#but at the end of the day she's Ninth to her fucking core

[hedge-rambles]

I was scrolling my TLT tag and honestly, I have to rescind my addition to this post having somewhat recently reread GtN. Because Gideon does know.

She's annoyed by the fact but that girl is fully aware she's the product of a Ninth House education. When they first get to Canaan House she thinks it's going to be boring seminars and lessons, with Bones 1, 2 and 3 with Dr Skelebones. And she specifically thinks she could fill in for Dr Skelebones, she could teach at least Bones 1 and 2 without doing a scrap of necromancy.

She is a dumb-jock swordsbian but she's also very intelligent and is 100% aware that she has an unwholesome familiarity and level of knowledge about the human skeleton.

Anyway, I suspect a six year old Gideon would laugh at the Dem Bones song because lol, the "arm bone"? Which fucking one, idiot?

funniest part of the winnowing trial is harrow rattling off bone names and gideon knowing exactly where they are. objectively hilarious coming from gideon ”i hate the ninth house and i hate bones” nav

[banditchika]

if i may ask, do you have any books you'd recommend? your recent works have delighted me to my core and sparked a hunger within me. i am now struck with a craving to read, read, read (doesn't have to be romance! but anyways, yes, thank you for your works... they are so awesome and i am manifesting that you have a good day/week/month/year)

oh wow, this was such a sweet ask to receive!! thanks anon, you made my week!! here's to hoping you have a great day/week/month/year too :D

as for book recs, i think pretty much everyone on tumblr talks about the locked tomb series (gideon the ninth, harrow the ninth, etc), and i second that! so many weird ass women n shenanigans in that series, so definitely look up a content warning list before u dive in if you haven't read it yet. for better or worse, i think reading gideon the ninth back in... what, 2019(?) changed my writing style permanently, so thanks for that.

otherwise, ive been really into all of ursula vernon's work as t kingfisher, her alias when publishing material that doesnt fit into her brand as vernon. she does a lot of folktale/fairy tale retellings on top of her original fantasy-ish universe and i love her books soooo much. there's M rated content n a lot of her books aren't necessarily queer-focused, but her worlds r so lovely n fun n welcoming. also she's fucking FUNNY. imo, the raven and the reindeer is a good start. she's my latest writing aspiration n i eagerly await each n every one of her next books

shoutout as well to nghi vo and zen cho; im a huge fan of nghi vo's singing hills series, wherein a nb cleric from a sect of archivists who collect stories to immortalize wanders fantasy asia (and not just east asia!) with their bird companion. the books tend to be short, but they're so unapologetically queer, n each book (three of them!) left me with something to chew on for weeks and weeks. zen cho's works, w the exception of black water sister (very good book, but PLEASE check content warnings for that), tend to also be very funny on top of dramatic, gripping, and heartrending, so right up my alley!!

i like what i read, so i end up writing what i read. a running theme in all my recs, i think, r that all these books and authors tend to include moments in their stories that are just gut-bustingly funny, even when in the middle of a lot of high drama, tragedy, etc, n that's important to me. no matter what's going on in ur life, there's always be laughter, n the levity of humor if u can look around n see it.

anyway, those are all just the ones off the top of my head!! i hope ive given you a lot of material to help sate that craving to read. if ur comfortable, feel free to mssg me again on or off anon n let me know what u think if you do end up reading any of these!

[lesbian-dp]

Sunny Disposition

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 2,050

Warnings: Frustration, “one-night-stand”, slight strip tease, daddy kink, strap on sex, rough sex (at least I think it is lol), marking, squirting, unable to walk afterwards. Think that's it.

Request: Yee.

Summary: Natasha Romanoff: The Greatest Stress Relief Known To Man.

A/N: This wasn't the easiest thing to write, ngl. Once again. Don't know how good it is. But I think its p okay.

18+ ONLY.

You were gonna kill them.

You were literally gonna kill them.

The mission had been a ‘Grade A’ fuck up. And it was all thanks to Steve, the apparent self-declared “leader” of the team. Bucky, one of the “best assassins the world gas ever saw”. And Clint, “expert marksman”. Right now, they were nothing but a bunch of world-class jokes, to you.

They had managed to fuck up the mission within thirty seconds, alone. And now here you were, left replaying their mistakes, over and over again in your head, growing angrier by the second.

You were muttering under your breath to yourself, and you unconsciously knew that, as you braced yourself over the sink. Peering out the window above it, into the night sky, dusted with the bright lights of New York City.

“I take it the mission didn’t go well then.” A voice, stating rather than asking, behind you caused you to jostle.

Turning you saw Natasha standing there in a pair of tight shorts and a t-shirt. Her arms crossed over her chest, and an eyebrow raised in a concerned question.

You gave a deep sigh. “I guess you could say that.”

“Wanna talk about it?” she asked.

You took a minute, thinking about your response, and what you truly wanted right now.

“Yes and no. I. Ugh!” you groaned loudly, Natasha raising her eyebrows at your small outburst, “I want to rant about it. But I also want to stop thinking about it... does that make sense?”

“It makes perfect sense.”

A sigh left you, thankful that you had managed to word your feelings correctly, and that Natasha understood you.

“You wanna know how I kill two birds with one stone?”

“Please,” you almost begged.

“I find a “distraction”. One that will also help get rid of my frustrations.”

You studied her, and her words for a few seconds.

“What kind of “distraction”?” you asked slowly.

“Sex.”

“What?”

***

“You aren’t really suggesting this, are you?”

Your arms were crossed over your chest, as you watched Natasha with wary eyes. The red-head had her hands upon her hips, no less confident than her usual self.

“Of course I am.”

“Why?”

“You’re a friend in need. You’re hot. And-“ She smirked. “- I can just tell you’re a great fuck.”

“Do you “help” any of your other friends like this?”

“Nope. You’re the first one.”

“Why me?”

She shrugged gently. “You’re special.”

You took a good few long moments, thinking it through.

“It would just be this once?”

“Whatever you want,” she shook her head softly, edging her way closer to you. You doing the same.

“No one knows?”

“No one.”

You leaned in, clasping her soft lips between yours.

The feeling was like nothing you expected.

You had kissed people before, sure. But never Natasha.

Fuck. She was a good kisser.

She caressed your lips like she had thoroughly studied them. Somehow, she knew them. Better than you even did.

You didn’t want it to stop.

***

“You don’t know know what you’re getting yourself into, do you?”

“Hopefully something that will wreck me.”

“Oh, I’ll wreck you alright.” Trapping Natasha in on the bed, with your arms on either side of her, you leaned in closer to her face. “I’ll wreck you for anyone else.”

“Promises. Promises.” She smiled, lightly shaking her face in front of yours, teasingly.

You smirked at her reaction. You couldn't wait to make her weep.

You removed yourself, going back to standing in front of her.

“Strip.”

Was you one-word command. And she heeds it, almost immediately.

You watched as Natasha stripped her clothes off, piece by piece. Cocking her hips side to side, as she pulled her shirt off. Her fingers teasing at the waistband of her tight as all hell shorts, before they trailed up the sides of her naked torso. Moving to grip at the swells of her breasts. You could see how turned on she was, her nipples hard enough to rival diamonds.

Taking a step forward, you yanked down Natasha’s shorts, in one quick motion.

Moving closer to her face, you whispered, “I said ‘strip’.”

She smiled at you, moving her lips over yours, making sure that she kept them only a hair away from yours. Just to tease you.

She really should know better.

You played up to her though. Letting her think that you were just about to go in for the kiss, only for her to most likely pull away from you at the last minute. But instead, you grabbed her hips and threw her onto the bed. Making her yelp out in surprise.

“You're such a little slut,” you said offhandedly, noticing that she liked it, by the way her pupils dilated further, and her breathing picked up a little. “No underwear,” you noted, as you unbuckled your belt, and kicking off your shoes. Glancing down to said area, that was slightly out of your view, thanks to Natasha’s bent legs.

Natasha bit her lip, watching you undress yourself, too.

“I bet you wanted this to happen, didn't you?” Now naked as the day you were born, you watched as she nodded her head, eyes begging, and leaning forward. Hoping to entice you onto the bed.

It worked.

You chuckled. Gently separating her legs, so that you could lay between them, your chest against hers as you spoke again, “You’re absolutely roaring for it, aren't you, baby?”

Natasha gave you a high-pitched hum in return.

“Uh hu, baby. You gotta use your words with me.”

“Yes, Y/N.”

“You can do better that.”

“Yes, please. I want you. I need you. Please fuck me in any way you want to, Y/N. Break me, daddy.”

Your eyes grew wide, how was it that this gorgeous woman below you, seemingly knew all of your kinks?

Natasha let out a surprised noise, as you crushed your lips against hers. Pulling away, biting her bottom lip as you did. Making her wrap her legs around your waist tighter.

“Oh God, sugar. You’re not gonna know what’s hit you.”

Grabbing the strap from your bedside table, you swiftly put it on. Loving the way Natasha near admired you as you did so. Her chest heaving with every breath she took.

You braced yourself above Natasha again, one hand gripping a handful of her soft red locks, and her other pressing the tip of the toy against her soaked entrance.

You kissed along the side of her face, asking in a whisper, “This is gonna go hard and fast. Is that okay, baby?”

“Please just fuck me, Y/N,” Natasha begged.

With a smirk you pushed all the way into her, relishing in her loud, deep moan, until you had bottomed out.

Yeah. You were gonna enjoy this.

***

The smell of sex filled the room, as you pounded Natasha through her seventh orgasm. Her cries becoming more ragged, thanks to her scratchy throat.

Your hands were close to white as you held Natasha’s hands in yours, and high above her head. Her legs were up, and hooked over your shoulders, as you fucked into her. Her soft, wet core was red with the intensity of your thrusts. You knew it was probably sore for her. But you also knew that she wanted you to continue fucking her.

“You sure you’re okay? Can you still take this?”

“If you stop fucking me like this, I swear, I’ll kick your ass,” Natasha panted, moans.

That was all you needed to hear, before you reverted back into your rough self.

Your teeth bit at the side of her jaw, before you sucked a dark mark onto her smooth, milky skin.

“What do you need, honey? Tell me what you need.”

“I.” A gasp for breath. “I need... I need you to. To- “ A chesty moan. “To tough me.”

“You want me to touch you?” You cocked your eyebrow at her. Removing your hands from hers. You placed them on her breasts, massaging them, and her nipples between your fingers. “You want me to touch you here?”

“Yes!” she cried out.

Her hand flew down to rub harshly at her red, abused clit.

She was close to sobbing, without the trace of tears, when she spoke next.

“I’m coming! I’m coming!”

“Then come for me, baby.” You dedicated to be nice and help her by pounding onto her, at a harsher pace. “Come for daddy.”

That was the final straw. The last tether holding her from the pleasure you had been gifting her with the whole night.

***

“This is the last one, Y/N. I can’t take anymore.”

You nodded, bringing Natasha’s lips into yet another bruising kiss.

Your grip on Natasha’s hips was so hard, that you left bruises in their wake. Bite marks, and love bites littered all over her neck, jaw, shoulders, and upper chest. The same patterns painted the inside of Natasha’s soaked thighs. Bruises of your handprints, and the red marks your fingers left from gripping the plumb area, also adorned her perfect body.

“How do you, somehow, look so much better when I mark you up?”

“It’s because they belong on me,” Natasha could hardly rasp out, with her pants for breath, and the raspiness of her throat, from all that screaming and moaning.

A low groan sounded from somewhere deep in your stomach. From your position on your knees above her, you fucked into her harder, now gripping her hips like a vice. You awaited the comments from Natasha the next day, about her bones being bruised.

Natasha gripped the pillow under her head, as the headboard hammered against the wall. Her legs tightened around you, like a boa constrictor would its prey. She was close.

You could hardly pull the strap from her, because of the tightness of her core and legs around you. So instead you resorted yo grinding deep inside of her, the coarseness of the harness rubbing against her sensitive clit. Plunging her deep into her ninth, and final orgasm of the night.

The sheets were soaked by the end of it, which could only mean one thing.

“Huh,” you chuckled breathlessly, “Didn’t know you were a squirter.”

“Neither did I,” Natasha panted, wiping at her sweat covered forehead.

“Was that your first time?” She nodded. You were shocked, to say the least. With the amount of sex you assumed Natasha had, and how well she had taken your frustrations that night. How had she never squirted before? But then you were overtaken with a sense of smug pride.

Natasha rolled her eyes at you.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but I can feel the cockiness radiating off of you.”

“That may just be the strap,” you joked, glancing down at the thick toy still deep inside the red-head.

She rolled her eyes at you again, before she let out a sudden whimper, as you removed it from her.

“Do you need anything?” you asked after taking the strap off, and it was now thrown haphazardly on the floor, for cleaning the next day. “A water?”

Natasha shook her head, “No. Just. Just hold me?”

“Whatever you want.”

And you flopped down beside her, bringing her into your arms, and letting her rest her head upon your chest. Mourning soft words into her damp, sex mused hair.

Within minutes, she was asleep. And you were well on your way in following her.

This was exactly what you needed.

Her.

You needed her.

And suddenly. You didn’t want this to be the only time.

***

You awoke the next day, by the beautiful, still naked, and heavily marked red-head, shaking you awake.

“Y/N? Y/N?”

You ‘humphed’. “What?”

“I can’t walk.”

You opened your eyes at that, peering at her sleepily, with questioning eyes.

“What do you mean, you ‘can’t walk’?”

“I. Can’t. Walk,” she said slowly. “My legs are dead. And I’m hungry.”

Natasha slapped your chest playfully, as you chuckled to yourself.

“Sorry about that. I’m sure they’ll be alright soon enough. Do you want me to get you some food?”

“Yes.” She nodded. Watching you as you sat up. “I need the energy, for when we do that again.”

You smiled at her over your shoulder.

Yeah. You were sure you we’re gonna fall for this woman.

[ghostmartyr]

/clears throat/ so, Immi, I hear you like the locked tomb, which is fantastic! from one person also escaping the snk series into TLT to another, what did you think of the characters and plot in HtN? are there any things you're most excited to see when Alecto comes out in 2022?

-pats lifeboat- This baby can fit so much trauma.

SPOILERS, naturally.

With another paragraph informing the curious that unspoiled is the way to go into HtN, since if you aren’t lost and confused, are you really reading Harrow the Ninth?

I read it all in one day, and that was a choice. It does mean my memory and understanding of what all went on is slightly dependent on someone else on the internet exploding over a particular set of paragraphs and explaining their significance to me, but I still enjoyed the hell out of it.

HtN disappointed me on one front in that I was hoping seeing more of Harrow 1.0 would help out any future fic endeavors. On everything else, like the first one, being told the story is such a good time that I’m willing to wait on a full comprehension of where it’s going.

I also really like second person.

What I loved most about HtN is how even without Gideon mentioned until very, very late in the book, you can feel her absence everywhere. In the wrong bubble flashbacks you’re commanded to examine the strangeness, but even in Harrow going about her day, the isolation and the wrongness of it decorate her every action. She’s alone, and she shouldn’t be, and the loss she’s unaware of bleeds into a constant echo of grief.

I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated absence as a narrative tool so much. Obviously griddlehark hours go hard once they start in HtN, but even before then, there is so much power to their connection that looking into a world where it never exists still manages to punch you in the heart with how much each one inhabits everything the other is.

The whole series is amping me up with a few thoughts on loneliness, honestly. Gideon and Harrow grow up alone on the Ninth, save for each other. It takes leaving for that to be any kind of good thing. The first book is tag team Among Us with everyone in their little clusters, slowly learning what other people are about as they all drop dead.

The second book has a different vibe and different plot things going on, but it’s similar in that the protagonist gets thrown into a world they don’t fit and have to put on a show. Only now there are even fewer people to familiarize with, with that number correlating directly to how they all killed the person closest to keeping them from being alone.

Lyctorhood is taking the person dearest to your heart and trapping them there forever while they’re stripped of everything that made them who they are.

...Also Ianthe is there.

Gideon, Mercy, and Augustine are the last Lyctors standing after 10,000 years. There were only seven, starting out. Sixteen acolytes who came to the First. The only pair who didn’t succeed in condensing themselves is separated from the pack and sent to live away from their peers on a tiny planet that no one has anything good to say about.

Alecto is John’s -- who even knows, past A Lot, and he puts her to sleep and locks her in a prison no one but he can get past.

God has seven friends. More if you want to count the people in the Cohort, but realistically, he has seven friends. Then they keep dying.

Harrow spends HtN in a spaceship with five people.

One is trying to kill her.

One ordered that one to try to kill her.

Two could not care less about the useless baby Lyctor.

One is Ianthe.

There is no real endgame. There is surviving life, and life has become a game of running as far away as possible so you don’t share your ruin upon your inevitable death.

It’s bleak and sad.

Harrow’s healthiest relationships are with dead people, and some of them she didn’t know at all in life.

Reiterating it, the most plot significant bit of the world is finding someone else in the world, swearing yourself to them, and smashing your souls together until you’ve lost the connection entirely.

My brain’s not in the best place so I can’t do more than gesture loudly at it, but a few people have mentioned that the series’ thesis is a counter to Ianthe’s statement that love is acquisitive.

Harrow tightens her hold around Gideon until Gideon would rather she just strangle her and get it over with, all things considered. It fucks them both up, and when they start working to get past it, circumstance wraps a chain around both their throats.

The necromancers who become imperfect Lyctors have all acquired their cavaliers, and besides the cav, it kills that bond.

Harrow’s rejection of that is why Gideon’s soul is still in the world of the living (and John blood).

She has spent her entire life eating pieces of Gideon to keep herself a horrid imitation of whole, and when she is finally offered that, she refuses.

Grief and how Harrow just can’t are active elements of the book, and Magnus gives her more therapy in five minutes talking about it than she has ever had in her life, but the reason why that isn’t the end of Gideon is because, unlike all the other Lyctors, Harrow turns the offer down.

With the exception of Babs and Ianthe, the relationship between cavaliers and necros about to do the Lyctor thing is cavaliers promising to burn for an eternity while their necromancer lives off the fumes.

Fuck that is Harrow’s response.

Cytherea says, in the aftermath, that they had the choice to stop.

Harrow stops.

A lifetime of doing exactly what Gideon is telling her to do with her death, and Harrow chooses to stop.

Harrow remembers Ortus’ poetry. She regularly sees her congregation off to their deaths. She keeps Gideon’s glasses. She views Palamedes, head exploded and all, as an infinitely better person than she is because of the quality of his exemplary character. She pulls Gideon the First from the incinerator on the night she plans to kill him.

Kiddo has so many fucking issues, but somewhere, she has learned to respect people for being people. That’s why she and Gideon are the heroes of the story, ultimately, and Ortus saying that they’re heroes worthy of the Ninth doesn’t fall flat. They’re actually trying.

Where that puts us for Alecto, I don’t pretend to know.

Since the first book is the temptation of an end to isolation, only to have it snatched away, the second book is the continuation of isolation with a few promising sparks of human connection that pave the way for hope...

That leaves the third book to shed the isolation and allow the connections to thrive.

With Gideon and Harrow MIA.

I know that the books kick things up into high gear in the final acts each time, but if they’re both gone for the majority of the book, no matter how much fun it is, I’m going to miss them. They’re the core leads, and I don’t want to be without them in the final part.

The 2022 release date has aged my soul. I deliberately planned my GtN read to land a month before HtN came out, then suffered when that was delayed. When really that was nothing at all. I hate waiting.

(Insert note that I’m very glad they aren’t forcing Muir to rush anything out. It’s been a rough time, but also, just in general authors should have the opportunity to create the best versions of their art they can, so the extra time hurts, but it’s obviously for the best.)

What I’m most excited for is probably the cover art. The first two have been awesome, and the artist said he’d likely do print sales for all three when the third’s revealed. My wallet cries but my heart does not.

What I dare not be excited for is the potential for Gideon and Harrow meeting again and perhaps hugging. In their own bodies.

I’d take other bodies, but ideally, y’know.

Also I would love for Harrow to finally meet her popsicle girlfriend.

I doubt it would be a wholly positive experience, but by golly I want it. Maybe they could hug too. It would probably kill Harrow again, but who doesn’t expect several people to die again in the third book?

However it plays out, I’m expecting to enjoy AtN. The writing’s the sort that I’ll happily follow wherever it goes. For everything else, there’s fanfic. The only real worry I have is the whole book will be narrated by Ianthe, and while I mentally groan at that, I actually find Ianthe’s commentary delightful, so even in the worst case scenario I’m having a good time.

Thank you so much for the ask.

[grrover]

Title: you’re no better at swimming than you were in the beginning, but you come over at night and we practice all the breathing (Percy Jackson x Annabeth Chase)

Word Count: 7.3k

Summary:  “Well, it’s hard for me to be scared of something that you live in.”

 AU - Mortals, Neighbors

Author’s note: I was listening to Lorde’s “No Better” and the lyrics that I used for the title have always inspired me to create something, so I wrote this (closely based on those lyrics and loosley based on the song in general). I haven’t written fanfiction in 4 years, so I’m a little rusty. This was originally supposed to be a quick one-shot but quickly turned into something more, so I hope y’all enjoy!

[on AO3]

Annabeth was terrified of water. 

