#but i am being Reasonable in my grand old age of late twenties

[fluffyblue-multifandommess]

started a new game of Skyrim this afternoon

I am now three hours late to my bedtime

[lesbian-in-leather]

I mean…..I’d be interested to hear what you have to say about the wicked movie casting 👀

Okay SO

First of all I'd just like to say no hate to the actresses, Ariana Grande has always seemed like a lovely person and I literally had not heard of Cynthia Erivo until this morning so this isn't like a personal attack on them however I do have several issues with them being cast as Glinda and Elphaba

Cynthia Erivo is in her mid thirties and she should not be playing someone in her late teens/early twenties. I'm rlly sick of grown-ass adults playing teenagers for a lot of reasons, and it's just super unnecessary. I've seen loads of people talking about how old Idina was when she originated the role, completely failing to ackowledge that casting for the stage is completely different from the screen

Age-appropriate casting is super important for films and tv, and I feel like DEH should have taught the industry that but apparently not. Wicked obviously takes place over a longer timeframe, so I could have accepted someone who appears to be in their mid twenties who could have been aged up/down with costume and makeup at various points in the story, but come on. Erivo is too old I'm sorry she just is (also they could have just cast a Young!Glinda/Elphaba and an Older!Glinda/Elphaba like surely that would make sense for a film but no why would they do that)

Moving on to Ariana - visibly I could accept her as Glinda, she can play down and be aged up later (obviously she needs to be blonde but I am presuming they'll at least keep that aspect of the musical)

My first issue with her is her voice. I could be wrong, but I'm pretty sure the high notes people talk about her singing are whistle notes - which are impressive, but it's not Glinda. Wicked was so masterfully written and the music is all super symbolic, and Glinda's high notes are so important to her character arc and I'm just. Not confident that she can pull them off (also she does have a tendency, even with musical theatre songs, to sing in a pop-music style which I am absolutely opposed to for a musical). In addition, as someone who struggles with audio-processing anyway, her diction can be quite questionable and again, that's such an important part of musical theatre

Acting-wise I'm not sure how I feel about her - I've seen her in a few things, and I know she can act, and I also know that this role means a lot to her so I think she will genuinely do her best to be true to the character. I absolutely don't blame her for auditioning, and I hope she doesn't get too much hate directed at her, because it isn't her fault she was cast but I really wish she hadn't been

Also I just feel... we didn't need to cast famous people? We could have had some undiscovered stage actresses and boosted their careers, but no. And I know people argue it's not stunt casting because Ariana has a background in musical theatre, but let's be completely honest. If they weren't already famous, they wouldn't have gotten these parts. Because vocally/potentially character-wise, Ariana is not right for the role, and Cynthia is the wrong age to play Elphie!!

Even if they did want to cast Names, they could have done better. I know Dove Cameron was rumoured for a long time and she's a bit of a controversial topic, but I genuinely think she would have done an exceptional job as Glinda (if she has the range, I'm not sure, but focusing on her acting ability). Or, if you want Big Names involved, they could have played other characters - Glinda and Elphaba could have been new actresses or stage actresses that wanted to be on the screen, and the Names could have been other characters!! Morrible and the Wizard would have been excellent roles for appropriate stunt casts because 1. They're adults and therefore you don't have to age them up to use someone that's well known (because most well known people are going to be at least a little older purely because it takes time to become A Name) and 2. They aren't the main characters! DON'T STUNT CAST THE LEADS

Wicked is one of my all time favourite musicals and it means a lot to me and a lot of other people, and I just feel this film is going to ruin some of the most important parts of the musical that made it such an incredible sucess

A huge part of the narrative is that they start as dumb teenagers - Glinda is a privileged trust fund baby that's never had to question her worldview, and Elphaba is an insecure teen that just wants to fit in. It's why Elphie changes herself so dramatically, and why it's so easy to forgive Glinda later on because we see her realise she was wrong. Ariana and Cynthia can't play the same age, and by aging the characters up we'll likely lose the innocence of those plots

Judging from the lack of thought they put into this casting, I also find it very hard to believe they'll allow any romantic implications between Glinda and Elphaba, even as subtext, which is just bullshit. I knew they wouldn't make them canon, but I'd hoped we'd at least get to keep the subtext

[shintorikhazumi]

(Diakko Week) There’s no way she- (2): “There’s no way she did that.”

@dianakko-week

A/N: BOY, OH BOY. I DIDN’T THINK THIS STORY WAS GONNA GO THIS WAY, BUT HERE WE ARE, I GUESS? Please do enjoy, I’m not sure about the quality of this chap, but I personally am enjoying this story so far an I hope you all do too!

Again, Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

Day 2: Trust

“There’s no way she did that.”

Diana was seething at her desk, Hannah and Barbara desperately trying to calm down their long-time friend with a cup of tea and some rationality.

She wasn’t having it however. Not even the tea.

“There’s no way. There is just no. Possible. Way. That Akko would so such a thing!” Diana growled, head whipping in the direction of her poor friends-slash-secretaries-and-attendants. “Right?!”

Barbara nodded wordlessly, clearly unnerved by Diana’s foul mood while Hannah sighed, moving the teacup away from the clearly miffed Diana before any mishaps could occur.

“Yes, Diana. We think so too.”

Diana released a heated sigh, nostrils flaring as she slumped against her leather chair. Today just wasn’t her day.

Never mind it being only her second week of being chosen for the grand magical council and being harassed with much work simply because she was the youngest to enter at the tender age of twenty-three. That same council of old pricks were now interfering with her personal life by giving her a case that made her burn deep with rage.

They dared accuse Diana’s girlfriend of magical misconduct when Diana-for a fact- knew that Akko read the terms and conditions of being a traveling magician- yes, ALL the terms and conditions- back-to-back. Back-to-back to back-to-back. Diana had found it both unnecessary and incredibly endearing, and sweet Akko- oh, bless her sweet soul- had wanted nothing more than to be able to share the magic of dreaming to all sorts of people, gain experience as she traveled; and hoped to overall just help people along the way on her cross-country journey.

Sure, she had left her incredibly stable position as one of the council’s security personnel, and the job paid extremely well- especially for people who were relatively fresh from school. It really did. However, Diana knew Akko was far from happy with that job. In a somewhat similar position to Diana, she had been made a lackey by her seniors and superiors, and though she loved helping people through her job, it just wasn’t worth staying. She couldn’t even be assigned to Diana! Thus, Akko had resolved to go independent, under strict supervision and conditions.

That had been five months ago.

Sure, Diana had missed the other woman dearly and hadn’t seen her for all that time, but Diana knew this was what the other woman wanted to do- to make people smile. She loved making smiles blossom from one person to the other. Diana wanted to support her in her endeavor. She believed in Akko and in what she wanted to accomplish.

And anyway, Akko had always made it a habit to send one of her familiars to bring Diana little souvenirs of her travels, accompanied by the sweetest words on paper, reassuring her girlfriend that she was well and good, and living life to the fullest, and that she’d surely be back in a year.

She was coming back sooner than they’d both expected, and for reasons neither had desired.

Diana ran her fingers through her hair in frustration, massaging her scalp to nurse the quickly growing headache.

She hoped Akko would come home safe at the very least.

//

“Miss Diana Cavendish. Could you repeat those words to me one more time? I might have misheard.”

“I said. I refuse to vote against Atsuko Kagari’s innocence. I know her, and I know her well. She would never ever do such horrid things.”

Diana watched the council secretary bristle, eyes burning at her response.

“You can never know someone too well. You don’t know what people are capable of. They can cha-”

“And I trust that Akko only ever changes for the better.” Diana cut off, casting her own glare over the two high council members who held the papers and a sum of money in front of her. “I know nothing of what the inner circle of the council has been up to, but I can’t believe they would try something so terribly scandalous such as bribery and false report! Dare I assume you are hiding something worse-”

“One more word from you, and you will suffer the consequences. Not that you already haven’t.”

Diana would have lashed out had she not needed to remain calm for Akko’s sake as well.

“This is our final offer, Miss Cavendish. Push for her guiltiness, or lose your seat in the council.”

Diana’s eyes widened, fists clenching. These people-

“You have no authority over this matter!”

She shivered in repulsion at the grins that grew on their hideous faces.

“Oh, but we do.”

//

Kagari Atsuko, twenty-three years of age, stood at the podium in the courts of magic with steely eyes and a rigid frame. She dared not glare at the jury nor the judge, but she would like to at least show them her determination in proving her own innocence.

Chancing a glance at Diana who was sending her worried looks from the jury stands, Akko reassured her with a gesture that all was and would continue to be alright. Returning her attention to the presider of the meeting, Akko readied her words, carefully crafted by herself and her lawyer who ironically just so happened to be Amanda O’Neill. Akko tried her best to keep a grin from forming at the hilarity of that fact. She was, after all, still on trial. She had to keep things professional.

“Kagari Atsuko. What do you have to say for yourself?” The judge questioned after all her supposed ‘charges’ had been read out.

‘Magical misuse, abuse of title as a former council official, trafficking endangered species across borders, and exploiting my audience, huh... Honestly, what a bunch of-’

“Bullshit.”

Akko’s eyes widened, and so did everyone else’ at the accidental slip-up.

“I-I mean... I apologize, your honor. I didn’t mean to say that. Ehem. I’d like to plead not guilty of these accusations.”

With brows raised, the judge continued on with the ruling, the tension in the room not once lowering. Akko just hoped this would end smoothly, and end soon.

She didn’t know what the council got out of this, to be honest. To go so far as to forge evidence against her, what had she done against them? Honestly, this new council, with almost all-new members weren’t doing a good job in succeeding their predecessors.

If the whole jury hadn’t been bought out at this point, she really could only hope for the best.

//

“Thanks for driving me home, Amanda.” Akko bowed to her friend, clutching her suitcase.

“Hey, hey! None of that. C’mere.” Amanda pulled her shorter friend into a tight hug, patting her back firmly. “I’m just glad it all worked out in the end.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair after they pulled apart.

“No kidding.” Akko chuckled. “You’re the best, bud. Totally fit for this job.” She giggled, as Amanda rolled her eyes with a shrug.

“I know, right? Obviously knew this is what I wanted to do for a living all along.”

They shared a laugh before Amanda had to leave, having work to do the next day. Waving at the car until it had disappeared far beyond what her eyes could perceive, Akko turned to the porch, taking careful steps to the front of the door.

Facing that familiar wooden barrier, she took a deep breath before allowing her knuckles to meet with the hard material.

No sounds, no response. Not even the slightest shuffling could be heard from within. Akko’s brows furrowed, teeth biting her lower lip nervously. This was their house... This was the Cavendish manor... right? Amanda was above pranks as evil as this, especially after what had just happened, so there was no way that-

“Mrrmmhpphhggh! Mmrhg!”

Akko struggled against the hand covering her mouth, desperately trying to reach for her wand, however her assailant had already figured her out, catching her hand and holding it against her back...

-before releasing her completely.

“A-Akko?! I! I’m sor- wait, no time to explain, come.”

And Akko was dragged into the house by Diana herself who rushed her up the stairs and into their bedroom.

“Akko, do you have all your essentials in that suitcase you hold at the moment?”

“Huh? Diana, what is... why are you home already? Don’t you have a council meeting running until late-”

“Grab anything you’d like to bring with you. Hurry!”

“But Diana!”

Akko felt a duffle bag hit the back of her head, and she whipped her head around only to find her prepared glare fading at the sight of a scowling Hannah.

“Do what she says, idiot. And make it quick.”

Diana seemed as caught off-guard by the presence of Hannah and Barbara as much as Akko was.

“You two! I... You can’t be here. Go back to your home, and from this point forward, don’t come back to the manor. I’m relieving you of your duties as my-”

If Akko and Diana’s eyes could widen any more, they’d surely be the size of Diana’s large serving plates. Hannah had clapped her hands against both sides of Diana’s face, shaking her lightly.

“Are you truly going to just leave us?!” She hissed.

“Diana... we know we were wrong to snoop around, but... couldn’t you confide in us for something this important?” Barbara said, teary-eyed. “I know we can’t ever replace what Anna was to you, and when she... when she left, we didn’t know how else to help you after losing your only family. But we still wanted to be by your side.” She smiled, placing her hands on Hannah’s shoulders to rub them, getting her partner to calm down.

“Did you really think...” Hannah sniffed, wiping her tears off her sleeve. “That we wouldn’t make you take us with you?” She finished with a grin. “You are never getting rid of us, honestly.”

Barbara nodded, reaching forward to ruffle Diana’s hair before she was met with a deep frown because of the gesture.

“Sorry, always wanted to try that.” She said, not sorry at all. “To sum all this up, Diana. You are taking us. There will be no further argument.”

Diana couldn’t help the relieved smile breaking across her face, her two longest companions also sporting their own. Tears slipped from her eyes as she pulled them into a long embrace.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” She sobbed quietly, feeling arms rubbing her back from each side. “Thank you.”

“You better be thankful. We’ll never forgive you if we’re not the maids of honor at the wedding.” Hannah declared, half-joking.

“Wedding?” Diana parroted, pulling away as she wiped her remaining tears away. “Whose?”

Both girls simply rolled their eyes as Hannah walked over to Akko who felt seriously out of the loop. Barbara patted Diana’s shoulder, shaking her head, amused.

“Hannah? Barbara?”

She was promptly ignored from that point onward.

“Come on, idiot. Get packing. I’ll even graciously offer you my superb assistance.” Hannah said with a smirk, opening the closet she knew was designated for Akko’s belongings. “We don’t have all night.”

“I still... I still don’t understand what’s going on.” Akko stated, but began to do as she was instructed anyway. “What are we doing? Where are we going?”

“What part of ‘no time to explain’ don���t you understand?” Barbara quipped, before going over to assist the brunette pair. “I could’ve sworn we informed Amanda about this.”

“Even O’Neill knows?!” Diana continued to be ignored. “Okay, great. So who doesn’t know about this getaway?”

