me. But he didn’t. He never did. He used me. Just like my father did. To be a sweet, obedient girl. 

In the few months I had known Kaz, he has seen more of me than Alek ever did. 

All we ever wanted, me and Alek and Kaz, was to feel safe and be loved. But we never trusted anyone enough to be either. So we fought and resisted and pushed. Into darkness. 

A whistle sounds from above, quick and melodic. Inej. Signaling Kaz that he needs to hurry. That enough is enough. But I can see it in his eyes. The hardness. The black pits of revenge and hatred and loathing he feels when he looks at me. It would never be enough. This retribution that he savored for years will never last as long as he wishes it to. I want to wither away into nothing under his stare. Not enough. Not his. Never his. Never a Crow.

“I know you love him,” he whispers so none of the others lurking can hear. “I know he’s the one who saved you. But he used you, Cataleya. He controlled you. You could’ve been so much better, so much bigger. It’s a shame the apple never falls far from the tree.”

I wish it had been you to save me instead. I think, shoving the words down my constricted throat. Maybe if it were Kaz, all those years ago, then things wouldn’t have gotten so messed up. Then maybe I would have been more like Inej, graceful, strong, full of more purpose than what Alek gave me. Maybe I could have meant something. To someone. To the Crows. 

But Kaz didn’t find me. Alek did. Alek led me from the garden and held my hand. Alek stroked my hair and told me it would be okay. That I would be okay. Alek raised me to be unforgiving, to scheme and stab people in the back to fill the empty hole in my life. Control. Kaz had said. How he controlled me. How he deceived me. With love. Love. Fake. Love. Fake love. I want to cry or scream at all of them, shaking with rage. I have been a pawn this whole time. 

“We are all controlled by something.” I push out, my voice weak. 

I try to swallow and fail at the reapplied pressure of Kaz’s palms, drool and spit bubbling from my lips. The alley wall is hard against my back, the night sky black and endless above me. The smog cover is so thick I can’t see the stars, despite the bright spots beginning to dance in my vision. I feel something prick at my spine with the pressure of my position like a silent reminder, mind sharpening and resolve strengthening. Love or no love. I have to finish what I started. I have to complete my assignment. Even if it isn’t one from Kaz. 

Even if it is from a liar. 

Lies are all I have known. 

All I have to hold on to. 

I can’t be saved. From darkness. My own or from others. I have waded too deep, gone too far. I may not be a true Raven, but I am definitely not a Crow. No matter how much I wish I could be. No matter how much I came to appreciate them, to care for them, to trust them. 

Trust is the most dangerous weapon of all. 

Slipping my hands behind my back as if I am trying to scramble against the wall, I reach for the cool metal of the blade attached along the zipper of my dress, letting out a choking cry to cover the unsheathing of my knife. The movement burns my side, ripping open my wound further to pour more blood. It runs over Kaz’s dress shoes, stains my legs. I am losing it too quickly, too much of it ebbing from me at once. Kaz’s hands press harder to my throat, forcing me, willing me, begging me to die now that his speech is over. I know he doesn’t enjoy this. I know he doesn’t relish in murder. Neither do I. 

But love is love.

Control is control. 

And business is business. 

Kaz would agree on that. 

“If I’m going down, Kaz,” I begin, voice barely a whisper. “You’re coming with me.” 

Without wasting another second, I shove the tip of my knife deep between Kaz’s ribs, watching his face contort in pain and dark eyebrows shoot up in surprise, then furrow in agony. Almost immediately, I hear a scream tear from somewhere on the roofs above and feel a pang of sorrow course through me. Inej just watched me stab the love of her life. Inej, the strong, graceful warrior who had been through more than all of us. She had screamed. Wailed.

I hear her words echo around my brain. The autumn leaves. Her cream sweater. The weight of her stare. “Some people just can’t be saved. But we love them anyway.”  

My sight falters.

 Kaz’s grip on my neck loosens, then completely disappears as he stumbles back and I fall towards the concrete without him holding me in place. An arrow pierces my shoulder from above, Jesper no doubt. With that incredible skill for landing true. The impact pushes me forward into Kaz’s already falling body, his white tux shirt now stained with blood. 

The world spins, my head making hard contact with the street. 

“This action will have no echo.” The rough words leak from Kaz’s lips, voice faint and faraway. If I could cry now I would, remembering the meaning of those words that Inej had told me just days ago. We would repeat nothing now. No more harm. To ourselves or others. This is our repentance. Our forgiveness.

Kaz is close to me, for I can feel the warmth of his body and the slick of his blood as it mixes with mine and stains the concrete.

If someone told me nine years ago, when I buried that cat and found my mother buried instead, that this is where I would end up, I wonder how differently my life would have been. I wonder if I would have chosen a different path. One full of forgiveness and happiness. The one of creation instead of crime. Instead of revenge and retribution. The weight of those decisions hang over me like a cloak, protecting and exposing me at the same time. Using the last bits of my strength, I turn my head to the side to look at him. 

Kaz is on his back beside me, so close that I can reach out and touch him. Touch his hand that is limp with resignation, his side that is red with blood, his lips that are white with death. He is the most beautiful man I have ever seen. Even as a small line of blood trickles from the corner of his lips and pings onto the stones. I let my eyes close, pretending the stars behind my eyelids belong to the sky and not to the Grim Reaper. Pretending the stars are his eyes.

We’ve all had hard lives. We’ve all taken on assignments that were too big for us. We’ve all done things we regretted and we all leaned on each other too much for our own good while leaning on no one at all. We all let the ghosts of our pasts haunt us into our future. Especially Kaz. And that’s the problem with trusting ghosts, in the end you become one. 

You become transparent, empty, without an echo. 

“No mourners.” I manage to mumble into the night. 

“No funerals.” A disembodied voice murmurs back, but I’m not sure who it belongs to. 

And then there is nothing but darkness. 

---

~Admin Eggplant

[softsweetsuffering]

OC LIST (New)

Trey:

Has an ability to mimic or amplify abilities/powers of others, as well as telekinesis

Was previously part of a group of people who also had abilities, however after mistreatment and other issues within the group, he left.

He's got a good wealth behind him.

Extremely gentle

Handsome ;)

Loves photography

Has lavender hair

Respects all

'Secretly' Plays violin

Lowkey a sugardaddy

Hamrish Benat:

Has four eyes!

Pink and blonde hair

He loves parkour (as in climbing buildings and leaping around in gyms)

Has PTSD (There are two AUS of which I default as to how he obtained it)

Ready to deck a bitch

Trained nurse

Loves teddy bears and fuzzy pink socks.

Also goes by Hami/Hayden

Andy peters:

Strong, kind.

The quiet Big Type, doesn't always talk, but his heart is in good places.

Wishes he could do more

Buff + Tall

Wears a pair of dogtags.

Has red streaks in his hair for the fun of it

Is extremely brotherly to Adrian

is friends with Hami

Adrian Géarán:

Nervous Malnutritioned anxiety filled tired mess

Has emotionally linked fire abilities (does not like having them)

likes to make little robots!

Easily bullied

Missing an arm

Struggles with normal life

Blames himself for Andys death

Looks unintentionally vaguely like Fry from Futurama

Chris:

Leader of a summer camp for kiddos

Huge fan of the outdoors

Loves to garden

Red head with freckles

Healthy!

Good build, a little on the below-average male height

Likes to hike

Loves kids

Strong but pacifistic

Great smile

Surprisingly a little shy around other adults

Bisexual

Himbo energy

Douglas Connelly:

Just a regular chubby guy

His chub is only important because this man gives some of the best hugs, he's like a marshmallow

He is outwardly confident about his size, even if it sometimes worries him internally

He loves music, loves to groove in the kitchen while making snacks

Always open for roommates and new friends (one of his roommates is a hot bartender called Donovan)

A bit awkward but he tries his best.

Tucker:

Badass

Bunny hybrid (ears :3)

White hair

Likes to wear denim jackets

Fast runner

Has had experience working in the force

Izekiel Iris:

Bruised and abused in a facility

Was turned from human into A being of made of Paint (Useful? no. Fun? yes. Rainbow blood anyone?)

Loves painting

Wallflower

Easily anxious

Loves to draw on his own arms

Matthew Libelle:

Aka Matty Very delayed development wise as well as Autistic

Very much a texture lad, soft blankets are his thing.

Doesn't like loud sounds ( who does honestly).

Tries his hardest to function normally but it's hard.

Watermelon colours are his fav. Green hoodie is his fav.

Has watermelon pink hair.

Gale:

Eldritch bab

Was cursed by a group of guys who were messing with magics they didn't understand

Did in fact murder said group of guys and is traumatised by the idea he has become a monster

hears voices

Has Tendrils that have burst out of his back

Has the ability to move from this realm to the Eldritch planes and back. (is terrified of said planes)

Doesn't have a home

Black curly hair- frizzy- shimmers like Slick oil

Shy type kinda, tall Pale. cold.

Kinda wishes he could just go back to normal.

Would really like to eat some fresh warm bread.

Rowan maverick

Was abandoned as a teen

Also known as Rogue/Red.

Lost some of their tongues making them mute

Trained Assassin.

Previously part of a cult

Addict to painkillers (Caused by the mental issues from the cult and the loss of tongue.)

Bad with Physical affection

Could use a friend

Jace

Cop/Ex Cop.

Laid off after an incident

Has a pubby called Otis

Likes the occasional beer

Dad energy

Issac Merewen

Was previously a Teacher - grade 11/12s

Kidnapped and kept Drugged the hell up.

Was given the new name: Jess/Jack. AKA The Jester

Now has Amnesia problems .(Anomic aphasia)

Was stored Cramped in box.

Needs glasses. (Long sighted. Cant see Infront of him for shit without glasses. He specifically likes round ones :3)

Natrually Blonde

He was very inspired by the Chitty Chitty bang bang scene, “Doll on a music box”.

- He naturally has two different coloured eyes :D

-He likes podcast n occasionally audiobooks. Its good for learning/remembering words, and way easier than straining his eyes. Although it is upsetting occasionally when he can remember more of a book/podcast he’s into more than real words or real-life things.

Tyrone Li

Incubus.

Wise, Patient, caring.

Brown tattoos wind up his hips and torso, curling around his chest around his heart, and around his back, flaring at his neck.

Glasses.

Loves plants and flora

Sex lost meaning when he was younger. He wants true intimacy again but he wants to find the right person..

Glamors hide the following features:

Tail, brown that gradients into Green, Leaf like tip.

Horns, curled. (green tipped :0)

Glamors break usually after a certain period of time regardless of feeding, however, during bad situations/fight the body may unglamour to reserve the last of its energy.

Caspian:

Basically immortal but can die (Reincarnations)

Not a pacifist, but not instantly into violence

He was blessed by the Heart of the Ocean (Shes wonderful <3)

Can control water, can do minor healing with water

Can make water bubble/ boil when angry

Glowy veins when powers are active

He has had many many lives

Soft..caring..Doesnt remember alot of his past..

Doesn't know how many times hes died

Doesn't have alot of family or friends

Goes on many adventures

Elio Solren.

Nickname: Sunshine

Good lad.

Is a shapeshifter Dealt with being told he was happy and always upbeat. People leaving or ignoring him whenever he wasn't started building this sense of need to be happy all the time for others.

Lots of struggles with self image. Being perfect. Appeasing everyone. Poor self body love/self body image.

Is scared about The hate from humans about shifters. The jealousy and fear about them being able to hide behind other faces.

Smiles to hide the pain

Punk/hipster vibes

Intricate golden tattoos

Doesn't open up easily

Doesn't like to admit to being in pain

Kotori

AKA Corey

Owl lad!

Bright yellow piercing eyes. But is totally blind. (Face scars)

Loves music.

Plays the uke.. hums..sings sometimes.

Big wings- like barn owl.

Likes to perch in trees

Jeremey Caulfield

Winter baby

Was left bleeding in the snow at some point

Father Lovely old man (John)

Mother died (Ellie)

Birthday December 23h

Blue eyes

Black hair

Russel

Box boy

Glasses

Red hair

Real sweetheart

Really needs more dev ; ;

Jules

Loves tofu n chicken

Touchstarved

Stubborn af

Kicks ass!

Has Sass

Wears binders/sports bras for Lotsa running n such

Black hair big messy pigtails

Dark brown eyes.

Has a navy bear sleeps with it ‘doesn't care’ about it but does

Gymnast/kickboxing. Bandages around hands

Loved swinging bars since being a kiddo

Trampolines!!

Participates in Underground fight ring to make easy money

Sleeps on just a mattress

Has a laptop for study work but she's slowly giving up on bothering.

(She's not one originally but Werewolf Jules is one of my fav things)

Miles

Part mole, part orphan

Lives underground

Very light-sensitive

Is colourblind

Absolute nerd

loves tinkering with things

is scared of humans

very foggy memories of his parents.

Leilah/ Lei

Can make/control shadows.

Owns a Magic skull(Speaks to it)

Lives in the woods

Wears a skull to spook off people from her woods

Has Tattoos that are shadow/absorb shadows

Kinda bad at maintaining friendships

Emotionally Distant

Wears a cloak.

Bao Ketsuyki

Blood magic bab

Short

East Asian.

Pink/red medium length hair

Big pretty red flower scar from blood magic use on her shoulder/ back.

Little bit foolish, little bit reckless.