Swimming pool, pond, lake, ocean – it was all the same to her. It was as if the substance was alive, waiting to consume her whole. She wasn’t entirely sure when her vendetta against water had begun. Maybe it was during those infant swimming lessons her dad had attempted with her (the supposed reflex for baby Annabeth to flip herself onto her back just never kicked in). Maybe it was just her fear of the unknown because with Annabeth she had to know, and the fact that the most concrete fact about the ocean was that 95% of it was unknown wasn’t cutting it for her. She’ll stay on land. She’ll stay dry. She’ll stick to what she knew.

And that’s exactly what she did. That’s what she did when she was asked on her first date in the eighth grade, her step-mother nearly exploding with excitement as she stormed through Annabeth’s closet picking what she should wear, asking where he was taking her. The answer was initially going to be a ride on his boat, but Annabeth insisted on going to an arcade instead. She knew the place, she won all the games, he didn’t ask her out again. She knew he wouldn’t, she knew she could be intimidating… so why not test the waters?

That’s also what she did after Piper had grabbed her by the belt loops and kissed her at the beginning of ninth grade. She allowed herself to dip her toe into the unknown – just for a couple of months – exploring what could be a relationship with one of her closest friends. It was good, she liked girls, she knew she liked girls. But she also knew that Piper was not for her, not right now. She was better off as Annabeth’s friend. She knew that. And she knew Piper knew that too.

***

That’s not what she did when Percy Jackson moved next door the month before her sophomore year. Messy haired, browned skin, green-eyed Percy. She tried to observe him from the comfort of her window nook as he aided his parents in unpacking the moving truck. He was taller than his mother, even taller than his father, and appeared to be laughing at jokes said in passing. The corner of her lip curved into a slight smile – he was nice. It was then she decided to go introduce herself when she knew the time was right; when they were done unloading boxes.

She decided to go downstairs and do something else in the meantime, rather than risking having her snooping area found out by the new neighbors. As she began to sip on a cup of water at the kitchen island, her father and half-brother’s burst through the front door, both of them bubbling with excitement. 

“The new neighbors are so cool,” Matthew exclaimed, his twin brother, Bobby, nodding vigorously in agreement. 

So much for waiting for the right time. Yet, Annabeth couldn’t help but feel a twinge of excitement as well: new neighbors, cool new neighbors, with a son that was around her age. 

“Oh, really,” Annabeth rested against the island, raising her eyebrows in interest, “what’s so cool about them?”

By that point, Bobby and Matthew were nearly bouncing off the walls as they informed her of all the digestible, yet important details. Like how the son is her age, how they had just moved to San Francisco from New York City, how his name was Percy…

“And they have a massive pool in their yard. Percy said he’s going to teach us how to swim!”

Her dad just chuckled, putting a hand on both Bobby and Matthew’s shoulders as they walked closer towards the kitchen island together towards Annabeth, “Boys, you already know how to swim.”

“Annabeth doesn’t,” Bobby said as he hopped on a seat, Matthew followed suit. 

Annabeth narrowed her eyes, leaning towards the two of them from the opposite end of the island, blonde curls falling over her shoulders as she stared daggers at the twins, “Well did you tell him that?”

The lack of an answer from the two was all she needed, “I so don’t need to learn how to swim! Why would you tell him that?”

“Because you so do! He’s joining your school’s swim team so he knows his stuff,” Matthew rebutted. 

Fifth graders. Annabeth didn’t even have the time to murder them before her father sent her out to say hello. So, Annabeth stomped towards the house next door, her initial excitement about the new neighbors squashed by her annoyance for her little brothers. Of course, Percy’s a swimmer, of course, he’s going to her high school. The family was nowhere in sight outside, so Annabeth assumed that they had finished unloading the van – maybe timing worked in her favor after all.

She walked to the front door, lifting her fist to knock on it, but just as she did the door swung open and she was face to face with tall, messy-haired, browned skinned Percy. He had on a crisp olive green t-shirt, with black ripped jeans showing the scars and bruises scattered across his summer skin. His slightly overgrown jet black curls framed his face, a strand falling between his brows and resting right before the bridge of his nose. He was an unexpected hybrid between a skater boy and a surfer kid, belonging to both New York City yet appearing to be a California native simultaneously. Annabeth couldn’t help but notice the faded freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks, ending perfectly under his sea-green eyes. Sea-green eyes… maybe the water wasn’t so bad after all.

Percy’s eyes darted from Annabeth’s raised fist (which she quickly lowered) to her face, his initial slight alarm turning into a pleasantly surprised grin.

“You must be Annabeth,” he said, looking down at her with mischief dancing across his eyes, “the sister who can’t swim.”

The water continued to be unbearable. 

***

“He looks like an idiot.”

“He looks like Annabeth’s type.”

Annabeth refused to look up from her sketchbook, definitely not because she was blushing, more because she was focused. AP 3-D Art and Design was one of the few classes where she could see both Piper and Thalia at the same time, with Piper being a freshman and Thalia being a senior. For Annabeth, it was a class taken to further her career, giving her the creative space and resources she needed to strengthen her architectural portfolio. For Thalia and Piper, well, they thought it would be easier. Yet with Piper never failing to have a ceramics piece explode in the kiln and Thalia’s hatred for the texture of slip, the two of them resorted to scrolling through Percy’s Instagram page.

The Jackson family had progressively started to spend more time with the Chases and, as a result, Percy and Annabeth had begun to spend more time together as well. It startled Annabeth to her core that she had begun to trust Percy so much in such a short period of time.

“I have mommy issues,” she said to him one summer day, partially a joke, partially a bitter nod to her biological mother who had abandoned her and her father. She didn’t remember the conversation that prompted her to say this, and she wasn’t entirely sure what she expected to get out of Percy with that line. The two of them were merely lying on the loungers in Annabeth’s backyard: Annabeth with sunglasses on, staring up at the sky trying to soak up in the last few moments of summer freedom, Percy glistening with beads of water across his body because he had just lifted himself out of his pool before sprinting to Annabeth’s side to shake himself off on her. She was annoyed, yes, but the youthful laughter that spilled out from Percy’s lips upon seeing her frustration melted away all feelings of indignation.

So with all things considered, Annabeth expected an awkward laugh at least, maybe an equivalent joke about Percy’s own parental issues at best. Family problems had been one of their first bonding points, after all. But instead, Percy rolled onto his side to face Annabeth and asked in a charming yet cautious voice for Annabeth to take off her sunglasses. 

After gazing into her eyes, after seeing what was truly behind that statement, he simply asked “Do you want to talk about her?”

And that’s all Annabeth needed that afternoon.

What she didn’t need was Thalia and Piper scrolling through Percy’s Instagram page when they should be doing their work.

“Please don’t like anything on accident,” Annabeth begged as she leaned over to look at the picture Piper had pulled up. It was Percy submerged in the blue of the ocean, fish swarming around his body as he flashed a peace sign at the camera. He was wearing a wetsuit and scuba diving gear, his fin-wearing feet floating beneath him, brushing the coral and sand that lay at the bottom, as his upper body turned towards the camera. And despite the regulator that covered his mouth Annabeth could tell he was wearing a shit-eating grin based off of the gleam of excitement and mischief present in his eyes. Percy fucking Jackson.

“He’s definitely an idiot, Thalia, and he’s definitely not my type, Piper,” Annabeth replied before assuming the position she had before, going back to her sketch. 

“Oh, no, I think he’s your type,” Thalia corrected as she plucked Piper’s phone from her hands and continued to scroll down the page, “But I also think he’s an idiot. You guys would even each other out in every sense.”

She put extra emphasis on the last two words right as she turned the phone towards Annabeth, showing a similar scuba diving picture as before – God, is that all this boy could do? – that was captioned “I basically live in the water.”

Annabeth hated the water almost as much as she hated how perfect Percy’s loose curls looked floating in it.

***

The end of Annabeth and Percy’s sophomore year was bookmarked by a Jackson-Chase “End-of-Year” and “Thalia’s-Actually-Graduating” hybrid celebration. The two families opened up their fences so all invited parties could easily go in and out between the two yards, with a barbeque in the Chase backyard and the pool in the Jackson backyard being a center of wet, splashing, chaos. Annabeth’s father was at the grill rotating hot dogs and burgers, using Annabeth’s Yankees baseball cap to keep his hair out of his face in the midst of the newfound barely-even-summer-yet heat. In the distance, Annabeth could hear Bobby and Matthew hitting the surface of the Jacksons’ above ground pool, screeching and giggling as they blasted Percy with the water soakers he had gifted them earlier in the day.

“In honor of your fifth-grade graduation and the fact that I am no longer thirteen years old,” he had said in an obnoxiously declarative tone, emerging from his backdoor, a water soaker in each hand. He had the same shit-eating grin he had on in all his scuba diving photos – not that Annabeth had studied them periodically ever since that one conversation with Thalia and Piper, she would never – and his hair was beginning to become overgrown once again. 

Her brother’s beaming faces almost put Percy’s own smile to shame as they each took one as Percy finished his statement with, “Plus, I have a spare one that I can use to attack Annabeth with.”

He turned towards her and winked as her brothers voiced their gratitude and dashed to Annabeth’s kitchen to fill up their new weapons with the fatal substance.

“You need a haircut,” Annabeth said as she reached up on her tiptoes to brush Percy’s loose curls out of his face with her fingers.

“I like having my hair like this in the summer,” Percy replied, taking Annabeth’s wrist in his hand and lowering it away from his forehead, “You think it makes me look more like a Californian?”

Annabeth blamed the burning of her cheeks on the sun – God, why was it so hot today? – and nodded slowly, “Oh, yeah, I noticed the overgrown hair look in the summer. Does it make scuba diving any less terrifying, or are you just part fish? Would explain the small brain.”

She didn’t realize what her words had insinuated until Percy raised his eyebrows at her, the shit-eating grin finding its way back onto his newly freckled face. He hadn’t posted scuba diving pictures since before he moved to San Francisco at the end of last summer, and they were very much buried in his feed. The sun suddenly got a lot hotter.

So now, in the midst of this Jackson-Chase hybrid celebration, Annabeth hoped that her brothers would blast Percy with their water guns so hard that he lost all memory of that conversation. Maybe she was overreacting, maybe just a little bit, but she couldn’t have Percy Jackson thinking that she liked him or anything… unless he liked her.

Annabeth aggressively bit into her vaguely burnt hot dog. Fuck, she thought, examining the scene that played out in front of her. The sun had begun to set, leaving a hazy pink mark on the horizon as a crisp warm air flooded the backyards. Piper was sitting on the table in Annabeth’s backyard (no matter how many times Annabeth’s step-mother told Piper to not do so, she never listened), facing Thalia’s little brother, Jason, who was sitting on the chair in front of her. They seemed to be caught up in an interesting conversation, based upon the sly smile and glimmer in Piper’s eyes and Jason’s animated gestures. Her father had finished grilling and was now caught up in a conversation with Thalia’s parents and Paul, Percy’s step-father.

“I had no doubt in my mind Thalia was going to graduate, I swear!” Annabeth’s father exclaimed, 

She smiled softly to herself. How bittersweet; Thalia, her mentor, her best friend, was leaving her, and it was beginning to seem like the end of an era, but maybe it was only the beginning of something else. She could still hear the shrieks and splashes coming from the Jackson side of the party, the sounds of wet feet dashing across their’ evergreen grass. Annabeth could even hear Thalia joining in on whatever rambunctious game Percy and her brothers had invented with their water soakers, screaming at Percy about how idiotic he was before more splashing took place. 

Maybe this was the beginning of Annabeth’s new era, one that had Percy Jackson in it. One that was filled with more talks like the one she had about her mother and the dozens more that followed, where she could just talk and Percy just listened, staring up at her with sea-green eyes that somehow managed to whisper all the right words in her ear. One that would allow her to continue fostering the undeniable bond that she and Percy had formed in the handful of months since he moved in next door, the bond that allowed him to let tears stream down his face as Annabeth watched and stroked his arm. She didn’t always entirely know what to say to him, and that killed her, but Percy told her that that was okay, that her just being there helped. She knew how to just be there, and she knew she wouldn’t forget how to anytime soon, either.

Maybe she did like Percy Jackson.

Maybe she could go inside the pool.

She already had on a purple swimsuit under her athletic shorts, all she need to do was go over there and dive in. Piper and Jason had already fled to the pool party side and all the adults had migrated to the Chase backyard. Annabeth jumped up and brushed her hands off on her shorts, she was going to do it. She marched towards the Jacksons’ yard and through the fence, and before her eyes could even register what was occurring she was met with three water soakers blasting her chest, stomach, and face.

“Oh my god, wait!” she screamed, putting her hands up in a pathetic attempt to stop the assault. But her screams soon dissolved into unmistakable laughter as she darted across the yard. Percy and her brothers chased after her, unforgiving with the pressure of their soakers. Piper, Jason, and Thalia picked sides from their spots inside the pool, shouting different tactics at the four players in the relentless game of chase.

“The pool is the safe spot!” Jason shouted at Annabeth, “Get in!”

He didn’t know about Annabeth’s irrational fear, fair enough. But maybe this was her cue, after all, the pool wasn’t deep, it’s not like she could drown, and if all else fails Thalia was in there to save her. Those were facts. She knew she would be fine in this pool, Percy Jackson’s above ground pool. With that, Annabeth managed to outrun Percy and her brothers and dart up the ladder of the pool before launching herself into the water.

And Annabeth wasn’t going to lie, the water was freezing and, for a split second, she was terrified. Then she felt Thalia’s warm hand on her shoulder from above the water, the laughter of all her friends, the laughter of Percy, distorted from underneath the surface. Annabeth was fine, she knew that. She broke the surface, greeting her stunned brothers and an entertained Percy Jackson with a stuck-out tongue and middle finger. Pool water, especially Percy Jackson’s above ground pool water, wasn’t that unbearable after all. 

Within the next couple of hours, Annabeth’s step-mother came to put her brothers to bed, Annabeth’s father had cleaned up from the barbeque in their backyard, the Graces had gone home, and Piper’s father sent a driver to pick her up.

“Famous father things,” Piper sighed before giving Annabeth a warm hug and jogging to the car, towel around her neck. 

Soon, it was just Annabeth and Percy in her kitchen, soaking wet with towels around the necks. Percy’s curls were weighed down by the water, sticking to his forehead. Annabeth’s blonde curls were in a similar fashion, except slicked down to the back of her head, neck, and down her back. They were both cupping mugs of tea as they sat at the kitchen island, shivering due to the cool wind that came with the near-summer nights (it probably didn’t help that Annabeth left the back sliding door wide open). She knew her step-mother would be furious that she and Percy had tracked in water from the pool, but at that moment Annabeth didn’t care. She didn’t even think about it. All she could think about was how she and Percy had stayed in the pool by themselves, hours after everybody had left, and now it was midnight and Percy Jackson was in her kitchen drinking tea with water droplets glistening all over his arms and chest with his freckles coming in across his nose and on his cheeks and his sea-green eyes looking down at her.

Annabeth knew that she was staring up at Percy as if he was the sun itself, and in a way he was. It was midnight and Percy Jackson was the sun itself. Percy Jackson’s pool water wasn’t that unbearable. The most nervewracking and electrifying part about the entire interaction was that Percy was staring right back at her, sipping his tea carefully as he tried to crack the code that was Annabeth Chase, but Annabeth hadn’t even begun to crack it herself yet.

Percy was the first one to break it – whatever it was – and put his mug down on the island with a soft clank.

“So...,” he started, and Annabeth couldn’t help but notice the bead of water that ran along the curvature of his cheek, “those swimming lessons your brother’s signed you up for last summer…?”

He looked back down at her, his usual easy and playful demeanor was replaced with a mysterious and calculating gaze and Annabeth didn’t know. She didn’t know why he looked at her like that and why she looked at him like that. She didn’t know how to handle all that was Percy – he was unknown to her in every sense. He had just moved in not even a year ago and yet she had confided in him about everything and he did the same. He knew her just as well as Piper and Thalia did, and they had known Annabeth for years, what was the logic behind that? That’s what was terrifying, there was no logic to what she felt for Percy Jackson. Every nerve in her body was telling her to go to bed, tell Percy goodnight and end whatever was going on right now because she did not know where this was going. She wanted to go back onto the dry land, forget the ocean.

She looked up at Percy and pressed her lips together in a small smile, “I believe I’ll be taking them… Mr. Jackson, is it?”

The playful and shit-eating grin crashed right back into Percy’s face and Annabeth couldn’t help but notice how close they were. How she suddenly noticed the water droplets decorating his lashes and the slight pink flush that was beginning to flood the area where Percy’s freckles were sprinkled across his nose and cheeks and underneath his eyes. She also noticed how easy it would be to lean in, to grab him by the back of his sunkissed neck decorated in water droplets that the midnight light hit just right and kiss him. And she knew Percy had the same idea as well. 

And then the upstairs light flickered on and Percy jumped out of his seat.

“So, swimming lessons,” he sputtered out.

“Tomorrow?” Annabeth asked.

He grabbed his towel and attempted to return to his playful and nonchalant stance as his eyes flickered nervously up towards the staircase, and Annabeth couldn’t help but wonder which family member she had to strangle once she got upstairs, “Tomorrow.”

So that summer they had swimming lessons. Annabeth learned how to back float and Percy even began to show her proper form, detailing what do do if she ever found herself drowning. Honestly? Annabeth couldn’t care less about the different types of strokes and what makes a bad or good form. She did care about how Percy held her up in the water as he guided her arms and legs, informing her on all things swimming with his mouth close to her ear. And Annabeth could feel her ratio between knowing and unknowing grow larger, but one thing she did know for sure was that Percy Jackson’s above ground pool water wasn’t unbearable.

***

The next summer Percy Jackson’s above ground pool was replaced with an inground pool that had no shallow end, and it was as if Annabeth could see the number that represented the things she knew now and the number that represented the things she didn’t know now grow further apart in distance right before her eyes. She tried to describe her frustration to Piper and Thalia who, upon Thalia coming back from college for the summer, were at the Chase residence almost all the time now.

“It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be,” Piper said, sitting in the very nook that Annabeth sat in the day she watched the Jacksons move in next door. Piper looked out the window at the Jackson residence, “Plus you have an attractive swim team coming, like, twice a week now if that’s any consolation.”

Thalia made a face from her position on Annabeth’s bed, probably because she knew that Piper had a thing with her little brother at the moment. She had been concentrating on painting her nails a sickening shade of duo chromatic black and electrifying blue but flicked her eyes upwards to glance at Piper.

“For Annabeth! Not for me.”

Annabeth was being overreactive and selfish, this she knew, which is why she didn’t voice her feelings to Percy. His mom had gotten the inground pool installed in celebration for Percy being named captain of the swim team at the end of their junior year. It was also just convenient now considering that since he was the new captain, he would be able to host the team at his house. Annabeth remembered the youthful excitement that his voice carried as he told her. They were lying on Annabeth’s bed in opposite directions with their heads positioned next to one another’s. Percy had reached up to rest his hand on Annabeth’s curls as they both stared up at the ceiling and reflected on their now completed junior year. And she really was happy for him, ecstatic even. When she heard the pride that dripped from Percy’s voice as he talked about the swim team, his swim team… How could she not be? She didn’t even need to look at his face to know how genuinely happy he was, and between that and his fingers tangled in her hair, all resentment towards the inground pool had dissipated for a small moment.

All the resentment stormed back when she saw that Rachel Dare was on the swim team. She was all curly red hair, freckles, and high cut blue swimsuits. Annabeth was attracted to her yet utterly envious of her without an ounce of logic to back up her reasoning – Rachel had a girlfriend – and it was driving her insane. Add five to the “things she didn’t know” side of the ratio: why does Rachel Dare drive her crazy if she posed no threat? Why did she even feel that there were “threats” to her relationship with Percy? If she and Percy almost kissed last summer then why didn’t she bring it up? Why didn’t he bring it up? Why does she not remember anything from their swimming lessons?

“Well that won’t help,” Thalia said knowingly, examining her nails, “the only swimmer Annabeth pays attention to has lived next door the whole time.”

Annabeth felt her face begin to warm up at that statement, and it only got hotter when Piper turned from the window to smirk at Annabeth, who was seated on the carpet, “Yeah, ever since Percy developed an Apollo’s belt and a bit of abs–.”

“Okay! God!” Annabeth glared at her two friends.

She did owe them, though; that’s the answer to number five. Plus one for “things she knew”, minus one for “things she didn’t know”. There was a direct relationship between the amount of time Percy and Annabeth lived next to each other and how serious he had become about swimming, and, boy, were the results evident. Even outside of his physical appearance, Percy finished his junior year with colleges scouting him to swim on their teams. 

Annabeth remembered the amount of disbelief Percy was in, growing teary-eyed after he hung up from his phone call with UC San Diego. He came crashing into her house, insisting that he needed to be with her when he picked up the phone, claiming that he needed her to be there to comfort him after he fucked it all up. He lay stomach-down on her bed and Annabeth stood in front of him, hands on his shoulders, rubbing circles into his back with her thumbs – he was so fucking tense – as she gazed down at him. He softly put down the phone to his side before pulling Annabeth in by the waist to hug her. Full body sobs shook through him as he cried into her shirt, burying his face deeper and deeper into Annabeth’s stomach, shaking his head. He didn’t need to say anything, Annabeth knew.

“They want me.” His voice was barely a whisper, and if Annabeth wasn’t constantly hyper-focused on Percy’s every move she would have missed it. “They really want me.”

“I know,” Annabeth put her head towards her ceiling, smiling. “I am so proud of you, Seaweed Brain.”