“Calm yourself, Diana. We only told our little circle of friends.” Barbara spoke over her shoulder as they finished closing Akko’s suitcases with a click. “Amanda and Constanze prepared as a cloaked little vehicle until we leave the country. You should be grateful.”

“Jasminka should be here to pick us up any minute now.” Hannah commented.

Diana remained slack-jawed, amazed at the follow-up her attendants had done.

“You didn’t think we’d just let you fly off on a broom in the middle of the night again, did you? Really Diana, we’ve been with you so long, your smarts should have rubbed off on us even the slightest bit.” She grinned. “The magical council really aren’t all that smart, huh? Look at their dullness contaminating our brilliant, Diana.” She shook her head in dismay.

“A shame indeed.” Barbara agreed as they began carrying their luggage out.

“No one’s still told me anything!” Akko announced, scratching the back of her head with her free hand as she followed Hannah and Barbara out with her own possessions.

She turned to Diana at the sound of a lock clicking in place, the former heiress running her hands over the grooves of the wood and the carvings.

Placing her things down momentarily, Akko walked over to wrap Diana in a hug from behind. “I hope we can come back one day. To the place where you began.” She whispered, placing loving kisses against Diana’s shoulders. “I’ll make sure we can.”

Akko’s heart cracked as Diana began to tremble in her arms, a hand going up to cover the sobs that were escaping her lips. All the memories of her family, her mother- they were probably much too painful for Diana to leave behind, but she had to. They had to.

Akko walked the mansion halls one last time with Diana as they locked each door one at a time, Diana embedding every room, every window, every banister into memory.

They finally came to the front door where Hannah and Barbara had awaited patiently, bags already loaded into their vehicle.

“No longer asking where we’re going, love?” Diana questioned Akko who had seemed to accept whatever was happening already.

“Do you trust me, love?” Akko responded with a question of her own, earning her Diana’s smile accompanied with raised brows.

“More than anyone and anything in the world.” Diana replied.

Akko gave her a chaste kiss as they all boarded the vehicle, watching the mansion disappear with an area cloaking spell that would hopefully keep it safe for as long as they were gone.

Squeezing Diana’s hand, Akko spoke. “Then know that I think the same. No matter where we go, how far away we are from here, and what we end up doing, just know... Just like those two dorks there,”

Akko laughed as the two snorted from the seats in front of them, knowing they were rolling their eyes at her.

God, she was thankful for them. For all her friends. For Diana.

Taking Diana’s hand in hers and entwining their fingers together, she placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand, laying all her worries to rest. They would figure things out. They all would- together.

“I trust you with all of my believing heart.”

A/N: WHAT’S GONNA HAPPEN NOW, WHERE ARE OUR BABIES GOING? OOOHHH. SEE YOU ON DAY 3!

~Shintori Khazumi

[obsssions]

━♡ guess the 21 YEAR OLD JUNE baby just arrived to dallyeog! it makes sense, because LEE JANGMI is just as EXTENDED as the month of JUNE. wait, why do they remind me of KIM JIWOO? beyond that, they seemed FAIR & APPRECIATIVE upon first glance. i heard someone say they’re sort of MELODRAMATIC & DEFENSIVE though. i hope they get acquainted here in COMPLEX #2 / APARTMENT #0612 / FLOOR #4 ; SHE seems to have a lot going on with HER job as a ZOOKEEPER'S APPRENTICE.

hi hi hi everyone. i’m hyacinth & this little june baby goes by the name of jangmi. she is really just a few bad personality traits and needless animal facts stacked up on top of each other and wearing a trench coat. (◠﹏◠✿) i love her very much and hope you all do too ( but if you do not i understand~ she is not for everyone. dare i say, she is for NO ONE?! ) tw: death mention below the cut. please, stay safe.

pinboard ♡ stats ♡ plots

BIRTH NAME *   lee   jangmi.

NICKNAMES *     “  mimi.  ”  

BIRTHDAY *    june    12th  ,    1999.

GENDER *    cis female.

WESTERN ZODIAC SIGN *   gemini.

EASTERN ZODIAC SIGN *    tiger.

BLOOD TYPE *   ab.

HOMETOWN *   jeju  island  ,  jeju-do  ,   republic   of   korea.

FAMILY *      lee   minseok   (   father  /  bed  and  breakfast  owner  )  ,  lee   (   formerly park   )   hyejin   (   mother  /  unknown  )

SEXUAL ORIENTATION *    bisexual .

POSITIVE TRAITS *      playful     ,     endearing     ,     engaging     ,     fair     ,     &     appreciative .

NEGATIVE TRAITS *      melodramatic     ,     temperamental     ,     headstrong     ,     finicky     ,       &     defensive .

                  JANGMI grew up rather sheltered, she was the apple of her father’s eye. his only child, his best and brightest star. jangmi never knew her mother -- and her father wouldn’t speak much about her -- which caused a young jangmi to imagine that the woman lived a rather luxurious yet daring life. the girl pictured her mother as everything from a spy to a diplomat to a professor to an astronaut. wherever the girl’s interests lay, that’s where she could find her mother.

                  HOWEVER, as she grew taller and wiser with age, the questions she had about her missing mother only grew and grew. she feared asking her father outright, sure that the reason he never brought her up was due to the crushing way in which he missed her. jangmi figured it was like the sea, ever-present and unchanging. jangmi grew curious; she grew imaginative. the girl always had questions regarding anything and everything. 

                  THAT BEING SAID, she was an inquisitive child, always trying to better herself and outdo her best. she maintained good grades throughout school and tried her hardest to be friendly to everyone -- even when that came at the cost of others whispering about her behind her back, saying she was too quiet, too odd, too set in her own ways. so what if she didn’t have many friends? it had never bothered her before and it wouldn’t bother her now . . . or would it? the loneliness got to be a little much and, whenever that happened, jangmi’s mind would wander back to her mother. where was she? who was she? why isn’t she with me? these three questions -- in varying ways and phrasings -- were what kept her up at night. she needed to know, and she made it her mission to find out someday. pushing things off for future occasions became something of her forte, her bread and butter. jangmi’s problems were tomorrow’s headaches.

                  BUT TOMORROW ALWAYS CAME, didn’t it? sure enough, the sun always rose and she was always forced to face her problems head on ( although she did not want to. no, not at all. ) the girl knew it would be in her best interest to follow through, to seek out new horizons and do her best . . . but why did it require so much work? why did everything worthwhile in life cause her such stress and too many headaches? jangmi found herself working twice as hard to get half the reward as everyone else, but that was until she found her true calling.

                  ALL THAT HAD BEEN SAID about her not being the best at making friends was true. her conversational skills were nothing to write home about, and she liked to daydream her days and nights away. that didn’t mean that she was opposed to connection. no, quite the opposite, actually. jangmi craved closeness and intimacy; she wanted people to like her in the same way that she liked them so much it made her soul ache. however, she knew her limits. she knew that she wasn’t the most exciting or important or even entertaining person. it’s only so long that people will want to hear fun facts about television shows, after all. but jangmi found her calling and realized that it was calling her to get a little . . . wild.

                  SHE APPLIED FOR A JOB AT THE ZOO ON A WHIM, a late night whim -- the type that typically found her eating ramen in her room at 4 am while watching hours-long documentaries about some odd topic that she’d only been interested in for the past twenty minutes. jangmi almost didn’t answer the call to schedule an interview, out of fear that it was one of those scams where the person sounded like her father calling from jail. however, she did pick it up to find that it was the real director of the seoul grand park zoo, asking about her references and such. jangmi couldn’t believe her ears -- had she really gotten the job?

                  YES. yes, she had. all of those nights at school, where it felt like getting a biology degree was getting her nowhere paid off and she was spending her days cleaning up after the cheetahs and helping bathe the rhinos. making connections with people might have been difficult, but it was all too easy for jangmi to fall in love with the animals ( and feel like they were falling in love with her, too. ) she felt a strong bond with the sturdy elephants and how they were constantly being misunderstood. of course, they had little in common besides that, but it was enough to bring some joy into jangmi’s life. of course, with the new job meant a new city. it was goodbye to jeju and hello to seoul. never in a million, billion years could she have seen herself living it up in the big city, but here she was. she finds dallyeog through an ad in the paper and, upon seeing it for the first time, mimi felt an odd peace wash over her. perhaps this was where she was supposed to end up all along.

               OF COURSE certain things still haunted her. she’d never been this far from her father before, but he was likely very busy with the tourism season coming up and the renovations that were being done on the inn. however, she always kept coming back to her mother. what happened to her? it didn’t make sense to jangmi and she was tired of having so much in her life going right ( or seeming to be close to heading down that path ) when that -- that all important thing -- remained a mystery. so, she reaches out to her aunt, figuring that the woman will give it to her straight. aunt hyehoon never minced words and, while it bothered jangmi when she was younger, right now, she needed the sour truth more than she needed a sugar-coated lie.

                  ALAS, what she came to find out was nothing of the sort and, actually, terrifying.

                  ❝  I KILLED HER?   ❞

no wanted connections yet because that would require me to be a human being and not the animal crossing villager that i am............................. BUT please give her some friends / enemies / crushes / exes / social media besties / people she loves / people who hate her .................. you know, the usual plot types. honestly if you come to me and say “i think jangmi and my muse should try to make up their own language and be those irritating neighbors who are running around speaking their made up language” i will say “so true bestie let’s do it.” i am down for anything! replies might be slow because i have a long shift today BUT i see you all and i love you all! i do! not making that up haha!

I PROMISE I WILL BE LESS OF A MESS TOMORROW :OOOOOOOOOO

[nosferatvpussy]

distorted lullabies [chapter II]

Word count:  5,675

Warnings: vulgar language

Pairing: Dracula x reader

AO3 link if you prefer that format.

chapter one

“But my Lord!” I exclaimed, doing my best to hurry after Judge Llewellyn and not slip on the wet steps of the Royal Courts of Justice. 

He opened his umbrella over his bald head, absolutely ignoring any attempt of being polite and offering me some cover. So I practically ran after him and stuck myself under his umbrella with him to avoid the pouring rain.

“Miss L/N!” he complained, furrowing his white caterpillar eyebrows. His dark eyes were tiny angry slits staring back at me as he continued walking. “Now you are being indiscreet! You were late. I am sure whatever motion you have got to present can wait until the courts open again on Monday.”

“But it can’t wait, my Lord. Not only that but my team has also uncovered important information-” I spoke so fast I was surprised that every word came out clear as day.

“It can wait. Good evening to you!” he bumped his shoulder on mine as if to dismiss me but I wasn’t letting it go.

“It cannot wait, Llewellyn! If you give me a chance to file these motions this evening, the Wilkes children can return to their mother tonight!” He stopped walking abruptly and turned to scowl at me. I was going to get scolded, I knew it, but I couldn’t for the life of me shut up. “These children have suffered enough, my Lord. I am begging you. You wouldn’t let this happen to your own family.”

“You are out of line, Miss L/N!” he boomed as if we were in the courtroom. I had trained myself not to flinch anymore under duress but the glances we attracted certainly embarrassed me, especially since a few of them were from colleagues passing on the street. “You will address me as it is proper and you will not attempt to put my position in check!  Those children are being well taken care of in Children’s Services. May I remind you that we are bound by oath to follow the law? Procedure is procedure and I will abide by it until I retire, which is far from happening. Do not presume that your pretty face will make things easier for you in my court. I expect better posture from you on Monday. Are we clear?”

I could not believe my ears.

Maybe I was out of line - I could agree with that - but I expected more compassion from a man who had been working as a Judge of the Family Division of the High Court for almost as long as I have been alive. But what truly left my mouth agape was the bit about my “pretty face”. If I hadn’t already made things bad I would have had a grand time of making a case of just how misogynistic that claim was. However, I was not going to give him any more reasons to hold me in contempt. 

“Crystal, my Lord,” I bit off, trying to meet his eyes without any defiance in them.

“I heard great things about you from Pauline McGowan,” I immediately unfurrowed my brows upon hearing the name of one the strictest professors I had had on Law School. “I hope she was not wrong. Use your brain, not your looks. Enjoy your weekend,” and he was gone, leaving me in the rain. 

“I am using my brain, you fucking twat,” I whispered to myself as I hurried out of the rain, taking shelter under a bus stop close by.

Judge Llewellyn had almost made it better by mentioning McGowan but then he ruined it by mentioning my looks. To say I was angry and insulted would be an understatement. Toughen up, I told myself.

Ignoring the stares of my colleagues on the other side of the street, I whipped my phone out of my purse to order an Uber and papers came flying out, dancing in the wind, treacherously out of my reach. 

“Fucking hell!”

God, if those papers were damaged that would mean that I would have to get new official ones and take them to Count Dracula, again. And I would not do that. Seeing my distress a teenage boy decided to help me gather them and stick them back in my purse.

“Thanks! Really, thank you so much!” I said for the third time in a row. 

He kept staring at me with a silly smile on his face.

“Huhh- can I like… get your number?”

I blinked, digging my nails on the palms of my hands so I wouldn’t burst out laughing. What a fantastic end to a day. Not only had a Count made an attempt to woo me, but I was also insulted by a High Court judge and now I had a 15 year old asking for my number. Cute, yes, but what had I done to the universe to deserve this kind of attention?

“I don’t think so, love,” I managed, putting on an apologetic smile.

“Are you sure? Cus like we can-”

“She’s sure,” said a velvety voice with a hint of finality. 

I pivoted to my left to see Count Dracula standing over my shoulder with a polite grin plastered to his lips. I was drilling a hole through his skull with my eyes but he kept his stare on the boy as if I wasn’t there.

“I can take care of myself, thanks,” I said through gritted teeth. Yes, maybe he was trying to be polite but years and years of people talking over me had made me develop a reflex of shooting someone down even if they were on my side. And I knew I most definitely did not want Count Dracula on my side. He was too handsome to be good news.

“I don’t doubt that for a second, Y/N.”

“Are you following me?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

Finally taking the hint, the teenager shuffled to the other side of bus stop.