Has almost died a few times from her magic use.

Oran Audun

Pale

Punk

Irish

Plays Guitar

Writes in journal, occasionally song lyrics, occasionally little messy ink drawings.

Easy to aggravate (On edge) however is trying to learn how to meditate and be calmer

Covered head to toe in scars but still tries to find confidence in himself. He doesn't find it unattractive, but he feels like others have no need to witness his scars.

loves wearing leather/fabric wrist bracelets

Unwelcome hands have used his body as a research object

Very very against physical contact, needs to break into it.

Ray

Social worker works mainly with kids.

Has a Shy guy tattoo.

His family consists of a Good ma, younger sister, and super baby brother

Dad died but dad was good.

Dirty blonde hair, kinda messy

Short, 5’

Socks the pupper is his helpful lil buddy (hes so round and white and fluffy)

Super dad vibes.

Owen

a hockey player n gymnast.

His mother died when he was about 9.

has an older brother who is a bit of a big jock type

quite protective and caring of his two much younger siblings.

ended up in a nasty scuffle though at some point during his more competitive years in Hockey

This leads to following his passion for Gym

Pole vault, the rings, trampoline.

Still plays hockey among mates or strangers on the weekends in the cold months tho

Ends up taking a position as a gym teacher for kids after taking a childhood course since he was so good at it.

actually a really sweet guy

Soft but likes his sport and jokes.

He can hold his own somewhat more than he appears.

has blue tips/stripes in his blonde hair.

He often wears varsity jackets or baseball tees. As well as a couple other sport wear shirts. (A. Good few are from his bro ofc. Free merch)

He's short but he's got a fairly decent build on him.

He's got a surprisingly good tackle if you aren't careful. And a good grip strength.

Nohea

but everyone calls him Noah.

Works at a Boba tea cafe..

likes to surf.

has an Epic board.

Back and shoulders all littered with lines and tic tac toe-like scars.

he's the type to brush off any questions and change topic while smiling. But not super bubbly. Just. Go lucky.

has a few friends who like to hang out at the cafe

Was in a surfing accident that involved a lot of rocks.

Ila

4’8 Soft. Short.

Ready to protect.

Loves to bake!!!

Smells like a vanilla cupcake most of the time

Isn't afraid to fight although isn't trained

likes Yoga ( and yoga pants)

Needs glasses but doesn't wear them (tsk tsk, unless tryign to read recipes)

Dyes hair silver/white

Jake

Homeless

Snake hybrid can transform his lower half from human legs to tail

Also has fangs, and therefore venom

He's got a lot of sass

Can be a bit of an asshole but soft around the right people

Isn't used to kindness

doesn't cry easily

Steals food

Mac Hiato

Also known as Caf

5’6

Very Grumpy.

Very often has bags under his eyes.

Hoodie is life

Insomnia has serious trouble sleeping.

Has nightmares of strangulation

Occasionally sufferers sleep paralysis

Scared of dark- night lights

Owns a mouse called Bean

Does freelancing webdesgisn/coding as job.

Sits like a gay.

Lives on coffee

Minorly Lactose intolerant

Has One bad eye

Neema

Egyptian

Mechanic

Her dad's a mechanic and used to bring her to work all the time

dead mum: which affected her ability to emote.

Works part time at the garage

Dad likes to bring gifts on their small catch-ups that happen every once in a while.

Sheeee. Suffers a bit of resting bitch face.

she's kinda stunted emotionally because she was raised by her dad, who, isn't great with emotions himself being a man's man and all.

She's very much a tomboy gal. Doesn't exactly get dressed up. because she finds it tiresome and not "her".

Also if she did/does have friends the nickname Nemo 100% crops up because it's sadly alll too fitting but also kinda sweet.

She's actually really into cars and mechanics. Which is one of the few good reasons her dad and her are close.

She's hard to get to know, very quiet. And if you're someone who dominates the conversation she won't speak up much, but you'll be surprised to how much she's listened.

Just because she looks tired and done doesn't actually mean she feels that way.

Samson (Lemonade boi)

His name is Samson, but he prefers Sun/Sunny. (Other more affectionate nicknames include Lemondrop and Sunflower.)

He really likes going out to markets and stuff like that, little stalls or knick knack shops to find the odd kinda items.

He also really likes wandering big forests. (Hes got some o that fae energy) He collects various cool stones/rocks/plants from some of them. He also has some small vials from waterfalls and ponds he’s encountered)

He wants to practice magic to become a witch! He loves the candles and rocks and other cool things that come with the craft. (He inherited things from his father)

He really likes loose fitting shirts too, like flowy things, ones with sleeves that drape past your fingers, or has extra fabric on the bottom that dangle down past hips. (Sometimes they come from the ladies section just because they’re softer and have more variety. Others from op shops and other niche little stores.)

He bought a cologne from a witch that looks cursed but the only curse is that it makes the one who puts it on smell like citrus..so not much of curse. (The bottle looks fuckin neato tho)

He looves fizzy drinks. Doesn’t mind his alcohol either, however it takes a surprising amount to get him on his ass despite looking like a serious lightweight.

He’s pretty average in build, bit of muscle in his arms, some fat on his thighs. Slight pouch of a tum (cause no ones flat and thats unrealistic :<)

He’s about 5′4. So not tall, but not the shortest of the short.

He kinda likes to backpack about. Not staying in places long if they get boring. Which means he is kinda jack of all trades when it comes to work, offering to fix things for pay, lots of casual work doing various things.(One of his favorites was helping a little old lady run a paint shop.)

He occasionally snorts when he laughs and tries not to.

He has his ears pierced, and he has a little yellow gemed stud in his nose.

The ring around his neck he found in the middle of a patch of mushrooms.

He has a couple other tattoos. One of them is of bubbles up his wrist :3 He also has some stars on his ankle, and a sunflower on one of his fingers on his left hand.

He’s not super in to gardening but he does have his lemon tree. He also wants to grow some mandarins

His eyes look silver in a lot of lights, but occasionally there’s some strange hints of yellow, and other times blue.

He has freckles!!!! that look alot like bubbles ;)

He has a twin brother called Fraser.

Scrunches his nose

Hides his laughter behind his hand

[basscannonjack]

1-100 SPEED RUN

Ama. How could you do this to me

1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk?

Lactose intolerant, only eat cereal dry

2: do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day?

yes, but not for too long

3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books?

i just try to remember lmao

4: how do you take your coffee/tea?

don’t like coffee, drink tea plain or with some sugar

5: are you self-conscious of your smile?

not as much as I used to be!

6: do you keep plants?

I have one (1) cactus that I haven’t killed in the 9 years I’ve had it

7: do you name your plants?

sometimes!

8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings?

music or writing

9: do you like singing/humming to yourself?

ALWAYS

10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach?

I generally fall asleep on my stomach and wake up on my back

11: what's an inner joke you have with your friends?

I HAVE YOU NOW

12: what's your favorite planet?

Neptune, probably!

13: what's something that made you smile today?

my SON asking me ALL THE QUESTIONS

14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like?

oh god, probably a bit of a mess

15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is!

the ISS was launched on the day of my birth, so it’s been in space *literally* my entire life

16: what's your favorite pasta dish?

just plain ol’ chicken alfredo

17: what color do you really want to dye your hair?

keeping it silver baybeee

18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up.

oh man, there are so many, but i’ll go with the time that Roman got coke to fizz through my nose by making me laugh too hard

19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it?

no journal, only very similar looking notebooks to doodle and write in

20: what's your favorite eye color?

hazel!

21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that's been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces.

my Bag of Holding! snapped the clasp on it a few years back though

22: are you a morning person?

not at all!

23: what's your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations?

SLEEP

24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets?

Ashe, of course

25: what's the weirdest place you've ever broken into?

I had to break into my own safe at my old job, does that count?

26: what are the shoes you've had for forever and wear with every single outfit?

I’d say my boots, but I just got a new set, so the older ones

27: what's your favorite bubblegum flavor?

Spearmint or wintergreen

28: sunrise or sunset?

Sunrise

29: what's something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing?

I just love seeing my friends blush

30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared?

yes, I won’t go into detail

31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks.

SOCKS SOCKS SOCKS I used to collect weird socks, now I just have a bunch of fun dress socks lmao

32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends.

driving everyone home at 4 am and seeing other people on the road and going “you should be in bed!” at them

33: what's your fave pastry?

lemon meringue pie

34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it?

Teddy a winnie the pooh bear that I still have!

35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often?

I adore new pens

36: which band's sound would fit your mood right now?

uhhhh I’ve been listening to a lot of Rise Against and ABBA lmao

37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean?

messy

38: tell us about your pet peeves!

nearly anything my brother does 

39: what color do you wear the most?

black or blue

40: think of a piece of jewelry you own: what's it's story? does it have any meaning to you?

my claddagh ring from my grandmother, i don’t have much else from her

41: what's the last book you remember really, really loving?

not the last book but there was one about a girl having a single dragon finger that I remember reading so many times that I unfortunately don’t know the name of, or the Tamora Pierce Lioness series

42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it!

Don’t like coffee!

43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with?

James <3

44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything?

I do not :’)

45: do you trust your instincts a lot?

not as much as I probably should

46: tell us the worst pun you can think of.

I’ve been changing my username to a different halloween themed pun for all of October, I’m all burnt out

47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe?

Balut, it icks me out

48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today?

heights, and yes :’)

49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought?

I got a record player fairly recently, I have some P!atD ones, Foo Fighters, and Imagine Dragons

50: what's an odd thing you collect?

rocks

51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them?

Bitch by Meredith Brooks for my eldest sister

52: what are your favorite memes of the year so far?

the ones we’ve made in our server

53: have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them?

all of the above except Pulp Fiction, I’m not really a movie person but I *am* a musical person

54: who's the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face?

my dad

55: what's the most dramatic thing you've ever done to prove a point?

Cotton Eyed Joe in six inch heels

56: what are some things you find endearing in people?

honesty and passion in an interest

57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics?

I just vibe and belt, y’know

58: who's the wine mom and who's the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why?

can they both be me

59: what's your favorite myth?

the soup with a rock in it!

60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves?

Where the Sidewalk Ends was always a good one

61: what's the stupidest gift you've ever given? the stupidest one you've ever received?

a coffee cup drinking horn for my dad, and some painted rocks from my brother

62: do you drink juice in the morning? which kind?

it would be apple juice if I did

63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be?

not at all

64: what color is the sky where you are right now?

greyish, the sun is just about to rise

65: is there anyone you haven't seen in a long time who you'd love to hang out with?

My eldest sister

66: what would your ideal flower crown look like?

ROSES

67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel?

give them to me, I love them

68: what's winter like where you live?

COLD

69: what are your favorite board games?

Monopoly and LIFE

70: have you ever used a ouija board?

no thanks

71: what's your favorite kind of tea?

raspberry or orange for fruit and mint

72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you'll forget it?

no, but I do write things down anyways

73: what are some of your worst habits?

I lose things all the time

74: describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns.

STARDUST SOULMATE

75: tell us about your pets!

I have a Min Pin named Lily

76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren't?

Sleeping

77: pink or yellow lemonade?

pink

78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub?

*insert ick emoji*

79: what's one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you?

decorated my band locker to celebrate my birthday

80: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why?

beige, but I hung up a bunch of posters!

81: describe one of your friend's eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of.

when the sun hits very rich dirt where a tree used to be

82: are/were you good in school?

best in class in math with a 101.8 but I also rarely did homework so uh

83: what's some of your favorite album art?

Too Weird To Live, Too Rare To Die

84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones?

Dragon on the shoulder blade, roses on the left arm, Exalt on the right

85: do you read comics? what are your faves?

webcomics! Barbarous, currently

86: do you like concept albums? which ones?

:? not sure what that means

87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives?

TREASURE PLANET

88: are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy?

nope!

89: are you close to your parents?

my dad!

90: talk about your one of your favorite cities.

don’t really have a favorite, in all honesty

91: where do you plan on traveling this year?

I was supposed to go see Ashe for their birthday but maybe next year!

92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch?

CHEESE CHEESE CHEESE

93: what's the hairstyle you wear the most?

uhhh it’s usually short enough to do nothing lmao

94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday?

I have a friend’s bday tomorrow!

95: what are your plans for this weekend?

WORK

96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot?

bit of both

97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house?

INTP, Scorpio, Ravenclaw

98: when's the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it?

last year? maybe the one before? I did! but my heart didn’t

99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them.

How Far We’ve Come, Matchbox Twenty

The Call, Backstreet Boys

I2I, from the Goofy Movie Soundtrack (lmao)

100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why?

the future! I’ve had my time in the past, no changing it now

[littleangel4996]

My Fate pt 4

The face you can't say no to

Summary:  You find Michael standing in front of the one house that everybody died in and what he asks you...Wells let's just say you were like fuck no

Warning: Breaking and Entering Murder House, language, you unlock a power of you're own, captured

Y/n's P.O.V

It's been 3 days living with Michael and we've have been pretty well. There were bad times where Michael would leave his clothes on the bathroom floor, fights about taking turns in the shower or watching TV, toothpaste in the sink, drinking from the juice/milk container etc etc etc. But we've learned how to talk it out and taking turns. I was just coming home from dropping off an application for teachers aid at an elementary school that's 30 minutes away from the house. The lady, named ms.Solomons said she would give me a call this week or next. I fished my phone out of my pocket skirt to check the time and see if anybody called till I saw Michael standing outside of an very old house.