He had begun scuba diving again, and the nickname arose after he returned from one of his day trips. He had sent her a brand new photograph, same shit-eating grin hidden behind all the gear, fins flapping in the water, and two big thumbs up as he posed with a cluster of seaweed. So you don’t have to stalk my Instagram anymore, he had said to her. Annabeth couldn’t get enough.

“Visit me,” he had whispered.

She would have walked off the nonexistent end of the world if he had asked her to. Plus one to “things she didn’t know”: why did he have this power over her? Maybe Piper and Thalia would know the answer to this one, as well. So Annabeth told them about UC San Diego, she told them about the swimming “lessons”, she told them about the red hair, freckles, and high cut blue swimsuits.

And they looked at her like she was stupid.

“Maybe we should all be shocked when Annabeth graduates,” Thalia snorted, finally closing the bottle of nail polish and rolling it around in her hands. “All smarts and logic but can’t see what’s right in front of her.”

Annabeth blinked, unsure what to make of Thalia’s statement. She had equipped her logic – at least she tried to – to no avail. It couldn’t be the length of time she knew Percy that made her feel this way because when she wanted so badly to feel this way about Piper freshman year it didn’t work, and she had known Piper for longer. It couldn’t be due to Percy telling her everything about himself and the way to care about him, because she just knew those things, she picked up on all the little details. He never needed to tell her. Annabeth ran her fingers along the carpet and tried to continue racking her brain but nothing made sense, nothing made sense except for–.

Oh.

“You love him, and he loves you,” Piper said, turning her attention away from Annabeth to look out at the Jackson residence yet again. “Geez. I thought you knew but were just scared. Or playing dumb.”

Fucking hell. She had been doing a little bit of both; plus one to “things she knew”. 

Piper and Thalia had left her house that night with a vague threat along the lines of Annabeth having to do something about the Percy situation before they did. She had texted them both later, asking for them to give her a couple of days. She needed time to process, to think, to evaluate all the points where she had known about what she felt for Percy without actually knowing; not in the way she needed to have known anyways. Both their responses could be summarized with the words don’t overthink it.

So, of course, Annabeth took that with a grain of salt and dove straight into overthinking. She tried to find the exact moment she started to love him (Was it when they talked about her biological mother? Drinking tea at midnight, cold and soaking wet? Or was it when he drove her around in Paul’s car, promising that he wouldn’t crash it as long as she was inside?). She also tried to find the reason for why she didn’t consider love the answer for so long (Does love defy logic? Was she scared of it?). She tried to find the reasoning behind why Percy hadn’t made the first move if Piper was right; if he did love her (Well why didn’t Annabeth? If she loved him?). She was going in circles. The bridge between the low number of “things she knew” and the ever-increasing number of “things she did not know” grew so undeniably large that no architectural design that Annabeth could ever sketch would resolve it.

Days after Piper and Thalia’s big reveal, Annabeth returned to the window nook where she first saw the Jacksons move in. She hoped that it would help her arrive at all the answers, turning all her “things she did not know” into “things she knew” because she could not take anymore unknowns. She hated unknowns. All Percy Jackson brought with him from the day she first laid eyes on him were unknowns, yet she loved him. Plus one. Annabeth had a mug of tea cupped in her hands as she stared out the window, sipping is gingerly. Before Percy, this had been Annabeth’s space, this was the space where she came to all major realizations at. It comforted her then and she believed that it would now. 

So when she saw Rachel Dare pull up to Percy’s driveway in her white Mercedes with her deadly red-haired-freckled-high-cut-blue-swimsuit-under-denim-shorts combo, Annabeth thought that was her spot giving her a huge middle finger. Annabeth was projecting her own issues onto Rachel, she knew that, so why was envy still burning in her chest? She watched as Percy walked out to greet Rachel, giving her a hug from the side, before the two raced to his backyard. Probably to cannonball into Percy’s eleven-feet deep pool. Percy and Rachel knew where they stood, they had the ability to dive right in because there was no need to hesitate.

So why was Annabeth hesitating with Percy?

She loved him. People had been trying to figure out what the fuck love was since the beginning of time, through science, poetry, prose, and paintings. It was confusing, it was messy, it was unknown. Annabeth knew this. She loved Percy Jackson. Her “things she knew” and “things she did not know” were never going to be concrete as long as she loved, as long as other people kept loving. It was going to fluctuate, it was neither here nor there. She loved Percy Jackson. She knew this. That’s all that she needed. Sure, she did not know all the answers to everything involving love until love was figured out – until someone finally knows all there is to know about love. But that wasn’t her job. Not right now. Right now, she only had one job.

Meet me at your pool at midnight, she texted Percy. Percy Jackson’s eleven-feet deep inground pool was bearable. It was more than bearable, it was what she needed. She just hoped she remembered those above ground pool swimming lessons.

***

Annabeth and Percy’s friendship had helped her get better at sneaking out at night. Not that they were doing anything forbidden, at least most of the time. The two of them just appreciated each other’s company best when there were no distractions; when the world stood at a weird limbo where it felt like it only belonged to those who were awake at that moment. Annabeth only wanted to share those moments with Percy, and he admitted that he felt the same. So, those moments became their time. 

Annabeth climbed over the Jacksons’ wooden fence like she had done so many times before. She was aware that Percy probably – definitely – left the gate unlocked since he was expecting her, but Annabeth needed the extra adrenaline rush for what she was about to do. She walked to the edge of the pool, the eleven-feet deep pool. The water glistened under the moon, and Annabeth knew that despite the hot summer air the pool would be freezing. She took off her athletic shorts to reveal her purple swimsuit. She dove right in, headfirst.

So much for a leap of faith. Annabeth purposefully showed up only 5 minutes before midnight, wanting to surprise Percy with her skills (best case scenario), or have him be impressed with her for trying prior to coming to her rescue before the water gulped her down (this case scenario). She couldn’t remember anything about a freestyle, butterfly, breaststroke, or backstroke. All she could remember was Percy’s hands running across her arms and legs as he held her up, whispering the technicalities in her ear as he checked her form. Maybe she fucked up, maybe this was a mistake and now she was being consumed for nothing. 

In her frenzy, she managed to remember one of the things Percy had told her with his lips pressed up against her ear (why did he ever think that was the best way to instruct her on anything?). He had told her that if she ever found herself drowning, simply flip onto her back (she flipped), allow her head to float to the surface (she floated), and trust and follow the current (if the water going in and out of the pool filter counted as a current then she did that, too). Well, at least she wasn’t dying. This she knew.

As if on cue, Percy slipped out quietly from his back door.

“Annabeth?” he asked frantically before lowering himself into the pool by her side.

“I’m floating,” she replied.

Upon realizing that she was okay, he began to laugh at the predicament he had found her in. Looking back, Annabeth could see how comical that might be. He helped her up onto the poolside, trying to keep himself from exploding into a juvenile fit of laughter right in her face as he began to question her.

“How’d you end up in there?” Percy’s sea-green eyes were crinkled in amusement. “I mean, if you wanted late-night swimming lessons you could’ve just asked.”

He turned to look at her, realizing that she had been incredibly quiet. Annabeth was observing him, trying to read his face. Was Percy Jackson in love with her? She realized that she was worrying him as she saw the playful glisten disappear from his eyes, quickly being replaced by the foggy mystery that was present that night at the kitchen island when water droplets had danced across his eyelashes. There were water droplets dancing across his eyelashes now.

Annabeth broke the silence; “Percy, what are our swimming lessons to you? Were they always just swimming lessons?”

Percy furrowed his brows, but before he had the chance to just respond with another question Annabeth continued.

“Because they weren’t to me. I love you, Percy. I’m not sure when that happened but it doesn’t matter, because I love you now. I jumped into a fucking pool to show it, for God’s sake.” Annabeth laughed to herself, kicking at the water. She looked back up at Percy, but now he was staring down into the pool as if he were searching for something at the very bottom.

“I realized that I know a lot of things,” Annabeth continued, refusing to avert her gaze from Percy’s profile. Water droplets glistened on his brow under the midnight moon. “I also don’t know a lot of things. I love you and you’re just a bunch of knowns and unknowns to me all at once and I love you for it. And you don’t have to say it back, not now, not ever, because you just being here is enough. Thank you.”

Percy let out a breathless laugh and shook his head, looking up at the moon. The soft white light outlined his glistening figure. “Well, I’m going to say it back because I do. I love you.”

Annabeth took a deep breath in, relieved that he said it back because she knew that yet didn’t know it at the same time. Getting used to the unknowns was going to take some time, but if Percy was going to be there by her side during that time it was all worth it.

“Can I kiss you?” she asked, but Percy was already leaning in.

He pulled her towards him with his hand on the small of her back, gentle, and leaned down to capture her lips. Annabeth cupped his chin and arched herself into him. His lips were wet, cold, soft. She could feel the water droplets between their lips, their noses, their cheeks, their arms, their legs. When they pulled away, Percy looked down at her through half-lidded eyes, his lips reddened and slightly agape. His dampened overgrown curls framed his face and stuck between his brows and his freckles danced across his nose, cheeks, and underneath his eyes. Percy lowered himself into the pool.

“I want to teach you one more lesson, tonight,” he barely made a sound when he said it but, once again, Annabeth was hyper-focused on everything that was Percy Jackson. He took Annabeth’s wrists and placed her arms over his shoulders before taking hold of her from underneath her legs and lowered her into the pool with him. He grasped Annabeth’s chin with his index finger and thumb and lowered her lips down to his again. Annabeth ran her fingers through his wet curls before cupping the back of his head, pressing herself closer to him.

When the two parted, Annabeth couldn’t help but ask: “What was I supposed to learn from that?”

“The breathing.”

***

The summer after Percy and Annabeth’s senior year, before they embarked on their respective college journeys, Annabeth made Percy promise to take her scuba diving. The two decided to go after Percy’s birthday, now that they were both 18, so they could take themselves to the beach house Percy’s mom had gotten by the coast.

Prior to the trip, Annabeth had purchased an embarrassingly large amount of new swimsuits. Most of them were blue, Percy’s favorite color, some of them were purple and some of them were grey. Percy had also taken her to buy diving gear before they went to dinner, a perfect hybrid date. They held hands the whole time, Percy rubbing circles into her hand with his thumb. Their swimming lessons continued, and Annabeth was finally beginning to get better. It wasn’t like the other times where the two of them had said that she was getting better while they both knew that nothing had changed. It was real this time because Percy actually began to seriously teach this time (“No more whispering,” Annabeth had told him). Some lessons were just to practice all the breathing, but that was to be expected.

“You know you don’t have to go scuba diving if you don’t want to,” Percy said repeatedly, from when they were paying for the gear to as they sat across from each other in the restaurant. “I know you haven’t always loved the ocean…”

Annabeth beamed up at her boyfriend – her surreal boyfriend, Percy Jackson – and said, “Well, it’s hard for me to be scared of something that you live in.”

Not anymore, at least. The ocean had a lot of unknowns, yes, but Annabeth was slowly starting to unlearn the idea that it was her job to know everything. It wasn’t possible. Sometimes she just wanted to go scuba diving with her boyfriend without having to think too hard about it, even if he was a competitive swimmer and Annabeth hadn’t learned until last summer. Percy’s shit-eating grin made an appearance.

“I’ll watch all the Harry Potters with you.”

“Oh, you better.”

So, the weekend after Percy’s birthday the two of them set off for the coast in Paul’s white minivan (with the Jackson-Chase blessing, of course). Percy’s loose curls were overgrown, the wind rushing in from the rolled down windows blew it all across his face making Annabeth question his ability to drive with such an obstacle. His summertime freckles had fully settled in, and the two of them sang along to the radio until their throats were raw. Percy took Annabeth’s hand in his as he drove and planted kisses to it periodically. 

He was going to UC San Diego to be a student-athlete and Annabeth was going to UC Berkeley, her dream school. The two schools were eight hours apart, but they would make it work. She knew that. She didn’t know all the details yet, but that was okay. She loved Percy Jackson and the unknown wasn’t as intimidating as it was before his wave crashed into her life at full force. She didn’t have to know everything. Not right now, while he was right here, kissing her hand as they drove to the coast.

[tenroseforeverandever]

Chartreuse

Characters: Ninth Doctor; Rose Tyler; Jack Harkness

Pairing: Nine x Rose

Tags: Limes; Fluff; Humour; Drama; Jack being Jack; language; one-shot

Summary: Panic ensues when Rose doesn't recognize the colour chartreuse, but in the end, the repercussions of her misjudgment are nothing like what she expected.

Notes: Written for a “Guess the Author” prompt in the Doctor x Rose Discord: “Oh, shit! Oh, fuck! That was the wrong button.” It was supposed to be a maximum of 500 words, so I failed at that spectacularly, but my muse was insistent.

My undying thanks to @aintfraidanoghosts, @rose--nebula, and mrsbertucci for helping me brainstorm ideas for this fic and coming up with some killer Jack-lines that I was able to adapt to fit! You are all geniuses and I love you! @rose--nebula and mrsbertucci, your betaing was, as always, stellar. Where would I be without you? <3<3<3

All mistakes are well and truly mine. Read also at: AO3; FF; Tsp (when approved)

------

Chartreuse 

“Seriously,” Rose leaned back against the TARDIS console and gazed up at the infinite ceiling above her, “the Doctor’s jus’ my friend. That’s all!”

Jack’s head and shoulders slid out from under the console. He scoffed and fixed Rose with an expression that could only be described as incredulous. “Yeah, right. You keep tellin’ yourself that, Rosie.”

“Well, it’s true, innit?” Rose countered, unable to prevent the flush that burned over her cheeks.

“I’m just sayin’, play your cards right, and your status could be upgraded to friends-with-benefits.” He gave her a lascivious wink and disappeared again. The clatter of his tinkering resumed. 

“I wish…” Rose huffed, folding her arms heavily across her chest.

“Hand me that hyperspanner, will you?” His hand shot out to accept the tool and Rose smacked it into his hand a bit harder than was strictly necessary.

A few seconds later, Jack’s voice sounded from under the console again: “Hey, I need you to do something for me…”

Rose grinned. “As long as it doesn’t involve me takin’ off my clothes!”

“Clothing is always optional, in my books, but I’m sorry to say, nudity isn't strictly necessary, so you’re off the hook... this time!”

The cheek of him! “Dream on!” 

“Hey, cut me a little slack, dreams are all I got these days. Can’t get any action around here when you and the Doc only have eyes–” 

“Right,” Rose quickly cut him off, refocusing his attention on the task at hand, “w’at d’ya need me to do?”

“Okay, okay I’ll back off. Promise! Do you see that little panel of buttons, just to your right?”

Rose turned around and scanned the console, quickly locating the multicoloured panel. “Got it.”

“Need you to do this quick, okay? I’m just unhooking everything right now and this flow regulator is no lightweight.”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

“Do ya see the chartreuse one?”

“Chartreuse? Seriously? Pull the other one! I mean, mauve was bad enough but–”

“C’mon, Rose! Get the hell out of the 21st Century and just find the damn button! My arms are falling off, here!”

“All right, all right! Don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Rose concentrated on the buttons in front of her. Chartreuse was sorta greenish, yeah?  “The one at the middle left?”

Jack groaned. “Urrrghh, no! That’s the jade one. Top row!”

Rose rolled her eyes and redirected her attention. A deep, bright greenish one glinted at her cheerfully. “Oooh, I got it!”

“Okay, now, on my mark, I need you to press and hold it for about a minute. That should be enough time for me to reattach the regulator. Ready?”

“Jus’ say the word!”

“Go!”

Rose stabbed at the button depressing it with a satisfying clunk. “Done!” Keeping her finger firmly on it, she leaned back and contemplated the ceiling again. “It’s jus’…” she addressed Jack again, pausing as her voice seemed to echo through the console room (a bit weird, that…) “It’s jus’, the Doctor says he’s danced, yeah, but what does that even mean? Does he even ‘ave all the necessary bits?”

Jack’s howls of laughter hurtled around the console room the way her voice had. “Are you kidding me? Have you seen how he looks at you?”

“He does not!”

“Yeah, he does! In fact, ogles would be a better word to use. Add in a bit of drool and doe-eyes and you get the picture. Believe me, Rosie, only someone with all the necessary bits looks at another person like that. I’m tellin’ ya, forget dancing; give him a little encouragement and you and the Time Lord’ll be doing the Horizontal Tango in no time.”

A few seconds passed in silence before Jack’s impatient bark startled her. “Hey! You’re supposed to hold down the button and keep holding it!” His face poked out, frowning up at her.

“What the ‘ell do you think I’ve been doin’?”

His face distorted in panic. “Wait! Why can I hear our voices?” He clambered up to stand beside her.

“I know, right? Thought that was bit–”

“It’s like they’re being… Oh God!” Jack’s voice reverberated especially loudly around the room, and his eyes snapped to where Rose’s finger was firmly depressing the button. “Oh fuck!” He swatted her hand away from the console.

“Oi!” Rose snapped, but she noticed her voice had stopped echoing.

“That was not the right button! Tell me,” he faced her, hands on his hips, “how is that chartreuse?”

“Seemed chartreusish to me. And it was in the top row like you said.” She shrugged, guilt warring with irritation. How was she supposed to know exactly what shade of green chartreuse was?

“That’s emerald, sweetheart!” Then he stabbed with his finger toward a button two to the right of the apparently-emerald one. “This is chartreuse, right here!”

Rose’s stomach sank as she peered at the greenish yellow button Jack had indicated. “So, the one I was holdin’ down? That’s why our voices sounded–”

“Oh, it’s way worse than that. Pressing that button initiated a ship-wide broadcast–”

“Yes, it did.”

Rose wheeled around at the smug sound of the Doctor’s voice. He stood, leaning against a coral strut, leather-clad arms folded across his chest, icy-blue eyes boring into her. Gulping around the lump in her throat, she replayed in her mind all the words she and Jack had spoken while she’d been holding down that bloody button. Oh God! She’d been talking about his bits, for fuck’s sake! And there was something Jack had said about doing the Horizontal Tango… She’d never wanted to vanish into thin air so badly in her entire, miserable life. Forget dancing; she’d be lucky if the Doctor didn’t drop her at home, pronto, after this escapade.

He unfolded himself and strode toward her. Rose jutted her chin out, ready to accept his censure with some level of dignity.

Jack threw his hands up in surrender as the Doctor brushed aggressively past him. “To be fair, Doc, I defended your bits!” he declared, practically throwing Rose under the proverbial bus.

She groaned.

“And what would you know about my bits, Harkness?” the Doctor snarled.

“Not nearly enough,” Jack leered at him with a filthy smirk, “but you’re always welcome to–”

“Shut up, Harkness. And while you’re at it, scram! I’ll deal with you later.”

“Promises, promises…” Jack beamed as he backed out of the room, shooting Rose a cheeky wink and a double thumbs-up from behind the Doctor’s shoulder. Rose just gaped at him. How could he possibly think this situation was positive in any way whatsoever?

His eyes never leaving Rose’s, the Doctor waited until the sound of Jack’s footsteps receded into the depths of the TARDIS. Then, he stepped toward her, effectively trapping her against the console. He glared down at her; ice blazing with hot, blue flame: that was the only way she could describe his eyes. She ducked her head, feeling small under his scrutiny.

“Rose Tyler.” Her name rolled out of his mouth, low and gravelly.

She forced herself to meet his gaze again. “A-about w’at you may ‘ave ‘eard…,” she stammered, rubbing her forehead with shaking fingers, “…well, you know how conversations with Jack go? Completely off the rails, yeah?”

He was silent, only the slightest narrowing of his eyes and subtle twitch of his brow indicating he had heard her words. He took another step, impossibly closer, forcing her to lean back against the console to maintain eye contact. Then, he placed his hands on either side of her and leaned in, so their foreheads were nearly touching.

“Seems to me,” he growled under his breath, “you were the one questioning my virility.”

Rose could feel his breath, cool against her cheek, his lips so close to hers. Her own lips parted in anticipation, a yearning ache forming deep in her core. Coupled with his proximity, it stirred in her a reckless bravado and she tilted her head ever-so-slightly, encouraging him. “Well, it seems to me,” she purred, “you ‘ave somethin’ to prove, then, yeah?”

Something rumbled deep in his chest and he moved ever closer. (Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Just a little further…) He was so close, a hair’s-breadth was all that was left between them. Rose’s heart throbbed out the long, tense moments, but she didn’t dare move. She had thrown down the gauntlet. It was his to pick up.

Then suddenly his lips were on hers, possessive and demanding, yet wonderfully soft and welcoming. She opened to him, unstintingly, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing the edge of her lips, sending a jolt of desire tingling from the base of her spine, all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes. Instinctively, her hips bucked in response, thrusting against him, and meeting the undeniable evidence of his arousal.

She gasped, and he broke the kiss, offering her a cocky, lop-sided smirk. “I hate to admit it, but this time Harkness was right.” He chuckled softly. “I do have all the necessary bits.”

“Yeah, ya sure do,” Rose choked out, hardly able to believe what was happening.

Chuckling again, the Doctor helped her to stand upright, then cupped her face reverently with both hands and bestowed her with another passionate kiss. Rose’s knees turned to jelly when, next, he whispered in her ear. “May I have this dance, Rose Tyler?”

“You… you mean dance-dance, yeah?”

“Yeah, if you’re willin’… And I promise you, love,” he added with a roll of his eyes, “it will not be anything so gauche as a ‘Horizontal Tango.’ Bloody Harkness.”

She nodded, giggling, unable to form words.

“And speaking of whom,” he wrapped an arm around her, guiding her away from the console, “I think we’d best take this somewhere more private.”