“Why would you think that?” he said very slowly.

“You live on the other side of London. And I’d say it is pretty unlikely we would bump into each other.”

“But not impossible. Perhaps fate is at play here, uniting us,” he bowed his head closer to mine, one hand dramatically draped on his chest.

“Charming...” I rolled my eyes. “What are you doing on Strand? There are far more beautiful sights in London.”

He made a show of looking around us as if to analyse the sights. Across from us, the gothic building that served as the Royal Courts was lit up in purple lights from below, casting shadows and highlighting every intricate detail of the structure. Our side of the street was all yellow lights and a mix of neoclassical and gothic design. 

Having lived in London all my life I barely realised just how unique and beautiful the city could be to a foreigner. Especially to someone who had lived most of his life isolated somewhere in Eastern Europe, as Renfield had mentioned to me. Strand had become part of my routine for the last years and I hardly paid attention to my surroundings during my daily commutes. Count Dracula, however, seemed to be quite fascinated by it.

“I decided to prowl the city in search of a good meal,” he said at last, taking a step closer so he was stood in front of me. From this angle I could see that he had something smudged on the side of his mouth. “Ended up there,” he indicated a corner at the end of the street with his head “and then I heard your lovely voice arguing with an old man as I finished eating.”

I surveyed him coolly. He smiled under my scrutiny, remaining very still. To be fair Strand did have fantastic restaurants and it was a tourist attraction. He could have just asked any cabbie to take him to a popular destination and ended up somewhere around here. If he was dropped off at Trafalgar Square, he could have wandered to the Courts. Finally, I decided it was not that unlikely that he had found himself all the way from Kensington to Strand.

“You have some sauce on your face,” was what came out of my mouth. I touched a finger to my lower lip to show him where. “What did you eat, bolognese pasta?”

He raised his thick eyebrows, smiling devilishly as if that was incredibly funny and pulled a handkerchief from an inside pocket of his blazer. 

“Rare steak, actually. Delicious. Thank you for warning me,” he said after wiping his mouth clean. I bobbed my head as a welcome. “What are your plans for the rest of the night? TGIF is what this generation says, right?”

Laughter escaped my lips before I could stop it. Hearing “TGIF” from a man of his prestige and age caught me completely off-guard. 

“Yes it is,” I answered, still laughing. “Until twenty minutes ago my plans consisted of going home, ordering takeout and binge watching Netflix until I passed out. But getting in argument with a judge certainly got to me. So I’m heading to Camden Town to get drunk. By myself,” I added so he would understand that I was not inviting him. Why did I even give him so many details? I questioned, suddenly struggling to break eye contact with him.

“May I give you a lift? Merely being chivalrous,” he raised his hands, showing me his palms as if to add to his “innocent” claim. 

“Do you even have a car?”

“Not yet. But Renfield has been kind enough to lend me his in the meanwhile. It’s parked not far away from here,” he explained. Moving closer to me he placed a hand on the small of my back, “Please, it’s dark and while you are perfectly able to take care of yourself I would rest easier if I was the one to drive you to this town.”

“It’s not a town,” I replied. “It’s a district.” 

“Is that a yes?” he pulled his eyebrows together. 

He was an attractive man, I would give him that. Sexy, even. But from my experience that didn’t always equal nice things. However, my brain was starting to disconnect from my body and when his eyebrows did that I felt butterflies doing cartwheels on my stomach. Those traitors. 

Use your brain. Hm, maybe Llewellyn could act as my conscience if all else failed. 

I felt something poke me on the back of my ribs and I dodged Dracula’s hand to turn and look. An old lady sitting on the bus stop’s bench gazed at me attentively, milky blue eyes shifting between the Count and I. Her hair was white as snow but her face was hardly wrinkled, withstanding the test of age. 

“Go,” she whispered, winking at me. “He’s a good one. They don’t make men like this anymore. Trust me.”

My body immediately relaxed as I chuckled. Leaning closer to her, I winked back.

“I’ll take your word for it,” I said in the same amused fashion.

She grinned for a second then her expression closed itself again, as if Count Dracula hadn’t witnessed the entire exchange. She shooed me away with her hand and a gleeful glint in her old eyes. 

Turning to Dracula, I caught the triumphant expression on his face. If he thought he had won this round then he was seriously mistaken.

“I’ll let you be chivalrous and accompany me there. But don’t think this is an opportunity to make another pass at me. I haven’t got more insolence to spend today”, I took control of my lips before I could smile at using the same word he had accused me of earlier “and I’m trying to be friendly. So, behave.”

A grin slowly emerged on his face, exhibiting white teeth and pouring all his charm into it. His fine lines only appeared when he smiled or frowned which made me question his true age. It made him all the more alluring.

“For now,” he responded, placing a hefty hand on the small of my back again. 

_____________________________________________________________

Most of the drive to Camden was surprisingly quiet. I was the only one speaking from time to time to give him directions. But then when he finally made a curve that brought us right into the heart of Camden, an awed sound escaped him. 

The neon lights from store signs tinted the inside of the car in red and green. The cloudy night sky had gained a wonderful violet tonality that said that more rain would come but that didn’t stop the Camden streets to be overcrowded. Looking out the window, I could see people getting tattooed inside the nearest tattoo parlour. Vintage shops, pubs, restaurants and the food market all of them busy with boisterous noise from people and music. 

It was a stark contrast to London’s weather. 

“I love it here,” I told Dracula. 

“I… love it, too,” he almost whispered, gawking at two girls with pink hair passing on the street. “Uncanny.”

“That’s a good way to describe it. Hey, there’s a good parking spot,” I pointed ahead to an alley that ran between a salon and an adult store. 

He gaped at the adult store window display, showcasing a mannequin clad in latex, a cape and fangs drawn on over its lips. Handcuffs held the mannequin’s hands together while another mannequin was positioned as if to show them whipping the other one. 

Count Dracula laughed suddenly and I joined him when he couldn’t seem to stop. 

“It’s a trend at the moment in this side of the world,” I explained between laughs. 

The car behind us honked and the Count finally made the turn to the alley, parking behind a row of motorbikes.

“Vampires are a trend?” he asked, killing the car’s engine.

“They haven’t been out of fashion since the 90s, especially. But I was talking about the BDSM thing,” I grabbed my briefcase and purse and opened my door. 

Count Dracula was standing there a mere second later, holding the door open for me and offering a hand. Frowning, I did a double take between him and the driver’s seat. How had he moved so quickly? I shrugged it off, thinking that he must have gotten out of the car while I was distracted getting my things.

Accepting his hand, I let him support me while I got out of the car. We were awfully close to each other, I realised with a start. I had to look up from his chest to meet his eyes, which glowed red under the neon lights. 

“What’s that?” he muttered. It was pure luck that the alley was deserted, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to hear him over Camden’s noise.

The alley was empty. And I was alone in the dark with a man whom I didn’t know very well. My heart hurt as if a hand had squeezed it. Shit. I could feel the tips of my fingers going numb and my legs getting cold from fear. 

When had I stopped using my brain and ended up here?

As if sensing my fear, his nostrils flared for a moment and then he stepped back, giving me enough space so I could breathe. 

“I am sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, I was being-”

“Polite, I know,” I finished before he could.

Yellow light from a lamppost shone on him when he stepped back and I stared at his face. He was either truly sorry or very good at faking it. We looked at each other for what seemed a long time before I started to relax. 

I wasn’t particularly scared of him, I decided after analysing the situation for a second. Being a woman I had been brought up with an instilled and sensible fear of men in general, as it is with most women - unfortunately. 

Count Dracula opened his mouth to say something but I was faster.

“It’s fine,” I said reassuringly, to him or myself I wasn’t sure. “Your chivalry doesn’t seem to fit with how on edge I am as a person. Why don’t we tone it down for a minute?” Willing my heart to slow down by taking deep breaths, I sauntered past him towards the shiny and inviting colours of Camden’s markets. I turned around, seeing Dracula with his hands stuffed inside his pockets and a puzzled look on his face. “Are you coming?”

“You want me to come with you?” 

“You obviously like Camden. I’m not leaving you around someplace you don’t know, looking like that. You’ll just attract trouble,” I gestured with my head so he would follow me. 

Turning the tables for a second made me feel slightly better. He was a tall man and he had this vaguely menacing air about him that made me doubt that he attracted more trouble than the occasional horny person with working eyes. There was no denying he was nice to look at. He just would not attract the same kind of trouble as I would, that was a fact.

“Looking like what, exactly?” he asked when he caught up with me. 

“I don’t need to tell you how you look like. You have looked at yourself in the mirror, I trust,” I shot back with a smirk. 

“I try to avoid them, actually. I would much prefer if you gave me your thoughts on how I look like.”

Chuckling, I tugged the sleeve of his blazer so he wouldn’t go past the entrance of my favourite pub. The light banter was a good way to relieve my previous anxiety.

“I’m not feeding your ego anymore than that,” I turned to flash him an amused smile as I pushed the door open. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk,” he made, knitting his brows and making an excellent job at feigning indignation. 

An involuntary image popped into my head of him making that sound at me while holding the handcuffs from the adult store. I swiveled my face away so he wouldn’t catch the desire that had undoubtedly appeared on my eyes.

Use your brain, use your brain, use brain.

We made our way to the counter dodging the seas of people laughing drunkenly. It took us a few seconds but we managed to wiggle our way up to the nearest barmaid. I waved my hand to get her attention and she signaled back that she’d seen me. 

While we waited, the music changed to Personal Jesus by Depeche Mode and I absently started mouthing the words and moving to the beat of the song. I felt more than saw Dracula shifting closer to me and I stopped dancing, fully turning my body so we were facing each other and putting my hips well away from his grasp so he wouldn’t get the wrong idea. 

Dark eyes met mine, a fire burning in them that could have made my cheeks blush a few years ago. I put on my best deadpan expression so he would give up but it was fruitless. 

Shifting closer still, he said “You didn’t answer my question before.”

“Which one?”

“What’s BDSM?” he asked precisely when the barmaid came to take our orders.

The barmaid’s mouth fell open for a second but she quickly recovered from it and sniggered.

“Okay…” she drew out. “What can I get you?”

“Rum and coke,” I looked at Count Dracula, looking curiously between me and the woman. “What will you have?”

“Nothing, thanks,” he nodded his head at the barmaid to dismiss her and she left. Seeing my furrowed brows, he added. “I don’t drink… alcohol.”

“I’m sure they serve non-alcoholic drinks here,” I raised my hand to get the attention of the barmaid again. 

“No need.”

A large hand closed around my wrist and politely pushed it down but did not let go. Instead, he used it to bring me closer. My eyes flickered from his and to his hand as a silent request to let me go. He loosened his grip but kept his hand on me. I pulled back to create distance between us. 

“BDSM stands for bondage, discipline, sadism and masochism… I think. I’m not entirely knowledgeable on the subject. Mostly it’s related to sex but that’s not exclusively the norm.” My response broke his attention on me for a second while he considered it.

“Oh!” He joined his hands and chuckled.  “So there is a name for it now. How delightful.”

I opened and closed my mouth like a fish trying to find my words. I couldn’t take my eyes off of his, that’s how dumbfounded I was by the implications of his answer. Slowly, he let his gaze travel over me when he stopped laughing and a chill went down my spine. He was undressing me with his gaze, I knew it and I stood there allowing myself to feel desired for a second before taking control back.

I was still trying to work out how exactly I was going to regain control when the barmaid saved me by returning with my drink. Finally, I rescued my arm from the Count’s grip and took hold of my glass. I downed half of it in two gulps.

“You promised me you’d behave,” I declared. God, it was a challenge to maintain eye contact with him but I was not losing this battle. 

“I didn’t promise you anything, my dear,” his eyes shone mischievously. 

Fuck, he really hadn’t. But if he wanted to play a power game, I could do it. 

“I have no interest in you,” liar, my body screamed at me. “So let’s keep it friendly or I’ll leave.”

Dracula inhaled deeply, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He straightened for a second on his barstool but then relaxed again, placing an elbow on the counter. The staring contest between us was put on pause and he met my eyes with curiosity instead of heat. 

“The judge,” he said simply. “You are clearly someone who does not accept being undermined, so why let him talk to you like that?”

I stared at him. A single black eyebrow jumped up, waiting. 

“You’d make a fine lawyer”, I conceded with a small smile.

“Why’s that?”

“You asked me a question that’s perfect to incriminate a defendant. Why would I surrender to him but not you?” I swallowed down the last of my drink, keeping my eyes on him and he grinned from ear to ear. “By following that logic, once I surrendered to Judge Llewellyn it is plausible that I surrender to you as well, is it not?”

“Now you’re putting words in my mouth,” he rubbed his chin, a full grin still stamped on his mouth. 

“Mm-hm,” I grinned back. “I don’t have the option to be rude to a judge while working. I was out of line and he was right to call me out on that. As much as I don’t like being treated a certain way for being a woman and looking the way I do, withstanding that treatment is just something I’ve got to deal with on a daily basis.”

“Ah, I see,” his grin faltered for a second and then slowly faded. “And if things were different?”

“Oh, I would whip Llewellyn into submission until he granted me respect,” I shot back, laughing at my own joke. “But I’m not power hungry like that. I like having just enough to have some control.”

“Seems we are drifting back into BDSM territory.”

My laughter came easily again. The rum was obviously starting to affect me already.

“This conversation is taking a weird turn. Let’s go back to basics,” I suggested while showing my empty glass to the nearest bartender. He nodded back to indicate he’d bring me another one. “You sound quite English. I suppose you had a good teacher all the way in...  Hungary?” I guessed. 

“Romania,” he corrected, rolling his R and accentuating the last syllable. It was the first hint of his actual accent I had heard coming from his lips. “Indeed. Coincidentally, this teacher of mine was a lawyer like you.”

And with that, the conversation moved forward much smoother. Of course with the occasional banter that seemed to be a requirement whenever we opened our mouths. Still, it flowed nicely, the back and forth of questions we had for one another. By the end of the night, I had acquired a sense of trust in him simply because I knew more about him. 