“Michael?” I called out but he stood there like a statue. My eyes followed what was Michael gazing at. An old classic Victorian house that looked like it was built in the 1920’s.

“They call it murder house” I turn my attention to Michael as he turns his head towards me.

“My grandma told me a story about it. 36 deaths have occurred and been documented in the house from 1922 to 2011."

I never knew that. Well how could I know, I lived in New Orleans my whole life and this is the first time I'm living in LA.

“ Michael, maybe we should go inside”

“To murder house” he asked almost excited. Serious infact. I hope that was a joke. “No, I meant our house" I pointed.

"Okay maybe later tonight after dinner" he asked.

"No way" I scolded.

"Oh come on (y/n) please, I really-" I cut him off putting my hand up.

"No, no no no no no no no and end of discussion. I had enough madness for almost a week, so let's go!” I grab him by the hand as walked to our home. Plus that place is gated. Yes I know how to pick locks but I still don't want to take the chance of me and Michael getting in trouble or worse, killed.

-

Tonight it was homemade lasagna with Cesar salad and garlic bread. I called Michael down for dinner as he strides over to the kitchen.

“Oh great my favorite. You are an awesome chef” Michael complimented me, I know something smells fishy going on and I don't like it. I hope Michael doesn't bribe about the house again. I take my seat across from Michael as we dig in.

“Is this lasagna homemade” he asks with food stuffed in his mouth. Yep I knew he was going to do this, he's going to talk me into it.

“Yes Michael it is. I know what you're doing it's not going to work” I tell him as I take a bite as he takes a bite of the garlic bread.

“ You know there are ghosts living there” he eggs on and I rolled my eyes.

“Michael, end of discussion now eat”.

“Fine..prude” he huffed. Did this shit head just call me no fun? So I threw a crouton at him as he looked at me dead in the eye having Selene hissing at the both of us and we went back to eating. He started it.

-

After we finished cleaning the kitchen he still kept pegging on about that goddamn murder house next door. I've made it clear to him if he talks to me about murder house one more time I'm making him sleep outside of the backyard.

Michael knows I won't do it but still he keeps it up I'll turn him into a mouse if I have to. Hey Selene is a cat and Michael would be the mouse...Tom and Jerry. I laughed at just the thought of that a little. Picking up the brush as I sat in front of the mirror brushing the knots out of my (h/l) (h/c) hair after blow drying it. Selene hops on top of my vanity table, purring against me as I give her kisses on top of her snowy white head.

KNOCK KNOCK

Probably Michael going to bother me about murder house. I slammed my brush down, marching my way to the door and opening my door harshly.

I expect to see Michael in his pajamas but instead he is dressed in all black hoodie, jeans and boots. Is he planning on going to that house alone? He can't be serious, can he?

“May I please come in” with seriousness in his voice. I nodded my head as he walks into the room where he takes a seat on my bed along with him.

All was heard were silence until I spoke first.

“ Michael, why do you want to go to that house so bad? Is it about what your grandma told you about the history of that house?” Michael kept his gaze on the wooden floor, hands on his lap.

“Michael, please.” I place my hand on top of his as he looks up at me. I need to understand why you feel like you need to fulfil that duty”.

He says “ I believe my grandma is in that house.” I made this quizzical look at Michael.

“ But Michael you don't even know if your grandma died, she could be in Hawaii drinking pina coladas not giving a damn about you”.

“You don't understand, (y/n)” he pinched the bridge of his nose already irritated. 'well join the club Mikey'.

“ On what? please enlighten me because I am dying to hear this!” I snapped.

“I SAW HER ALRIGHT” he shouted. I’m not so sure if I heard this one right but did he just said that he “saw her” like in the flesh saw her. “ Michael are you sure you saw what you saw?”

“You’re a witch right” he retorted.

“ Michael just because I’m a fucking witch that doesn't mean i've spoken nor seen ghosts” I retorted back. But I get what he's saying, I would want to know if anyone I known are either dead or alive.

“Plus this was my grandma's bedroom, the fireplace was always her favorite part of her room,” he said. Goddamnit, I can’t believe I'm going to do this.

I got up from my bed walking to my dresser taking out socks, pants and a long sleeve.

“ Michael get out I need to change please.” Michael turned around with a smile plastered on his face and eyes litting up.

“So that means-”

“GET OUT BEFORE I CHANGE MY MIND!”

-------

The time was 10:45 pm and so far the neighborhood is clear. God, Michael better appreciate this because I just might get killed.

We stopped in front of the house. Just by looking at it gives me the creeps, it's even more creepier during night time. I look around my surroundings to make sure it's clear. I wouldn't like it if my neighbors found out that i'm a witch, even though Ms.Goode addressed to the world about witches.   

“Okay Michael, I need you to take my hand”

He turns around with a questioning look as I annoyingly sighed.

“In order for me to get into that goddamn fucking murder house I need to teleport us inside”. He finally got the memo, holding on to me as I concentrate on where I want to land.

As I take a hair pin out of my hair, fiddling with the lock. I could use my magic to unlock the door but it's only one lock so it shouldn't be a problem plus anything simple doesn't always needs to be solved by magic.

"Can you just unlock it with your magic. You know, it'll go a little bit faster" .

"Patience is a virtue" Michael is anxious I know, hell I'm scared out of my pants but I felt so bad for Michael and wanted to do this for him.

'just a little more and-'

WHAM

I jumped, covering my mouth from screaming when Michael kicked the door open.

Giving him my death glare he did a kind gesture as he bowed saying " After you m'lady" and I walked trying to stay angry at him but I couldn't. The house was so dark and dusty I felt like I was going to sneeze. Plus it felt really cold, cold as death. Why did I agree to come here oh why didn't I put my foot down and said that beautiful word "No"?

Oh I know why because Michael guilt tripped me that's why. Michael tapped me on the arm and saw he had a flashlight in his hand passing it to me as I thanked him, turning on the light.

The inside of the house looked more beautiful than the outside of the house, damn I think would have picked this one instead if it weren't for the bad vibes I'm getting, the very spooky kind.  

"Hey, let's go there" Michael's ready to storm to the right room but not before I caught him by the hoodie, dragging his goofy ass over here.

"Look, I already feel the dark presence of this spooky pretty house. So we must stick together, capiche?!" I whispered harshly and Michael nods his head looking almost hurt.

"I'm sorry. I just don't want anything bad happening to you Mikey, I've known you for 3 days and I don't want you out of my sight." I finished. Michael gives me a sheepish smile as we moved on to what I believe is the living room. Every piece of furniture and sofa had been covered, except for that record player and laid a bottle of whiskey, pills, and a bright red lipstick. That's odd. Michael strides over examining the things on the coffee table.

" This was my grandma's favorite lipstick" he picks up the make-up product handing it to me.

I take it then something weird started happening like I was pulled to a different timeline.

There was an old caucasian woman who had short beehive blonde hair wearing a blue flowy dress dancing as the music was playing in the background, applying red to her lips and swallowing the pills with whiskey. Oh my God. Wait, oh no that's...that's Michael's grandmother.

Third person's P.O.V

Michael's friend stood there like she saw a ghost, shaking. He said her name to get her attention then put both of his hands on his shoulder and shook her lightly to make her snap out of it. Finally she came back to earth.

"(Y/n) are you ok, what happened?" He asked, worried that something triggered her.

"Michael this was my first time seeing the past. Oh my God Mikey I'm sorry" she choked a sob.

"You're grandmother, I believe she killed herself"  

"What?" He gasped. But before they can continue their conversation, someone attacks them from behind covering their mouths with a handkerchief as the two breathed in the smell of chloroform. They finally lose consciousness as their unknown kidnappers drag them up the stairs to the Masters bedroom for now and when morning comes the complicated couple will interrogate the trespassers for breaking into their home.

A/n: uh-oh. Finally here's part 4.

I have 2 questions for you guys

Should I re-edit My fate pt 123?

2. How do I make a master list?

@barbie-solecism

@sodanova

@wvntersldr

@kylolangdon

@theghostoflangdon

@miskwaadesiwag

@whysosadmcfly

@creativedogs

@kaccatus

@goddess-of-inferno

@captainskyline

@gracethegeek9902

@castiel-saved-me-from-myself

@amortentiaxo

@langdonsdemon

@poisedphantom

@avesatanormalpeoplescareme

If you like to be tagged please let me know and if you change your user name and I only have your old one please let me know as well.

[percywinchester27]

Unconventional Roommates (Epilogue)

Word count: 2.6K

Pairing: Dean X Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Series Summary: Now that his brother is at Stanford, for the first time in his life, Dean does something for himself. He takes a step towards chasing his own dreams and moves away from Lawrence to start college, which is both thrilling and scary at the same time. Only catch, in this unknown town, he is stuck with the MOST infuriating female on the planet- the roommate from hell!

A/N: Here we are! Thank you, guys. Your love kept me going <3

This couldn’t have been possible without the incredible @deanssweetheart23. Thank you so much for everything, Athina. You rock, my princess <3

Unconventional Roommates masterlist

"This is a horrible fricking idea!" Dean grumbled, getting out of the car.

Y/N merely smirked, and Dean had to admit that the expression had never looked so alluring on anyone else. "You're just nervous. This is the coolest thing I've ever done."

Dean adjusted his tie. She looked so happy that he would have done anything to keep her smiling like that. This wasn't a big deal as it is. He was only nervous because he had never done this before, and also because he was about to walk in with the best girl he knew.

Incidentally, the reason for Y/N's excitement was same as his nervousness. She had never done this before either.

The building was colored in flashing crimson and purple lights which reflected on Y/N's face. Dean couldn't help but be reminded of the fair, when they were stuck in the Ferris wheel. She had looked beautiful then, and she looked beautiful now. The black wig that she was sporting suited her perfectly, so did the dark lipstick. She looked something else.

Just before they could enter the hall, Dean caught hold of her hand and pulled her back.

"Have I told you that you look absolutely stunning?"

Y/N looked down, smiling shyly. It would still take him time to get used to her reacting like that instead of glare down at him like she was about to pull out a butcher's knife.

"You don't look bad yourself, Romeo!"

"Are you kidding me?" Dean complained, touching his slick black hair. "I look like a clown."

"No you don't," she said, running her hand over the lapels of his coat, fussing over him. "You look hot." She licked her lips. "I'd kiss you, but I don't wanna ruin the look with my lipstick."

"Screw the look," Dean said, reaching out for the small of her back and pulling her close. "I don't give a damn about the look."

He leaned in, but she put a finger to his lips. "If you kiss me now, we'd have to go right back home to finish what we started, and I don't want to miss tonight. It's such a big day for you."

Dean could feel the heat rising to his cheeks. She was so proud of him.

It wasn't a big deal. They were launching the paper today, but they all did it every month. For him, though, this was the first time. They had loved his pictures so much that a couple of them were being used in tonight's Halloween party as a backdrop with some Halloweeny stickers. Y/N had been delighted to know about that. It was right after telling her that, that Dean had asked her out to the party.

She had been excited about it from the get go, especially the dressing up part. Dean found it amusing that she was so excited about dressing up even though she did it for a living. That was until he found out what she was planning to dress up as. Honestly, he shouldn't have expected any less of her. She had somehow convinced him to dress up as Gomez Addams, complete with the temporarily colored black hair. He might have to take a couple of days to wash it off completely, but again, her happiness was so palpable that he didn't want to take it away. She was ravishing as Morticia.

All things considered, it was still better than her idea of dressing up as Ted Bundy and Clementine Barnabet. Dean had to talk her out of it. He loved that she was still wearing the printed socks that he had gifted her. The skull beanie had been a constant up until tonight.

As the day approached though, despite her initial reaction, Y/N seemed to grow a little anxious about it. Not enough to curb her enthusiasm, but definitely enough to not fully enjoy it. They had had fun with putting together the ensembles. For the past week, since their evening on the beach, Dean had woken up at ungodly hours to catch Y/N's closing act of the night. All eyes in the club hungered for one look at her, but her eyes only searched his, and Dean felt like his chest widened a couple of inches each time.

After each show, he'd wait behind the curtains to welcome her when she came back, not believing that the Nymph was his. The other girls were happy for Y/N. They were all around her age, but she had mentored almost all of them. It made him clearly see her for who she was- a giver. She did so much for the girls who could very well end up being her own competition, and she did so much for all those little girls in Mia's school, too. Seeing her interact, he also realized that she was a natural teacher, she loved to share what she knew, selflessly.

They scourged through the fancy costumes at the Elixir, trying to try out funny hats and coats, entertaining the girls who had been exhausted after entertaining people all night long. Y/N's eyes shined when she saw him accepting her life and everyone in it so easily. She kissed him harder that morning in the car.

They did find the perfect costumes for Gomez and Morticia, too, there.

Other girls passing them were dressed as nurses or hot assistants, making the most of the opportunity to wear revealing clothes without it being questioned and more credit to them, but there was something very endearing about Y/N's childish excitement about dressing up in two full length layers.

"C'mon!" He grinned, pulling her by her arm, but she didn't move.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?"

Dean huffed. "Now you're having cold feet about this? After you made me spend 2 hours in the bathroom trying to get the hair right?"