Many fantastic hours later, Rose lay panting and sated on the rich, burgundy sheets of the Doctor’s bed. He had proven, time and again, without a doubt, that he had all the necessary bits and knew how to use them spectacularly well.

[harley-sunday]

The Draw (13)

Summary: The whirlwind starts at the 2018 ACE Comic Con in Phoenix but you’re not sure where it will end...

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x reader 

Warnings: Language. Smut. NSFW directly under the cut (what better way to start eh?)

Word count: 3651

AN: Surprise, I guess?! I know I said I was done with Tumblr forever and ever, but I cannot, for the life of me, leave something unfinished. And so here we are. Part 13 of The Draw, almost 9 months after I last posted something. I’m not sure anyone is even still interested in this, but here it is. If you are still reading this - hi! I love you. Please let me know what you think :)

Masterlist

The smell of coffee wakes you, and it doesn’t surprise you to find the spot next to you empty, albeit still warm. The sun is already peeking through the curtains and the alarm clock on your nightstand lets you know it’s later than you thought it would be. Brunch then, instead of breakfast, you mumble to yourself as you get out of bed. Out of habit you walk to the bathroom to take a quick shower, so you’re ready to face the day, but then you remember neither of you have plans today because it’s Saturday and so you skip the shower and instead grab what is now considered your bathrobe off the hook and wrap it around you as you make your way to the kitchen.

You find him there, his back towards you, busy making scrambled eggs, quietly humming along to Duran Duran’s “The Reflex”, and your heart, oh your heart is just bursting at the seams. You walk up to him, standing on your tiptoes as you wrap your hands around his waist and kiss his bare shoulder, mumbling an, “I love you,” absentmindedly.

You feel him tense up and you quietly curse yourself, because shit, is it too soon? Should you have gone with the regular “I like you?” again. Is this not where you are at right now? Jesus, this was stupid. You lower yourself and lean your forehead against his back, ready to apologize when you feel him take your hand and loosening your grip, allowing him to turn around in your arms. You look at him, expecting him to say something like, “Maybe we should talk.” but instead there’s this spark in his eyes and then he cups your face and kisses you with so much passion that all the doubt you had is gone in an instant. 

He pushes you backward, gently, until your back bumps against the kitchen island, your lips never even leaving his. Tracing your lips with his tongue, he’s asking for permission to enter before you’ve even had the chance to catch your breath. Your hands are in his hair then and you pull him closer, deepening the kiss, pushing yourself up, wanting to get lost in him. His hands are roaming now, one on the back of your neck, pulling you even closer to him, while the other slides down your shoulder and into your bathrobe, cupping your breast over your trusted NCU shirt, the friction from his thumb rubbing over the fabric making your nipple hard almost instantly. He pushes into you a little more and you can feel his erection through his boxers, rubbing against you in a way that makes you moan into his mouth, begging for more. 

He breaks away then, a mischievous look in his eyes, before he starts placing quick kisses along your jawline and then sucks on the spot just below your ear until he draws out a moan from you. His hands travel further down, finding the ribbon that holds your bathrobe together, untying it skilfully with one hand. With a slight shake of your shoulders the fabric slides down and pools at your feet. His mouth is on your throat, nipping and sucking and you tilt your head back because you want more. He pulls away then, eyes wide with lust as he looks at you, before he grabs onto your hips and lifts you up, sitting you down on top of the kitchen island.

His hands have found the hem of your shirt, gently pushing it up and over your head, his lips attacking your throat again as he discard the piece of fabric somewhere on the floor. You lean back, arching your back, your niples pressing against his chest. He groans before he dips his head down and moves his mouth from your breast down to your belly button and further on to your panties, his hands on your hips as he continues down to your thighs, his skilled tongue never far from your aching core. You let your legs fall to the side, giving him better access, and he looks up to you through hooded lids, the wicked grin still on his lips as he uses his thumb to push the fabric aside, softly blowing on your throbbing clit. 

You mutter a quiet, “Fuck,” at the sensation, your hands in his hair again, keeping him where you need him most.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement and it’s all mouth, teeth, and tongue from there on out, one hand on your stomach to keep you in place, while the fingers of his other hand find a way to work together with his mouth that has you on edge almost immediately. 

“Seb, fuck,” you breathe, your orgasm close.

He hums in appreciation and the vibrations, together with his tongue now focusing solely on your clit, send you over, a wave of pleasure washing over you as you let out a loud moan. He keeps licking, helping you come down from your high gently, until you release your fingers from his hair and let out a content sigh. He pulls back then, pushing himself up, placing a chaste kiss on your lips before his grin returns, “I love you too.”

You smile, pulling him in for another kiss, still tasting yourself on his lips. Dragging your teeth across his lower lip you let your hand slide down his stomach, down to his boxers, cupping him just as you bite down ever so gently, a hiss escaping him. You throw your legs around his waist and he gets the hint, picking you up and carrying you to his bedroom and God, you hope he’s remembered to turn off those eggs. 

You greet the other people in the elevator with a simple nod, not bothering with a cheerful “Good morning,” like you did the first day you were here. You got some pretty ugly looks that day because you’d forgotten how different New Yorkers are compared to the, maybe, over-friendly people in Charlotte. 

Your office is on the twenty-ninth floor and so it takes you some time to get there, most people getting off on lower floors. After a stop on the twenty-seventh floor it’s just you and what you think might be one of the interns, who tells you to pass with a shy, “After you, ma’am,” once you’ve hit your floor.

You’re about to argue that you’re not old enough to be called that but his cheeks are red enough as it is so you just pass him with a nod of your head. You greet Jenny at the front desk before you make your way to your office and you’ve just set your laptop bag down when your phone rings. You smile when you see who’s calling and so you answer with an almost too cheery, “Hi, Deb!”

“Jesus, kid,” Deb groans, “it’s Monday morning, take it down, will you?”

You chuckle, knowing all too well your boss doesn’t do well with mornings. In fact, it’s weird she’s even calling you at this hour, because she normally doesn’t come in until Monday afternoon and so you’re instantly on edge, “Everything ok there?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she answers and you can just see her wave her hand at your dismissively. “San Francisco is the problem.”

“Oh,” you answer, not sure where this is going.

“They need you there, kid,” Deb sighs. “Shit has hit the fan over there and they’ve called in our help. Hell, they asked specifically for you.” She chuckles, “You must have done one hell of a job there in New York if word has gotten out to the other offices.” 

“Thanks, I guess?” 

“Don’t be like that, you’re not a kid anymore. Own up to your success, will you?”

Never one to beat around the bush, Deb, but you can’t help but smile, “Thanks.”

“I need you to fly out there tomorrow, start on Wednesday,” she starts and putting the phone between your ear and shoulder, you grab a notepad and pen, because you know a list of instructions is about to follow, even though the part where she told you you’d have to leave tomorrow keeps replaying in your head. 

You go over everything once more before you end the call, a sigh escaping your lips once you’ve hung up. You go over Sebastian’s schedule in your head, but you know it’s all back-to-back meetings and whatnot today and there’s no chance of seeing him before dinner tonight. Flipping your phone over in your hand you debate whether or not to text him, but you figure it might be better to just tell him in person. Instead you start up your laptop and set out to finish what needs to be finished before the end of the day.

“I just don’t understand why our time together is always cut short,” you say, trying not to sound like a whining teenager but failing miserably.

“We’ve had almost two weeks together, babe,” Sebastian chuckles and throws his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close as you make your way back to his apartment after dinner. “That’s already a lot more than that half a day in LA.”

“Yeah, true,” you sigh. You wrap your arm around his waist, savouring these last couple of hours together. Your flight doesn’t leave until tomorrow afternoon, but Sebastian’s schedule is packed tomorrow so you’ve only got until breakfast to spend time together. 

“How long do you have to stay there anyway?”

“Until the end of the month, probably.” Deb made you promise you wouldn’t leave until everything was sorted and from what she told you that would take at least two weeks. Probably three. You’ve done this before, this travelling across the country to help other offices, but that was three years ago, when the Charlotte office first started expanding to other cities. Back then it was a relief to get away from Mark and somehow you think Deb knew. She always picked you to go even if there were people more qualified at that point in your career. 

“So I won’t see you before I leave?”

Sebastian’s voice pulls you from your thoughts and you look up at him, your heart dropping a little when you see how disappointed he looks. “You’re leaving on the eighteenth, right?” You watch him nod and shake your head in response, “Then no, I’ll still be on the west coast.” 

“Fuck,” he mutters quietly. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, almost automatically.

“Hey, no, don’t apologise,” he pulls you closer and kisses your temple before he continues, “It just means we’ll have to say our goodbyes tomorrow.” It isn’t until he fishes his key from out of his pocket that you realize you’re already at his building, but before he has a chance to use it Joe is already at the door, holding it open for you with a smile, “Good evening, Mr Stan, Miss (Y/L/N).” 

“Hey Joe,” you and Sebastian say at the same time as you pass him on your way in. The ride up in the elevator is quiet, both of you lost in your own thoughts. His arm is still wrapped around you and you lean into him, willing time to slow down. 

“I’ll be seeing you,” Sebastian says, kissing your forehead. He’s just put on his coat, ready to head out to his training session, but he’s stalling and you know it. 

“Yeah, in two months,” you huff, arms folded across your chest. This is not the way you want to say goodbye, but the anger keeps you from crying so at least that’s something.

“Hey,” Sebastian gently lifts your chin with his finger to make you look at him, “it’s just fifty-nine days, babe. We can do this.”

You’re about to say you don’t want to, but then you realize this attitude is getting you nowhere so you smile at him instead, “I love you, Stan.”

“I love you,” he says before he leans in and kisses you, an urge behind it that tells you he means it. He pulls back then, a sad smile on his lips, “I’ll miss you, but I can’t wait to see you again.”

“Me too,” you agree, before you kiss his cheek, “Now go, or you’ll be late.” 

“Call me when you land?”

“I will.” Another kiss then, “Bye.”

“Hello, my bestest friend,” you say when you hear Lauren pick up the phone.

“I’m sorry, who is this?” Lauren shoots back and if you didn’t know her so well you would think she was genuinely upset, but you’ve been best friends for years and years and so you just laugh at her mockery.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” Lauren continues. “Did you suddenly forgot how to use a phone? Forget you had a best friend maybe?”

“Oh, Lauren,” you say, serious then, “I am sorry. I know I should have called more often.”

“Damn right,” she mutters.

“I am calling you now, though,” you continue. “And I’ve got all the time in the world to catch up with my bestest friend.”

“Why?”

“Deb’s sending me to the San Fran office, so I’m at the airport, waiting for my flight out and-”

“You’re leaving New York?” 

“Yeah,” you draw out, before taking a sip of your coffee. You’re at JFK, killing time somewhere in the terminal while you wait for your gate to be announced, arriving way too early because you didn’t feel like staying at Sebastian’s apartment all by yourself. You know you owe Lauren more than just that simple ‘yeah’, and so you give her the full rundown of your conversation with Deb.

“Ok, but that’s actually good news, isn’t it,” Lauren asks. “I mean, it sucks that you have to leave, but it seems like everyone’s finally seeing your full potential, not just Deb!” 

You smile, a lump in your throat because Lauren is still your biggest fan and you can’t ever thank her enough for that. 

“So, ok, wait,” Lauren suddenly says, and you can hear her excitement, “why don’t I come out to see you this weekend? I still have some miles left on my card and it would be fun to see you again!” 

It would be really nice to see her again, you think, suddenly realizing how much you’ve missed her. Plus, there’s so much to catch up on and you prefer to do it in person, over a glass of wine.

“Babe?” Lauren’s voice interrupts your thoughts, “Where are you staying?” 

“Oh, uh, they rented an apartment for me downtown,” you rummage through your bag for your diary, where you wrote down the address. “Hang on,” 

“Oh no, that’s fine, babe, just text it to me,” Lauren says, before she squeals, “Argh, I’m so looking forward to this! I’ll book my flights right away and text you the details, ok?”

Before you have the chance to say anything Lauren ends the call with a “Love you.” and it’s then your gate is announced. 

Taking a deep breath you count to ten in your head, but it does nothing to calm you down and so you keep going until you’ve reached ninety-five and feel some of your anger ebbing away. “What an asshole,” you whisper to no one in particular, because you checked the stalls when you walked in, glad to have found them all empty. You look at yourself in the mirror and aren’t surprised you look a little bewildered. 

You’ve just had a very heated argument with Paul, the guy in charge at the San Francisco office and to say he wasn’t too happy with your suggestions on how to improve operations would be putting it mildly. He nearly bit your head off when you finished your presentation and actually told you he was sorry for asking you to come here. What he had forgotten though, was that Deb joined you in that meeting through a conference call and so he then got a piece of mind from your boss that left him seething. You excused yourself after you told Deb you’d call her later and now here you were, pacing around calling Paul every name under the sun to get some of your anger out. 

Running some cold water over your wrists helps you to cool down and you allow yourself another minute to gather yourself before you square your shoulders and walk out again. It’s only ten to three but you figured you’ve earned an early leave today and so you grab your things, say goodbye to the receptionist and walk out the door before it’s even three. On your way to the car park you text Lauren:

Left early, so I’m picking you up. I’m at exit B.

You drop your laptop bag in the back seat of the rental car Deb provided you with and turn the radio up, singing along to eighties classics all the way to the airport.

“Ugh, what an asshole,” Lauren agrees once you’ve told her about your day at work. She fills up your glass once again, before helping herself to another slice of pizza. You’re sitting on the tiny balcony that comes with the apartment you’re staying at, enjoying the last rays of sunshine together. 

“I know, right?” you agree, nodding fervently but stopping quickly because it makes you slightly nauseous. You blame the second bottle of wine you and Lauren have just finished. “Enough about that dickhead though,” you hold up your glass of wine, “and cheers.” 

Lauren giggles, “Cheers, babe,” She turns towards you after taking a sip, a more serious look on her face, “Are you going back in on Monday though?”

“Yeah,” you nod, more careful this time, “I called Deb on my way to the airport and they gave Paul his notice after I left, so I’m going to have to stay until they’ve found someone else.”

“Oh shit,” Lauren mutters. “That could take a while, though, couldn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I told Deb I’m available until the end of July, but I don’t know, we’ll see how it turns out.”

“Yeah,” Lauren agrees, “I was going to say you’d probably like to get back before Sebastian comes back from Europe, but then again, he’s in New York anyway, right?”

“Hmm,” you reply, “I figured as much. For me it doesn’t really matter if I’m here or in Charlotte, either way I have to go to New York to see him,” you take a sip of your wine, “or he’d have to come see me, you know, so,” 

“Would you want to stay here? You know, if they can’t find anyone?”

“I don’t know,” you offer, but you can tell from the look Lauren’s giving you she needs a better answer. “I can’t say anything right now, babe. It depends on where things go with Seb, you know, and how he sees our future. I mean, he’s got like, three more projects lined up after this one, so he’s pretty much busy until the end of the year with a couple of breaks in between, and uh,” you shrug, “I guess until then it doesn’t really matter where I’m at, we’ll just have to figure out when and where we can meet.”

“Hmm,” Lauren’s face drops and you can tell something’s bothering her. 

“Oh, babe,” you quickly say, your hand on her arm, giving it a squeeze, “I’m not,” you hesitate, trying to find better words. “I’m not forgetting you, ok? I know you are still in Charlotte and it’s still home, you know? But, I don’t know, maybe, somewhere in the future, if all this works out, I can see myself moving somewhere else.”

“I know.” Lauren sighs, and you’re not surprised to see tears in her eyes. “You were always the more adventurous one, babe, and I love you for it, because it means I get to go to places I’ve never been before with you. But,” she sniffles, “I’ll miss you, that’s all.”

“Oh, Lauren,” you get up off your chair and sit on your best friend’s lap, pulling her in for a hug, “I promise that you will always, always, have a place at my home. Wherever that is. You’re my bestest friend and I’m not leaving you. I will stalk your ass until you get sick of me and beg me to leave you alone. And even then I won’t back off.”

It’s quiet for a while and you wonder if you’ve said anything to hurt Lauren, but then you hear a muffled, “God, you’re so dramatic,” coming from somewhere over your shoulder and you can’t help but laugh. 

You put your car in park and for a moment you just sit there, happy that you’ve survived another week at work. Things have improved slightly now that Paul is gone, but the days are long and there’s so much left to do that you’re starting to worry you might actually be here until the end of July. It’s then you realize it’s been more than 3 weeks since you last saw your family and you decide right then and there that no matter what happens, you’re flying home for the weekend next week. 

Your phone chimes then, pulling you out of your thoughts and your brows knit together in confusion when you read Lauren’s text

Gave him your address, hope you don’t mind. X

You want to text back, asking her who she gave your address to, but it’s then you see someone coming towards you out of the corner of your eye. Your heart jumps when you look up and see the all familiar black baseball cap, his mischievous grin beneath it. You fumble with your seat belt, but make it out of the car in time to jump in his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist and holding him tight. 

His mouth is close to your ear when he whisper, “Told you I’d be seeing you.” 

[chickensarentcheap]

Sanctuary - Chapter 56

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @thunderintheshadows​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @valkyrie-of-the-light​

Tyler arrives in Christchurch at four in the afternoon; wasting no time in collecting his lone bag from luggage claim and then picking up the rental car Nik had arranged under an alias.  After the fuck up leaving Colorado the first time, Nik had been on the ball about making sure security and privacy were locked up tight; no trace back to his real name or hometown, an extra secure encryption every he sent a text message or email, arranging to pay everything by cash instead of using a credit or debit card that could be linked back to his real identity. While it's near certain that word had gotten back to the Buckman family about who he is and that he's coming for the kids, it's essential that his exact day and time of arrival isn't discovered. It would keep them on  their toes, perhaps even make them anxious enough to start making mistakes, and make it easier to get in and around the building for initial recon without being spotted. So he wears a a pair of sunglasses and a ball cap low on his brow; the hood of his sweater pulled up to cover his head.  It's a cool day in New Zealand, so he won't stand out in his attire or draw any suspicion towards himself. It's the last hing he wants or needs, preferring to just show up out of nowhere and catch the Buckmans -and whoever is doing their dirty work- by surprise.

He heads to the hotel first; a modest yet spacious two room suite on the ninth floor of a fifteen story building on the busy downtown core. Nik had already arranged for Yaz to have access; everything that he'd left behind in Ireland -clothes, personal belongings, the weapons- having been brought along and dropped off. The weapons behind locked in one of the closets; a heavy metal chain wrapped around the handles and then secured with a combination lock. The code sent to his SAT.

He calls home. It's nine in the morning back in Colorado and he wakes her from a dead sleep, and he spends the first minutes apologizing profusely and the following ten making sure that she's feeling okay; checking that she's been taking her meds, eating, drinking. Once more clarifying that she knows exactly how to handle things if the worst case scenario becomes a reality. If he doesn't make it home and she's left to not only face the aftermath, but relegated to being the sole caregiver of four -soon to be five- children. And he tells her he loves her; making sure that she knows -beyond all shadow of a doubt- just how much, and how'd she'd changed his life...and him...for the better. Things he probably should have told her a long time ago. Avoiding all the hurt and the feelings of doubt and abandonment that she'd gone through during his frequent absences.

Next he leaves the hotel and heads out into the street; grabbing coffee and something to eat before texting Yaz for his exact whereabouts. Anxious to see the suspected extraction location. Check out the locals. How busy the street and the neighbourhood itself is. How likely was it  that there would be civilian casualties when the Buckmans fought back. Where could an offensive be launched from? What did the possible entrance and exit points look like and how many options for both were there? Where could the hostiles hide out or mount their attack from? Relaying on other peoples' observations and plans is useless and a waste of his time. He has to see things for himself; run through every possible scenario, make his own plans. In the end if was his show to run; he was the one with the experience, who wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty, who got down into the trenches where things were the most dangerous and unpredictable.  

Yaz has set up shop in an abandoned office building across the street from the old store owned by Heather McMann's grandmother; the twelfth floor giving an unobstructed view of not only the front and back of the little shop, but of the entire row of brownstones and the alley ways on either end of the block, and behind.   And he knocks twice on the door; hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, rocking back and forth on his heels ever so slightly as he waits for someone to answer. Listening to the muffled conversations and the push of a chair across hardwood and the shuffling of footsteps as they approach the door. Mark answers; giving him little more than a smirk and then stepping back and holding the door open for him, gesturing for him to come in.

“Holy fuck, look at this!” Yaz calls out. “The lost sheep has returned to the flock! The fucking prodigal son has returned!”

“I've only been gone for two days and you missed me that much? What are you going to do when I'm gone for good? When I stop picking up the phone when your sister calls?”

“I'm going to stalk the every loving shit out of you until you come back,” Yaz says, and then embraces him warmly.

“I'm not coming back. I told you that. This is it Last one.”

“I give it a year. Before you're bored as hell and itching to get back out there.”

“Not gonna happen. I already told you.  I'm done after this. Time to be a family man. Time to be the husband my wife deserves.”

“Good like with that,” Mark mutters as he steps past him.  “She doesn't know a good thing when she has one.”

Tyler smirks. “I know you're not talking about yourself, because everyone in this room knows what you're like. Or do we need to talk about it again? About how you like to beat on women?”

“Easy...easy...” Yaz clamps a hand down onto his shoulder.  “...don't let him get to you. He's just trying to get under your skin. How about you go over there and sit down, Mark.  Quit trying to cause shit with my boy. Because you push your luck too far, he's going to rip you limb from limb. And not one of us in here are going to stop it. Are we boys?”