He explained that his actual title was Voivode, which was closer to Prince than Count but he preferred the latter because he considered that “Wallachia’s principality was an obsolete system constantly defied by usurpers”. I noticed that he constantly referred to Wallachia, the region where he was born, rather than using the name Romania. 

He stated nonchalantly that he was a widower to many brides, which struck me as odd at first but everyone dealt with grief differently. More than once I saw him picking his words as to not give away too much but I didn’t judge him on that for I did the same. He only slipped once upon mentioning a friend by the name of Agatha of whom he had been very fond of but had drowned during a boat trip. When talking of her, I was fascinated by the wistfulness in his voice and the delighted smile that took control of his mouth. Perhaps the rum had played its part but I found it heartwarming to hear him speak so highly of someone who had clearly meant a lot to him.

The more we spoke, I realised he had much more depth than he let on. Sure, he was a cocky bastard but one that wanted more from the world than what his title could provide. Curiosity drove him. He wanted to “drink up” the knowledge from this era which he had been deprived of for so long. 

When he’d had enough of talking about himself he started prodding me with various questions, most of which I had laughed off because they were too complex for my brain on alcohol. Some of them were standard questions people made when getting to know one another, as why did I choose to go to Law School, did I have brothers and sisters, had I been abroad. But they got progressively deeper such as would I live forever if I could, would I kill anyone if there were no consequences, did I believe in magic. 

“Are you scared of dying?” he asked me at last. 

Too distracted eating chips and downing yet another glass of rum and coke, he placed his hand over mine when I didn’t answer right away.

“Are you?” the intensity on his voice made me blink.

I tried to focus and ground myself in reality. Fixing my stare on him, I let the darkness in his eyes engulf me and drown the sounds around us. For a second he was the only person in the room. My heartbeat raced. I was unsure if it was my body trying to sober me up or just him.

“This is an important question for you,” I stated. 

“Yes. And I would very much like to hear your answer.”

I licked my lips and shut my eyes in thought. It broke the bubble of darkness that had settled about us and the noise came crashing back, flooding my senses with music, laughter and excited voices. 

His hand was still over mine and I moved my own so I could interlace my fingers on his as an attempt to focus. 

“It doesn’t matter,” I mumbled, still staring at the pitch black of my eyelids.

“What?”

“Death doesn’t matter. It just happens to people. Were there times I contemplated it? Yes. But it does not matter because I am alive and will eventually die as does everyone on this planet.”

His fingers tightened around mine and I opened my eyes to watch his reaction but there was nothing there. His face was empty, likening one of a statue.

“I think I’ve drank a little too much. Alcohol has a way of making me more insightful than normal,” mumbling and suddenly feeling like I had done something wrong, I withdrew my hand. It was as cold as his. “Will you take me home?”

___________________________________________________________

“You can stop here,” I told Count Dracula and he diminished the car’s speed until we came to a halt. 

“They all look the same,” said he, admiring the terraced houses that continued down the street. I could see the Clapham Common’s lights very dimly ahead of us.

“That one’s mine,” I pointed to the closest. It was the only one that had bushes of red and white roses decorating the small garden in front of it. Hugging my belongings, I gave him a small smile. “Thank you. You behaved quite nicely.” I patted his shoulder. 

“One of us had to do it,” he smiled back.

I scoffed.

“I was going to say I behaved like a perfect lady but I’m not a lady,” I grabbed the door handle and pushed it open in the same movement, which resulted in my purse and briefcase spilling out of my lap and falling to the street. “Ah, shit!”

Not a moment later, Dracula was out of the car and had taken my things under one of his arms. 

“I should show you to your door,” he said, offering me his free arm. “Wouldn’t want you tripping.”

I laced my arm with his and kicked off my heels, not minding that my stockings were the only thing between my feet and the freezing asphalt. I leaned down and picked up my shoes with one hand.

“Less likely to trip now but I’m still not fully sober, so I’ll accept the offer, oh good sir,” I giggled at my own joke.

The automatic light over my door came on when we stepped past the short iron gate that guarded my garden from the street. I wiggled free of Dracula’s arm and turned to him.

“I need my purse,” I informed. “To get my key,” I added when he didn’t seem to register what I had said. 

He swallowed and grimaced as if that took great effort. Staring down at the ground, he gave me my things. I frowned, thinking if my joke had been in poor taste while I dug for keys inside my purse. A small sound of joy came out of me when I found them much faster than I usually did. 

I was trying to fit them in the keyhole when a low groan reached my ears. I spinned to see Dracula standing way closer to me than he had a moment before. His head was thrown back, face turned upward and with parted lips, as if he was praying. He groaned again, harshly this time. 

“Are you alright?” I asked, already fishing for my cell phone inside my purse in case I needed to call an ambulance.

A step closer and then his hands were holding my forearms. I dropped my stuff to ground with the sheer force in which he grabbed me. He pushed my back against the door, standing so much taller than me that he completely obscured the light above us. 

“A taste. Just… a taste,” he spoke as if he was struggling to get the words out.

Barely breathing, I tried looking up into his face but he smashed his lips to mine before I could catch his eyes. My eyebrows shot up and I moaned in protest, struggling to push him away with my hands but he still had me well within his grasp. He stopped abruptly, leaning his forehead on mine. My nose was glued to his and I could feel my breath ricochet on his face. 

“Count- no. I don’t think we should,” I all but whispered because it was all the strength I had in me. Appealing to reason, good, I told my brain. 

And then his lips were on my cheeks, veering closer to my mouth for a second and then back to my cheeks, making a trail all the way to my earlobe and throwing all reason out the window.

“Please, please,” he whispered back, almost pleadingly. A kiss on my jawline made me shudder. A slow lick to the same place he had just kissed rid my body of all the stiffness it had built up. “Let me, my dear, let me…”

He retraced the path he had created and found my lips again. I exhaled, relenting to his touch. This time, my tongue greeted his and he groaned in response. His hands released my arms and circled my body, greedily seizing my hips and squeezing. My fingers found their way inside his shirt and I allowed my nails to lightly scrape the skin on the nape of his neck. He sucked my bottom lip to the point where it hurt but it only served to intensify the waves of pleasure flowing through my body. 

A cry of protest left my mouth when he stopped the kiss. But then he followed that glorious path to the skin on my jaw and I shut up. One of his hands snaked up, finding my shirt’s collar and pushing it down. I pressed my body closer to his, striving to feel more of him, and in response his fingers digged down on my ass harshly. 

Finally, his lips touched my neck and I tilted my head to grant him better access. Teeth lightly chafed the sensitive skin between sloppy and wet kisses until I was out of breath. Sharp pain followed for a second and I stiffened into his arms only to relax again when he held me tightly. A distinct mix of pleasure and pain flooded my body in a way I had never felt before and a moan tore out of me. 

I’m going to have the biggest hickey ever tomorrow, was my last coherent thought. 

[honestsycrets]

The Gilded Cage IV: Arranged By The Prophet

❛ pairing | ivar x reader, brother!oleg x sister!reader, Katya x Oleg

❛ type | multi

❛ summary | oleg makes a choice. the reader finds out some unsavory information about ivar-- and the old bulls keep cover

❛  warnings | Spankings, Angry!Oleg, Arranged Marriage, reprimanding, sneaking around, Katya being a bitch, Possessive!Oleg, incest (slightly nsfw)

❛ sy’s notes | igor is placed around ivar’s age at 4B, making ivar mid to late twenties in this piece.

“Get in,” Oleg says.

His bruising grip grinds down on your wrist. Waves of terror come over your chest-- not for your safety -- but for what reason had Oleg taken you away from your sweet, old bulls? In that moment, the trembling wall of muscle that is Oleg was what concerned you. Perhaps you upset him. His eyes are trained on you out of everyone, everything, and you don’t need to guess to know where he would take you. Only that as he shoves the door ajar, it slams behind him. He orders the guards standing watch in his room out.

“Oleg I--”

“Hush,” Oleg says curtly, cutting the distance to you in a short few furious strides. Your eyes train on his short black beard, legs quivering despite your innermost resolution to stand up to Oleg. Today would be the day! The day you told Oleg what you wanted of your life.

“You will stay in your room unless I call,” Oleg says, catching the loose edge of your furry robe, then the thin one underneath that. With a tug, he pulls both from your shoulders. A gasp slips from your lips, bunching your shoulders up to slide your arms around your breasts. “Enough.”

“Oleg--”

“Enough!”

Your mind is torn into bits when Oleg’s hand fell over your naked bottom with a harsh slap, causing your hips to jerk forward. A cry falls loose from your lips, marked out by another prompt smack. His palm radiates with heat from the blotchy red spot. You cradle onto the black and gold woven tunic, shuddering when another strike lands. Your round butt bounces after each powerful smack. Upon the fifth, you sob into his shoulder.

“Please--” through his heavy tunic, you get feel him-- the bulge that presses at your core. Your eyebrows knit together almost imperceptibly, but it’s something that Oleg catches when the last of his strikes finish upon your bottom. He draws his hand back, shaking off the tingles of excitement in his palm from your discipline.

“Do you know what showing off does to men?” He prompts a stupid question. Of course— you saw Ivar’s murky eye, washed over by the flood of lust. He wanted… something. If it was not Katya, could it have been you? And now… Your mind races as to why he hardened between the legs. Perhaps it’s his anger. A state where men excite themselves without realizing what they are doing.

Oleg snatches your wrist, taking it to his covered member, forcing you to feel the hardness that is there. Your eyes force shut, backing up until you hit his desk. One full of wooden shavings from Oleg’s newest statues of the first wife he once lost, freshly spilled ink, and parchment. He pinches your chin with firm, insistent pressure and forces you to gaze into his eyes.

“Well?” Oleg presses, an insipid smile splitting his lips. “Do you?”

“I…” you say after a while. “I don’t.”

“Of course you don’t,” Oleg leans forward, dropping the hand between his legs, scratching your neck with his finely trimmed beard. He hovers over you, words dappling across his skin. With a warm huff of air, he speaks against your neck. Flecks of heat break off against your neck. “You’ve never known a man because I have never allowed you to know one. I keep you safe! Me! Not Dir, nor Askold-- and not that lunatic.”

“Oleg… you are my brother,” you start, reaching for his beard. Your hands settle on his scratchy beard, caressing it with your thumb. He casts his glare aside at your next words. “Not my husband. Why would you discipline me like that?”

The way you say it settles wrong in Oleg’s mind. He rips his head around, catching you with a hot stare. “What difference does it make?”

You force him back, pressing your fingers to his lips to shush him. If it were anyone else, you might have thought something else than touching him in such a way. But this is Oleg. Your Oleg. Your sweet brother.

“What is changing?” you ask.

Oleg looks at you, dull and long, considering your words. There’s no answer to your question.

“I cannot tell anymore, Oleg, if you are angry with me or… aroused by me. The more sense I try to make, the less sense this makes. You have always been a good brother. Fair to me. But now I am… I…”

“Don’t make sense of nonsense, (Y/N). I am not aroused.”

If he weren’t aroused, what was… his hardness for? You convince yourself of what you previously speculated. It was a reaction to the adrenaline of your spankings. “Then what is your concern with Ivar and I?”

“None.” Oleg insists. “Because he isn’t interested in you.”

At his words, your stomach flares. Maybe it’s the insistence that Ivar had no interest in you. “What do you mean?”

“Katya has told me she reminds Ivar of his dear dead wife. So that show of your body? Wasted on him.”

If your body had been slick— excited for Ivar, it dried now. Ivar, you had thought, was excited for your body. Of course, you thought with Katya fucking Oleg, it could have easily been that… but something in you hoped.

“Oh,” you find yourself saying. It’s the best you could work out with a hot spike of disappointment in your eyes. “I see. She is the prize.”

Oleg dips down, lifting you into his arms, and settles into his grand bed. You fall to the side of him, in the middle, as Oleg strips his shift off. You’ve snuck below the sheets, burying your nose in pillows stuffed with bird feathers. He replaces himself behind your back, settling a small kiss to your shoulder.

“You are,” he commends to you.

You glance from your fingers which have bunched up the fabric under your head. Oleg’s fingers prod your hair away from your neck, placing a small kiss at the side of your neck this time. His lips drag, lingering there at your neck. His small puffs of hot air cause your shoulder to roll, almost laughing.

“Stop,” you say gently. “It tickles.”

“Bear with me,” Oleg hums. “It will be the last time.”

Tomorrow, Oleg would be marrying the strange princess. Despite your reservations to a woman you never knew, you attempted to keep a smile upon your face. After all, there was nothign you could do but support your brother. At his words you turn in bed, stroking your hands over his pale upper arms in consolation.

“You’ll leave me all alone again,” you tease. The last time-- you cringe to think of the dead woman far down under in that place you were forbidden to go. “I will be so lonely.”

“I have been thinking whom I might marry you to..”

“Should I not be married by now?” you tease Oleg gingerly. His head bows to watch your fingernails dancing across his arm. Then, sliding between your legs, his eyes wander over your breasts. You wonder what he’s thinking when his eyes surface again, dark and wild, lost and yet-- found.

“There have been proposals, my beautiful sister,” he admits. “But  I couldn’t accept.” Oleg tilts his head, inspecting your face framed by your long hair, spilling over the pillows beneath your head. His voice is almost even and tempered, but even then, you hear the distress wilting behind his words. “I would have to send you away.”

“I would not mind,” you say. “I would like this. To have a purpose more than… seeing children and sitting in my room.”

“I would,” Oleg replies. “Things are… complicated.”

“Do they need to be?” you protest, and lean up, placing a small kiss to the corner of his lip and cheek. Oleg’s eyes widen, clear with the confusion building. Behind his dark eyes, you find his thoughts racing. Your hands caress over his shoulders, cupping his jaws happily. A small, soft smile forms, causing your eyes to crest-like soft moons. “I would like the chance to start my own family, to make you proud.”