"No… Dean," she said, voice abruptly serious. "It's not that, I mean…"

"Hey," Dean put his hand against her soft cheek. "You alright? You're not feeling sick, are you? I told you not to overdo the shifts. In fact, you can take it easy now. Anyway you're quitting the job next month when all your installments for the apartment are paid."

"Dean. Listen." She put her hand over his… the one she was already holding. "Do you want to be seen here with me?"

"Y/N!"

She was quick to put up her hand. "Look… I'm not doubting you. You're like God's personal blessing who just happened to creepily drop into my apartment, but not everyone is as accepting as you. Someone might recognize me… and I'm used to all sorts of slurs, but you're not. I don't want to put you through that."

Her voice had consistently risen, and her eyes were widening with every said word.

"Shhh… Just stop panicking," he said, pulling her against his chest. "You're missing the whole goddamned point here. You think I'd be ashamed if someone said anything about you? Don't you get it by now that I'm just beyond thrilled to be with a fantastic person like you? The first night when I found you at Elixir, I didn’t leave because I was mad at you, I left because seeing me there was distracting you. I thought you knew that."

She shook her head. "I do know that, and I know you won't be ashamed… I thought you'd be more like… angry."

"If someone called you a bad name?"

She nodded meekly against his silky black lapels.

"We could always make them a customer in our newly furnished torture room," he shrugged. "Bet that will teach them to talk crap about hard working people."

She laughed, breaking completely free of the dismal Morticia façade. "You're crazy."

"Says you!" He said smiled, pecking her cheek. "That's very rich, don't you think?"  

This time she let him take her in.

If it was a rainbow disaster outside, the inside was how the fairy world would look in the scene of an Armageddon. It was insane. Dean didn't know where to put his eyes. Wasn't Halloween supposed to be incredibly gloomy? Why was it so colorful?

"Hold me!" Dean said, grabbing Y/N by the shoulders. "I think my retinas are screaming for a savior."

"Shut up, it's not that bad," she admonished. "Besides, bright flashing lights are supposed to make you bold and all that. People dance without stopping to think what they look like."

"Seems fair." Dean looked at the centre of the floor where couples were trying to dance along the jazz tune.

"You wanna go out there?" She jerked her neck towards the floor.

"What? No!" Dean said, flustered. "I can't dance to save my life."

"It's not that hard… come, I'll show you."

He rolled his eyes. Of course she could.

Y/N pulled him towards the dance floor, but still away from the centre. She guided his hands to her waist and put both of hers on his shoulders. "Now you just sway from one side to another. See? Like this."

"I'm just gonna step on your dress and pull us both down," he warned trying to follow her. It wasn't fair that she was doing it so effortlessly and he was left to struggle.

"OMG, Y/N!" Hannah exclaimed, walking up from behind. "I didn't know Dean was gonna bring you along! You both look great."

Hannah was dressed like a Vampire… at least that's what Dean made out of the fangs and blood crusted lips.

"Cas, Meg!" She called out. "Look, Dean's here and he bought Y/N along."

Soon enough Dean's other two friends were there. Meg was wearing a red and black bodysuit with horns and tail, while Cas was dressed in a white suit with attached feathered wings, a halow perched on top.

"Angel and Demon?" Y/N asked. "That's very original."

"Hey, it wasn't my idea," Cas said, pulling her into a half hug. Dean wasn't really sure Y/N was the hugging type, but Cas just gave the vibe.

"You turned out to be way more badass than we gave you credit for," Meg grinned, nudging Y/N in the shoulder. "And there we were wondering how you could rock that limbo so hard."

It was hard to tell in the flashing lights but Y/N seemed to blush.

The DJ changed the song to a more upbeat one Meg pushed Y/N towards Dean, "C'mon, you guys, move it!"

"You wanna move it?" Y/N wiggled her eyebrows, grinding against him. Dean laughed but before he could reply, his eyes fell on Nick who was eyeing them from the sides.

"C'mere!" Dean pulled Y/N tightly against him, one hand sliding down her back to grab her ass, the other fisted in her hair, holding her to him. He brought his lips to her temple, kissing her softly, then deliberately dragged it along her cheek and down to the base of her neck. Sucking a mark exactly where he knew affected her the most. Y/N's moan was both muted and involuntary.

"Dean!" She giggled. It wasn't something she did often, but Dean loved the sound. He didn't stop there…. He let his lips travel along the column of her neck, hands roving all  over her back.

Y/N's fingers gripped his coat tightly, her chest rising and falling against his own. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Nick had disappeared.

"Who are you putting on a show for, Winchester?" She said, reaching up to kiss his lips, not caring about the lipstick anymore apparently.

"No one of importance," Dean shrugged. "You mind putting on a show?"

"Nope… not at all. I do that for a living."

Dean didn't care if he had put Nick in his place, or not. Nick had sure tried to ruin it all for Dean, but ultimately hadn't it worked in his favor after all. For all he cared, Nick could go screw himself. He had Y/N, there would never be a bigger victory than that.

"So about Thanksgiving," Y/N said, "I can't really cook a turkey. I mean we invited all these people, and I can't cook to save the world."

"It's okay, we'll figure something out," Dean replied. "There's like a million cookbooks out there. Besides we can always order, and everyone is getting something or the other. If the turkey sucks, we can eat the mashed potatoes."

"But counting Mia and the girls, Sam and Jess, Cas, Meg and the couple of girls from the club, there's like 12 of us. Our apartment isn't big enough."

"Y/N. Stop panicking!" They had both stopped dancing by now and were just holding each other's hands. "We have almost a month to go. By then you'd have signed the papers for the building and we can do it in the basement."

She still didn't look convinced.

"Hey," Dean lowered his face to look into her beautiful eyes. "Even if they don't like the turkey, the newly minted torture equipment will keep them from saying anything." He winked.

"Seriously, Dean," she said, "I've never done this before. I don't know how to talk to people… what to talk to people about. I just- this feels so normal and I've never had normal before."

His heart broke for her. She wanted this and yet she was so scared of the unknown.

"You know the girls, Y/N. And Meg and Cas are friends. They like you. You know that!"

She nodded absent-mindedly. "What about Sam and his girlfriend?"

Dean scoffed remembering the conversation he'd had with his brother. "Sam thinks you're way out of my league. And Jess? I've met that girl. You don't need to talk, she'll talk enough for everyone in the room."

"Mhmmm…"

He pulled her back against his chest and they started moving in slow circles again.

"You'll have your dream, Y/N. We'll have a studio downstairs and Mia can live here. You can study something else at the University in the day and I'll get a job in a few years down the line. We can eat crappy food, play scrabble on weekends and have long walks on the beach. That is normal, right?"

"That doesn't sound too bad," she mumbled, and her voice was so hopeful, Dean was tempted to take one look at her face to know what she was really thinking.

"Do you want to head home?" he asked quietly.

She shook her head. "Let's stay a while. This feels normal and I like it."

She put her head back against his shoulder as swayed on the same spot. Dean didn't know what tomorrow held. Hell, all of this was so new to him that he couldn't even estimate what the next minute was going to bring. But as long as he was with Y/N, he knew he could do it. He could do anything. Dean was happier than he had ever expected to be in his life.

He was learning what he loved, his brother was happy and doing good in life and there was an incredible girl in his arms.

To say he was content would be an understatement.

He was fucking ecstatic.

Dean bent down to kiss Y/N's forehead. He could get used to it…. in fact, he would be the luckiest guy in the whole wide world, if this unconventional life became his normal.

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

A/N 2: This is it, guys! We are done with one more series. My immense gratitude to everyone who has commented, sent asks, and words of love. It’s meant more to me than I can ever tell you. Thank you so much!! Much love <3

So, did you guys like it???

A/N 3: Please do consider reblogging my work and leaving feedback. Reblogging helps spread it, and also helps against the “best posts first” option tumblr has. The more the notes, the less chance of it getting buried beneath others posts. And the comments are what keep me going. I love you guys and I’ll be in forever grateful <3

Here’s my side blog @percywinchester27-writes. You can give that blog a follow and turn the notifications on to know about updates.

UR taglist:

@deanssweetheart23  @captainradicalpassion  @docharleythegeekqueen  @sleepless-sin    @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester  @ohgodwhybloggg  @roxyspearing  @oneshoeshort  @theofficialduke  @wildlandfox  @mrswhozeewhatsis  @emoryhemsworth  @dslocum89  @justacinnamonroll  @fanfreak07  @dustycelt  @serienjunkiegirl   @thinkwritexpress-official  @babykalika2001  @daskleinevolk  @jayankles  @blacktithe7  @pensysto  @iyannamckague  @shamelesslydean  @crystallstaircase  @melonberri  @commander-meghan-shepard  @trenchcoat-angel  @smiling-meerkat  @sprnaturallover  @violinbetty  @fandom-trash-worth-it  @grace-for-sale  @katsanders  @samwinchesterfanfic  @bluestarshining  @torn-and-frayed  @adaliamalfoy  @anathewierdo  @gabavaldman  @brindz30  @heavymetalhauswife  @sdavid09  @hatemeup  @plaidstiel-wormstache  @deannawinchesterpie  @kit-kat-katie99  @jessieray98  @mlovesstories  @thing-you-do-with-that-thing   @directionernullneun  @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou  @theoriginalvicki  @angelessquirrel  @thereisnolumos  @julie121899  @mikid2000  @freekryptonitecloud  @padasteph-nie  @luna-plena-venandi  @tiffy119  @linki-locks11  @mirandaaustin93  @pjofangirl18  @hunterswearingplaid  @cookiechipdough  @superlock-on-pc   @daughterleftbehind  @abumbling-bee  @savanna1899  @imweirdandobsessed  @emilycollins11  @diariesofthebeautyobsessed  @bakabozza  @imascio08  @luvspnandphan  @stormisamystery  @atc74  @aiaranradnay  @bellastellaluna  @deansgirl215  @xristina-gkika  @almostelegantfire @infinity-dreamchaser  @roonyxx  @ericaprice2008  @akshi8278  @leatherandapples @ceisbill  @alwaysdreamingforthebest

[hvndcvffed]

“ let me just –– can you –– uh. ”  grizz clears his throat and raises a finger. because this? oh, boy. stomaching this shit without laughing mandates a breather.  “ hold that thought for a moment while i collect myself. s’been quite the day and i want to give you my undivided attention. ”

or, alternatively :  yo yo yo, party people ! guess who finally made it ?  i’m lev / linc ( she/her/hers ) , comin’ atchu from the ever so lovely est timezone with ya boy, the tru ledge, grizz visser! click on that read more to read some headcanons i’ve got goin’ for west ham’s resident handcuff-owning, intellectual beb !

[   g    r   i   z    z        v    i     s     s     e    r    ––    B O Y   O N   F I R E .

✔ ┊❝ ( nick robinson. 18. he/him &. cismale ) rumor around town is that gareth “grizz” visser was on one of the buses that left for the field trip. they’re the eighteen year old that resides in new ham. over the summer news spread that he purposely botched his chances to win a football scholarship to a local uni because he applied to several ivies behind his parents’ backs, but who knows if that’s true or not? what we do know is that their friends describe them as well-read & piquant, but who knows when they’re known to be elusive & misanthropé from time to time. 

( &&. general information )

full name: gareth visser

nickname(s) or alias: grizz

preferred name: grizz –– call him gareth and he will... not be happy.

current age: eighteen

astrological sign: leo

gender: cismale

preferred pronouns: he/him

sexual preference: homosexual ( but closeted )

romantic preference: demiromantic

home environment: a quaint three-bed / two-bath house with his parents. a positive, almost sickeningly sweet home: family portraits all over the place, cheesy “ home is where the heart is ” décor all around from his mother’s many trips to pier 1 imports.

current occupation: student, student athlete.

language(s) spoken: english, french, a tad of latin. wants to learn more hebrew, but that shit is complicated as heck.

native language: english.

current relationship status: single.

( &&. background )

reason behind name: y’know, he’s asked his parents this countless times. why gareth? why. gareth. and each time he’s just gotten the same vague response: they liked it. it sounded respectable. ack.

birth order: only child.

ethnicity: american. west ham born & raised, baby!

nationality: american.

religion: agnostic. goes to church with his mother as a way to keep the peace, but... the idea of a god out there saying homosexuality’s a sin gives him a bad taste in his mouth. he’d rather discount his whole existence and uphold morality than accept that there’s a bigoted big guy in the sky. sees the bible more as a literary exercise to instill human value. did jesus really walk on water? heck no. but it makes a good fable.

political views: very, very liberal. doesn’t subscribe to labels, but as close to democratic socialist as you can get in this country without causing riots. anti-brexit. anti-trump. anti-bullshit, basically. maybe socialism or communism done right wouldn’t be a terrible idea.

financial status: very, very comfortable. his parents earn well and know how to save / spend frugally. the vissers are modest in living so they can pour more into experience. for grizz’s twelfth birthday, his parents took him hiking through the adirondacks. they’ve gone on some awesome trips together, and most of their vacations include some aspect of super cool nature. unbeknownst to grizz, his parents’ planned grad gift for him was a month-long backpacking tour through new zealand.

hometown: west ham, connecticut. cool beans.

level of education: high school senior. but he’s one of the learned folk: ap literature on lock. he took some college courses at the local community college last summer, because his job as a summer camp counselor wasn’t exactly intellectually stimulating. leading kids on hikes is fun ‘n all, but... not as engaging as college-level philosophy.