Both of the young Marines shake their heads.

“Good to have you back,” Nathan says, and pulls him into one of the awkward, one armed hugs that some guys seem to be into these days. “I know you wouldn't bail. Zak and I had faith. Unlike some people,” he jerks a thumb in Mark's direction.

“Thought maybe you didn't have it in you anymore,” Mark says, as he spreads his legs out in front of him and clasps his hands behind his neck. “That you lost your nerve.”

“Man's got more nerve in his baby finger than you have your entire body,” Yaz remarks. “And he wasn't bailing on us. He had some shit to take care of back home.”

“What kind of shit?” Mark inquires.

“Shit that isn't any of your business,” Tyler replies, and follows Yaz as he motions him over to the window.

“I figured if you wanted them to know, you'd tell them,” Yaz says, voice low.  “How's things? She's okay?”

“Fainted, hit her head and gave herself a handful of stitches and a concussion. Doctor says her blood pressure was high and she was severely dehydrated. To the point of kidney issues.”

“But she's going to be okay, right? Like it's nothing that could...you know...”

“Nothing that bad.  They've got her on meds. That should keep things normal from here on out.”

“And the baby? Everything's okay?”

“So far. Baby looks healthy, everything is where it's supposed to be, nothing's missing. The date's a little fuckey, but....”

“Fuckey how? You weren't home that day or something?”

“Not like that. Just farther ahead than we thought. Way farther ahead. Almost four months.”

“I mean, I'm no expert, but shouldn't you have known sooner? Like aren't these things obvious before now?”

“Normally. But when has anything ever been normal with us?”

“Well congrats,” Yaz pats him on the back. “Now get neutered okay? Five of you is enough. Did you look over what I sent you?”

Tyler nods.

“What do you think?”

“I think I need to get down there and see things for myself. Old blueprints and land claims and photos mean nothing. I need to get actual eyes on the place. Anyone been coming and going out of there?”

“Lot of weird shit been happening. Mostly people going in and out of the back door.”

“Get a good look at them? Anything that can be used for facial recognition?”

“Always keep their heads down. And there's no security cameras anywhere in that alley. We've checked. Twice.”

“Do people live in the apartments above? They occupied?”

“There's twenty residential apartments and five businesses. We haven't checked with the residents.”

“Someone might have their own security camera,” Tyler suggests. “Fire escapes right? They might be wanting to keep an eye on anyone coming up and down them for safety reasons. What's the alley like back there? How wide?”

“About ten feet. If that. Get a car in there and get blocked in...”

“You're totally fucked,” Tyler concludes.

Yaz nods. 'We've got Tanis down there right now. Doing some recon. We thought we had a sighting of Heather McMann yesterday but it never panned out. She went in the back door, never came back out.”

He frowns. “You've been watching all this time? Who's been watching the cameras when you're not here?”

“That would be me,” Mark pipes up.

“And you never saw anyone come back out?” Tyler inquires. “Whoever this woman was. She just went in and never came back out?”

“Not on my watch.”

“Not on mine either,” Yaz says. “And you know I'm anal about watching my cameras.”

“And she went in yesterday and you never saw her again?” Tyler stares pointedly at Mark. “You're one hundred percent sure that you never saw her.”

“I have eyes.  I can fucking see,” Mark snarls.

“I want to see the footage. Bring it up on the computer, Yaz. You keep that shit, right?”

His friend gives him a look that clearly means that was a ridiculous question to ask. That of course he keeps the footage and how dare you suggest otherwise.

“I just fucking told you!” Mark snaps.

“I know what you told me. And I'm telling you that I want to see the footage.”

Mark jumps up with enough force to send the chair sliding backwards and then toppling to the ground. Crossing the room in four strides, until he's toe to toe with Tyler, who only smirks in response.  “You telling me I don't know how to do my job? I'm FBI you fucking half wit. We do this shit for a living.”

“I'm just saying you might have fucked up. How does she go on and not come back out? Explain that to me.”

“Maybe he fucked up,” Mark nods at Yaz. “Maybe he missed her.”

“I don't fuck up,” Yaz informs him. “Never do I fuck up.”

“I want to see the goddamn footage,” Tyler demands. “What's the problem?”

“You think you can just walk back in here like you never left?” Mark rages. “Like you run the whole show?”

“Well technically it is his job,” Zak attempts to reason. “So he is kinda running things.”

“You take off for a couple of days and think you can just walk back in and...”

“I want to see the fucking footage,” Tyler angrily interjects. “I'm not asking. I'm telling. What's the goddamn issue? Just get on the computer and show me what I want to see.”

“You're an arrogant fuck, Rake. You think you can just take off for a couple of days so you can go home and get your dick wet and...”

Frowning, Tyler steps even closer to Mark.  His tone calm and even, despite the rage that begins to simmer inside of him.  “What the fuck did you just say?”

“Easy...easy...” Yaz lays a hand on his shoulder. “...no reason for this to turn into a thing...”

“It's been a  'thing' right from the beginning,” Mark says. “He's had a hard on for hating me right from the get go. Before he even met me.”

“I didn't need to meet you to know you're a fucking asshole, mate.  I'd heard all about you.  I'd been hoping I wouldn't meet you because I knew I'd probably kill you if I did.”

'Well I'm right here. What's stopping you? If you're as big and tough as you let on you are...”

Tyler smirks. “You're not even worth it.”

“You go home, you get laid, you come back and suddenly you're the boss? Fuck you, Rake. We've been doing all the work while you were off getting your dick sucked...”

“You need to watch your fucking mouth. Don't bring my wife into this.”

“Hey, I get it. I understand. I mean, she gives really good head, am I right?”

His forearm is across McMann's throat before anyone in the room can even react, and he forcefully pushes the other man across the room, slamming him against the back of the door. And as there's chaos and clamour as the Marines and Yaz rush over in an attempt to diffuse the situation, Tyler leans into his full body weight into Mark, further cutting off his airway.

“Don't ever talk about my wife like that.  You don't bring her into your issues with me. Don't say her name. Don't even think about her. Because I will fucking kill you and I won't feel the least bit sorry about it.”

“You can't stand it can you,” Mark chokes out.  “That I was with her before you.  Fucking her before you were. You can't stand thinking about it, can you.”

“I don't give a shit about any of that. She had a life before me. You know what I give a shit about? All the things that you did to her. How you fucked her head up. You're a real man, Mark. Putting your hands on a woman that's half your size. Did it make you feel big and tough? When you were beating the shit out of her? I bet it made you feel like a real big man, didn't it.”

“You have no clue what went on.  How she pushes and pushes and...”

“Oh I know. I know what she can be like, trust me. But you know what? I don't put my fucking hands on her. Because I'd kill myself if I ever even thought about it. I don't give a shit what she does or what she says or how big of a pain the ass she can be, you don't do shit like that.  You're a coward. You beat on women because you can't take on someone your own size. Well I'm right here. You want to take a shot, just do it.”

“Yeah...that's not a good idea...” Yaz pipes up. “...not a good idea at all.  So can you two comparing your dicks long enough for us to get some work done? Because I'd really like to get this job over and done with. And you two assholes are not helping.”

“Do it...” Tyler takes a step back, removing his arm from Mark's throat.  “...I'm right here, fuck head. What? Suddenly you're not so tough? It's a whole different ball game when you've got someone your own size willing to take you on, isn't it.”

“Not exactly a fair fight,” Yaz says. “You've got like six inches on him and probably fifty pounds, so...”

“Not to mention you would kill him,” Nathan adds. “You know, considering the shit you've done to people with your bare hands.”

“Typical for guys like you, Rake, “ Mark scoffs. “All show and no go. All those muscles don't mean shit when you got nothing to back them up.”

“I've got plenty to back them up, mate. All you've got is that mouth of yours. Constantly fucking running it. And I won't hesitate being the guy that knocks all your teeth out. So keep fucking testing me. See how far you can push me. Go ahead.”

“No, don't,” Yaz manages to get between them.  “Don't push him. This is not what we're here for. We're here for those two kids. This job has gone on long enough and I'm tired and I'm pissed and I'm irritated as fuck. So stop the pissing contest. Both of you. I get it, Mark's a huge dick and he deserves to have the shit kicked out of him for what he did to Esme. But can you at least rein all this in until after the job is done? Let's get those kids the fuck out of there and then you can drag him out into the street and finally beat the shit out of him. But for now...” he lays his hands on Tyler's shoulders and pushes him backwards. “...you need to calm the fuck down and focus. I need you to focus. You're not good to me or those kids if your heads not on straight. Right?” he lightly slaps his friend on the cheek. “Right?”

Tyler nods.

“Get your shit together. I need your head in the game. And you...” he turns to glare at Mark.  “...get off his jock and quit trying to cause shit with him. Because he will do some serious damage and not one of us in here has the balls to try and stop him when he gets doing. Talk a walk or something. Go and get us coffee. Food. Make yourself useful. Maybe one of you boys can go with him. Calm him the hell down. We do not need this shit!”

“I'll do it,” Zak offers, albeit reluctantly. “You wanna come with, Nate? Stretch your legs? I promise I won't push him into traffic. Unless...” he playfully bumps Tyler's shoulder with his own. “...you want me to. Blink one for yes, twice for no.”

Tyler chuckles. “It's all good, mate. You keep your hands clean. He'll get what's coming to him.”

“That a threat?” Mark asks from the doorway.

“Naw...” Tyler shakes his head. “...that's a promise.”

****

“You good?”   Yaz asks, after the commotion has finally settled down and he sits at his laptop, bringing up the file containing the camera footage from the day before.

“I'm good,”  Tyler replies, and drags over a chair, turning it backwards before sitting down on it. “Fucking guy gets under my skin. I shouldn't let him, but he just doesn't stop.”

“He's like one of those sea dwelling amoebas that you can only see under a microscope yet they burrow into you and start causing all kinds of shit from the inside out.”

Tyler arches both brows.

“Remind me about it later. I'll show you. There's some cool shit about them on Youtube. Look, I know he's a pain in the ass. I've wanted to kill himself about ten times since yesterday. But he's doing this on purpose. To get a rise out of you. To get in your head. Stopping letting assholes like that take up space in your head without paying rent.”

“You been talking to my wife? Because you sound just like her.”

“Well, brilliant minds think alike. Although I question her intelligence and her sanity considering she willingly took up with you. I can't begin to imagine what she saw in you. Not even in the slightest.”

“Start using more than five pound weights in the gym and you can look like this too. Might take you forty years, but...”

“I will have you know, my lady is happy and satisfied.”

“Lady, huh? The one from the coffee shop? Shelly? Sherry? Whatever the hell her name is? The one I saw half naked.”

“Siobhan. And I'm still pissed at you about that. Cockblocking wasn't on your resume when you applied for the job. You at least like what you saw?”

Tyler chuckles. “You want me to rate your 'lady' or whatever the fuck she is?”

“I'll go first if you want. I'll rate Esme and then...”

“Yeah, no. Don't do that. Because I will have to kill you and it would break my heart a bit because I kind of like you. So...”

“I'd put her at a ten, by the way. If that makes a difference.”

“When have you seen enough to rate my wife? Is there something you're not telling me about?”

“I've seen her in a bathing suit. Ten. Definitely a ten. You lucky fucker.”

“Well, it's a ten plus, actually. But stop talking about my wife like that, for fuck sake.”

“You should be flattered. That guys find her attractive. They like what they see but she sticks with you.”

“I am flattered. But it also pisses me off. So...”

“Your turn. What did you think? At least a ten, right? Come on. I know you're married but I also know you look. We all look. Human nature. You like what you see?”

He shrugs. “I'll give her an eight. Nine at the most.”

“Fuck you, Tyler. I gave Esme a ten.”

“Because she is a ten. What I saw was an eight at the lowest and nine at the highest. I'm not into red heads. Plus she's not you...top heavy...”

'I forgot. You're a boob man. Is it true that when women have kids they get bigger? The boobs?”

“We are not talking about my wife's tits. So can we get on with this?”

“Just tell me if it's true. Do they?”

“It's not the kids that make them bigger, dumb ass. It's when they're pregnant with the kids. Pick up a fucking book or look it up on the internet. Why are you asking me?”

“Because you're kind of an expert. You've been through it three times. Now four if we count the one in the oven. So it's true then? You've experienced this yourself?”

“If I give you an answer will you shut the fuck up and get to work?”

“Swear on my mother's grave.”

“Your mother is still alive,” Tyler reminds him.

“My grandmother's than. True or not? Just a one word answer.  Seeing as your so sensitive about this.”

“True. Now can we do this? While I'm still young enough to not be collecting an old age check? Fuck sake. Let's go.”

“So are you really doing it?” Yaz asks, as he puts in the approximate time of the day they'd seen the woman they'd thought was Heather McMann.  “Leaving? Calling it a day?”

“When this is over, yeah. I've got five million reasons not to stick around. And five that are even more important. I've got a family, Yaz. And they deserve to have me around. Not just some of the time. All the time.”

“You're going to drive Esme crazy,” Yaz chuckles. “Being around all that much.”

“I already drive her crazy. What's your point?”

“You're not worried you're going to get bored? Having nothing to do?”

“I'll find things to do. I've got four kids to help take care of. In a few months until be five. That'll keep me busy enough. I don't need to be out killing people.”

“Daddy Tyler,”  Yaz grins.  “Can't wait to see that. I mean, I've seen it before, obviously. But I can't wait to see it at full force. You going to start coaching little league and soccer and driving a mini van?”

“Fuck you, Yaz.”

“You're going to start wearing cardigan sweats and growing your hair out and shaving off your beard,” he laughs. “You're going to turn into a regular Mister Rogers. You and your Starbucks and your deck shoes and your hipster haircut.”

“I honestly will punch you in the throat.”

“I kid, I kid. I can never see you doing anything of those things. And I'd probably put a hit out on you if you ever did do any of those things. You guys gonna stay in Colorado?”

“No. We're leaving. As soon as we can.”

“Back to Australia?”

Tyler nods.

“Can't say that surprises me. You guys were a lot happier when you were there. Didn't fight as much. Things just seemed to change when you guys went to Colorado. And not for the better either.  That's where all the shit started to happen.”

Tyler can't deny that.

“It's like there's something bad in the air. Some bad fucking karma or juju or something. You guys will be happier back in Australia. I'm going to miss you guys. Especially those kids.”

“You can come and visit. I'm leaving the job. Not the people connected to it.”

“See, you will miss me.”

“Of course I will. Everyone needs a dorky friend, right?”

“You know, you start out so well and you go so wrong,” Yaz chuckles, and then stops the footage on the screen. “So, this is the camera in the back alley that I set up. And this is her. The one we thought was Heather McMann.”

Tyler leans forward in his chair, squinting his eyes. “Can you make it bigger?”

“Can I make it bigger,” Yaz scoffs, as he zooms in on the still. “Of course I can.”

Frowning, Tyler pulls his SAT phone out of the side pocket on his cargo shorts and brings up the photo gallery; selecting a picture he'd saved of the woman in question and then holding it up to the screen.

“Looks like her,” Yaz says. “Sort of? Right?”

“That's her. That is definitely her.”

“How can you tell?”

“Look at the marks on her face. The photo I have is when she was being 'held',” he makes air quotes around the last word. “So the bruises were still fresh. Now they're healing and not as noticeable, but they're still there. In the exact same places. Zoom in on her left hand.”

Yaz does what he's told.

“Same tattoo in the exact same place. And her rings are the same. Same engagement ring, same wedding band. There's no way that's not her. And she never came back out? What time is it...” he checks his watch. “...she's been in there for over eighteen hours? No fucking way.”

“If she came out, she didn't come out the back door.”

“You have cameras on the front?”

“You're asking a lot of stupid questions today,”  Yaz sighs, and brings up the footage from the other camera, slowly scrolling through it, frame by frame.  

“Has there been any sign of the kids?” Tyler asks.

“None. Whatsoever. But she did take food and shit in with her. So...”

“Still doesn't mean those kids are in there. She could have been bringing that to people she's working with.”

“You think the shop could be a front for something?”

Tyler shrugs. “This is so fucked up, anything is possible. Stop it. Go back about fifteen seconds.”

Yaz complies, then leans closer to the screen. “Sonofabitch...”

“She came out the front door. She changed her clothes and put a hat on and she walked right out. Right fucking in front of us,” Tyler sighs heavily, then runs his hands over his face. “Fuck!”

“She knows someone is watching her,” Yaz concludes. “It's why she changed her clothes and put a hat on.”

“Fuck!” Tyler rages, as he stands up and kicks the chair across the room. “Fuck!!”

Yaz remains silent.

“How the fuck did you guys miss that? She walked right out the goddamn front door! How the fuck does that happen? She's right across the street! Why did no one go over there and see if it was her when you saw her on camera? You thought it was her but didn't go and check it out? What the fuck, Yaz?!”

“I get it. You're upset. And you've got a right to be. But....”

“I'm not upset. I am beyond upset. Way beyond it  How did you guys fuck up this bad? Four people in this goddamn room, Tanis on the street, and not one person thought to go and see if it was Heather McMann? Not one of you thought that was a good idea?”

“In all fairness, you're the expert and you weren't here so...”

“They're Marines! They know how to take someone down if they have to. Jesus fucking Christ...” he punches a gaping hole in one of he walls. “...how the fuck does this happen?! She was right there. Right across the street. And not one of you went to get her. Who was watching the cameras? Who fucked up? Who didn't see her come back out?”

“I'll give you three guess. But you're only going to need one.”

“Of course it was Mark. Of course it was. That fucking prick!”  Tyler lays his palms against the wall and drops his chin to his chest, attempting to calm himself. “This is a big fuck up. A huge fuck up. An epic fuck up.”

Yaz nods in agreement.

“She was right there and we could have had her. She could have lead us right to those kids.  And not one of you went to see if it was her for sure.”

“We fucked up,” Yaz admits. “Big time.”

“You think?!”

Neither of them speak for several minutes; Yaz waiting for Tyler to fully calm down. He knows it would be a huge mistake; to even utter a single word when his friend is so worked up. Eventually Tyler moves; grabbing a bottle of water from a cooler one of the others had brought with them, twisting off the cap and downing half.

“She come back?” he asks. “Any sign of her returning?”

“None. And I scoured the tapes. Twice. She hasn't come back. Think she will?”

Tyler shrugs. “She knows she's being watched. She knows you guys are here.”

“Think she knows you're here?”

“Probably not. I'm pretty much non existent right now.  There's no sign of me coming into New Zealand. No flight manifesto, no real sign of me on any of the cameras, I haven't used a bank card or a credit card, Nik ordered the car under a different name. So we at least didn't fuck that up.”

“We still have the element of surprise,” Yaz concludes. “At least where you're concerned.”

Tyler nods.

“So we just wait? To see if she comes back? What do you think?”

“I need to get down there. Get my own eyes on things.”

“Could make you. If anyone sees you. If she sees you.”

“Guess it's too late now to worry about it, yeah? If they're going to find out, they're going to find out. But I need to get down there. See things for myself. I don't think it's safe yet to actually go into the building. No way of knowing if there's anyone in there. And if there is, how many there are. I'm not walking into a massacre. Fuck that.”

“You're armed, aren't you.”

“I've got a fucking Glock, Yaz. What good will that do against bigger weapons? It won't do shit. I'd get two, three shots and that's it. We need to know exactly what's going on down there. Any way of getting eyes inside?”

“I could get a hold of my guy. I'm sure he's got the tech. I'll give him a call,” he pulls out his own SAT phone. “What are you going to do?”

“I'm going to go down there and check shit out,” he finishes off the water, tossing the empty bottle into the garbage before heading for the door. “Keep an eye on things. Message me if you see anyone that looks even remotely like her. Can you do that?”

Yaz nods. “Be careful, okay? Don't get yourself killed the first day.”

“Just watch my back,” Tyler responds, and then steps out the door.

[undertalethingies]

The Third Worst Day

Loosely inspired by the ninth chapter of @undertalethingems Unexpected Guests comic, and by the end of John Mulaney’s Delta Airlines bit. (“In fact, we’re gonna frame you for MURDER! [...] ~Because we’re Delta Airlines, and life is a fucking nightmare~”)

Sans was not having the shittiest day of his life, because everyone was on the surface and Frisk was being nice this timeline. 

The second shittiest day, though- well, no, not that either, technically speaking. Nothing was on fire except maybe Undyne’s house underground, and that just because no one could be bothered to put it out when everyone was moving to the surface anyway. (Please don’t ask about the second shittiest day of Sans’ life, he will not tell you and will instead have flashbacks)

Ugh, it was really indicative that this BS only ranked third.

So, the curtain opens on the third shittiest day of Sans’ life, and maybe, like, the eighth worst thing to ever happen to him.

What could be bad enough to rank on Sans’ top ten worst days list, though? (which is a list he actually made once, as a joke, and then he looked at it and kind of wanted to cry, before laughing instead because that’s just how Sans copes with things)

Well, you see, he was being framed for murder.

Flowey, specifically, was currently attempting to frame him for the death of the old royal scientist, W.D Gaster, who Sans had met maybe once in his entire life.

Admittedly, the fact that he actually remembered said meeting, and that there had been a previous royal scientist at all, was highly unusual.

He didn’t remember for anywhere close to the reasons Flowey was insinuating, though. No, the reason Sans remembered the old royal scientist had very little to do with the scientist himself and a lot more to do with how remembering across timelines was triggered in the first place.