“You… think this would make me proud. To have you lay under some foreigner, let him fill you with his seed, have… children,” Oleg mumbles to himself. “Why would I have someone else take you away?” He looks toward you, looking for an answer to his question. There is none. Only the confusion in your eyes, waiting for this game of dancing around one another to meet its end.

Your chest pulls at his words as if all he needed to do was pull a loose seam for it all to come apart. Maybe he does-- because when he speaks again, it does come apart in front of his tight and pinched features.

“This, here, is where you belong. You are mine-- mine. My sweet, beautiful sister. I would not have someone fill you,” Oleg grates out. “I love you.”

“And I, you,” you say easily.

“I need you to stay with me.”

He asks too much of you. You suppose it is your fault for being there in his time of need, loving him like no other— but Katya should be his rock now. You stroke his hair. Smile. Caress the stress and hidden fear from his limbs.

“Sleep, Oleg. Your mind is full again.”

Oleg hums-- of course, he couldn’t just sleep on his own. Reaching deep in your heart, you pull forth a rhythmic hum. Something old and ancient, one carried on ethereal hums of your voice, raking your fingers through his dark, murky hair. A deep and old song professing your love-- for you dear, lost brother.

The wedding goes off without a hitch. You stood beside your sweet nephew, hands pressed together, his admiring eyes twinkling at Ivar. The boy seems to admire Ivar a good amount. As a young man who has recently become a man, you know how important a figure like Ivar is.

“I have an announcement,” Oleg spoke smoothly from his side of the table. Katya glances over to her new husband. A curl of amusement on her lips.

“What is it?” Ivar says jovially.

“The night in the bathhouse revealed a vision to me, my sweet.” Oleg leans over, flicking your chin to force it to raise. You force a smile.

“What have you seen?”

Oleg glances over to Katya who slides out of her chair and walks over to seize your shoulders. “You will marry Prince Igor,” she informs you. “When the time is right.”

“I… why?” you plead as you glance over to Oleg. Your brother cranes his head, working on a indignant smile.

Ivar, who usually holds his silence, parts his lips for the sake of his young prince. In his words, you hoped he would see reason. “He is a young man— and she is his aunt.”

“These are plans for the future, Ivar.” Oleg offers up his hands from their folded position. “It is not an immediate bond— like it would be if I were to marry her, they are removed. It will be fine.”

You push out from Katya’s hands, gripping your embroidered dress as you come behind him. Your head bows and you whisper gently in his ear. “You’re punishing me.”

“You wound me, my darling. Come here.” His hands stretch toward your hips and you avoid them, storming past Vasilii and Dmitrei who fall in line behind you. Both of which hold frozen gazes as they guide you from the room.

Clipping behind you, as you hear your name again called out. Your hands slap against your hips, whirling around to the expectation of Oleg. Standing there is not Oleg, but Ivar, straining to catch up to your long steps. You even your steps to a stop.

“Yes?”

“Come to my room tonight.”

Just after saying that, he disappears down the hall. You look between Dmitrei and Vasilii, both of whom leer back at you. It was a bad idea— you admit it to yourself as you walk back to your rooms. Vasilii and Dmitrei enter first. Both searching the room. They resurface as you take out the jewels from your ears. Oleg’s pups come beside you, sitting and waiting.

“Vasilii,” you glance over your shoulder, slipping the temple rings free. “What do you think?”

“Of what, Princess?”

“Of seeing King Ivar tonight,” you say. “Oleg informed me Princess Katya reminded him of his wife. That is who he was aroused for.”

“If you would like to see him,” he looks between Dmitrei and the wall behind him. “Do so. We will make cover.”

Oleg had been clear. You would not leave that room. But he had also been clear— you would marry within the family. To keep his selfish interests near to home. You ran a comb through your long hair, at last standing up, and plucking what clothes you had laid out for bed.

“Hm,” you mutter. “We will see.”

We will see became an agonizing fight of when to leave. To early, and Oleg’s men would be patrolling. Too late, and Oleg’s men would be waking from their half shift slumber. In the middle, you noted. At the very least you could say you went— out of respect for him.

Vasilii guides you past the guard. His cousin whom easily bought into his words. You slip between the two of them and into Ivar’s chambers. As suspected, Ivar is fast asleep. His head rests on his pillow, blankets drawn over his naked back. The moonlight streams on his pale skin. You unwind your headscarf and set it aside in a chair, slipping out of your shoes and approaching the bed.

“You’ll have to forgive me, my dear Viking.” You whisper, caressing the loose strands away from his face. A handsome jawline, cut cheekbones and broad nose— he looks as you remember him. Your fingers graze his full sideburns, running the expanse of his jaw with ghost like touch. “Oleg has forbidden me from leaving my room. I am like one of his dogs, trapped until he makes use of me.”

Making use of you— using his bond with you to secure his hold on the crown. Undoubtedly; he thought he might use you in regards to Igor. That was why this marriage was arranged. You are sure of that.

“It will be too dangerous to visit again. Goodbye,” you kneel before him, leaning in to set a chaste kiss to his lips. In his contorted position, you are barely able to scrape your lips over his. And yet— as quickly as you do so, a hand seized your wrist at the side of the bed. You’re suddenly flung onto his bed with a bounce.

“Oh!” you squeak.

“It’s you again,” the Viking says, as if it’s an afterthought. His hand grasps your chin, forcing you to look up to him. His body encompasses you. His slender hips fit nicely between your splayed open legs. “Why do you only kiss me when I sleep?”

“I… you were awake?”

“I am a man on the run,” he states. You acknowledge that much. “And you are a loud princess.”

“Loud?” you repeat after him. All this time— you thought you were quiet.

“You don’t exactly speak quietly.”

There was truth in that. Oleg never questioned how loudly you spoke. Your cheeks warm underneath him, never having been so close to a man who wasn’t Oleg. Dir… Dir was different. He held you in different esteem. As did Askold, who gave you limited affection, due to Oleg’s nature.

“I wanted to see you.”

“That much is clear,” Ivar teases, relaxing onto his forearm, sandwiching your body underneath his own. He’s built… thickly. Your eyes flutter shut, trying to think of anything but his large frame on top of you. It’s impossible. Even the fluffy bedsheets are no distraction to Ivar’s large body. He smells like honey and mead. “You kissed me. You must have enjoyed it.”

“I’m-- I’m sorry. I did not mean to insult you.”

“An insult?” Ivar laughs. “I’ve never been kissed in my sleep by a princess.”

You settle your hands on his forearms with nothing else for them to do. Your cheeks are, yes, pink. Embarrassed. Shy. But… you’re damningly interested when Ivar leans in again. “I see why Oleg is so fond of you.”

“Why?”

Ivar doesn’t respond, not at first, simply running his eyes over your neck to the coin necklace you wore. It is large, made up of adorned balls, then beautiful coins with encrusted jewels. His finger taps one for emphasis, catching Oleg’s marred name. His eyes flicker back up-- toward yours, and you can’t discern the emotion behind his eyes entirely.

“You’re so innocent.”

@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke​ @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa​, @inforapound​ @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44​ @readsalot73​ @squirrelacorngliterfarts​ @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl​ @sallydelys​  @bluearchersstuff​ @affectionrabbitt​ @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots​ @ivarandersen​ @stra-vage​ @beyond-the-ashes @supernaturalvikingwhore @mblaqgi​ @wuxiesalt @hopplessdreamer​ @therealcalicali​ @rekdreams-fandom @moondustmemories @athroatfullofglass @poisonedjoinery​ @strangunddurm @shookforyoojung​ @peachesnpisces @tierneygonzalez @hexqueensupreme @nohemi2500 @queenmissfit @alicedopey @dmv49 @sallylebecks @terrainhead @mybarnesmyhero @youurkryptonite @lif3snotouttogetyou @vikingsmania @looneytunes20033 @bat-fam-blob @oneofthelothbroks @lovelynerdytraveler @chinduda @whatamood13 @honeyofthegods @ilvebeenabad @queenbeeta @heavenly1927 @holydream @kingniazx @cynthianokamaria @starrmoondaisy @tgrrose @stillreadingfantasy @the-jess-life​

[celstese]

Gwen cooper gets her groove back

Author: celstese

Rating: teen

Content warnings: Spoilers,swearing,Bilis Manger

Word count: 1511

description: On her hundredth tenth birthday Gwen Williams falls asleep and wakes up knocking Owen Harper off his bed. Being young again is hard. A time travel fix it fic.

(I might continue this later on but this is all I could come up with before I got writers block.)

Ao3

Gwen cooper was ready to go. For far two long for her liking she had been alone. Sure she still had her children as well as good old Andy who lived next to her with his husband Greg to talk to but for her the past twenty years without Rhys was the loneliest she had been in for a very long time. So when on her hundredth tenth birthday she fell asleep Gwen felt ready to die whenever death felt ready to come for her. Sure she heard the story from Jack about what he had seen all the times he had died but figured nothingness was the worst thing to look forward to. For all she knew even Jack's brain couldn't compered what was waiting but she was ready. What she woke to upon waking was unexpected but welcome . She would later realize she wasn't alone but that's not what she jumped to. As she came to she could hear a familiar voice she couldn't place for a while. Then it hit her like a large lorry had crashed into her old wiry body. 

“Owen Harper you utter bastard! ” she jolted up, eyes wide open, knocking him off his large bed with satin sheets. 

“What was that for?” he rubbed his bare face as he sat upright on the wooden floor. 

“Oh my I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do that.” Gwen felt sheepish as she helped him back up. She quickly explained her reaction. ��

“It's just given last I checked you died long before I had my hundredth birthday and I feel so young I'm comfortable blaming the rift. Given the fact I don't remember this so  I have to assume it did since I don't remember that day I woke up really old because of you know work.” “Of course, when is it ever something else? It's always the rift. Bloody torchwood.” he was flabbergasted to say the least judging by his face. 

“If I am mistaken there are some events  I won't let repeat themselves if I have any choice. No child's head should be liquefied for the sake of this planet.” 

“You're serious.”

“Why would i lie to you  about something like that ?I know I haven't been here at torchwood that long  at this point .I don't think I can go back to being who I was at this age. This job opens up a world but not all of it is good. I've woken up screaming more than once. I remember feeling guilt about what we did together and what happened next  but when I left  has been gone from my head for decades. Alzimers can be a  real bitch you know. I could have affected the whole universe by hurting you. I wouldn't be able to tell”

Owen as it turned out probably due to me not caring before had a decent amount of money.  He wasn't the richest person in the world but as I recognized that painting on the wall as an original I knew it was more than I realized. The things we notice as we get older can be odd to say the least of them. But I had forgotten long ago he had a car at his apartment building's car park.. It was in a nice shape but It would have gotten him noticed. It was some sports car in a bright red paint job. I turned to him in other bewilderment. His reply was understandable “I'm having trouble finding a buyer. You would think people would want one but nope i've had no luck for 3 years running.”

We ended up getting a taxi instead.

The commute didn't take as long as it should have been during the time of day but at the time I didn't take notice. Later when I heard from Rhys when I got home from work the significance of that morning. It felt to me that night the butterfly effect was a real phenomenon. It felt like I was that butterfly ; it felt daunting to me.

The plass looked the same as it did in my memory they had kept the old look after the explosion to keep continuity. Plus the other idea would have bankrupted the city. I always wondered what happened to the mayor who was in charge just before I joined. I asked Jack once when I was on vacation  for me and Rhys' anniversary but he looked funny. There was nothing in the torchwood records or any other place.It was like she had vanished into thin air. It didn't learn what happened but I had a feeling he was involved somehow. He was involved in lots of things so it wouldn't have surprised me.

When we entered the hub I was surprised but I didn't know last time. Jack and Ianto were having a date in the hub. It was some pretty nice spaghetti. I wouldn't have been able to eat it because I'm allergic to cilantro. Jack looked like  an owl hooting when he heard what I just told him. He could tell I wasn't joking. Owen's face convinced him something had to have happened even if what he was hearing was only partially truthful. Jack didn't blame Gwen for being hesitant to talk. It was best to keep talking about the possible future on the down low until they figured out what caused this and if she could go back. Gwen didn't think she would stay for long even if she returned. Sure her old body worked but they only lasted so long unlike jack. Jack she thought was unlucky and she wanted to help him if she could. This jack didn't really know her. It felt weird. She couldn't even tell Rhys since he didn't know at this point. It was very frustrating.

I knew if I was around long enough things might change. Then it did.  We had found ourselves at a building site where I remembered. Mary was still alive. It was something I did tonight that caused Tosh to meet her. This as far as I knew was not that important in the grand scheme of things. It was important now . Take care of the body then Mary.

It was late at night and the only one at the bar other than Gwen was the bartender. She found that odd. This was not helping her though. She was still feeling the same as she started. Then as she looked to the left by chance she saw the doors start to open. She tensed up. She didn't want to have anything to do with Bilis. He was still bad news whenever he showed up. He sat down to her and smiled. 

“Maybe you are the great equalizer now Gwen cooper. Things  won't be the same anymore most certainly.” Bilis Manger looked all innocent but she  knew better from her own experience he wasn't what he portrayed himself to be. 

“So it was you who did this.”

“Well not exactly. By going back you can not return this isn't a swapping bodies situation it's a you died and your soul as humans say merged with yours from earlier. Nothing is set in stone anymore except some things. The more things change the more things stay the same and all that.”

She jumped at him and before she could land a hit he was gone. Gwen wondered what happened but this was a whole different thing than she had in mind. Was it right to have kids right now with what she knew could come. She didn't know if those days had to happen. Maybe someone would. She just had to find someone who didn't have a reason to lie to her. She didn't know if she could name hers the same names again. The thought of that was very painful to her when she thought about it. That she would never see Anwen again hurt very much. Gwen Williams was Gwen Cooper once more.

What Rhys had told me had hit my conscious mind in the bathroom. Harriet Jones did not resign today. The ramifications were huge. I shivered on the white toilet. This didn't mean she wouldn't resign next week but there was a chance Jack wouldn't come back looking the way he did the time he left us all by ourselves to protect Cardiff. I didn't really have a smartphone anymore so I couldn't really check the news from in here anymore. There was a chance that a man didn't come here this time . That prospect was preferable to me than the alternative.