( &&. physical appearance )

looks like (or face claim, if applicable): nick robinson. with longer hair. reference [ here ] . 

height: 6′0 ( jack’s shorter, but nick’s my main fc i’m workin’ with so i decide to bump it up. plus, height? football? makes sense. )

weight: 158 lbs

shoe size: 10.5

figure/build: athletic build. muscular. broad shoulders, lean waist.

hair colour: deep, deep brown. almost black. natural.

hair length: about jaw-length. curly. ( REFERENCE. )

eye colour: brown with an overlay of hazel-y jade-green. his campers over the summer compared his eyes to moss a lot. it kinda felt badass. “moss boss” had a ring to it.

glasses?: nope. 20/20 vision. but he’s been known to steal friends’ glasses sometimes, just for funsies.

skin tone: light, but not necessarily pale – spends a lot of time outdoors. no freckles.

tattoos: none, yet. would love to get a quote from walden. or a pine tree, if it wasn’t so cliche.

piercings: none. but getting an ear pierced has always intrigued him.

birthmarks/scars/distinguishing marks: some miscellaneous scars on his hands from whittling incidents growing up. a faint line across his arm from stitches, when he broke it in the peewee football league in fifth grade. 

dominant hand: left-handed, but very recently learned he’s marginally ambidextrous for important tasks.

if painted, what color are their nails?: never painted. he keeps them short.

usual style of clothing: letterman jacket. jeans. tall socks, boots. pants tucked into socks, because why the hell not? flannels, hoodies, utility jackets layered over plain white tees. pendant necklaces, leather bracelets. occasionally he’ll wear a statement button-downs that looks like your grandmother’s upholstery, but somehow it’ll work really well. varsity t-shirts. hats of all varieties. if he could, he’d showcase some edgier styles. but he’s paranoid. he’s got a stanford hoodie buried in his closet. and a yale one, too.

frequently worn jewelry:  leather bracelets. a silver ring strung on a chain, engraved with “ for sylvie, with love ”. he found it on a hike, and... figured he’d be sylvie for a day, or something.

describe their voice, what accent?:  he has a light, gentle voice. a soft autumn breeze. laced with some gravel. strong, resolute. kind.

what is their speaking style (fast, monotone, loquacious)?: often speaks slowly, surely. not always keen to fill silences. but words are some of his favorite devices of deflection. if he’s unsure, he’ll cut himself off, leading to some choppy and hard to follow sentences. he very rarely mumbles. not afraid to speak eloquently, but will certainly match his speaking style to those he’s around, to an extent. rarely seems bothered. he masks it well.

describe their scent: amber, sandalwood, musk. vague hints of cinnamon. 

describe their posture: grizz holds himself proudly. shoulders broad, chin up, chest open. it makes his vulnerable moments very easy to spot.

( &&. legal information )

any speeding tickets?: nope. this kid drives by the book. probably because he very much prefers to walk or bike around town, when he can help it.

have they ever been arrested?: never. he’s only been to the police station once, to drop off some promotional donuts for the homecoming football game.

do they have a criminal record?: nah.

have they committed any violent crimes?: no sir.

property crimes?: no.

traffic crimes?: nope! unless you count accidentally cutting cars off with his bike, because that’s happened a handful of times, when he’s been deep in thought.

other crimes?: just breaking hearts.

( &&. medical information )

blood type: o negative.

date/time of birth: july 26, 1997. 3:23am. during a rainstorm.

place of birth: west ham hospital.

vaginal birth or cesauren section?: vaginal birth.

sex: male

smoker? / drinker? / drug user?: no / yes / marijuana.

addictions: does good lit count?

allergies: sulfur-based antibiotics. bullshit.

ever broken a bone?: his left arm in fifth grade. right foot at the seventh grade dance –– the girl he asked to slow dance tripped and grizz, wanting to show off his cool socks, wound up with a stiletto heel to the talus. ouch. collar bone, freshman year of high school: he climbed a tree to save his neighbor’s cat and slipped.

any physical ailments/illnesses/disabilities: nope.

any medication regularly taken: allergy meds. sometimes he gets the sniffles.

( &&. personality )

direct quote from them:  UNO.  DOS.  TRES.  QUATRO.

positive traits: charismatic, cunning, introspective, virtuosic.

negative traits: cataclysmic, self-destructive, reckless, careless.

likes: classic literature, trail mix, synth vibes, 60s/70s/80s rock, the beatles, radiohead, faith by george michael. old vinyls. bob ross. vanilla-cinnamon candles and jasmine tea. wind-rustled leaves. fresh fallen rain.

dislikes: bitter coffee. the disappointment just after sunrise. katy perry. cleaning, laundry. the warmer side of the pillow. waking up without a hand to hold. gareth. secrets, but he harbors a few big ones. pretending. hiding. transitively, himself.

strengths: can be quite resolute but sometimes about the wrong things. his ability to analyze and respond to complex literature is… uncanny. intelligence. deduction. survival facts. he’s a postmodern bear grylls trapped in suburbia.

weaknesses: impatience. do-it-yourself attitude.  fear of rejection. fear of acceptance. fear of others. fear of himself. 

insecurities: what if people in west ham discover who he really is? how’s he supposed to postpone that?

fears/phobias:  irrelevancy. book-burning. ignorance. time.

habits:  playing with his fingers. biting his bottom lip and twisting it between his teeth. humming when he thinks no one is listening. going for late-night walks through the emptiest parts of town. staying up ‘til 4am to read and re-read and read again.

quirks: rarely settles his gaze on anything for more than a few seconds, except for other peoples’ eyes. eye contact is probably one of grizz’s biggest conversational strengths. probably why he makes such a good liar, when he needs to. he’ll finish a pint of ice cream and just sit there for over an hour sucking on the spoon, lost in thought. licks his lips when he’s nervous. plays with his hair a lot. you know he’s nervous when he keeps tucking his hair behind his right ear. chuckles to himself, even when things are the pure opposite of funny.

hobbies: jotting notes in book margins. he dabbles in poetry but feels like his shit is too beat-generation to be that cool. wandering through the woods and attempting to generate his own maps, then checking them for accuracy. lighting matches in the cold, mid-evening air just to watch them burn.

guilty pleasure: peanut m&ms. twizzlers. burned marshmallows. apartment tour videos on youtube.

desires: to prove he’s��� sometime more than this. something more than a footballer destined to pretend.

wishes: he could come clean about college. wishes he could come clean about himself. wishes he could work up the courage to ask a guy to prom.

secrets: he purposefully botched an interview he had with central connecticut state university’s football recruiter because he doesn’t want to play in college. he wants to go to yale, or stanford, or brown. to study literature. classics. philosophy. his sexuality. but it’s getting harder and harder to keep that locked down.

turn ons: intelligence. genuine, pure intelligence. sharp-witted humor. dimples. dorky laughs. gentle touch. someone who doesn’t bother with worries ‘bout tomorrow.

turn offs:  idiocy. khakis. people with too much pride. line cutters. naggers. people who don’t think the proper way to eat bugles is by fashioning crisp-claws first and pretending to be edward scissorhands. people who overlook adrienne rich’s poetry, or claim dante shouldn’t be taught in school.

lucky number: 0.

pet peeves: hearing people scratch their scalps. sniffly public transit users. people who don’t use earbuds. cold fries. nail-clickers. knuckle-crackers. people who slurp from straws like they’ve never had a drink before in their lives. 

their motto:  “ i’m surrounded by idiots. ”

( &&. favourites )

food: curly fries with cajun seasoning.

drink: half-oreo half-chocolate milkshake. extra whipped cream. two cherries. please.

fast food restaurant: he’s not huge on fast food, but he can fuck with five guys.

flavour: anything chocolate and peanut.

word: fuck !!!  or zephyr: a soft, gentle breeze.

colour:  a nice, deep forest green.

clothing: his letterman jacket. his deep green flannel’s a close second.

accessory: “ for sylvie, with love” . silver ring. he likes pretending he’s sylvie and that someone cared enough to get his name etched into a precious metal forever.

candle scent: the connecticut homesick candle. it smells like cinnamon and nutmeg and vanilla and fireside bliss. and pine trees. yum.

game: monopoly. but only if he wins.

animal: fish. they’re so graceful.

holiday: halloween. boo.

weather: sunset, just after rain. golden rays peering through deep gray clouds. it makes the greens of trees practically scream against the sky. it’s glorious. it’s heartbreaking. grizz loves it.

season: late fall.

book: le petit prince by antoine de saint-exupéry. it was the last book his grandmother ever read to him, on his fifth christmas eve.

artist: edvard munch. or van gogh, simply because he chopped his ear off and mailed it to his lover. now that’s modern romance.

band/group: the divine comedy, radiohead, pink floyd, the beatles, the rolling stones, the kooks. the avett brothers. belle & sebastian.

song: high and dry, radiohead. elephant, tame impala. anything by the beatles.

movie/film:  mr. nobody. eternal sunshine of the spotless mind. the first time little grizz saw alice in wonderland, he wouldn’t shut up about it for two weeks.

tv show: he grew up watching wallace and gromit. he’s still got a soft spot for it.

sport: football.

possession: his dad’s collection of beatles original release vinyls.

number: 0.

person: henry david thoreau.

( &&. skills )

talents: writing, but he won’t admit it. football. wood-whittling. gardening. navigation.

ability to drive a car?: yes.

can they ride a bike?: yes, and will frequently do so with no hands.

do they play any sports?: football.

anything they’re bad at?: juggling. sleeping. pretending to like gross food.

do they have any combat training? why?: grizz once yahoo answered how to punch somebody to the moon, after one of his best friends got made fun of in grade school for accidentally wearing a costume the day before halloween. he’s still waiting for an answer to that post.

( &&. firsts )

childhood memory: waging what was left of his fruit gummies during a game of fireside poker on the first visser camping trip.

crush: matty kerrington, pre-k. his hair smelled like strawberries and his smile reminded grizz of the hot honey that clung to his mum’s spoon after stirring tea. but to this day, he’ll say his first crush was amanda vander-voss, because her hair was pretty in braids and she reminded him of the pretty deer from bambi.

email address: grizzlybear@aol.com

job: camp counselor at a hiking / adventure camp based in west ham.

phone: a nifty samsung with a slide-out keyboard. made him feel like a god.

kiss: jessica winthrop, in a game of third grade truth or dare.

love: tess de luca ( @tessdl )

sexual experience: with jessica winthrop in the woods behind the middle school, three years later. jess got poison ivy in all the wrong places. grizz thought it was hysterical.

( &&. childhood )

best childhood memory?:  honestly? wearing that boa in dance class. his mom was quick to stop that.

worst childhood memory?:  nearly breaking his nose on the neighbor’s front porch, while attempting to ding-dong ditch with his friends. he’s not sure what gave them away more –– his blood staining their pavement, or the fact that he blubbered the whole run home.

what were they like as a child?:  grizz tended to poke his nose into all the wrong matters, landing him in oodles of trouble. he’d steal from the snack cabinet, sketch constellations across the walls… even stole his dad’s old walkman so he could listen to music under his covers past his bedtime. tried to sneak into the library after hours to get his hands on another thoreau novel. but it was all harmless. the vissers weren’t very firm disciplinarians: they just loved that their son was engaged and passionate about knowledge.

any crushes growing up?: oh, loads. more than he’d like to admit.

( &&. this or that )

expensive or inexpensive tastes?: inexpensive, but lasting.

hygienic or unhygienic?: hygenic.

open-minded or close-minded?: open.

introvert or extrovert?: ambivert. thrives in social settings but the mood has to be right.

optimistic or pessimistic?: pessimistic with a weak optimistic veil. pragmatism, is how he’d put it.

daredevil or cautious?: cautious daredevil.

logical or emotional?: a blend of both, but emotions often influence his actions more than he’d like to say.

generous or stingy?: generous.

polite or rude?: polite when it’s socially mandated. but if there’s no threat of repercussions? a bit rude, if he has to be.

book smart or street smart?:  both.

popular or loner?:  popular, by proxy. but grizz vibes with some solid solitude, especially to recharge.

leader or follower?: leader. follower, though, in the high school structure of things. it’s a way to ensure his place and avoid potential fallout. he’ll call his friends out if they’re up to no good, though.

day or night person?: night. definitely night.

cat or dog person?: both! prefers cats just a smidge more.

closet door open or closed while sleeping?: open. maybe his demons wanna cuddle or some shit.

( &&. social media )

do they have a facebook? twitter? instagram? vine? snapchat? tinder/grindr? tumblr? youtube? yes to instagram and (begrudgingly) snapchat.

if so; name on facebook: none.

instagram user: grizzvisser

snapchat user: grizzybear

( &&. musical tastes )

theme song: kimochi warui ( when? when? when? ), car seat headrest. god... get him OUT of this town.

makes them sad: blackbird, the beatles. his grandparents used to sing this when he’d sleep over/ they’d be in the kitchen early in the morning trying to convince him to eat his cereal. they’d change the lyrics and snap slightly off-tempo, all smiles and coaxing gestures. ave maria. he’s not sure why. it inspires melancholia.

makes them dance: hazy miss daisy, kid bloom. anything with a sick beat and erratic synth. take on me, a-ha. good times bad times, led zeppelin. 

loves the most: fool of myself, the band camino. it’s a song he can throw his head back to, close his eyes, and sway in the breeze.