Cross-timeline memory retention (which are the Official Science Words for it) was triggered by high levels of Determination. No more, no less. And Sans had very high DT levels for a monster. It was pretty much the only reason he’d managed to make it to adulthood with just a single point of HP to his name. (Undyne remembered a bit too, he suspected, though he’d never called her on it)

So the reason Sans remembered the existence of Gaster was the same reason he had what little knowledge he did of the RESETs, though he remembered far less of those, due to having fewer triggers for the memories to resurface. (The fact that no one knew who had built the CORE had been enough for Sans’ mind to fill in the blanks)

Flowey was saying that Sans remembered because he’d known the guy, which was just flat out wrong. The weed was insinuating that Sans couldn’t possibly due the things he did without being a scientist, which was partially true, and finally accusing him of killing Gaster, either to steal his research or because Sans was the Judge, (Nice of Flowey to out him, the little shit) which was blatant slander.

Sans could see that the others (excluding Alphys, who knew the story was bullshit) didn’t want to believe what Flowey was saying, but he could also see that, despite that fact, he was still convincing them.

Flowey, after all, was a very skilled liar. Especially when it came to convincing people of crazy backstories he’d concocted on the spot. It made sense, since he’d had rather a lot of practice.

As Flowey finished his story, Sans looked at Alphys. He texted her a question about an old promise he’d made to her that was suddenly not one he was sure he should keep. (He’d do it anyway, if she asked, but breaking it would make disproving Flowey’s allegations that much easier.)

“And that’s why- are you on your PHONE?” Flowey interrupted himself, looking hilariously offended for someone who was actively framing a guy for murder.

“Is that how little you care? You killed him and you can’t even be bothered to hear out the allegation?” Oh, so that’s how he was playing it. Sans narrowed his eyes, just a bit, before responding.

“eh, you looked like you were having fun. wouldn’t want to interrupt, ya know?” Earlier in the conversation, when Sans was still actively participating, Flowey had interrupted him several times. Alphys snickered at his jab, and hit the send button on her phone.

Sans checked the text, and inwardly sighed in relief. Seemed like he could take the easy way out here.

“Sans, please put away your phone. This is a serious conversation,” Toriel said. Sans supposed he had to agree to disagree on that one. This wasn’t much of a conversation at all as much as it was Flowey using his knowledge to manipulate the room in a way that allowed him to frame Sans for murder.

“yeah, don’t worry, tori. it was relevant,” She looked as if she doubted that, but she didn’t say anything. Sans sent Alphys a quick thank-you and stuck the offending device back in his pocket. He turned to look at Flowey, who probably would have shrunk from the ice in his gaze if Flowey had ever bothered to figure out how to read his expressions.

“so, you done, pal?” There were several winces around the room at the vitriol present in his tone, but none of them belonged to Flowey.

“Yeah, I think I’ve made my point pretty clear!” Flowey looked positively cheerful at the thought.

“good, ‘cause i’m getting pretty tired of hearing you speak. don’t want a repeat of the last time you tried something like this, right?” Last time Flowey had attempted something like this with Sans present, the weed had still been in control of the timeline. Sans had killed him before he could even finish his speech.

“Ha! You wouldn’t dare! Not when Frisk is-” Flowey cut himself off before he could dig all three of them (four of them?) into a hole they really wouldn’t be able to talk their way out of. Frisk shot him a glare, with an expression that said they’d probably kill Flowey themselves, if he didn’t shut his trap. The weed gulped audibly.

“A-anyway! Are you gonna explain yourself, trashbag?” Papyrus made the same pinched expression he always did when Flowey used that particular moniker.

“heh. sure, why not,” Sans’ grin turned predatory. 

“i’m not gonna bother asking you to back your claims with evidence, since we both know you don’t actually have any,” Flowey narrowed his eyes, probably thinking of a thousand ways to justify that, but Sans continued without giving a chance.

“you’re right that i used to be a scientist, so kudos for that, i guess. my leaving the field had nothing to do with gaster, though. it actually happened quite a while after that,” Sans preferred not to talk about this, but with Flowey forcing his hand, it seemed like the simplest solution.

“my leaving had nothing to do with gaster, and everything to do with the experiments that got alph fired,”

--

When Sans had been younger and more optimistic, he’d wanted to be a scientist more than anything in the world. He’d spend hours combing through the dump for old textbooks, and the few he found, he’d pore over until he had them practically memorized.

So when an ad went out saying that the new royal scientist was looking for an assistant, he’d jumped at the opportunity. Sans had spent hours studying for the required tests, barely even eating in his complete dedication to the task before him.

Sans didn’t know whether he’d had the highest score, or if he’d been selected for his blue magic, (a rare ability that was extremely useful for engineering) or if had simply been because he lived so close to the lab at the time, but he got the job. He’d celebrated for a day straight, and would probably have irritated the hell out of Papyrus if they’d been living together at the time. (Sans was in that young adult phase where he lived alone in a shitty apartment because he was trying to be independent)

When he’d first met Alphys, he was not ashamed to admit to having geeked out a bit. She was considered one of the greatest minds of their generation, after all. 

He’d tried to keep it to a minimum, though, (correctly) figuring that she wouldn’t have much use for him as an assistant if he was too busy with hero worship to contribute anything.

Though they’d been awkward together at first, they’d quickly warmed up to each other, and soon at least half of the new innovations exiting the lab had their roots in Sans’ ideas as much as Alph’s.

Quickly enough, they’d become best friends.

And then…

Then had come the Determination experiments.

Both Alphys and Sans had agreed it would be best not to allow the amalgamates out of the True Lab. Alphys had confined herself to her workplace, moving in a bed and her anime collection so she’d only have to leave for the occasional grocery run.

Sans had kept his status as her assistant under wraps, though, so he didn’t have to worry about being cornered by the victims’ families like she did. Papyrus had mentioned recently that he was looking for someone to go in halfsies with him on a housing lease in Snowdin, so Sans did what he did best, and ran away from his problems, packing his stuff and moving just about as far from Hotland as it was possible to get without entering the Ruins.

He and Alph stayed friends, though. When you’re the only two people who know about a catastrophic disaster like that, it kinda brings you together.

--

Sans finished his explanation with a nod to Alphys, before saying,

“and as for gaster, the only connection i’ve got to the guy is that i named an attack after him in honor of his scientific prowess,”

The room was silent for a few moments as everyone thought through his words. Suddenly, Flowey said,

“Yeah, that’s all well and good, but how did you even know about him? Everyone else forgot he ever existed!” Sans smiled secretively.

“probably the same way you do, asriel,” Let no one say he couldn’t give as good as he got. If Sans had to share his backstory, well.

Might as well take the flower down with him.

[vodkabite]

Our Little Secret - Act 1, Preview

To liven the mood inside the dimly lit basement, while cursing at the horribly cheap lightbulbs she bought from the Circle K off Elmwood, Nicole shares a random fact she knows: Superman didn’t always fly; in the beginning he could only leap over buildings, but the animators for the animated series they were doing in the 40s thought it would be too difficult to constantly draw his knees bending, it was easier to draw him in one pose and have him fly.

And how Major League Baseball once had female players; the first was Lizzy Arlington, who pitched during the ninth inning for the Reading Coal Heavers in 1898 and won her team the game, and a little over 30 years later, an African-American woman, Jackie Mitchell, pitched against the Yankees during an exhibition game, striking out both Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig.

Nicole’s always been one for sharing random facts about things, especially to the break an awkward silence or change someone’s mood. And while Waverly is probably sure that the alpha spends her downtime at the station searching the internet for new things to talk about, she finds it cute. Adorable even, the way it eases the tediousness of doing laundry.

And as she crosses her legs, letting her feet dangle freely in the air against the side of the filing cabinet she sits upon, Waverly stares at Nicole from the corner of her eyes. Through the loose strands of hair that have fallen to form a curtain against the side of her face.

A thought crosses Waverly’s mind: I want to know you, see you, feel you.

Nicole grabs a heap of clothes from the dryer, mostly blacks and grays, and puts them on the folding table for separation. Her hands and fingers glide over the different fabrics, gripping the end of a sleeve or hooking under a collar and swiftly folding them to make a pile. The veins swimming through her wrists and up her arms quietly peeking out from beneath her skin—Waverly licks her lips. It feels nice, getting to be alone with Nicole without constant distractions and interruptions.

She has a great smile, a disarmingly perfect smile, and Waverly wants to see more of it.

The past few years had chipped away the once frequent sight of it, leaving a tightly lipped, exhausted, and irritable grin in its wake. Nicole grits her teeth more often now, due to frustration and impatience. The tension in her muscles defining the sharp curve of her jawline; a feature that hadn’t gotten lost with the weight gain.

Waverly folds another shirt, one of Nicole’s many black undershirts, and leaves it closer to her side than the others.

It’s comforting.

Though, the omega notices the pinched nerve expression on the alpha’s face. Frustration rippling through the air as she organizes the clothes into neat piles, sometimes refolding the same pile several times until all the shirts are in uniform.

Being a police officer, even in a dull town like Purgatory, must be hard; clocking in early and signing stacks of paperwork every day, patrolling the monotonously boring streets just hoping for some excitement. Waverly can’t imagine that coming home is any easier: having to make sure Wynonna and Willa don’t kill each other, driving Waverly to school in the morning and from cheerleading practice in the afternoons.

With Mama being gone so often, Nicole is the only adult who can keep the house in order. Doesn’t help that the washing machine turns off again. The on button keeps coming unstuck during the middle of cycles, needing to be pressed to resume working.

And each time, Nicole presses it with more and more force.

The tension is palpable and she wonders if the alpha had ever… done anything to ease her frustrations.

Waverly is reminded of the times she laid at night with her bedroom door closed after a long and stressful day, searching the internet for a video to masturbate to. The front pages of the sites she usually visits are oversaturated with amateur videos that are less than five minutes long with abysmal film and sound quality, or the more professionally done videos that are always filled with cheesy, half-baked storylines barely stitched together by basic comprehension of plot structure and graphic closeups. Not to mention the overly exaggerated moans by the actors and the director’s near obsessive need to always include at least one POV shot.

But what interests her, is that they all shared the same kind of theme: relieving tension. Whether it’d be an injured frustrated patient getting a blowjob from their extremely busty nurse, or the pool boy being seduced by a woman twice his age who’s frustrated by the lack of attention from her husband, as though sex and all aspects of it is simply a means to an end.

Waverly looks to Nicole again, shoving another batch of clothes into the dryer.

“Nicole?” The alpha turns to her, giving a final dirty look at the washing machine before settling down, more to hide what she feels so the omega wouldn’t see; pretending that nothing is wrong.

But Waverly knows better.

Dropping down from the filing cabinet, Waverly pulls Nicole by her wrists, bringing the alpha to stand in front of her.

“Nicole, I… you…” The words die on her tongue.

Instead, her hands speak for her. Running up Nicole’s forearms, pressing lightly against the veins to feel the alpha’s pulse thrum vibrantly beneath the pad of her thumb. Nicole is frozen still, confused. But her skin responds brilliantly. A shiver runs through, goosebumps rising in its wake as Waverly’s hands find their way over her biceps.

Waverly’s hands continue their exploration: the hardness of her shoulders, the softness of her sides, the muscles of her back, fingertips lightly drifting down the curve of her spine; committing each and every detail to memory. Finally, she reaches the hem of Nicole’s old basketball shorts. Her excitement grows, much like a fever as she slips a finger past the waistband. Breath hitching at the thin hairs that bristle against her index finger. Immediately, the omega’s hands are pulled away. The alpha’s grip is strong, her honey-golden eyes searching Waverly’s own.

For a moment, no one moves.

Part of Waverly fears that she has crossed a line she won’t be able to take back, but the other part, the eager and hungry side of her, takes hold and she takes the deadly plunge. Pulling Nicole forward and kissing her.

Nicole is tense at first, though, she soon quickly melts against Waverly. The acceptance brings forth another surge of confidence; the omega presses their bodies together, adamant in keeping less than a sliver of space between them. Backing into the washing machine that had now sputtered and died, for the third time that afternoon, Nicole is the one who breaks the kiss first. Taking the lead and picking Waverly up and placing the omega on top of the washer.

Even though the red blush that colors her face burns like hell itself, Waverly pulls the basketball shorts low enough to reach through the alpha’s boxers for her cock.

She thumbs at the top of her cock gently, rubbing the sticky drop of precome around with the pad of her thumb, making a mess of the wet spot that grows against the fabric, but the way Nicole inhales deeply above her shakes Waverly to her core. Dear God, fuck, is it everything she’s ever imagined. Waverly presses the flat of her palm along the thick shaft, firmly squeezing and effectively choking off another moan before it can even form. Sliding her other hand down to pull her boxers off, Nicole takes the initiative to help, springing herself free. Uncharacteristically, Waverly stares at the hardened member resting against the cold metal edge of the washing machine between her legs. Awkwardness quickly gives way to awe and hungry praise when she wraps her hand around the shaft and feels a pulse.

Waverly finally begins to stroke Nicole, she does it slowly, still mesmerized by the sounds the alpha makes because of her. It’s a bit too dry without some sort of slick to ease the fiction, so, much like what she’s seen countless of times online, she licks her palm. The wetness makes it slippery, easier, gaining Waverly a high-pitched groan that makes her toes curl; warmth spreading through her chest.

Nicole starts to buck into Waverly’s hand and the omega can only watch, spellbound by her rutting hips desperately trying to reach climax. Letting go, she pulls the Nicole into another kiss, roping her arms around the alpha’s shoulders to keep her in place.

Yet, they break away for a quick second. Waverly wants to whine for the momentary lack of contact, but is shocked still as Nicole mounts the otherwise small surface of the washing machine. It creaks and groans helplessly under their combined weight, and while she wonders if the poor thing can actually support them both, she gasps at how roughly Nicole moves into her, hand accidentally slamming onto the on button.

The omega doesn’t know what hits her first: the vibrations shaking her entire body to the core, or Nicole’s cock slipping beneath the leg of her shorts and rubbing against the front of her sex.

Her cheeks burn hot with another wave of heat flooding between her thighs. Nicole never looks at her, just keeps her eyes screwed shut as though she knows that as much as eye contact turns Waverly on, the omega won’t be able to last with it. Nicole moves faster, rolling into the feeling like her life depended on it; the friction of the alpha’s solid weight moving against her clit is enough to drive Waverly wild. And as such, a sharp cant of Nicole hips leaves her shattered.

Nicole isn’t far behind, her thrusts start to falter; her speed and intensity wane considerably under the consistent vibrations bringing her towards that inevitable—

“Waves?” She blinks and Nicole stands before her, concerned. “Are you alright? I asked if you wanted to order pizza and you just spaced out on me.”

A hand is placed to Waverly’s forehead. “Hm, you don’t have a fever.”

“No, no, I-I was just… daydreaming,” She says saving face, sounding breathier than she wants to. Nicole shrugs her shoulders and finishes up the rest of the laundry, kicking at the washing machine, cursing it and murmuring that she’ll need to buy another one.

All Waverly can do is breath a sigh of relief when no one is looking.

[x--daughters-of-darkness--x]

LACUNA COIL: Releasing the Anima to the World

Outburn had the pleasure of speaking with Italian melodic rock star Cristina Scabbia of Lacuna Coil at the band’s Los Angeles show with All That Remains a few days before the release of the band’s new album, Black Anima. We dug deep into the inspiration behind Black Anima—Lacuna Coil’s ninth full-length studio album—and Cristina’s personal philosophy on the healing power of music.

Black Anima is about to be released. What’s going through your mind right now? I’m feeling very excited and very impatient because, I mean, of course, we wrote the record and we heard it on the last day of recording, so we know exactly how it is and what it will sound like, but I can’t wait for our fans to have it in their hands and to enjoy it as a journey. I really want them to take one hour out of their day or days and listen to it from the beginning until the end.

Some bands have a recommendation on how they want fans to listen to an album. What is yours? Well, I can tell them the way I like to enjoy music. I like a darker room with complete silence for the music you’re listening to, with your eyes closed. It’s the best, because unless you have something visual to go with it, you just have to enjoy what you’re hearing. This way you can hear not only the music but all of the layers in the songs and also the lyrics, and the lyrics on this record are really important as well. So, they should enjoy it like this.

Did you find writing Black Anima to be easier or more difficult than past albums? It was difficult in the beginning because there was something that was missing from the inspiration, like we were kind of stuck and we didn’t know how to let this album start. We had so many things to say, but we couldn’t focus and find a way to convey all of the things that we had inside. So, all of a sudden, I remember that at a meeting, we put everything on the table and said, “Okay guys, I would love to talk about this. I would like to see this. I like this kind of imagery.” And we started to talk, and it’s almost like the album materialized itself there.

We came up with this idea of this book that keeps all of this secret stuff—all the stuff that you would never say because you want to keep it secret and were afraid of what people might think about you. We also saw it as a spiritual way to connect with the people that we love that are not here anymore, because some of us went through the loss of people in our lives. So, it was a lot of things squeezed in a record.

It’s really hard for me to explain how it happened because there are so many inputs to so many things. Just to talk about it in a couple of minutes probably sounds a little bit insane! But we knew where we were aiming for, and it all came together the way it was supposed to.

We were sure about the image because we definitely wanted this record to be heavier and darker, and we wanted to have a darker image to go with it. We like to add something visual on stage. I know some people ask me, “Why would you guys decide to go with face painting and stuff?” First of all, because we fucking can! There is a group of people who think that if you’re adding something visual to the show, you’re taking something away from the music, so they would love to see you up there with jeans and a t-shirt because that would mean that your music is more meaningful. And this is fucking bullshit, because they’re coming to see a show. They already know your music. They will enjoy you singing and playing, so they already have that. But if you can add something theatrical at a show, it’s much better.

Just try to think about going to see a theatrical opera and to see the lyrical singer in their jumper or in pajamas. It doesn’t make sense. To us, it’s really important to give something more to the show, so we decided to adopt this darker image. And, of course, we like the color black, that goes without saying! We imagined how we wanted to do our outfits, and we found the artist to draw the tarot cards that are in the special edition. We found the artist on Instagram. We found the photographer on Instagram as well. I contacted her and found out that she was a fan.

What is the concept of the album cover? The album cover is an emblem on a red book, and that book is The Black Anima. The initial symbol was created by Marco [Coti Zelati], our bass player, getting inspired by the emblem of Milan, which is originally a snake with a kid in its mouth. So, he made a dragon with an angel in the mouth, and he surrounded the design with three snakes biting each other’s tail, which he thought about me and Andrea [Ferro, male vocals} and himself, because we’re the core of the band. From day one, we were in the band.

This record is, as I have said a few times in interviews, the realization that it is okay to go through darkness because eventually everything will be okay. Darkness is a part of life. There is no life without the darkest moments. It is simply unrealistic, especially nowadays the way everyone presents his or her life. On social media, everything needs to be perfect and polished and filtered, so everyone has expectations that are not real. And real life is something completely different. So, we just wanted to go back to reality and reassure whoever is freaking out because they feel they don’t belong because everyone else is too perfect and they are not. We just wanted to say, “Hey, we’re in the real world.”

You can use music as a healing process for that. It is even better when you can connect with other people when you’re getting messages telling you that, “You don’t know how much you helped me,” or, “I wanted to commit suicide and your music helped me through it and I decided to not to do it.” A lot of people going through very tough moments in life have been saved by music. So, I’m happy that we’ve been a part of the healing process. It is very rewarding. Even though we don’t do it on purpose, because again, we don’t write music with a recipe that we thought about before. We just literally sit down and see what comes to the table and what we feel we like. Marco comes with a musical idea. Then Andrea and I come on board with the vocal melody and lyrics, and then we listen to what we have to say. Marco takes our stuff and we record and he works on that and he give us back something different. It’s a back and forth process that goes on for a few months up until everyone is happy.

How have you progressed and developed as a musician over the years? I think that evolution is part of the evolution as people. We are heavily influenced by what’s around us. So, you leave and learn to listen to different music, you watch different movies, you read different books, and you grow as a person. So, all the experiences you have are incorporated in your music. And even though the core is still the same and because the songwriters are still the same, we are in some way different people than we were and we will never be able to write the same record that we wrote 20 years ago. Not because we change or that we don’t like it, but we like records to be the picture of the moment. We don’t want to write to please others just because we might sell some extra copies. We wrote for ourselves. We write for ourselves. It is the most honest way to do it, because if you like something, if you believe in something, it will be easier for whoever is out of the group to understand it.

So, each album is a snapshot in your own history? Yes, it is. If Delirium, for example, was the moment of deep, deep, deep darkness, this is slowly getting out of it and we’re not alone.

Is there a particular song on Black Anima that is most sentimental to you? I think all the songs have a special meaning for me. But I get more emotional when they are slower songs just because I really sit down and think about what I’m singing. It’s not about the energy. You think about the life aspect of some songs. I really sit down with songs. But I like all of them.

How did you pick out the songs that ended up being singles? First of all, we hate the word “single.” But we knew that we had to release a song when presenting a new record. The record is so dynamic, and every song is so different from each other. It was really hard because we’re really undecided, and between two to three songs on the record, there are some songs that will take more time to be elaborated and digested.

[amateurasstrologer]

THE HOUSES #2 URANUS

You all know how I feel about the Transcendental crew. Uranus is #1 on the Transcendental scene, and when you can consciously work with this bad boy, the energy triggers transformative brilliance and other worldly intuition. But, Uranus vibes are fast as fuck, so if you're not up for hopping on that crazy train, Uranus energy can end up feeling upsetting, unsettling, and random as fuck. Here's the T1 breakdown:

FIRST HOUSE URANUS (1)

Never ending self-transformation.