The coffee machine had stopped working and Ianto was exhausted. Sure his body was fine but his mind was a different story. It was getting to the point that the first part became untrue soon.

Jack let out a loud gasp. He stumbled and out in a suv came Gwen and Ianto. Being buried in cement was not pleasant in the slightest but it wasn't the worst thing he had ever felt in his one hundred plus years.

[notbecauseofvictories]

Thoughts on Odile of Swan Lake?

Sometimes, you come home for an extended Christmas vacation—thank god for two vacation days a month—and your father has turned a bunch of the local community college girls into swans. That’s just how life is. You try to be understanding, really; it’s not like you don’t have a couple shitty dates tucked away in your back garden. (They make an unholy noise whenever the wind is high, but they also eat the spider mites, so.)

During the day, you feed the swans-who-are-technically-girls whole wheat bread, because that’s what the internet told you was best for swans. (Cultivated grains, right?) At night, you lend them your high school sweatshirts and old pajama pants, and blow up every air mattress you can beg or borrow from friends. Your father glares at them whenever they try to sit on the sofa, snarling to be quiet during Late Night. One of them, the slender brunette, cries silently.

Afterwards, the girls whisper to one another, and your father retreats to the back patio to smoke a cigar. After the first night—after Odette, who goes by Etta, clutches your sleeve and whispers, can you get us out of here?—you go out to join him.

“What exactly was your plan here, dad?” you ask, and Rothbart, the poster child for single-father assholery, grunts and goes on smoking.

You get up at four the next morning, in order to make the swans a human breakfast while they’ll still appreciate it. “Thank you,” Etta says when you hand her a plate of runny eggs, almost-burnt toast. She’s pretty, in a small-town coed sort of way. In the hazy, artificial light of the kitchen, her eyelashes are fine and pale against her cheeks, and it makes you think of something grown in the dark, a flower that will never bloom.

“Yeah, well,” you say, giving Etta an extra slice of bacon. “Merry Christmas.”

.

You call your boss the twenty-sixth, and tell him that your father’s had some health issues, you’re going to need FMLA. He tells you not to worry about it, just make sure to let HR know.

Outside the window, the swans are huddled together on the half-frozen pond in your backyard, their heads bent together like lovers. You can’t help admiring the elegant curve of those long, white necks, how lovely they are, set against the grey slate of the sky and the shadows of the skeletal trees. They’re trembling—you didn’t even know swans could get cold.

You tell your boss you’ll keep him updated.

.

The missing posters are all over town, once you know to look. Pretty, white—Rothbart’s gotten stupid and started breaking his own rules—Midwestern girls. Cornsilk hair, braces-trained smiles. Some of their photographs show them in cheerleader outfits, band uniforms. Another stupid, sloppy detail.

“Isn’t it sad?” Mary Anne, who was your friend and hated you in the same breath, simpers. “All those girls, just up and vanished.”

“Sad,” you echo. “Do the police have any leads?”

They don’t, you know. No one has leads on girls that turn into swans, any more than they have leads on men who turn into toads, or wolves, or birds, or frogs, or ravens. It’s the only reason your family has lasted as long as it has—being careful, always careful, and making sure that when a curse stuck, it stuck. Every morning since you came home, you’ve found Kelly Loshanko standing in your front yard, her nostrils flaring; she’s starting to show her age, and you’re still surprised she’s managed to last this many deer hunting seasons. You’ve heard rumors there are still families in Grand Rapids suffering from the curse your great-grandmother laid down on their bloodline, because they offended her. Or because she wanted to, or simply because she could—your great-grandmother was never one for explaining herself.

(You sometimes think about having that much power, all the things you could use it for. It would be a new world.)

Mary Anne is talking about her husband, who’s been spending “too much time on the internet.” You make sympathetic noises, and think about how unlikely it is that Etta ever finds a man to love her who has never loved before. 

“Odile?” Etta asks, when you stumble back to your father’s house at two am. They’re girls again, and Etta’s pale, pale as silver in the light from your phone. (It’s unnatural, unsettling, given how dark it is in the house—but you only glimpse her like this, in the almost-daylight, before she turns into a swan.) You’d hoped to sneak in and up to your room before anyone noticed, but it’s hard to avoid sixteen girls, all spread out across your father’s living room floor.

“Go to sleep, Odette,” you whisper, and admire the way her chin comes up in defiance. Even in the dark, her eyes glitter.

“You’re drunk,” she says, and you laugh.

“Yes, I am. I’m going to sleep.”

Your skin shivers all over when she grabs your wrist and holds tight. Her hands are very warm, and you’re not sure why you expected otherwise. “Please,” Etta says. “Please help us. Please—I know you can.”

You swallow and look away. “I don’t know what you mean,” you say, and slip from the circle of her hands. Go on climbing the stairs until you’re there in your room, all of it exactly the way you left years before. A shrine to the memory of seventeen, all of it: the handmade poppets, the clumsily lettered invocations of the Old Goddess, a photograph of you and Rothbart at the ‘95 winter solstice taped to the vanity mirror. 

You hate her, that girl in the photograph. Smiling and smiling and smiling forever.

(Even lying in bed, you can still feel Odette’s fingers clasped around your wrist. It’s hard to sleep, remembering that.)

.

There’s a boy, because of course there is. 

Your father threatens him with a shotgun and still, he keeps coming back. You suspect he has a touch of the Gift, enough for him to know—to actually know—what’s going on, and what exactly happened to his pretty cheerleader girlfriend. Or at least suspect where all the fucking swans came from in the middle of December.  Rothbart sleeps into the day most times, you can see the boy skulking in the windows, peering through dirty glass; other times, you can feel him watching as you go from the house to your car and back again.

“Stupid choice of curse, if you knew she had a boy chasing after her,” you tell your father. You’re both standing on the porch, watching the boy scramble over the fence and disappear into the trees. The swans are making sad, fluting noises from the edge of the lake.

“If he really loved her, he wouldn’t be feeding her that white bread,” Rothbart says. “It’s processed to shit.”

(You stand there on the porch for a while after, watching the swans-who-are-also-girls. No one’s ever come for anyone in your garden, because you’re not a reckless idiot who abducts the homecoming court—but still. No one’s ever come.)

“Oh,” Etta says quietly, when you tell her there’s a boy chasing after her, with pale eyebrows and a lovestruck look. “That’s Siggy. Siegfried.”

You are then, unfortunately, regaled with at least five minutes of the saga of Siggy, who truly means well, and definitely loves Etta—their love is meant to be, as long as you ignore the fact that they’re nineteen and one of them is currently a swan for twelve hours a day. “You don’t understand,” Etta whispers, as you scrape a dry helping of meatloaf onto her plate. Your father is smoking on the porch again, ignoring the whole world and especially the girls-who-are-also-swans sitting at his kitchen table.

“Siggy is my boyfriend,” Etta says, with the frenetic passion of a believer. “Siggy loves me, only me. Really me. He would—he would know who I am and what I want. Even as a swan. Haven’t you ever been in love?”

“Sure,” you say. “Of course.”

“You won’t tell?” she asks, and you smile. Maternally, if such a quality can be ascribed to you—but then, you’re currently serving terrible meatloaf to abducted girls on the twenty-second day of their stay in your father’s house. ‘Mother’ is the fucked up role you’ve fallen into.

“Of course not,” you say. “I won’t tell anyone.”

.

“Okay, dad,” you say to him on the patio that night. “What the fuck was your plan.”

.

You are, whatever your father says, absolutely not seducing a teenager. You’ll do a lot of fucked up shit—you composed elaborate praise to the Devil when you were twelve, and since, you’ve signed perverts up for an eternity as slimy, crawling things in your garden—but seducing a nineteen year old to thwart his crush on a beautiful cheerleader is a couple bridges too far. You don’t care how many times your father insists it’s “just this one time.” You don’t care if his whole fucking coven is behind him, and they call at odd hours to lecture you on the sacred transference of knowledge to the receptive acolyte. That’s some seventies woo-woo Mother Earth revisionist bullshit, and you burned those books when you left for college. There’s still a blackened spot on the front lawn, it won’t grow back.

“I’m not explaining this well,” you say, grinding the heels of your hands against your eyes. You’re tired, you’re so tired—it is, after all, just past midnight when you finish explaining it to the girls who are also swans. They look…mostly confused, but you mind is a soft fog of exhaustion. It’s hard to separate that out.

“Look, you need to take Siggy and hide him,” you tell Etta, holding the front door of your father’s house as wide as it will go. 

Her dark eyes are wide, and she stands very still, even as the other—are they girls or swans? you’re not sure—rush past her with a noise like the beating of wings, out into the night. You don’t look away from her, not once, even as they jostle past you. “You’re…” Etta breathes, and then her breath hitches. “You’re letting us go.”

You swallow. With a step toward her, and another, you gently take her chin in your hand. When she doesn’t pull away, you press your mouth to the corner of her lips. 

“There. The curse is broken,” you say. Under your touch, Etta trembles.

“I has to be—someone who has never—”

Her eyes are very dark, even in the silver of the moonlight. You smile. “Someone who has never loved before, I know.” You lick your lower lip, and it tastes like something artificial; cherry lip balm, maybe. “You should go.”

She opens her mouth, and then shuts it again. And then Odette Richards, called Etta, is gone into the night. You watch her go, and do not move from where you stand—not even when she turns down the next street and disappears out view.

.

The next morning, you stand on that same porch and watch your father taken into custody on sixteen counts of kidnapping and conspiracy to commit…something. You’re busy with your coffee, plans for the drive back, and not paying attention. In the next few hours, you leisurely pack up whatever’s left of your clothes and some of his. Afternoon finds you there again, sitting on the front step when he comes limping back.

“Hey there, dad,” you say, and offer him up the handle of his beat-up suitcase. It’s followed him through two centuries and almost as ten times that many states; you grew up listening to those stories. Rothschild in New York, Roth in South Carolina; Rot in Minnesota and Rotolo in Chicago…it was a little dizzying, all the selves your father had gone through, like changing shirts. But whatever his name, you can’t imagine the battered case not close at hand.

He touches your cheek with two fingers. “My daughter,” he says. “How I love you.”

His voice is dry as paper, cruel as a curse, and your lips twist in a smirk in response. “And I you, father,” you say in that same voice. Rothbart chuckles. He takes the yew handle of his suitcase, and offers you the other hand.

The house on the lake is still burning at midnight, as the old year dies and the new one is born. A strange green fire that the firemen can’t put out, and brings the neighbors out of their houses to stare and mutter among themselves. Only a girl called Etta is quiet, watching from the seat of her bike, her eyes wide and full of green fire as the house burns down, down to ash.

[nancythebisexualslutwheeler]

I’m Coming Home to You

Please read this and validate me.. I wrote this monster in like three hours. XX T 

Part One  Part Two 

He texts Eddie probably too soon. He’s barely folded himself into an uncomfortable seat to wait for the airplane and he only forces himself to send a text to Sarah, before he sends one to Eddie.

From your number: One step closer to home man!

His phone chirps nearly instantly,

From Edward Kaspbrak: I’m glad. Are you in pain?

Physical? Absolutely not. Mental anguish that Eddie thinks he’s playing a game with him because he couldn’t man up and kiss him back? Um, yes.

From your number: I’m fine. Can’t wait to get back home and hit the booze though.

From Edward Kaspbrak: No plane drinking for you?

From your number: And end up crying into the lap of a random stranger? No thanks.

From Edward Kaspbrak: I offered to go with you. You played yourself.

He sends the shrugging emoji and Richie bursts into laughter.

From your number: I’m scared.

From Edward Kaspbrak: I know. Doesn’t mean I love you any less.

Richie’s heart pounds. This is what he means. He can’t do this, he can’t. Their chance is over. They could have had so much, everything. High school and college and they could have gotten married dammit. But nope. Now he’s middle aged and the thought of Eddie saying those words directly to his face, makes him want to vomit.

He puts Eddie on do not disturb, thinks better of it and then powers down the entire phone. He’s having difficulty breathing, and he’s convinced it’s not all entirely his lung.

Richie takes three weeks off to recover, reschedules eight shows and loses about ten grand. His ankle is healed, as well as his head but his lung still hurts if he moves too quickly and he still has this disgusting scar on his face. That’s gonna cost a pretty penny to fix.

He flies out to New York to see Sarah for a few days, and he’s been keeping regular contact with the Losers.

Him and Eddie are.. well. They talk on the phone. Every night. Eddie’s healing up, back to work- analyzing risks- or whatever that bullshit meant. Plugging along with his divorce from Myra. Begging Richie to see him.

Richie avoided it at all costs, terrified of seeing him. So he rambled about his day, his new set, everything.

Richie’s a touch nervous about his show. He’s been laying lower than low since his accident, making extremely sure no one saw him before he was damn well ready.

And apparently that time was gone because he’d no more than ordered his iced latte when some teenager who in all reality is a little too young to be watching his sets, asks for a picture.

It takes him over an hour to get out of the small coffee shop, and that’s only because a manager comes out, pissed.

He doesn’t even want his watered down latte any longer. He angrily throws the coffee into a nearby garbage can and rests heavily against the wall of the building. If even that little interaction was too much, how was he going to get through an entire set tonight?

His phone rings and he has every intention of letting it go to voicemail, until he sees it’s his manager, Steve.

“Hey-o.”

“Rich man, what the fuck were you thinking?! You want to get attacked or something?!”

“I’m barely famous,” Richie says flippantly, hoping he’s not going to get actually yelled at because he can not handle that right now.

“You’re a fucking bum from Maine who somehow got signed with the top comedian company and was promised two back to back tours before you even took pen to paper. Not to mention you nearly died Richie.”