( &&. miscellaneous )

do they have a fake i.d.?: yep, used to, but now that’s not necessary!

are they a virgin?: nope siree!

describe their signature: it’s unapologetic on the page. takes up more room than it should with lateral squiggles and grandiose swirls. G and V are decipherable, but everything else is convoluted by its own physics. a muddled mess. beautiful in its self-collapsing structure.

how long would they survive in a zombie apocalypse?:  he’d outlive everyone. survivalist visser, right here.

do they travel?: yes, but he wants to do more, see more. the grand canyon would be cool. or maybe the alps. he’s always had a dream of hiking yosemite. 

one place they would like to live: anywhere but here.

one place they would like to visit: new zealand. australia. hawaii.

celebrity crush: young johnny depp. emma watson.

what can you find in their pockets/wallet/purse: tic tacs, but never the mint ones. only the odd flavors.

place(s) your character can always be found:  anywhere with trees. rooftops. alleyways. the football field. coffee shops. the local diner. roadside sunflower fields. his parents’ garden.

when does your character like to wake up?:  with the sun.

what’s your character’s morning routine?: blink at the ceiling for about 20 minutes. wash his face, brush his teeth. annotate a few lines of whatever book he’s reading. push-ups, pull-ups, crunches. run a mile or two. rush into the shower. grab his lunch from the fridge and bike to school (and barely make it).

what does your character eat for breakfast/lunch/dinner?:  grizz’s mom loves to cook, so they’re always trying some new paleo trend. some of it’s awful. but he’ll try to eat it and if he can’t, he’ll sneak a granola bar later. if the school’s serving smiley face fries, he’ll have those. he really likes green apples and those little clementines.

how does your character spend their free days?:  hiking. reading. writing. lying in the sun and just... thinking. lately, he’s been daydreaming a lot about an ivy league education. something more engaging than west ham’s high school snoozefest.

what’s your character’s bedtime routine?:  some kind of pre-bed stretching routine. wash his face, brush his teeth, curl up in bed with a book. fall asleep with it still open on his chest.

what does your character wear to bed?: boxers and a t-shirt.

if your character can’t fall asleep, what are they thinking about?: the past. mistakes. time ticking away.

what is their idea of perfect happiness?: he’s still workin’ on that bit.

on what occasions do they lie?:  very rarely, if he can help it.

most marked characteristic: his hair. it’s all russet waves. untamed. some days, his hair truly has a mind of its own. it screams free spirit. it doesn’t let on that, inside, his soul is burning.

what is one thing they’d most like to change about themselves?:  honestly? it’s not so much what he’d want to change about himself as it is about this town. 

how would they like to die?:  well-read.

do they snore? not unless he’s got a head cold. then there may be a few soft snores here and there.

can they curl their tongue?: yes!

can they whistle?: yes indeed!

do they believe in the supernatural?: not really. but it’s fun to indulge on halloween.  did he move your cup, or did the ghouls?!  s p o o k y .

has anyone ever broken their heart?:  no. haven’t had the opportunity to.

have they ever broken anyone’s heart?:  yes. little marsha lapone’s, at summer camp. she was 8, he’s 18. he told her there was no chance, and she cried into her pb&j. tough.

are they squeamish?: no. 

have they ever seen anyone die? what happened?: just in films.

are they a lightweight?: heck no.

that was a very lengthy thing but... yeah! hit me up for plots! i’m gonna get to crafting and replying to starters v shortly!

[beatyoutothepunchline]

On Getting Dressed

Getting dressed in the morning has always been difficult for me. If I can, I will wear the same outfit four times in one week to avoid having to think about it any longer than necessary. My go-to outfit at the moment is my green and black J-Crew plaid button-down, my high-waisted Madewell skinny jeans with the button fly and my Doc Martens. At this point in my life, I do not ask myself, “Do you think somebody will realize you’ve been wearing the same pair of jeans for the last four days?” but, “Do these jeans look and smell clean enough that if someone were to realize you’ve been wearing them for the last four days, they wouldn’t call you out on it?” If the answer is yes, I will throw on the outfit again. I don’t dress to look nice most days. “Nice” meaning my makeup is done, my hair is straight and parts in a way that frames my face in a flattering way, my outfit is coordinated, cleaned and ironed and my shoes match the vibe I’m going for. When I look "nice" there is generally a vibe I am going for and that can vary day to day. A coat of concealer and a flat iron are nice, but it isn’t really necessary. Some days I run around Chicago in an oversized sweatshirt, with bags under my eyes and my naturally wavy hair pulled back in a ponytail. Sometimes I’m more dressed up, others I’m more dressed down. I’m most comfortable in jeans and a tee shirt and because I tend to get more done when I don’t feel like I’m sticking out for looking good or bad. There are certain days where I have to critically think about my wardrobe as I might an essay or an article for class--interviews, dates, holidays--and those days are agonizing. I would argue there is just as much nuance and subtext in the right outfit as there is in a Hemingway short story. Which is why most fashion related things go over my head. But every now and then, I force myself to stand in front of my closet and edit my wardrobe to what I wear. I’m not a person with many clothes, but there are always a few things I find I can get rid of. As I pick up each piece and I asked myself, “Is this still me?” I stopped to wonder, “How did this become my thing? Is it even my thing, or is it someone else’s?” Like most people, from birth till about I was old enough to make my own decision (and for those decisions to be preferably color coordinated, realistic, and weather/event appropriate), my clothing wasn’t my choice. So none of my clothes were my thing, rather what my mom thought would look cute on me. This is why there is a picture of me in an Angelina Ballerina tee shirts and pink capris with a fairy wand and crown on my fourth birthday, and a picture of me in fifth grade wearing a striped, pink white shirt and short sets from Old Navy while on our family trip to Hawaii, and why my first day of school photo from seventh grade I’m wearing a short sleeved and khaki jacket with a lacy pink tank top and black shorts. I can separate my current wardrobe, almost perfectly into black, white, denim, olive green, and varying shades of blue. I have one pink sweater (which my mother bought me) and while I will occasionally throw it on and wear it around my apartment, I end up tearing it off within twenty minutes because of the I cannot stand the color or cut of it. The reason I wear the monochrome is because I am pale and my skin has a naturally pink undertone. If you flip my wrist over, you can see every vein in my arm up to my elbow. You can see the veins in my feet, in my thighs and my stomach. Wearing, black, white, denim, olive and shades of blue makes the pinkish undertone is less noticable and helps the bright blue veins blend in better. Wearing pink, or bright yellow washes me out and makes weird details intense. As for the cut of it, it’s a cropped sweater with side splits up to my ribcage, on top of being wildly ineffective at keeping me warm, it makes my long torso appear even longer than it is, and it just isn’t me. Nothing in my wardrobe is really “me” though. I came to this realization after glancing at the mess of clothes scattered across my bedroom floor while taking a “break” from spring cleaning this last weekend. Everything in my closet I own because of someone else. I own a pair of Gold Cup Sperry Topsiders because my freshman year of high school there was a senior boy with a British accent who browsed the bookshelves of the library before school in a pair of Sperry’s. In the era of Victoria Secret yoga pants tucked into beat to hell Ugg boots and calf-length Nike socks slipped thoughtlessly into pairs of ADIDAS shower slides on the way out the door, his shoes, as well as the pressed khaki pants and button-down shirts, his perfectly gelled hair, and his accent, captured a kind of class that seemed lost on the rest of the students at my high school. Though my own Sperry’s seem to more closely resemble some douchebag college frat guys than the classy look of Boat Shoe Guy’s, when I look of them I think back to being fourteen, working up the guts to sit at his table in the library, not quite brave enough to say anything, and listening to him talk in what I later found out was a fake British accent about things I can’t remember with other, older people and feeling cool. Not in a conventional way. Cool in a nerdy way I didn’t realize I could be until I met him. When I look at the gold hoop earrings I keep in my great grandmother’s teacup with the rest of my small jewelry collection, I realize that my love for them comes from mother, who wore perfect silver hoops earrings frequently throughout my childhood. When I think of them I think of box blonde hair, and regrettable bangs and her capped tooth smile. I’m the opposite. My hair is dirty blonde, I don’t have bangs (never again after my mom cut thick ones so far back on my head that for several months I had Joe Dirt’s mullet). My hoops aren’t perfect circles and they are gold color, not silver.I don’t look or act much like my mother, but occasionally when I put them on I feel like I can fake that same kind of magnetic charm and try to smile with my teeth like she does. I decide I can pull off the hoops, but not the toothy grin and leave it at that. I own a black pea coat because of the movie Giant. Which doesn’t seem like it would make sense give it’s a movie set in Marfa, Texas, but let me explain. My freshman year of high school my grandma bought a copy of Giant for my dad’s birthday and one day a few weeks after she’d given it to him, I found it lying on the buffet in our living room. Being the movie buff I am, and being intregued by the front cover I decided to watch it. The entire time I just kept thinking the blond guy from the front cover was cute (which, in retrospect, is the dumbest take away a person could have after watching that film). After the movie I decided to Google him and came upon a picture of him walking down the rainy street in New York City. Wet cigarette hanging out of his mouth, collar of his iconic black black pea coat poped. And Where I can’t say I’ve ever fallen in love at first sight, I imagine it’s similar to seeing James Dean in that jacket. In an excerpt from ‘Women in Clothes,’ an anthology about how clothes define and shape us, Leanne Shapton, author and artist, writes of a similar love-at-first-sight feeling she with an Isabel Marant dress she saw a woman wearing at a party, “I admired her hair: worn loose, flecked with grey. And her manner: warm, thoughtful, sincere. She wore no makeup, and the dress, which was sack-like, lent her a modesty I liked. We spoke about our children. Then, in a lull in the conversation, I came back to the dress, complimenting it again. She nodded, knowing. Then I did something that surprised me: I leaned down and picked up the edge of her skirt and touched it, marveling aloud at the light, smooth fabric. I have never touched another woman’s dress like that before. A fur sleeve once, but I’ve never had that grasping, clutching impulse.” In her essay, Sharpton wonders if her feelings she had about the dress “also had something to do with admitting I want something. I’ve struggled with admitting what I want most of my life, not admitting until the last possible moment that I wanted a child. Admitting I flat-out wanted this dress was new to me. I was nervous.” Where I can’t say I relate to the wanting a kid portion of that statement, I can relate to the feeling of wanting something. Wanting to be unique and confident, two feelings I don’t feel like I’ve ever fully had but have just been chasing after my whole life. The reason my go-to outfit is what it is is because of directors like Sofia Coppola and Point Break era, Kathryn Bigelow. There is this picture of Kathryn Bigelow standing in front of a monitor next to Keanu Reeves and Patrick Swayze: white tee shirt, baggy blue jeans, cool boxy shades, and a Reebok baseball hat. When I don’t know what to wear, or when I need to do something I’m not sure I can, I dress up and pretend to be somebody I think can figure it out. Be the woman who can direct a surfer bank heist movie, the woman who can speak French, beautifully while eating a croissant, scarlet lips pouted, Rick Blaine tripping over his shit, the Dude who’s got no idea how the hell things are going to work out, but isn’t too worried about it. Cause maybe things just will in the end. It isn’t an exact copy, it looks similar enough to them that I’m able to capture their attitude, power. . . their magic, but different enough that it’s still me. So I put on my version of that outfit when I don’t know what else to wear because it is comfortable and easy and because I’ve tricked myself into thinking it will inspire some sort of brilliant direction and confidence I don’t feel like I have on my own. Even if it doesn’t do what I think it will and my voice gets caught in my throat and I let someone talk over me, or I get rejected, or I fail and fall flat on my face. When I wear my navy Calvin Klein wrap dress, everyone I know groans and says, “You wear that all the time. Don’t you own another dress?” I do. There is the ombre floor length prom dress that lives back of my closet at my parent's house which I bought because it made me look like Jennifer Aniston, and the crochet white and orange dress that I bought from Urban Outfitter’s because it reminded me of Shasta Fay Hepworth’s orange dress in Paul Thomas Anderson’s Inherent Vice. I don’t usually have the occasion to wear either of these dresses, but the navy wrap dress works for almost any occasion so that’s why I wear it. It creates some shape on my fairly shapeless form, and I like it because it makes me feel like Lauren Bacall. Equal parts sexy, mysterious and classy in a way that I am otherwise not. I’ve never worn it on a date, but I’d be lying if I said if I’d never worn it to a half hour meeting to look “nice” only to walk around downtown Chicago just to see people turn their heads and wonder, “Who is she?” Then, for a fraction of a second, I am the woman I’m not to somebone. When I am at home on Saturday mornings, and my hair is all frizzed out and drooled on and I can’t be bothered to put on actual pants, I walk around in my boxers, oversized and stained Sid’s Liquor tee shirt and a cardigan. I throw on some sunglasses, debate making myself a White Russian and go full-on “The Dude” from The Big Lebowski. Cause it’s hard to relax when you live and work in the same place and I can only seem to do it when I’m someone else. But it is me? Dressing up as someone else might get me through the day, but what if I never take risks as myself? Years from now, will there be some girl who sees a pair of Madewell skinny jeans at the bottom of a pile at a thrift store or finds an old pair of boots that will say, “Oh my god, I love it. It’s so Sidney Thompson.” if I can’t even dress up like her? Am I just a shot for shot remake with nothing new to offer, to contribute, to inspire? Will people see me or will they tease my style apart and say, “Oh, she’s ripping off So-and-So.” I’d like to think I’m more of a Quentin Tarantino homage to all my favorite fashion icons. You can see where I stole, but I’d like to think every now and then there’s someone out there is able to see that part of me poking through one of my costumes and thinks it’s pretty cool.

[dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt]

Since you've done all odd numbers.. even numbers?

OH DEAR GOD OKAY THAT’S GREAT!!! Thank you so so much for asking, amazing Anon!!!!! :’D Here we gone, it’s gonna be long again, so it’s below the cut!! Click read more to learn more randomness about me!!! X’D [questions from here]

2.have you ever found a writer who thinks just like you? if so, who?

Not exactly like me, no. That’s the good thing about art; nothing is the same! :D

4.would you have sex with the last person you text messaged?

LMAO NO

6.how many people of the opposite sex do you fully trust?

Not many. I tend to distrust men more with physical harm and I distrust women more with emotional harm. I have… trust issues. I trust my frens and some of my family members and that’s about it. oof. ^__^”

8.who would you like to see in concert?

If I’m gonna be risking sensory overlord… Coldplay!

10.would you ever want to swim with sharks?

HELL TO THE YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :DDDDDDD

12.what was the last thing that made you laugh?

My Dad just brushed Ria our German Shepherd and came in COVERED in fur X’D X’D

14.have any pets?

YES!! Three dogs (Ria the German Shepherd, Granger the whippet, and Maude the mutt/Pomeranian-ish), three chickens (Haymitch, Cinna, and Effie) and two ducks (Peeta and Katniss). Don’t worry, we named the poultry after Hunger Games characters to be ironic, since we have no plans to kill them and they’re spoiled AF. X’D

16.do you have piercings? How many?

I don’t! I wanted some, but… eh we’ll see. XD

18.what are you craving right now?

Intimacy. :’)

20.have you ever been cheated on?

No. And if I ever am it will absolutely destroy me. So yeah, if my future partner is reading this, please just… don’t. Break up with me first, at least.

22.do you believe in true love?

Meh. Maybe, maybe not. I don’t know. I hope it exists though!

24.do you like the snow?

I’ve never seen snow!! I WOULD LOVE TO SEE IT AND JUST FACE-PLANT INTO IT!!!!!!! :’D XD

26.is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby?

Kinda depends on the circumstances??? but it’s usually it is pretty cute! ^-^

28.go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is!

Six million pounds of space dust settles on the earth every year.

ummmm…. thanks, I hate it? XD

30.what color do you really want to dye your hair?

BRIGHT FUCKIN YELLOW. PIKA PIKA MOTHERFUCKER!!! >:D X’D

32.talk about your favorite bag, the one that’s been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces.

I have this one bag that’s been with me since I was 8. It’s basically a glorified sack that creases every bit of clothing you put in it to hell and it has straps and rope ties and it’s navy blue and I love it!! :D X’D

34. what’s the weirdest place you’ve ever broken into?

My own goddamn house. Had to bust a window and everything. X’D

36.what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks.

Okay so my Mum exclusively buys black socks. Just…. black socks that you can’t even tell apart, but I can’t wait till I can buy the most RIDICULOUSLY CUTE HECKING SOCKS ON THE PLANET. I do like wearing socks, I do not sleep with socks on, but I think they’re great!! :D XD

38.do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it!

It’s p small and it has lots of art I can actually appreciate on the walls and it’s got a low ceiling and kind of a comforting, dark-but-still-sunny den kind of vibe. The booths are actually comfortable. A lot of wood and smokey colours. There’s a slate fireplace crackling somewhere. It smells strongly of coffee and vaguely of liquorice. There’s a spot at the back that’s mostly hidden from site, the perfect place to curl up and read a book while picking on a muffin that was reasonably cheap but the size of your whole hand. Closest place to heaven on earth.

40.what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today?

Not being able to breathe. Pretty much, ya.

42.think of a person. what song do you associate with them?

Sam aka myriadimagines. And this song, idk why, it just reminds me of her.

44.do you like poetry? what are some of your faves?

ASDFGHJKL ACTUALLY THIS THING THAT SAM HERSELF WROTE IS MY FAVE. I read it like a 2 years ago now and it still stuck with me and it’s so beautifully poignant I want to SCREAM. hello yes why are my friends so talented are they even REAL??????????

46.what are some of your worst habits?

I forget to eat and generally forget to take care of myself, I deny myself things I like for absolutely no reason??? I procrastinate everything, I bite my fingernails super low and also the skin around them bc I’m fuckin constantly anxious and can’t sit still, I overthink everything, I stay up way too late… honestly I could keep going, you get the point. XD

48.tell us about your pets!

OKAY SO. Ria is absolutely OBSESSED with her ball, and I mean OBSESSED to the point where she has no idea what to do with herself if you take it away and gets all anxious and whines and paces till you give it back. She constantly sheds and she does this sUpER CuTe thing where she wraps her front paw around your leg while you’re trying to walk and trips you. :))) Granger is either made of metal or a deflated pool toy and there’s no in between. She eats literally anything, including ants nests bc you know they must taste GREAT. She’s super stubborn. She gets smile wrinkles if you rub her neck. Maudie was rescue we got as a really small puppy. We only knew her mum but her dad must have been a Pomeranian bc she looks almost exactly like one. She has this thing where she bites you when you surprise her but really she’s a sweetheart. She’s mostly blind and deaf and has no idea where she is most of the time, I don’t think. XD The chickens are all idiots, the ducks are scared of me but still eat out of my hand when I offer them grapes. Haymitch likes to jump up on my back, Effie likes falling asleep on my lap, and Cinna pecks me a lot and leaves bruises but she lets me stroke her at night when she’s dozing off. :’)

50.are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub?

I think they can be funny… in small amounts. :/// Their laughs are pretty infectious, you gotta admit. XD

52.describe one of your friend’s eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of.

Wariness and weariness and beauty and a fierce want to be loved.

54.are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones?

YEEEEESSSSSSS. An Ouroboros (either sealed or pulling away idk), a blank line of my arm so I can write how many days I’ve been without a relapse bc I need to be held accountable for my actions, a black square with colours bursting out, I also really love blackout tattoos???? I want a bird on my middle finger. :)))) And maybe a smiley face near my collar bone. The quote “what a marvel life is.” I also want the word “promise” on me somewhere, idk where. Maybe a feather somewhere too??? AHHHH SO MANY MY DUDE!!!!!! :DDDDDDDD maybe even a Southern cross but I don’t want to be one of those wankers y’know XD

56.what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives?

Star Wars, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Mulan, Into The Spiderverse. Basically just my favourites lmao. XD

58.if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why?

Neither, eesh. Maybe the past….?? Maybe…? I guess it’d be pretty funny to grab “I’m a girl!!!” Matt and shake some sense into his thick skull. X’D

60.what are some things you do when you can’t sleep?

Oh boy. Throw a ball at the wall and catch it, try to write, have a panic attack bc I should be sleeping, read, play Pokemon, listen to music, pat my dogs, possibly cry… world’s my oyster. XD

62.who is the last person you told a secret to?

My Mum.

64.what’s your favorite food?

🍕 !!!!!!!! :DDDDDD

66.three songs you were recently obsessed with.

this one - this one - this one 

68. three favourite old songs

this - this - this

70.worst possible time to get horny:

lmao when both my parents are home and I have no time to deal with ittttt… occasions like that are the only times I’m sort of grateful I can’t get a boner and give myself away. XD 

72.do you believe in soulmates?

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I don’t believe any relationship is “perfect”, though. There’s always gonna be difficulties.

74.who was the last person you cried in front of?

Dad. Oof.

76.is it easier to forgive or forget?

Neither. :))))))) Forget… I guess?? But really. Neither. :)

78.do you have trust issues? 

*inhale*

Y E S

80.would you go back in time if you were given the chance?

Nopeity nope nope. XD

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING, ANON!!!

[comeondowntosouthparkrpg-blog]

billy “carlos” harris

This isn’t the make-a-wish foundation, fuck off.

Carlos has been accepted! Please send us your blog and a faceclaim to be featured on the main blog!

out of character info

Name/Alias: fuckin me again Pronouns: fuck/fucker/fuckself Age: 19 Join Our Discord: ye Timezone:  est Activity: u know me Triggers: none fuckers Password: jimmy can fast pass my ass Character that you’re applying for: Billy/Carlos Favourite ships for your character: nothing and/or chemistry

in character info

Full name: William Carlos Harris / “Carlos” Birthday: July 3 Sexuality, gender, pronouns: Straight, cis male, he/him Age and grade: 15 sophomore

Appearance:

Carlos is about 5’9, making him one of the tallest out of his classmates, at least, for now. Though he isn’t very tall, he was usually rather lean throughout his life, until he started to get sick and lose some weight. He isn’t necessarily boney, but he’s rather thin, since he tends not to gain much weight no matter what he does. He’s pretty much as white as the next guy during the winter, but he tans very easily. However, more recently he takes some pretty hardcore precautions to avoid skin cancer by wearing loads of sunscreen –– by his mother’s demands –– so throughout high school his skin has stayed rather pale. He prefers to be pale anyways, so it doesn’t matter much to him; he doesn’t want his skin to become dark and wash out his light brown hair which he sometimes plays with by lightening it, either at the barber/salon or by putting something in his hair to make it lighten by itself in the sun, letting it pop up from under the visor that he has to wear to protect his face in the summer. When growing it out it’s wavy, and though it’s all cut short every few months, Carlos has his hair longer on the top for most of the year.

Despite a diverse wardrobe filled with many different stylish pieces, when you break down his outfit combinations they tend to be pretty similar, at least in shape. He’ll wear a baggy shirt or sweater and/or jacket or hoodie, with much less baggy pants, and even skinny jeans or chinos. On special occasions he can be seen in nice button ups and pants, or even a suit. Carlos does like hats, particularly beanies or backwards baseball caps, however he doesn’t go for the hat if he doesn’t feel like it ‘vibes’ with his outfits. He has to have at least one accessory, however, and if it’s not a hat it’ll be sunglasses, a watch, or a necklace. What he lacks in his body type he makes up for in stylishness, as he’s not afraid to take risks and to bring bold styles he sees on tv or magazines into his world to act like he’s not just a cool guy, but he’s a cool guy who dresses better than you AND your girlfriend.

Personality: 

Unaffected by most of the worries that catch his peers, Carlos is used to the unfair, painful aspects of life that others aren’t used to experiencing regularly. Carlos a little punk. He’s used to dropping everything to do something new, whether it’s what he wants to do, or if it’s just being forced on him –– of course, the former is his preference. He loves to live wild and free, sneaking into parties when he can, longboarding around the town with his friends, doing graffiti and other petty crimes. Like most people who share his struggle with illnesses he doesn’t feel bitter about his lot in life. However, that isn’t to say he isn’t a sweet little angel whose kind and suffers quietly. He doesn’t really care what people say; he’s never one to take things to heart, though, living life day by day with hardly a care in the world. Or, rather, with as little care as he can survive with.

Some thing most people don’t see besides his classmates is that, while most people see a sad, suffering little boy, his peers know to be something of a fuckboy. He only talks to girls on Snapchat, and acts like iMessage doesn’t exist. He wears soccer socks with adidas slides way beyond the soccer season. He has the classic fuckboy haircut. Okay, so he kinda respects women as much as any fifteen year old boy can, and he’s not seriously asking girls to bang, but he does talk shit about his mother, and he will like a girl’s instagram but won’t text her back, so he can’t help but give off the fuckboy vibes. In reality, he’s just trying hard to be a normal kid and live a normal live, since he doesn’t know how long he’s really got, and doesn’t want to spend his time isolated because of it.

History:

William Harris was born to Sloane Harris and a Mexican immigrant named Javier Silva on July 3rd. All was well in his life, playing around with the other kids at preschool, loving sports like soccer and lacrosse, until he started feeling sick around five years old he was diagnosed with lung cancer. The arguments between his parents that the diagnosis resulted in caused a rift between Sloane and Javier, as Sloane believed that, despite her family history of the disease, her son’s lung cancer was caused by Javier’s chain-smoking. As the fighting got worse and worse between his two parents, little Billy, as his mother called him, kept getting sicker and sicker. As he was getting sick, his father was kicked out of the home, and went to work on a ranch in New Mexico. William was upset by this, after all the years he has spent with his dad sitting on his lap watching movies and sports, and started to go by the name his father wanted for him, his grandfather’s name — Carlos. 

He was treated with chemotherapy when he was five, spending most of his kindergarten year in the hospital. Luckily for him, he was able to keep up with the learning by having his mother speak closely with the school and ensure his education while he was being treated for his lung cancer. He learned his shapes, colors, letters and numbers, and was able to remotely pass kindergarten and spend the summer recovering. He returned to the second grade a new kid, asserting himself as an important part of the classroom and getting closer with the kids in his year. This wasn’t all without complications, however –– he still went in for a lung transplant at some point in the fifth grade, something the doctors suggested if he was ever planning to play sports. It was back to the hospital for a bit, when they found more cancer cells growing in his body. They caught it early, though, and treated it quickly, so he was back to school in no time. 