Uranus in the first got you feelin like you're part of a continuous cycle of self-transformation. Every experience flows into the next and these people feel like they're riding wave after wave of positive change. Intuition level 3000. The issue? Little babies with this placement need a lot of support early in life or they can end up feeling like freaks and alienating themselves from society. If you're one of those always dissatisfied types, you can end up just feeling restless. Gotta keep a positive mental framework to squeeze the shit out of this placement.

SECOND HOUSE URANUS (2)

Full time job fucking loving yourself.

This placement gives you a wild ability to literally feel (2nd house, Taurus) creative energy pulsing through you. This gives these individuals deep deep feeling-insights into their own potential. They got the power. They want to shake shit up and restructure the status quo. Gotta keep focused on using your power for the greater good, or run the risk of becoming feeling junkies getting off on their own power at their own leisure.

THIRD HOUSE URANUS (3)

Smart-as-shit free thinking wizard of learning.

Third house is always dealing with your environment. When Trancendental 1 shows up in the 3rd house, we got someone who's hyper-sensitive to their every day life. These babies need to develop their ideas about freedom, which can give them the confidence to revolutionize and (re)organize their mind and soul. A new kind of learner. An underlying sense of not fitting in with their environment triggers this whole process, so if these people don't have the confidence to take charge of their situation, they can end up feeling restless and resentful towards their living situation and life in general.

FOURTH HOUSE URANUS (4)

Developing the deepest, most stable inner space imaginable.

This is a tricky placement!! But the rewards are high if handled with class. These people got emotional intelligence working on a crazy level. The key? They must, must trust their intuition. Forget trusting in any outside authority. Not trusting their intuition is not an option if these freaks wanna thrive in their lives. They're wading through fake-ass shit to get to their deepest, realest identity. And what type of deep shit are they wading through? Raw emotions. When these guys don't sit with themselves regularly and make an effort to regulate their feelings, they can become so restless that they start feeding on unhealthy emotions and let their entire life disintegrate. Uh oh. Gotta hold onto yourself, people.

FIFTH HOUSE URANUS (5)

Other worldly self-expression and positivity.

Fifth house Uranus supports ridiculous creative abilities and brilliant self-expression. It gives individuals the push to meet crisis with a positive attitude and keep pushing for new potentials and joyful living. When you're not aware of the Uranus influence here, you're at risk for expressing yourself wildly in an uncentered way. These people can develop unrealistic expectations for themselves and a heavy attraction to hype shit. Must stay grounded in yourself and allow self-expression to flow freely from your core, nowhere else!!

SIXTH HOUSE URANUS (6)

Crisis control and positive life reformer.

Uranus here gifts you with a special ability to focus and work through crisis. When they're working it, these people want to change things for the greater good and take their life in new directions. Wonderful experimenters, they're clever as fuck when it comes to making positive changes from an ugly-ass situation. People must be aware of their ability to focus and curate social change, or else they can unconsciously get their blinders on and forge ahead at all costs. Clever methods can become straight up evil methods, or people can act good purely out of fear of being labeled a "bad person," instead of acting freely from their own ideas.

SEVENTH HOUSE URANUS (7)

Influential social presence, free living and trend setter.

This is very a powerful position for T1. These individuals feel an urge to transform the mindsets of their peers and beyond that, their entire generation. Loving relationships are the means to changing people's consciousness. These guys need to be leaders in their relationships and set a positive, loving tone. When these people are overcome with insecurity or fear, they end up using criticism and subtle manipulation to control their loved ones. They must remain positive at all costs, especially in the face of little upsets and life changes, or else they can run into instability and end up struggling in relationships, feeling unfulfilled, or feeling like a victim.

EIGHTH HOUSE URANUS (8)

Fresh starts, new beginnings and bad-ass illuminations.

An interesting spot for Uranus, these people are pros at facilitating their own, and others', spiritual renewal. They can empower others to use crisis to fuel self-renewal, and have a strong desire to oversee postitive social change in big ways. They need to check their strong desire for social transformation, or they run the risk of getting out of control and using force, coercion, or (in extreme cases) violence to see their own insights through. With compassion on their side, these little helpers can heal broken relationships and refresh all of society.

NINTH HOUSE URANUS (9)

The Pope or not.

Ninth house Uranus babies have an urge to challenge traditional values and break free of old-ass social conventions. Remember, Sag loves symbolism. These guys utilize symbols to regulate self-transformation in times of crisis. For example, if one of these babes is going through big, life altering changes, she might hang on to the idea of a caterpillar becoming a butterfly to hold her down through the entire process. 9th house Uranus wants to create new symbols to inspire everyone to transform. The struggle comes when these babies get too rigid in their thinking and force dogmatic ideologies or controlling religious values onto everyone else. Good intentions, bad impact.

TENTH HOUSE URANUS (10)

The Social Power House.

This is another powerful social position for Uranus. These people can feel like their public life has been zapped with a lightning bolt of crazy energy. 10th house ladies and gentlemen feel urged to adopt particular social roles to exemplify revolutionary ideas or lifestyles. These motherfuckers want to bring on the revolution. It's important (as with any other 10th house planet) that these people keep in mind the social responsibility that comes with this position. Ugly behavior comes out when these folks use their social influence to push their own agenda or feed their own personal desires.

ELEVENTH HOUSE URANUS (11)

Next level Sage or next level selfish.

Ah yes, Trancendental 1's home position. Uranus here does what it does best: promotes social change. These individuals want so badly to bring on new collective goals and social reforms. These little sages and teachers promote big changes that are inclusive and useful for everyone. They can make people feel free. But, it's not all good all the time – Uranus can also do what it does second best in this position: be selfish as fuck. If these people start to feel like their messages aren't getting across, they run the risk of becoming isolated adventures who use their brilliance and unique experiences to better their own lives only, without giving a fuck about whether or not they pass learned insights onto others.

TWELFTH HOUSE URANUS (12)

Developing new social values and collective responsibility.

Twelfth house placements always give you the ability to focus 100% on the greater good. Here, Uranus develops deep feelings of responsibility for all of humanity, which urges these people to think up new social values to help reorganize society into a more compassionate, better functioning whole. These guys genuinely want all people to live a quality life, and can use their intuition and personal genius to make that shit a reality. Issues arise when these people feel like society owes them something for being a pioneer. Then they can become dramatic as fuck and glamorize their relationship to the world. Not a cute look.

Happy reforming, Astrology bitches. Wake up!!

XO BULLSHIT FREE ASTROLOGY

[callunavulgari]

Year-In-Life | 2019

Or that annual New Year’s meme about yours truly.

1. What did you do in 2019 that you’d never done before? Had abdominal surgery! I spent most of April either doped up or unconscious. Long story short, I had an ovarian cyst that they thought was twice as big as my fist. So they fast-tracked me to surgery, and discovered that while I did have an ovarian cyst that was pretty large, most of the issue was that my bowel had fused to my uterine wall. Or was it abdominal wall? Either way, my bowel was glued to where it shouldn’t be and very angry because it had a fairly large pre-cancerous polyp in it. Which I found out a week after the abdominal surgery, when I had to have a colonoscopy. Which leads me to...

Had to do three different bowel preps in less than a month! It’s really not fun, guys. But, I got a cyst removed, a polyp removed, a metric fuckton of endo removed, and got my bowel back where it should be. Also, they confirmed that I can have babies! Which I didn’t know I was so fucked up about until I started crying about it post surgery.

Oh, also I peed in a bedpan. That’s also something I’ve never done before. And and and, been sick on Christmas! - Adding Tanya later in this post means I remembered something else I’d never done before - jumped into a pool fully dressed. Then became... no longer dressed.

2. Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year? Still don’t remember what my resolution was which- hey, 2020 Heather! Your 2019 resolution is to legitimately lose weight (she says while eating cotton candy ice cream out of the tub) and quit smoking again. Also, maybe be engaged. But mostly, the weight and the smoking thing. 

As for 2019 resolutions- I can guess what they were, which probably boiled down to losing weight. I put on about 20 pounds after surgery and haven’t lost it, because shocker, abdominal surgery really fucks with your core strength. Pretty sure there was something in there about reading 100 books (done), beating 4 games (done), and write something original (done? technically?) and/or novel-length (negative). 

3. Did anyone close to you give birth? High school people and a few old coworkers. Nick’s cousin and his wife just had their third kid though. I think it may have actually happened on Christmas. 4. Did anyone close to you die? No.

5. What countries did you visit? Alternatively, what is your favorite place that you did go this year? No countries. Went to North Carolina for our possible last beach vacation. In January we’re going to Vegas for our friend’s wedding, which will be interesting. They’re getting married on a ferris wheel by an Elvis impersonator. May also go to Maine this year, but not sure yet because I only have a certain amount of vacation time. 

6. What would you like to have in 2020 that you lacked in 2019? Didn’t get a ring, yet. But we’ll see. We also didn’t get the house yet, so lets recycle those wants! Also, while we’re shooting big here, how about a better goddamn president?

7. What date from 2019 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? Started my second big girl job on November 18th. Had surgery on April 12th. Not a whole lot else stands out. 8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? Got a new job! With more money and more responsibility and will look really good on a resume! Didn’t kill myself? Which sounds pretty morbid, but I had a lot of pain in my life earlier in the year. 

9. What was your biggest failure? Not... losing... weight? Because I really need to do that. The heartburn bullshit will likely go away. The sleep apnea thing will likely go away. Your health in general will improve. And you don’t even like food that much anyway!  10. Did you suffer illness or injury? I think I’ve had the flu twice this year and again, abdominal surgery, so yes. 11. What was the best thing you bought? I got nice clothes? Most of the other shit has been knick-knacks. I got more books. A new bookshelf!  12. Whose behavior merited celebration? I don’t know. Mine, I guess. I mean, 2019 wasn’t the worst, but it definitely has not been great.  13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed? I have a friend. Let’s call her Amanda. Yeah, her. She’s blown us off a lot this year, which really sucks. The rest of it is her own decisions that only affect us because it’s inevitably going to affect her in a terrible way, but the blowing us off and only using us as passes for free food and ways to do her laundry really sucks.

14. Where did most of your money go? Surgery! My OOP may have been met in April, but the surgery itself was $48,000. I’ve only had to pay about $6,000 because my OOP was 5k, but that still hurts. And my dental sucks, which means I paid out of my ass to fix my teeth. Also, I bought way too many clothes and books. 15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? I do still appreciate having a job with decent money. The new job will have insurance after my 90 day probation period (yeah, because you can’t have health care for 3 months even if you work in health care because you’re new). I’m glad that I caught the polyp before it became cancerous. I was happy I could have babies. I got excited about the new His Dark Materials series and The Witcher series and Kingdom Hearts 3 and God of War, and probably at least a couple other fandom things.

16. What song will always remind you of 2019? Face My Fears. Curse of the I-5 Corridor. Hadestown soundtrack. Transistor soundtrack. Wasteland, Baby! album. Billie Eilish in general. Lark of My Heart. But mostly, Face My Fears and Don’t Think Twice. 17. Compared to this time last year, are you: i. happier or sadder? Sadder, probably? 2019 wasn’t great. ii. thinner or fatter? Fatter.  iii. richer or poorer? Technically probably on par with where I was last year? I didn’t save quite as much as I wanted to with the surgery happening. Also, my car needed some pricey repairs this year. 18. What do you wish you’d done more of? I do wish I’d written more this year, but I wrote a lot in October. Possibly more than the last two years combined, which was nice. And I read a lot. I kind of wish I slept more. Or ate better. Or worked out more. I’m just really tired this year.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of? Spent less time with doctors? But I mean, taking care of myself is good and I’ve never had that option before.

20. How will you be spending Christmas? Spent it mostly sleeping. We got a bug that was either a really bad cold or a flu, so I’ve spent the last week generally shitty and sweaty and tired. First year that we haven’t been able to do Christmas basically at all. But we spent the hours between 6pm on Christmas Eve and 10am Christmas morning have the most restless goddamn sleep in the world and then opened presents and watched Love Actually and some television (the last two episodes of the Witcher!) while kind of napping on the couch, and ordered Chinese because it was hungry and the only thing open. 21. How will you be spending New Year’s Eve? Think I’m going to make the pirozki on Sunday, and then we’re doing a gift exchange with some of our friends at his mom’s house. 22. Did you fall in love in 2019? Eh. Still love him.  23. Best month for you this year? Clearly me having a good 2018 while everyone else had a shitty one guaranteed 2019 to be shit, because I honestly don’t fucking know. October was nice. So was August. But fuck most of the rest of it.

24. What was your favorite TV program? Of just 2019? Russian Doll, Glow, The Dragon Prince, Good Omens, Schitt’s Creek, The Terror, Chernobyl, Buzzfeed Unsolved, She-Ra, His Dark Materials, The Witcher... 2019 may have been a meh year, but it had some good shows. Of those, I think my favorite was probably either The Witcher or Good Omens, with His Dark Materials, Russian Doll, and The Terror tying for third. 25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? Eh.

26. What was the best book you read? Red, White, & Royal Blue was probably my favorite. I also read Sanderson’s books this year though, which were also absolutely amazing. Mistborn and The Stormlight Archive were wonderful. It was a pretty great year for books too. Books and TV, well done 2019. Middlegame, The Ninth Gate, a lot of rereads. Best one was still Red, White, & Royal Blue though. 27. What was your greatest musical discovery? Do Utada Hikaru’s new Kingdom Hearts anthems count? Because Spanish Sahara by Foals, Obstacles by Syd Matters, the new Hozier album, and the Hadestown soundtrack were all wonderful musical discoveries. 28. What did you want and got? I don’t know. New clothes? A laptop? Confirmation that my ovaries work?

29. What did you want but didn’t get? Well, I lost the bet with Brandon. No ring by the end of 2019. No kids, either, but we aren’t quite there yet. No house. No perfect health? Is that a thing?

30. What was your favorite film of this year? I liked Into the Spiderverse a lot. Detective Pikachu. Rocketman.Frozen 2. Endgame was all right. I didn’t hate the new Star Wars. Toy Story 4. IT. It wasn’t a super great movie year for me.

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? The big 3-0. It was all right. The night before we went to Fujiyamas with a couple of our friends, then on my birthday we had breakfast at First Watch, did some Christmas shopping, and went to the Zoo Lights a little after 5. Froze to death because it was snowing and shocker, when snow melts you get wet, but it was nice. Then had a late dinner at Mackenzie River, because it was one of the only places still open and close to our place.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Hah! A better president and a ring is the only thing that I didn’t get from my wishes last year. ----Hmmmmm 33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2018? I did not give up and buys Scrubs. Instead I have a perhaps slightly oversized work appropriate selection of jeans (for Fridays), work slacks, blouses/sweaters, dresses, and skirts. I spent a little too much on clothes this year. I blame discovering Torrid. 34. What kept you sane? Reading was really, really great this year. - STILL leaving this answer, three years running! 35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? David Tenant made a shocking comeback after Good Omens aired. 36. What political issue stirred you the most? FUCK DONALD TRUMP IN THE EAR 20156789. —– Ayyyyy, this was my response from last year, and apparently also the year before and the one before! Hello past me’s, don’t worry, it’s still getting worse. 37. Who did you miss? Myself. Also, my brother, who is still in jail almost a year later and still no fucking trial. 38. Who was the best new person you met? I don’t know. Oh! I do know! I really like Tanya. 

39. Talk about a new friend that you made this year: Tanya is awesome and pretty and fun and possibly at least a little bit crazy, but we all fucking are, come on. She got to come with us on vacation this year and it really made it interesting. Also, Shay and Alicia. I knew them last year, but got to know them pretty well this year.

40. Post a picture from the beginning of the year:

Took this one about 20 minutes after midnight on January 1st, 2019 after my first successful round of Battleshots. The hat went to the winner. It is not the most flattering picture, because I had been drinking already before I had to take four shots of Satan’s cinnamon liquor.

41. Post a picture from the end of the year:

Taken on my birthday, at the zoo. Again, snow melts.

42. A memorable meal discovered this year? Not sure? There’s not a whole lot of new food we haven’t tried. One of the pharmacists brought in some authentic Indian food for one of the potlucks we had and I don’t remember what it was called but it had rice and eggs and was amazing.

43. What was your favorite memory this year? I don’t know. We saw both Hamilton and Les Mis this year and they both reduced me to tears. I also had some good moments with books and tv shows I watched with Nick.

44. What are you excited for next year? There’s a couple new books. The election. Some tv shows, I think? Games? I don’t know, man. I’m trying not to come off as horribly depressed but I am kind of pretty depressed and nobody will ever know because the only person who ever gets this far into reading these things is me, so- hello 2020 me, you were really sad on December 26th 2019 and honestly for most of the year, so I sure hope 2020 is the year that we fucking seize life by the horns or however that saying goes.

45. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2019: I feel like my message from last year is fucking taunting me. Legit though, this is not the worst thing you’ve ever been through. You have a boyfriend who loves you, two wonderful cats that better not fucking die anytime soon, and like, I don’t know, working ovaries. A job. A car. An apartment that has a kind of shitty kitchen and a bath tub that might as well not exist, but is still an apartment! Which is more than some people have! 

I guess my message from last year (it gets better) is in almost direct opposition of this year, which is basically: it could always be worse. 46. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year: Feed me sunlight, feed me air In a place where nothing matters Feed me truth and feed me prayer

(seriously, deliriously happy 2018 me quoting singin’ in the rain is taunting me wtf)

First Fandom of 2019: January of 2019 was pretty solidly Detroit Become Human. It hit me hard. Favorite Main Character of 2019: Jonathan Sims. I was a slut for the Archivist in 2019. Favorite Villain of 2019: Elias from The Magnus Archives, maybe? My only other response would be.. dun dun dun, Ben Solo aka Kylo Ron or whatever Favorite M/F Couple of 2019: I... am back on my Reylo bullshit. Favorite F/F Couple of 2019: Can I say Villanelle and Eve even if I didn’t really dip into the fandom? No? Okay, Catra and Adora. Favorite M/M Couple of 2019: Okay, so the three that got me this year was Hank/Connor, Jon/Martin, and Ryan/Shane.  Fandom That You Never Expected To Get Into: Um, Buzzfeed Unsolved. Never would have guessed that one. Also like, while I would have expected Detroit Become Human I never would have guessed my favorite ship. Fandom That Made An Unexpected Comeback: Sigh. Twas that Reylo smacking me in the face at the tail end of 2019. Fandom That Inspired The Most Crack: Insert shrug? I read a weird Buzzfeed Unsolved fic above Mothman giving the guys sharable dreams (that were sometimes weird and sometimes sexy) until they boned. Last Fandom of 2019: Sighing again. Reylo. Though Yuletide has made it so I’ve read a lot of Queen’s Thief stuff. Favorite Fandom of 2019: I think that Buzzfeed Unsolved was my favorite purely from a fic standpoint, but Detroit Become Human and The Magnus Archives were both really great too.

[aftgficlibrary]

best fics of 2018?

This is so subjective so some of our staff are gonna put our 2018 favs here below!!

Cassy

This is my favorite fic ever and the author just started updating it again so im in tears all the time 

i’m here right now (just be here right now with me) by Talls (M | 27,606 | 3/7)

Neil first meets Andrew with a racquet to the stomach in a locker room when he’s eighteen. Andrew first meets Neil with a hushed conversation on a beach in California when he’s five. They still manage to meet on rooftops, fall in love, find family, and heal together, just not quite at the same time and definitely not in the same order.

(In other words, Andrew is the Time Traveler’s wife.)

This fic is so soft and pretty

Translation Errors by SensationalSunburst (Not rated | 3,127 | 1/1)

“Andrew doesn’t love me,” Neil said simply, “So if he has a love language, I don’t know it.”“Oh, honey.” Allison drawled, “You don’t actually believe him when he says he hates you, do you?”

Lucky by sunrise_and_death (T | 4,328 | 1/1)

At thirteen, he’d lived in eleven different cities, gone by as many different names, and seen his reaper twenty-eight times. Some people would have called him lucky.

Live Once More (This Time Will Be Better) bypurpleeyesandbowties (T | 2,457 | 1/1)

Very carefully so as to not wake his roommates presumably sleeping off a night of regrettable choices, Andrew pulled a notebook towards him and opened to a fresh page to make a list. Two lists, actually. Changes to make and things to keep the same. Thankfully, it didn’t take long to sort out what was important.

To change:get off pillsno Kathy no Seth dying (Neil was upset)no Thanksgivingno winter at Evermoreno Baltimorekill Riko soonerkill Nathan myself

Keep the same:get Neil to the Foxes

Maz:

changing tides - titanic au by missbolton (M | Incomplete | 4/5)

When Nathaniel Hartford boards the RMS Titanic, it is a death sentence. He will be shipped to New York with his brutal father and his soon-to-be wife, Lola. There’s no escape.

Until he meets third-class artist Andrew Minyard.

if you’re lost you can look (and you will find me) by paleromantic (T | Incomplete | 5/?)

Neil Josten jerked awake, his cigarette falling from his fingers as he did. The frigid air bit at his arms, his neck, his face, but he didn’t notice, too busy looking around.

“What the fuck.”

or

Neil and Andrew wake up back in Millport, and get the chance to start over.