He’s getting sick of hearing those words come out of Steve, and his wife’s mouth. The first entire week he’d been back, he’d stayed with them. He’d gained like fifteen pounds from all the home cooked meals. He’d taken a bubble bath. With epsom salt. So he knows how Steve feels about his accident, he does.

“I just wanted to be normal. For once.” Richie admits quietly.

Steve laughs lightly,

“Me too. Maybe if you were normal, it wouldn’t be so hard being your manager.”

Richie knows it’s a joke, but the sudden thought that Steve wouldn’t want to manage him anymore. His wife is Christian, they have a daughter for Christ’s sake... they don’t need Richie being a bad influence. God, he was just going to get up there and make jokes without any care for anyone else. Not Steve. Not.. he who must not be named. (Okay this isn’t fucking Harry Potter, pull it together Rich.)

“Hey Steve?”

“Yes o favorite client of mine.”

“I made a new set.”

“I know. I am thrilled.”

“Well you may want to taper that back a little.”

“Rich? Is this one of your moments? Do I need to amp you up? Do we need to play Beyoncé?”

Richie is going to kill him. He doesn’t know how to do this. Come out. This is a problem for thirteen year old girls who realized they liked the taste of their best friends lip gloss during practice kissing rather than a boy’s bad breath during real kissing.

“Um, some of my jokes revolve around a guy.”

“Oh cool. You know, you’re not as ugly as you think, but the crowd does go wild for that self hate shit, mainly because your photo of you shirtless at the pool on Instagram got flagged as inappropriate content because people kept commenting “daddy” under it. It’s funny Rich.”

Richie had forgotten about that. He’d thought it was a joke, and he’d sat up drinking beer and eating pizza with his beard Natalie as she insisted, no, he was daddy material. Natalie was a twenty seven year old  from fucking Wisconsin of all places and played a ditzy granddaughter on a soap opera that Richie, being the terrible boyfriend he is, has never seen. She wouldn’t know daddy material if it slapped her in the face. She insists she does. But it’s kind of like the way she insists she's slept with Liam Hemsworth. Her beautiful blue eyes beg you to believe her, but she can’t keep the smirk off of her lips.

“No, I mean. Fuck Steve, you know you’re like a brother to me,”

Steve cackles,

“Damn, this is how you treat your family?”

“Ask my sister because the answer most definitely is yes. Anyway, the joke is about me liking a guy.”

There’s a pause,

“Um, Rich my dude. There’s a word for that and it’s called homophobia.”

Richie grunts and balls his free fist at his side,

“No like, I like a guy. For real.”

There’s a pause,

“Is something wrong with Natalie?”

“No, no no! Oh god Natalie. I have to tell her. Oh god, I can’t go on tonight. I can’t.” He says pathetically. Desperately.

“I understand this is a crisis situation, I do, but we’ve got a baby on the way, and this show is raking in like a quarter of a mill so, you’re going on.”

“A baby? Oh wow!”

Something Richie will never have. Wait. Where did that come from? Does he want kids?

“Richie, shut up. Okay, I’m only going to ask once, are you sure this is what you want to do?”

Richie hesitates. He wonders if Natalie will still want to be friends.

“If you think this will ruin her career, we’re not doing it.”

“Other than that?”

Richie presses his thumbs against his eyelids in concentration.

“Yes.”

It’s barely a whisper.

“I’ll take care of everything.”

“Steve-“

“Everything. Be at the studio at 5.”

“But I don’t go on til 8.”

“Richie, be there on time I swear to god.”

Richie shows up around 6:30. He hasn’t heard from Natalie or Steve, so they can’t be too pissed.

He’d had to shower twice. He’d talked to Mike on the phone. He’d texted Eddie about twice before he got nervous. He’s tired and crabby and this is not the way he’s supposed to be starting his first show back. Not by a long shot.

So the first thing he does is ask the first person he sees for some scotch. Steve might kill him but he needs to be at least tipsy to make it through this one.

He’d thought he was ready, but maybe he wasn’t. He’s not ready to face Steve’s inevitable wrath, or at least annoyance, so he ducks into the dressing room.

To his dismay, Natalie is in there, talking to his hairstylist Maggie. She stands up immediately and she’s got her wide smile on and she hugs him tightly and kisses his cheek instead of his lips,

“You’re late.”

“Sue me.”

She snorts, “I have a lot of reasons too, so I’d shut up. Anyway, I have dinner for you.”

“Dinner?”

“I’m not just a pretty face you know.” And she hands him a Tupperware container.

He hasn’t seen Tupperware in like 15 years. He laughs and she rolls her eyes,

“Come on, there’s a microwave over here.”

She places her hand on the small of his back, perhaps more out of muscle memory and she leads him into the small kitchenette, taking back the Tupperware before heating the food.

“So? This is interesting.”

“You can’t be.. surprised.” He says, even though that’s a straight lie.

“I assumed all men in their forties had issues getting it up, even when a pair of perfect tits in their face.”

He knows she’s kidding. He does, and it’s not even the first time she’d given it back as good as she got but he suddenly feels like crying. She must sense this immediately because Natalie is amazing like that, and she’s wrapping her arms around him. He cries into her chest like a fucking child. They only pull away after the microwave beeps for like the millionth time.

“Oh honey. It’s going to be okay.”

“How are you going to be?”

“Oh you’re cutting me a check. Steve promised.”

“You should be cutting me a check princess. I know your contract just got renewed.”

“You’re making nearly 25k... tonight.”

“Snooping are we?”

She shoves the Tupperware at him,

“Eat your dinner.”

“Natalie, are we still, gonna be friends I mean?” He asks sheepishly.

She made him chicken, potatoes and green beans. He knows everything is homemade. She hated the chemicals in the fake meat he ate. Hey, he was gonna die for a lot of other shit, and probably first. The environment was worth it. Okay not time for a fucking rant right now.

“Honey, we’re family.”

There’s a knock on the door,

“Rich? I’ve got the fucking liquor you ordered.” Steve says, handing him the bottle. “Do not get too wasted.”

Richie gets like.. half a shot too wasted. He’s buzzing. He’s flushed and warm and his hands are sweaty and Natalie isn’t fawning all over him like she usually does and he is stressed. He’s alone. He wants to message Eddie but he pussies out.

When he goes out, the screams are deafening. Once he gets the mic in his hand, he’s flying. He goes on about the nasty gash on his face, hobbling around with a twisted rib and how his crazy, lazy, halfway drunk ass is going to be an uncle. The jokes flow easily, even if he didn’t plan on saying it, and suddenly he has the terrible thought, shrugs and hopes that Sarah has already told her baby daddy.

And then he gets into it.

“So I know you’re all dying to know what the hell happened. I wish I could say that it was some badass like, car robbery. But it was just a straight up mugging. The thing is that I was with my friends, right? I know that’s shocking, hardy har har. But I’m with some friends, and I have this one friend. Her name is Bev, she’s gorgeous, and a bad ass through and through, strongest person I know, my bad, I’m exposing myself a bit too much, I am a heartless prick, I promise.

“But we’re at a bar, and some skeeze, no a real dick, I mean it. Takes her purse. Is this fucking 1992? Who steals a purse? Now, I’ve got a shit ton of liquor in me, but suddenly I’m running. And it’s cold, we’re in Maine and it’s winter And I’m freezing my balls off. And I’ve almost got him, I did track in high school, yeah yeah I don’t look like I can run from here to backstage, I get it.”

The crowd roars.

“The point is, I’m almost on him. This motherfucker pulls out a knife. Now, I know this doesn’t sound funny but  listen, number one, Bev is a fucking receptionist at a dental office, she’s not even raking in the dollars. Trust me, I’ve paid her rent a few times,” he straight up hasn’t and even though he thinks it’s funny ,he shouts out a quick, “love you Bev!”

“Anyway, the guy pulls out a knife and goes insane. I thought this beer belly would protect me, but alas,” his voice is getting sad, so he pulls it together, “Anyway. The first of my friends to find me is someone I’m close to right. My first love. And I’m bleeding out on the cold cement, for real, Natalie, though she could have given me some tips on how to handle it so beautifully, but my first love’s in front of me and I’m pretty sure I’m going to die.

“So I’m going on and on and throwing around big words that my man child ass doesn’t know the meaning of, like love and forever, and he’s staring at me like the idiot I am, and I promise there’s a point to this joke, and the joke is that once again, Richie fumbled. Good old Rich just lost it. So the fuck up you see right here, it turns out I’m actually this way in real life. So please remember what an absolute goof I am, especially next time you want to stalk  me at fucking Dunn Brothers, and fuck up my oat milk latte, which is an extra ninety cents by the way, please remember that I’m a big dork,”

Suddenly there’s a commotion in the crowd and some guy is standing on his chair and Richie’s never wanted to die more,

“Did you say a guy?” He shouts.

It’s silent, before he nods slightly,

“Yes I did. I’m a big ol-“ he doesn’t even know what fucked up thing he’s going to say, when the crowd erupts into applause.

And he’s sure that some people left, or there’s comments, but the applause is all he needs. He is a slut for validation after all. Thank you love language quiz. Words of affirmation baby!

The rest of the set goes great and he’s still properly buzzed when he steps off stage. Steve is clapping him on the shoulder, even though he’s on the phone and then Richie’s rushed backstage and handed water and there’s. He squeezes the water bottle too tight and it explodes all over him. It’s freezing, even though he feels warm and before he’s thinking about it, he’s yanking off his shirts and suddenly someone’s handing him a towel and he hears a dog whistle. He’s about to tell Natalie to fuck off, when he sees who she’s standing by.

There. In the flesh, is Eddie Kaspbrak. He looks good, dammit. A maroon sweater and tight black jeans. His cheeks are flushed and he’s holding his black jacket in his arms.

“No one took his coat?” Richie yanks it out of his hands and throws it somewhere. “Where’s everybody else?”

He looks confused,

“What do you mean?”

“Impromptu Loser’s trip to my show. Is Bev pissed about the rent thing because I swear-“

Natalie sips at some cocktail awkwardly and Eddie swallows hard,

“Um, it’s just me.”

Richie halts. He sees someone off the scene - he knows these people’s names- he swears, it’s just dark. But he gestures for the booze again. Eddie came to see him. For his first show. Oh god. Eddie heard him go on about his jawline for Christ’s sake and now. He looks like a deer in headlights. The scotch is thrust into his hands and he takes three long pulls before doing anything.

The worst part is Eddie is just chilling. Kicking it, while Richie has this internal meltdown which he knows is showing on his face. He doesn’t know what to do so he all but thrusts the liquor at Eddie, grabs Natalie’s arm and storms off.

“What am I gonna do? Shit he’s here, he’s here.”

“You knew he was gonna hear the sketch anyway, why does it matter?”

“Because I’m drunk. I acted like a lovesick fool. My dad bod is exposed. What am I gonna do?! And be serious. There’s only room for one funny one in this relationship.”

She smiles,

“Good thing it’s me, my darling. Talk to him. He seems cool.”

“You talked to him?!”

“Uh yeah. He’s been back here since about half way through the set. Barged right back here. Lucky I recognized the name.”

He stares and she sighs,

“You’ve been saying his name in your sleep. Ever since the accident.”

“Oh god. You probably think I’m pathetic.”

“Not pathetic, in love.”

“In love? But I’m, we don’t know each other. We haven’t kept in touch in years.”

“Love doesn’t fade with age sweetie.”

“Oh stop being reasonable! I understand you just got a new gay best friend, but be logical.”

She snorts,

“Trust me, no one wants to go shopping with you. I am being logical. That man is head over heels for you. And you’re head over heels for him. Now do something about it before I kick your ass.”

“Your shoes are too expensive.”

“What am I gonna do? Talk about my feelings?”

She shakes her head quickly,

“Oh god no. Who knows what would come out. Just, ya know, go seduce him, with all of this.”

If it were anyone else he’d think they were kidding, but the have had sex dozens of times and so he knows she can’t be joking too much. His insecure ass isn’t that desperate so he keeps his mouth shut. She touches his shoulder,

“Go out there and kiss him. Just kiss him.”

He stares and she whacks his arm,

“And keep your mouth shut. No jokes.”

“What if he tries to slip in a little tongue?” He wags his eyebrows.

“You’re not nearly as charming as you think you are.”

“Eddie thinks so,” he says quickly, before he can stop himself.

Natalie grins,

“By the grace of god he does. Now go kiss him dammit!”

He strides out of the room, not paying any attention to if she’s following him, but he bets she is, as if she’d miss this. Eddie is looking flushed and cradling the scotch bottle like a pacifier and all Richie does is take it out of his hand and set it down quickly. Eddie stares. Eddie’s here. Eddie came here. To California. To see his set. He’d paid to see Richie. He remembers to ask Steve about a refund, vaguely of course, before he’s fitting a hand around Eddie’s jaw, Eddie’s beautiful jaw and ducking in to kiss him.

There’s no symphony or choir that starts singing but his heart does feel about three sizes too big like that Dr.Seuss book, and Eddie kisses him back so softly, as if he’s going to break. More likely that he’ll pull away, but Richie can’t imagine. Pulling away from this magical kiss. Eddie’s tongue licks tentatively at his lips and Richie opens his mouth immediately in a grin.

He hears a dog whistle and an “Atta boy!” And wow he hates his team so much. They’re getting fired, the whole lot of them.

Things must get a little heated because he hears the sharp clearing of a throat,

“I can get you out the back way,” says Steve, sheepishly.

Except Steve, Steve can stay.

Richie is being handed a clean, dry shirt from someone, he’d forgotten, that wouldn’t be a good look, and then he takes Eddie’s hand. Firmly. It’s a good hand.

“You ready to get out of here?”

“After you,” Eddie says, squeezing back.

“Why not after you? You’re the one with the ass that won’t quit.”

“You’re the one paying for this Lyft so you’re going first.”

“Hm, expensive date. Am I going to get into your pants later at least?”

Eddie scoffs,

“Do you ever stop?”

Richie halts,

“Actually no. Is that a deal breaker, because-“

Eddie shakes his head quickly,

“No. No. I love it. I love you.”