In middle school, his resentment towards his mother for forcing his father out returned onto the board again in a greater magnitude than before, fueled by those new teenage emotions, prompting him to write to Javier to try to build a relationship with him. Soon enough he was being driven two hours south to see his father on long weekends, vacations, and other parts of the year, which his mother, who wanted to make him happy, wasn’t particularly happy about –– even if research showed that his father’s second hand smoke didn’t led to his childhood cancer, but instead it was a prominent family history of cancer on her side of the family, (which Carlos pointed out must’ve been the case after shoving all that secondhand smoke research into her face.) He was back with his parents again, and despite the tension that persisted from the awkward arrangements and meetings, he was going into high school ready for anything. 

Carlos was even prepared when he was diagnosed with chronic lymphocytic leukemia at the end of his freshman year. After knowing his family history, as well as receiving chemo as much as he had, he wasn’t surprised. His doctors and family knew that this was bound to happen, and they were happy to have found it in it’s early-stage, meaning he wouldn’t have to worry about treatment nor the risks of it until it got to the point where treatment became necessary and helpful. He was thankful that this time he didn’t have to be the sick kid who was always out of school, who was always leaving class to throw up, who couldn’t play sports or climb the rope at gym class. The only complication he had to really worry about for now was a lowered immune system, but that wouldn’t stand in his way –– he didn’t care what he shouldn’t have been doing. He’d still eat gross things for dares, kiss strangers (if they’d let him,) and was obsessed with doing whatever the other boys his age did, and even taking it above and beyond. Even with his illness, he was able to focus on being himself and being a kid, and he wasn’t worried about how long he had left until his illness got more aggressive –– he learned to live in the now. So he did.

Sample paragraph: 

Soccer practices were always a little much for the tired boy, but none other had compared to this one. He knew it was the first practice of the year and he wanted to make an impression on the coach, saying that he was capable of playing hard. Unfortunately, he was harboring a massive headache and it only got worsened by the noises that surrounded the teen on the field. The sharp sounds of whistles being blown and the shouts of the cheerleading team practicing hurt like hell. The cheerleaders weren’t even supposed to be on the field this afternoon, but due to some poor scheduling, the soccer team had to split half the field with them –– because god forbid the football team have to split their field instead. That, of course, was a ton of distraction for the boys on the football team, and it only made the practice seem longer and earned the team some running laps. 

“Alright team, ten minutes of running around the field! And I don’t want to see any wimpy running, I wanna see Forrest Gump, not Tommy Boy!” The team groaned, and Carlos went to his bag, removing his socks, shinguards, and shirt. Though he didn’t really have anything to show off there like the rest of the boys did, he wanted to beat the heat, and didn’t care if he made people look at his thin, pale arms because of it. Popping a few Tylenols for his headache, among other aches and pains, Carlos threw his bag back to the bench and started running to catch up with his team. Ten minutes of running with complaining teammates, some guys faking tying their shoes so they didn’t have to run, and a lot of sweat was probably the worst part of that practice, but soon after they were able to leave for the locker rooms. The surrounding sweaty and stinky boys became invisible to him once he stepped into the shower, turning it on and letting the icy cold water pour over him. That certainly eased him.

Headcanons: 

rly likes post malone

hates the whole “wow, he’s a miracle”, “he’s so brave”, or any other well-intentioned bullshit comments regarding his ‘ongoing battle’, or whatever. he isn’t here for some pity party where people make themselves feel good for cherishing the sick kid.

got one ear pierced because he thought it was cool. two days later he thought it looked stupid and now he doesn’t wear an earring at all.

brings his longboard to school and tries to ride it in the halls sometimes. also wears a thrasher hoodie. (yes, the two are connected.)

highkey thinks neymar jr is jesus. is rly into soccer.

once tried to go cow tipping but then he sneezed too loud and the cow  woke up and walked away

still dabs in 2018. like the dance move, not drugs

but he also smokes weed

Anything else: fc is ricky garcia

sry my writing is bad and also kill me

[sadpottedplant]

1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk? more milk

2: do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day? no

3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books? whatever paper is lying around

4: how do you take your coffee/tea? i take tea w honey

5: are you self-conscious of your smile? actually no

6: do you keep plants? i try

7: do you name your plants? no

8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings? pen and pencil

9: do you like singing/humming to yourself? sometimes

10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach? side

11: what’s an inner joke you have with your friends? NANA?

12: what’s your favorite planet? saturn or neptune

13: what’s something that made you smile today? being able to talk with nina on the way home from school

14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like? lots of windows and plants and books and bedding! also rlly high up!

15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is! there are more suns in our galaxy than there are grains of sand on earth

16: what’s your favorite pasta dish? whole wheat angel hair with butter and parmesan

17: what color do you really want to dye your hair? blue

18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up. one time ioffered to sub for this guy i didnt relly know and i said “hashtag helpful” out loud and he as so disgusted ug

19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it? I want to ! And I want to write about thhings i like and draw lil doodles and paint in it!

20: what’s your favorite eye color? BROWN

21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that’s been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces. well i dont really love my bag but i had this purple backback all throughout elementary and middle school

22: are you a morning person? no

23: what’s your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations? look up things to draw and play mindless games

24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets? i dont think so. i wish though

25: what’s the weirdest place you’ve ever broken into? in 8th grade i had to break into my own house

26: what are the shoes you’ve had for forever and wear with every single outfit? maybe my old converse

27: what’s your favorite bubblegum flavor? watermelon

28: sunrise or sunset? i wish sunrise but reaistically sunset

29: what’s something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing? one of my friends always leans forward whenever I break when I drive my car. And another one gets really excited bout numbers and its adorable

30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared? yes one time i thought my house was getting broken into and another  time i thought i was lost int he woods

31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? really, just talk about socks. I like socks that have cute patterns and are warm

32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends.

33: what’s your fave pastry? brownies

34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it?

35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often? i wish i did but that shit expensive

36: which band’s sound would fit your mood right now?

37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean? clean bu its always mesy

38: tell us about your pet peeves! broken nails anpying and people wo are ompetetive about everything and make you feel bad about yourself

39: what color do you wear the most? blue

40: think of a piece of jewelry you own: what’s it’s story? does it have any meaning to you? i have a sun necklacce that my sister gave my mom from mexico that i “borrow”

41: what’s the last book you remember really, really loving?

42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it!

43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with?

44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything?

45: do you trust your instincts a lot?

46: tell us the worst pun you can think of.

47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe?

48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today?

49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought?

50: what’s an odd thing you collect? i used to collect beads

51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them?

52: what are your favorite memes of the year so far? the transcending brain meme

53: have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them? no but i want to

54: who’s the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face?

55: what’s the most dramatic thing you’ve ever done to prove a point? slept in the attic to rove i should have a bedroom there

56: what are some things you find endearing in people? being funny and optimistic and talkative

57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics? excited and yes

58: who’s the wine mom and who’s the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why? rache is the wine mom and ella is the vodka aunt

59: what’s your favorite myth?

60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves? yes

61: what’s the stupidest gift you’ve ever given? the stupidest one you’ve ever received? i gave a set of lobster claw gloves. I received an eraser. 

62: do you drink juice in the morning? which kind?

63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be? i leav them be

64: what color is the sky where you are right now?

65: is there anyone you haven’t seen in a long time who you’d love to hang out with? ella, or shana

66: what would your ideal flower crown look like? 

67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel?

68: what’s winter like where you live? pretty at first but cold and oo slushy and gross at the end

69: what are your favorite board games?clue and rack-o

70: have you ever used a ouija board?no

71: what’s your favorite kind of tea? lemon

72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you’ll forget it? kin of

73: what are some of your worst habits? procrastination

74: describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns. they always strive to be the best and they are quiet when you first meet them but loud and funny and competetive once they are comfortable with you

75: tell us about your pets! i have a guinea pig who is paralyzed

76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren’t? my pyschology paper

77: pink or yellow lemonade? yellow

78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub?

79: what’s one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you? taken me out to cheesecake factory for my birthday

80: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why? cream color but i hate the color and i wish i had chose blue i am really indecisive

81: describe one of your friend’s eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of.

82: are/were you good in school? i am pretty good in school

83: what’s some of your favorite album art?

84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones?

85: do you read comics? what are your faves? calvin and hobbes!

86: do you like concept albums? which ones?

87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives? 

88: are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy?

89: are you close to your parents? yes

90: talk about your one of you favorite cities. i love the vibe o san fransisco, everything is so pretty. i also love new ork city because there is so much going on

91: where do you plan on traveling this year? im goign to the galapagos islands in 10 days (im nervouse)

92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch? drowns

93: what’s the hairstyle you wear the most? ponytail

94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday?

95: what are your plans for this weekend? draw and pack for an upcoming trip and do homework

96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot? it depends

97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house? idk, cancer, hufflepuff

98: when’s the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it? 

99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them.

100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why? past, because i have a lot of regrets and i reallly would like to fix them

[wizzard890]

Hey guys! This is @borderlinemangle’s fashion consult. Here’s a link to the masterpost of what I offer. She went for the $20 tier, which is a style diagnostic, without the ten-piece personal shopping option. 

Things you like/outfit ideas

Pinup: but this comes with a qualification. Often the word “pinup” carries with it connotations of like, cutesy dresses and rockabilly bangs and skirtsuits that make you look like a sexually dissatisfied Cold War wife. That’s not your speed. What you like is glamor, a sort of noir, femme fatale, shoot someone and leave a lipstick kiss on their rapidly-cooling lips kind of thing. More Dita Von Teese than Betty Grable. Even the straight pinup looks you included are all wearing form-fitting trousers or pencil skirts, showing a lot of leg and cleavage. Marilyn Monroe, Betty Page, these women are of a particular few decades, but they have a timeless sexuality that you’re really drawn to. I think it takes a little courage to go for vampy looks, mostly because it’s not something you see everyday, and draws a lot of attention, but most of your fashion icons are drag queens, so I doubt that’s something that bothers you, deep down. And a lucky thing about the kind of vintage fashion you like is that it can be easily modernized with a little creativity. Like, this is a dress that’s styled after a costume Marilyn Monroe wore in the movie Niagara. Doesn’t get more 50’s than that. But! Throw these shoes on, or these. Making pinup less of a Thing You’re Doing is a game, and it’s hugely dependent on accessories. Silver booties with that pink dress, something cool with your hair, lavender lipstick and statement earrings is a bomb outfit, not a halloween costume. Going all in on a vintage look is great, but if you don’t want to be pincurling your hair every night, remember to walk it back by taking risks.

Your legs: Now I don’t know your actual relationship with your body, but your “fuck it” attitude is a great thing to see. Those white shoes you love will draw the eye to your calves no matter what you wear them with, and I think it’s telling that you include mini skirts right underneath them. Also: knee high boots. These are all things that make your legs the absolute star of your outfit, and frankly I don’t think there’s much sexier than a woman who feels confident about her lower half. And that’s great, because miniskirts are back with a vengeance right now. Tweed, vinyl, leather, denim, they’re everywhere, and you can incorporate them into anything. I like the idea of mixing some space-agey material (like the models in your email) with some cool blocky shoes, a lot like those white ones, or the flower-patterned ones I included earlier. Or you could play with the whole Clueless vibe that inevitably comes with miniskirts, and wear some playful loafers and knee-high socks instead. As for the over the knee boots, those go with everything. I mean, they go with the velvet dresses you like most of all, but let’s try to mix a little vintage + 90’s in there. So. Velvet miniskirt, over the knee boots, and this sweet off the shoulder leopard print number. Add these dramatic pink cat-eye sunglasses, and I think that’s a solid goddamn look.

A little more mod: we’ve talked about the vintage thing already, and most of the queens you passed to me as style icons are killing that 40’s/50’s screen siren thing. But between your inclusion of the Clueless wardrobe, and your mention of Brigitte Bardot, I think there may be a little mod in you that’s itching to come out. The double-breasted, interestingly-patterned blazers, the high boots, the miniskirts, even those chunky heels on your shoes. Mod! I think it’s an incredibly interesting look, and I always love when people add touches of it to their outfits. Mod is actually a lot about fabric and texture. Think tweed. Or leather. Or ribbed, tight-fitting sweater dresses. Hell, think plaid and corduroy. (the 90s fashion of Clueless was heavily influenced by mod fashion.) There’s this weird thing about 60s fashion that makes it difficult for curvy women, or women with larger busts to break into, not because they don’t look good in it, but because the defining icon of the age was Twiggy. If mod appeals to you, do not let that stop you. Straight blazers and a-line skirts can look great on everyone, it’s all in how you style it. Oversized blazers are super trendy right now, and so are matching top-skirt sets. You like drama in your outfits, so go with bright colors too! Think along the lines of this yellow double breasted blazer, and maybe a tweed skirt.

I think you have really exciting instincts for style, and you shouldn’t be afraid to let them cross-pollinate. It’s easy, when there are looks or vibes you like, to cordon off your closet into “oh this is my vintage stuff, and this is my cool velvet bodycon stuff, and these are my dope chunky shoes”, when in reality, you can mix and match all these items together. So much of fashion is being creative, and your tastes give you plenty to work with! I hope this was helpful, and that it gave you a little kick start vis a vis #Looks. I can’t wait to see what you do!

Happy dressing!