I’m Just Killing Time by thesaroscycle (T | 10,666 | 1/1)

He was sat in the most comfortable armchair in the back, the book in his lap closed but well-worn and dog-eared, one of the things that annoyed Bee to no end. His glasses sat on the table next to him, along with the hot chocolate Bee had made earlier in the morning that had gone cold. He stared out the window into a cloudless blue sky, squinting at the late morning sun and blurry trees. It was getting warm enough outside for the frost to melt on the grass, and late enough for people to start coming in. He couldn’t wish more for fall, when the sky would be gray and the chill would last all day rather than just early morning. Everything seemed to be holding its breath for the coming summer, for longer days and warmer mornings. Andrew couldn’t be less excited for summer; of all their town’s 70-degree-high summers, it was still hot enough for Andrew to melt in his stubbornly consistent black wardrobe.

Paper Skies by exybee (T | 4,662 | 1/1)

Andrew’s a quiet librarian who treats his library much like how he treats his person. He spends his time searching for the color blue in hopes of finding something real, but when he meets Neil Josten, he finds that maybe blue isn’t the only thing out there.

Or, Neil’s a kaleidoscope of colors, and Andrew gets a lesson in self-care.

Atlas:

Honey, we should run away by allyasavedtheday ( T | 8,836 | 1/1)

“We’re moving on soon,” his mom says casually as she’s plating up their food. As if it’s an inconsequential detail and not something that rocks Neil to his core.

“Why?” he asks, keeping his voice calm and measured like she taught him to do if he was ever taken.

“We’ve been here too long,” she says like it’s obvious, setting down a plate of pasta in front of him.

“It’s only been ten weeks,” he can’t help pointing out. Ten weeks with Andrew. Ten weeks that aren’t enough.

“That’s over two months,” she retorts, neatly spearing a piece of pasta with her fork. “Two more weeks and we’re leaving. Just as soon as I have everything organised.”

*

Andrew and Neil meet when Neil is on the run with his mother.

Show Me How You by smokesprite ( Not Rated | 6,825 | 1/1 )

“They thought they would stop the show; they thought they could cut the act, but Neil had been sulking around too long now to not know where all the necessary equipment was. He was a ghost, and he would do the ghost dance, goddammit.”

Neil is a ghost with a house to haunt, but the Moxie Foxy Burlesque Troupe refuses to be chased off. If you can’t beat em…join em.

Aaron:

stay as long as you need by lolainslackss (T | 2,955 | 1/1)

The soulmate timer counts down to your soulmate’s death. Apparently, Andrew’s soulmate doesn’t have long to live.

Oh, Catastrophe by TheKingIsDead (witch_lit) (T | 1,447 | 1/1)

Aaron and Katelyn are at a concert and Aaron can’t shake the feeling that the drummer is familiar.

it’s a long way down byionlyloveyouironically (T | 6,506 | 1/1)

The sound of rushing water, the moon overhead, bare feet on a muddy riverbank, and a weeping woman reaching a dead hand out. 

Scout

A Mewment Like This by fuzzballsheltiepants (T | Incomplete | 9 Works)

tenuous by undertow (cendal) (M | 7,431 | 1/1)

Neil Josten is trying to learn to be a normal person. He has an apartment and a cat. He goes to therapy every Wednesday. He has friends and attends their study group regularly. He eats lunch with his best friend’s brother.The hardest part is letting people in, but he thinks that one day he’ll get there.Series: Part 1 of all of me wants all of you

The Continuing Adventures of the Nine-Nine by gluupor (G | Complete | 10 Works)

A series of short, ridiculous, mostly plotless stories featuring the Foxes as the cops of the Ninety-Ninth Precinct.

Back to the Start by fuzzballsheltiepants (T | 29,277 | 11/11)

Andrew has been on his pro team for 6 months when he takes a ball to the head. Neil flies to Boston to see him - only to find that Andrew doesn’t remember him.

Rachel

Funky Happenings with the Fox Family by dobbypussypopper (Not Rated | Incomplete | 17/?)

naughtygayweedcrime: did I rlly just see neil say woke

naughtygayweedcrime: what a surreal timeline we live in

dumbfool: allison is trying to teach me how to meme so I can get hip

naughtygayweedcrime: bless your poor soul

davidwymack: sometimes I regret living

davidwymack has muted exyllent, damnwilds, + 7 others for 30 minutes

The Real Folk Blues by moonix, nefelibata (E | 42,365 | 4/4)

Captain David Wymack and the bounty hunter crew of the Bebop spaceship might be a little out of their depths chasing down the infamous hacker and notorious runaway Neil Wesninski, whose bounty exceeds even Kevin’s wildest dreams. Worst of all, Andrew might actually enjoy it.

/Graphic Depictions of Violence

a world alone by ephemeralsky (T | 54,850 | 6/6)

“It will not be cheap,” Andrew finally says.

“I know,” Wymack says. “Two bottles of Johnnie Walker sound good to you?”

“Four,” Andrew says without missing a beat. He thinks about having to deal with Nicky later on, about the additional work he has to do, and decides that he will not do anything for less.

“Three,” Wymack argues.

“Four or we have no deal.”

Wymack mutters something about blood-sucking hooligans under his breath before he concedes with a, “Fine.”

(or: a High School AU where only some of them are high-schoolers)

[mezzomercury]

Bohemian Rhapsody in Blue- Mini Chapter Two

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Implied and referenced smut

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

September 23, 2017

London, United Kingdom

Circa 10:15am

Eliza gently woke up to the scent of a familiar musk and the feeling of warm, naked skin pressed against her own. It took a few moments after her eyes fluttered open to note the man in bed next to her. Curly hair, tan complexion, with large eyes that were resting shut. As soon as she drew the connection, she nearly gasped, but covered her mouth before she could wake up the man whom she had spent the night with. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She thought to herself, before once again studying him, observing his nude form between the bedsheets, as her heart couldn’t help but feel elevated to the stratosphere. Fuck, he’s so beautiful.

The sequence of events the night before that all led up to this moment seemed to bleed into each other: It was Joe’s birthday party, and after a long day of filming Bohemian Rhapsody, he decided to invite everyone, Eliza included, to a animal onesie-themed party, which Rami offered to host at his place. Everyone invited had to arrive in an animal onesie, and she decided to sport one resembling a tiger. It was a fun night of drinking, dancing, and the usual comradery, until she started talking to Rami, who dawned a panda suit, away from the crowd. What happened between then and when they ran up to Rami’s bedroom was a mystery even to them, as both of their suits were unzipped and thrown to the side of the room, and the two spent the rest of the night engaged in passionate, albeit intoxicated, lovemaking. Rami had explored every inch of Eliza’s body, and made her orgasm not once, not twice, but eight times in a row. It was a new record for both of them, and they revelled in the feeling of their warm bodies holding each other, not wanting to break contact in the slightest. After what Eliza could describe as the best sex she’s possibly ever had, they fell asleep cuddling in each other’s arms, with Rami whispering something about how beautiful and sexy she was.

Now, in the aftermath of all of this, Eliza was starting to panic: This was the man playing her father in a major motion picture. He’s not someone she was supposed to sleep with. Sure, she had thought about Rami in that way multiple times, but she knew it would probably never happen, at least it shouldn’t happen. They were both mature, professional adults. They had their own lives and careers, and having any sort of relationship besides friendship would  most likely complicate things. But god dammit, she thought, He makes me feel a way I haven’t felt for the longest time. He makes me feel confident, sexy, and that I matter, above all else. She tried to get up out of the bed and stand up as quickly as she could, but was stopped with a sudden dizzy spell and had to lie back down.

The mild commotion caused Rami to stir awake and open his eyes to see Eliza, sitting on the bed beside him, completely nude and just as perfect as how she appeared to him last night. He observed how her long hair draped over her breasts, as if she were a mermaid, and the soft curves of her body that fanned out to meet her long legs. When both of them were standing next to each other, Eliza was two inches taller than him, but he didn’t mind in the slightest. Rami adored how she could be so statuesque yet somehow so petite at the same time. He reached out his hand to touch the small of her back, which caused her to yelp a bit and turned to him in a quick motion, contrasting his gentle and glacial ones. Her wide, brown eyes came to meet his blue ones, and she bit her lip out of anxiety. “Hey…” he calmly whispered to her, inching his hand to hold hers. She reluctantly accepted the invitation and sighed. “You know what we did, right?” she asked him, a small part of her wishing that he didn’t so they could just resume their relationship just as friends. He slowly nodded in response before adding with a grin on his face, “It was….it was...I can’t really describe it in words.” She smiled a bit sadly and looked into his eyes again. “I feel the same way,” feeling antsy and unready to address the inevitable.

“You know we probably can’t continue this, right?” Eliza nearly sighed out, as if she purposefully didn’t want Rami to hear it. “What do you mean? Why not?” he questioned, his face suddenly looking concerned by her statement. She refused to look into his soulful eyes and glanced down at her fidgeting hands. “I mean, this would cause a lot of issues, wouldn’t it?” she asked, continuing, “Don’t you think this is a bit….unprofessional, to say the least?” Rami could only smirk and shake his head. “I don’t care about professionalism, at least not with this.” he responded before reaching out his other hand to her face and stroking her cheek with his thumb, “If it makes you feel any better, we don’t have to keep doing this.” This proposal didn’t satisfy Eliza, as she still wanted him in the way she had him last night, but couldn’t think of any other decent solution. “OR…” he suddenly suggested, “We could just not tell anyone. I’d personally want to keep...whatever this is...going.” She couldn’t help but smile as her head eased into his hand, then broke away to consider the issue at hand.

It took a while for Eliza to respond to Rami’s proposition. She quickly tried to weigh the pros and cons in her head, with the former outweighing the latter by a decent amount. The timing for all of this was far from perfect, but being with him felt so right. Eliza hadn’t been in a steady relationship for a couple years, as she was still somewhat recovering from the train wreck ending of her previous one. Now, the memories of her toxic ex-girlfriend seemed to fade away, making room for someone new. It became evidently clear that this person was Rami. They happened to find each other in the strangest of circumstances, but weren’t all great couples’ origin stories like that? Everything about this seemed like she should give this relationship a chance, yet, she still felt some unknown reason stop her.

As Rami watched Eliza rack her brain, anxiously awaiting for an answer, he too pondered his potential future with her, but was far less hesitant. His brief thoughts were  interrupted when Eliza placed a hand to cup his face, stroking his cheek with her thumb as he did to her before. As she quietly swallowed and bit her lip, she looked into his eyes once more, gradually growing more confident with her decision and finally spoke it to the universe. “Alright, fuck it. Let’s give it a go.” Her positive but candid response made Rami grin like the Cheshire Cat as he slightly turned his head and lightly kissed her fingers. After he did that, Eliza took the plunge and closed the gap between them, seizing his mouth to her own in a deep kiss.

Their lips were locked for quite some time, as their hands explored one another’s bodies in gentle yet intense passion, so much so that they both fell back onto the bed, lying side by side. Although not wanting to in the slightest, Rami broke the kiss and pulled back his head to look at Eliza. Her lips were now slightly swollen from his administrations and the tension and worry that had previously resided in her eyes was now gone. Licking his lips and pressing his forehead to hers, Rami remarked, “Good, because that means I get to do that thing you loved so much again,” as he suddenly started kissing down her body, slowly making his way towards her warm core. Before he could make it past her stomach, Eliza abruptly stopped him and lifted his chin so that he could look at her. “Wait,” she continued, “Can we please keep it confidential for now?” Her question surprisingly made Rami smile in response as he placed a kiss right below her navel. “Of course, babe. We can let the world know whenever you’re ready to, or never. It’s entirely your decision.” She nodded in approval and ran her fingers through his playful curls. “Now, could you be so kind as to make me cum for a ninth time, darling?” she purred to him, watching as Rami immediately followed her request and slowly resumed his administrations, wanting so desperately to please his enchanting tigress...

***********

Permanent Tag List: @siriuslovesmarlene, @r-ahh-mi, @unknownauthor, @yousaycoke-isaycaine, @ramibaby, @rami-malek-trash, @britishmoonchild, @onexlittlespark, @rami-hoe, @xtrashmammalstefx, @wanderlustnightwanderer

[msbeccieboo]

Arrow 7x20 Brain Dump

I liked this week’s offering!! We got our little ninja Roy back!! Like last week, however, it felt out of place in the season, where was this goodness when we were still mucking about with the Dragon nonsense mid-season?? For me it was lacking in Oliver, and sorely missing Olicity scenes, given our finite time 😭, but was still a good episode overall! I liked how the team transpired to be working as a true unit, for once (only after some persuading from Oliver)! In fact, it was so hard to break up the episode this week, as it was such a team-focused story.

Episode Summary

We had some serious Agatha Christie vibes going on, the story told in a classic whodunnit style. The bulk of the plot was told through flashback *cue sepia* and was interspersed with Dinah interrogating the team one by one in real time.  The fact that the officer was killed using lead piping also tickled me a lot 😂.

The show opens with Dinah and Sergeant Bingsley arriving at a crime scene with the bodies of 2 subway guards. It then cuts to them questioning the first of ‘the suspects’, who turns out to be none other than…Oliver Queen!  Dun dun duuuuunn!!! Oliver denies killing the officers, saying that Team Arrow actually stopped a terrorist attack by Emiko and the Ninth Circle. After questioning Oliver, we realise that besides Team Arrow, there was also someone else there at the scene…ROY HARPER!!!

By flashback, we realise that the team discovered that the Ninth Circle intended on using the bioweapon we saw last week to ‘destroy the city’ or something like that (I can’t say I was 100% on the ball with the backstory this week guys 😂😂). In order to deal with this threat, they call in our favourite parkouring ninja street fighter ROY!!!!!

Source: arsenalroy

Continued below the cut

Dinah and Bingsley (ugh, I hate him) interview all of the team, including Roy, during the course of the episode as we see the story unfold. It appears as if Dinah had no involvement in the operation and is looking to put one of the team away for the murders, but in a somewhat predictable ‘twist’, it is revealed that she was there as the Black Canary for the whole thing, and so is still a suspect herself!

Source: lucyyh 💗

Back in the sepia times, we see the team, including Felicity and now also Dinah, move in to stop the threat, eventually all separating off, as we hear the guards’ defensive shots, and see all of them reacting in turn (I really liked this part…so dramatic!). We then see my sweet baby Roy, battering the guards with the lead piping in a violent rage. Oliver manages to drag him away, horrified and covered in blood, but it is too late, the guards are dead, and everyone looks to Oliver to decide what to do next.

Back at the lair, Oliver realises that Roy has pit-rage, asking him “how did you die” (that murdered me😭). Nyssa had administered the lotus elixir to cure him, but they think his previous exposure to Mirakuru somehow stopped the rage from killing him, but let the rage remain to an extent. This somewhat explained why he doesn’t go into a coma whilst marooned on Lian Yu for 20 years, with noone to kill. Oliver tells Roy, and the others, that Roy is part of the Team and they will cover for him, and thus all the interrogations etc. are explained.

At the end of the Episode, Oliver finally confronts Emiko at the Ninth Circle’s base. Emiko drops the figurative and literal bombshell on Oliver that she knowingly sent Robert off to his death, then proceeds to blow up the building they are in, leaving Oliver trapped under cement blocks and rebar ALL THE REBAR!!  THE TOMMY FEELS GUYS I CAN’T EVEN 😭😭😭

Source: olicitygifs

To be continued 😱😱😱…. 

Olicity

What even is an Olicity? We got next to nothing this week, no glorious episode 20 sexy times, no conversation, no Olicity-only scenes, no kiss, no hug😡. We got a couple of cute touchy moments but that was it. Bitter, you ask? Fuck yes, I am! Hopefully we can make up for this with some hurt/comfort next week, but anyway, let’s look at some pretty!

Source: lucyyh 💗

Source: feilcityqueen

Felicity

Felicity Megan Smoak was a dream in this episode. Start to finish. Fabulous! Would I have liked to have seen more of her? Hell to the yes, she was for sure underused in this episode, but what we did get was perfection!!! Her adorable reunion with Roy, barging past Oliver to attack hug him 😂😂

Source: feilcityqueen

Her whole babble about her emotions was hilarious; “Nerves of Steel. You know me. I’m cool.” How no one else guessed she’s pregnant I will never know, but Roy did kinda raise his eyebrows, so my head canon says he guessed, until they tell me otherwise!

Source: felicitysmoakgifs

Felicity dragging Dinah during her own interrogation was beautiful! From her pointed nonchalance at the entire situation, all whilst eating a sandwich and asking for cake (god I love her so much), to her constant corrections, to “Oh, you mean when Diaz kidnapped Roy to try to turn him against Oliver? You might have forgotten about that since you weren’t exactly on speaking terms with Oliver and I at the time” YAAAASSSS burn herrrrr!!!!!

Source: seeing-red-arrow

I loved that we saw her in the field again, side-by-side with her original and new team mates. I’m so pleased that even though we didn’t get a heap of Felicity, they really used her as much as the style of the episode permitted.

Bonus one-liners:

“That’s a no on the evil sister redeeming herself then”

“Roy is incredible at parkour” 

😂😂😂

Oliver

We really needed more Oliver in this episode. The storyline should be ramping up and focusing in on Oliver (and the core characters) at this point in the season, and Oliver was in the episode for no more than anyone else, really.

Source: olicitygifs

His highlights for me, beyond a doubt, were his interactions with Roy. I missed this relationship so much!! In many ways, Roy was Oliver (and Felicity’s) first child. He brought Roy into this life, he helped to guide him, to nurture his existing abilities and passed on skills that he had learned. He saved Roy from himself and The Glades, and in return Roy saved Oliver right back, giving him back a part of his humanity that Oliver had long thought lost back in the dark days of seasons 1 and 2, and literally saving him from a life sentence in S3. These men became family not through Thea, but through their bond within Team Arrow.

Oliver didn’t hesitate for a second to declare “we have to protect him”, when they found Roy killing the guards. He knew right away about the pit, defending him against Rene and Dinah when they didn’t want to cover for him at first (shocker), telling them they didn’t understand what he’d been through, that “Roy is and always will be as much a part of this team as the rest of us” and reiterating that “if someone on this team goes down, this entire team goes down.” When he speaks to Roy about what happened, Roy doesn’t initially want to ask for Oliver’s help, but Oliver simply tells him “you never have to ask me, ever”. Ugh I LOVE THEM SO MUCH!!!!

Source: smoakmonster

Something also finally seemed to click for Oliver this week, that he could not help Emiko, that she needs taking into custody. I loved his words to Rene “at a certain point, people need to take responsibility for their actions”, YES MY LOVE!!! I can’t wait to see how he reacts to Emiko next week and in the finale, now that he realises how far gone she is, and that she effectively set him on this path 12 years ago, killing their father, and sentencing Oliver to his time on the island etc.

Source: olivergifs

Dig

Dig was criminally underused in this episode. He had barely any interactions with Roy, despite their history, his interrogation was super brief, and we barely saw him in the field. DO BETTER WRITERS! We’re running out of OTA time!!

Source: feilcityqueen

Roy

ARSENAL IS BACK BITCHES!!! I love Roy Harper. Always have, always will. Sooo glad to see him in the current timeline! He looked so happy to be back with his family too! I’m glad that they explained Thea’s absence (they called for Roy specifically) and talked about how she was doing. Oliver was honest with Roy straight-up about Emiko, and explained how he didn’t want to tell Thea about her until she was caught, as he didn’t want to hurt her by Robert’s actions again, especially now she’s free of her life in Star City.

I love, and actually screamed when Felicity acknowledged Roy’s parkour! They specifically used his bouncy-bouncy ninja skills to break into the vault. However, I will still never get enough of Roy’s unnecessary parkour haha, and we got to see a little of that during his fights, and it still made me smile!!

Roy’s reaction to his pit-rage was heart-breaking. This was worse than when he found out about killing the police officer on Mirakuru. I can see these killings (and I’m hoping maybe even Emiko, also) being what sends him to self-exile on Lian Yu, where we found him 20 years later in the flash forwards.

Dinah/Rene/Emiko (a.k.a. the annoyances)

Dinah remains fucking annoying! Even turning out to be in on the act in the end, it was so easy to buy into her trying to send down anyone and everyone on the team for this crime because she is just generally a shitty disloyal person!

Likewise with Rene. It was easy as the viewer to believe that he had ratted out Oliver again, because he’s done it before, and I have no doubt he would do it again. Neither he nor Dinah wanted to help Roy at first. That they needed reminding by Oliver about how protecting one of the team protects all of them, just reiterates how they are not true team players and why most of the fandom still doesn’t class them as real members of Team Arrow.

Regarding Emiko and Rene…Rene basically just stalked Emiko for half the season, they are not ‘close’, ugh, stop! Emiko gets bonus points for shooting Rene when he confronts her! I actually didn’t mind how they used Emiko this week, she appeared only when necessary, and moved the story on. I still can’t take her seriously as the big bad of the season, but it is what it is. Emiko will stop at nothing to take down the Queens (which at this point is quite frankly just stupid), and her latest dastardly deed is to bury Oliver under a building (from behind a protective wall, because she knows that’s the only way she would escape Oliver) to ‘kill him’ and then to destroy his reputation on the outside by outing the video footage of him covering up for Roy.

With no flash forwards this week, I just can’t help think of all the extra time we had, and that extra time was spent on Dinah and Rene *violently rolls eyes*, when we could have had more OTA & Roy (my favourite combination)! Anyway, next week looks awesome!!

Thank you, thank you, thank you to the gif-makers! I love you more than Roy loves excessive back flips 😉

💗💗💗