Richie’s head swirls,

“Um. I’m not ready.”

He knows he’d brought this up. His secret had started it, but, the last person he’d said I love you to was Sarah. And he most certainly was not in love with Sarah.

“It’s okay. I just don’t want there to be any confusion on how I feel. I love you Richie.”

Eddie squeezes his hand as a black car pulls up in front of them.

“Damn that was fast.”

“Oh Edward, bold of you to assume I don’t have my own car.”

“Don’t call me that! God, you really are famous.”

“A little bit,” he says in a singsong voice, opening the door for Eddie.

“Shut up dick.”

“Hey, your face will look good in paper print, I think.”

Richie slides in the car next to Eddie,

“Your face would look good-

“Where Eddie?” He dares, “where?”

“You know what, your... mom. It’s unfair, I haven’t worked on my insults in thirty years, you’re over here being a professional cornball.”

Richie snorts,

“Not my problem. Cause I can go all night baby.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow,

“Can you now?”

There’s a cough from the front seat,

“Sorry Carl. I’ll tell my friend to simmer down, there are innocents around.”

“You know I can hear you starting it Richie. Right?”

“Carl, you wound me. How can you think that I would have such a dirty mind?”

“Where are we going sir?”

He makes a puking noise,

“Sir.. gross. Just home.”

“Sounds good sir,” Carl says once more to be a dick.

“I like the sound of that,” Eddie teases, “Sir.”

“Oh hell no. First of all, fuck off. Second of all, you’d be referring to me as sir under entirely different circumstances.”

Eddie’s face flames,

“Natalie didn’t say you were this insane.”

“Natalie, Angel, light of my life, would never betray me like that. What did she tell you?”

Eddie mimes zipping his lips,

“Secrets, secrets.”

“I don’t think you’re meant to be friends with my ex.”

Eddie pales slightly at that and Richie wonders if he made it too weird.

“I mean, she’s my best friend too so,”

“No no, it’s fine, I just never thought of it like that. Oh god? That’s my competition? Teenie bopper soap star with a great rack?”

Richie stiffens at hearing Natalie being reduced to that, but he hears what Eddie is saying,

“There’s no competition Eds. Never been one.”

Eddie looks up at him and smiles softly. Richie leans in for a kiss. It gets a little heated and Richie tries to stretch out so Eddie can lay beside him, but Eddie kicks Carl’s chair and there’s a very judgmental  stare coming from the rear view mirror,

“Mr.Tozier, there’s a reason I don’t drive preteens anymore.”

“Fine, fine, can you speed up then?”

“I am happily going the five over the speed limit you usually request.”

“If I pay you extra can you make it ten?”

He hesitates like he wouldn’t do it for free, before grinning,

“3%?”

“Done.”

The car speeds a little faster and luckily Eddie’s short enough to crunch his legs up on the seat so that he can lay on Richie’s chest. He feels good. He feels real. He feels promised.

[giovanniis]

what  is  UP  my  pals  ,  mis  amigos  .  my  name  is  dab  and  i’m  ur  new  bff  .  besides  that  ,  i’m  also  twenty  ,  use  she/they  pronouns  ,  and  am  kickin’  in  over  here  in  pst  !  under  the  cut  ,  i’m  gonna  ramble  probably  a  lot  about  my  son  ,  giovanni  .  (  spoiler  alert  :  he’s  a  dumbass  who  only  ever  wants  to  talk  about  hockey  .  )   DMISMDA  anyways  .  pls  give  this  a  LIKE  if  u’d  like  to  plot  and  i  will  come  RUNNING  !  my  d*scord  is  𝒅𝒂𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒊_420#1971  if  u  wanna  hmu  there  !  i’m  gonna  shut  up  here  now  so  i  can  start  babbling  more  below  hehe

chicago’s very own GIOVANNI NARCISO has been spotted on madison avenue driving a range rover , welcome ! your resemblance to shawn mendes is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your twenty-second birthday bash  . your chance of surviving new york is uncertain because you’re stubborn , but being ambitious might help you . i think being a leo explains that .  3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be the sharpened blades of a pair of ice skates, hockey memorabilia everywhere, and late night escapades . 

╰  *  MINI STATS  !

FULL NAME  :  giovanni  noel  narciso  

NICKNAME(S)  :  gio  ,  g

AGE  :  twenty - two

GENDER  +  PRONOUNS   :  cis  male  +  he  /  him

ORIENTATION  :  bisexual   /   biromantic

ZODIAC  :  leo  sun  ,  gemini  rising  ,  pisces  moon  

BIRTHDAY  :  july  26th  ,  1997

PLACE  OF  BIRTH  :  toronto  ,  ontario  ,  canada 

LOVE  LANGUAGE  :  physical  touch  

OCCUPATION(S)  :  professional  hockey  player  for  the  ny  rangers  ,  socialite  

DRINKING  /  DRUGS  /  SMOKING  :  hell  yes  /  no  /  only  weed

TRAITS  :  stubborn  ,  hotheaded  ,  dramatic  ,  standoffish  ,  brash  ,  overemotional  ,  facetious  ,  distant  ,  provocative  ,  inconsistent  ,  unpredictable  ,  gullible  ,  sympathetic  ,  charming  ,  loyal  ,  hypocritical  ,  protective  ,  talented  ,  ambitious  ,  passionate  ,  affectionate  

LIFE  GOAL  :  make  it  to  the  hockey  hall  of  fame  and  be  remembered  as  the  G  O  A  T  

╰  *  BACKGROUND  INFO  !

giovanni narciso was born in toronto, canada on july 26th to a world-renowned hockey player and his socialite wife. needless to say, gio lived his life in the spotlight from the moment he was born, and he’s always had everything he’s ever wanted right at his fingertips.

from a young age, gio was encouraged to be active all the time. he started skating almost as soon as he learned how to stand up by himself. it’s no wonder that he had such a knack for it with his father being a hockey legend and the fact that he got so much practice. when his father realized that gio had a natural affinity, he put him onto a club hockey team as soon as he was old enough, and started making gio work with a private coach to give him a one-up on his teammates and everyone else on the ice ( despite the fact that he was only seven when he started ).

because of this, he always felt a lot of pressure to be the best he could possibly be… how could he not ? there were sports reporters showing up to his games to get the scoop on how he was doing, and how he compared to his father, and if he’d ever actually make it in professional hockey.

his parents divorced when he was eleven, and his mom moved to marry a much older, wealthy man in chicago, illinois. so, much to his despair, gio lived his life switching from toronto to chicago. the only constant in his life was hockey. so even though it stressed him the fuck out, it also made him feel at peace. he knew no matter where he was, he could get on the ice and kick everyone’s ass. he spent most of his time in chicago with his mom, and attended school there too, but during holidays or the summertime, he spent his time back up in toronto with his dad.

this really took a toll on his mental health because his mom ?? sorta just forgot about him :/ like … she fought for custody just to spite his dad ? she didn’t actually want gio. this sounds kinda dumb but like … sorta think about cinderella ( #gioella ) and how he suddenly got thrust into an entire new family that didn’t really like him or know how to connect with him. he felt really alone more often than not.

luckily, at sixteen, he was signed to a minor league hockey team in chicago. because of this development, he stopped going out to visit toronto as often ( especially when it was game season ). this caused a lot of buzz in the hockey community because oh my god giovanni narciso, son of a hockey legend, was breaking onto the scene

and it SHOULD’VE STAYED THAT WAY !!!! BUT NO ! gio’s dad had other things in mind. demon.

you see, pretty much all throughout high school, gio was dating kylie. she is the love of his life. there’s never been an ounce of doubt about that fact. the sky is blue and gio loves kylie. like ???

gio proposed to kylie when they were eighteen. fresh out of high school. this made gio’s dad LIVID. he didn’t like kylie or her family or anything about her. gio’s plan, of course, was to say a big fuck you ! and marry her anyways. but it didn’t end up working out like that.

sadly, giovanni’s father did not approve of her. was he a little salty that gio chose to stay in chicago and not visit anymore (even if it was because he was signed there) ? yes. was he incredibly greedy and wanted to cement the narciso name in history too ? aaaabsolutely.

as soon as he was eligible at eighteen, gio had multiple offers from nhl franchises to come play for their teams. he could pick and choose whoever he wanted, basically. he was a real hot commodity. but suddenly, the offers were being ripped right from his hands. and it was all because of his dad’s influence in the hockey world. he basically gave gio an ultimatum: marry kylie, and there was no more hockey. or do as he said, and he could have it all.

it was rushed, haphazardly chosen decision, but gio chose hockey. it had helped him through every rough patch in his life, and it was the one thing he knew he was good at. it’s not like he was exceptionally smart or good at anything else. if it wasn’t hockey, then he wasn’t worth anything. that’s something he honestly believes to this day.

so instead of TALKING THIS THROUGH WITH HER LIKE ANY RATIONAL PERSON WOULD ! he straight up left. packed his shit and left in the middle of the night when kylie was asleep. completely ghosted her. didn’t answer her texts, her calls, nothing. blocked her on everything.

he did as his father told him to, and started dating carolina graham, a nice girl that his father liked a lot better

their relationship was reminiscent of p*te dav*dson and ariana grande’s. they very quickly got engaged and they were the talk of all the tabloids. there wasn’t a moment where they could step out without cameras being shoved in their face. this sky-rocketed gio to socialite status. everyone that didn’t already know him from hockey wanted to know the handsome young man now engaged to carolina

ok now lightning round

when he was twenty-one , he secured the bag with the ny rangers DJSIOAJDOA and got a multi-year contract — one of the biggest contracts in the nhl history, and became one of the youngest captains ever .

* more fun facts about gio n hockey : he plays first string center and is #2 !

since his career was actually stable, he decided to stop having to pretend to be in love with someone, and immediately just broke up with carolina. he said goodbye wifey JDSAODSA  aaaaand now , a year later , he’s livin it up !

also ? 1000% still in love with kylie but THAT is a completely different story he is a #simp

╰  *  PERSONALITY  !

hockey is a rough-around-the-edges type of sport, and that’s reflected in gio’s personality. he’s very charming, and is typically a pretty nice person ? he doesn’t go out of his way to be kind or anything but he’s not gonna start a fight for no reason DSAIJDSADSjDI

he’s terribly stubborn, and once he’s set his mind on something, it will happen no matter what or who he has to do. this could be good because in a way, it just means he’s very ambitious, but it’s also bad because he will do and say things without a thought about how it makes someone feel

narciso is a fitting last name because he’s incredibly full of himself. how could he not be ? he’s the son of a hockey legend, and he’s made a great name for himself too. he’s an amazing athlete, and he knows he’s good looking too. it’s no secret that he’s a little big-headed sometimes.

he has a very short temper. he blows his lid very easily, and will say things he probably doesn’t mean just because he wants to hurt you.

he just??? doesn’t think. he doesn’t have a filter literally at all. will say the first thing that comes to mind always and it’s usually fucking stupid sdjdjas… he’s also a big jokester and very sarcastic 

also has a problem with being honest ? lies about everything? the type of person to smile in your face while he stabs you in the back? will lie when there’s no reason to? you could be like “gio did u eat breakfast” and he’ll be like “ya.” even if he didn’t like… dumb shit. don’t ever trust him about anything

ok so he comes off as cocky like… externally… but inside, he’s really insecure? like he believes that love exists because he’s felt it but he doesn’t…. think it was meant for him, if that makes sense. because every time he loves someone, he fucks it all up. because of this, he has a really poor vision of love n everything. uhhhh can u say trust issues?

he’s also a wh*re . i’m so sorry. lowkey craves affection and fills that void with meaningless hookups and one night stands 

most people think he lives up to the ‘dumb jock’ stereotype, which is something he’s also really insecure about. it’s not that he didn’t try in school. he did to a point, but then he just flat out stopped caring. school was always really difficult for him. he was diagnosed with dyslexia when he was 7, and it always made him feel really out of place in school… to the point where he just stopped caring because all it did was made him feel frustrated and dumb when all he needed was some extra help?

he’s misunderstood

and also just… a whole mess tbh djsaios….

u can find some wanted connections here 

[gffa]

You have great taste, so I was wondering if you have any fic recs for the OT trilogy? Specifically with Vader? Your recs are the reason that I no longer eat or sleep and exist entirely of off Ao3.

Thank you, that’s very sweet of you!  I’m glad to help with the “I should be sleeping but who am I if I’m not staying up way too late to read just twenty more chapters before finally collapsing into unconsciousness, like, WHO AM I AS A PERSON if I’m not doing that?” because I don’t want to be the only one!So, here, HAVE SOME VADER FEELINGS.  And some occasional post-Vader feelings, but that were meant to take place near the end of the OT.  This is specifically for Vader fics, but if you want other OT-era stuff, like with Luke and Leia, just let me know.  ♥VADER & LEIA FIC:✦ Just a Little Bit of History Repeating by victoria_p (musesfool), anakin & leia, 3.7k    “I’m in charge of security, Your Highness,” Vader said, haughty and automatic, and had to shove away a sudden onslaught of memories. It was this building, he thought, and the presence of a small brunette senator with a smart mouth. That was all.✦ Father’s Heart by FernWithy, anakin & leia & ocs, 38.8k   During Princess Leia’s teenage years, she discovers a friend in an unlikely – and disturbing – person: Lord Vader. ✦ Leave Me, Oh Love by AceQueenKing, han/leia + anakin & leia, 3.2k    “No offense,” she said, “but I’m not in the mood to deal with you right now.” “Leia-” Vader said, but she held up her hand. “Of all the dead people in my life, you really are the one I least want to see right now.” ✦ The Tyranny of Kinship by amarielah, anakin & leia & luke & han & obi-wan & rex & ahsoka & cast, 23.6k wip    The presence of an Alliance mole aboard the Death Star leads to Bail Organa learning quickly of his daughter’s capture. With the dissolution of the Senate, only one option remains for him to save her life: telling Vader the truth of her parentage.✦ on the day… by victoria_p, anakin & leia & obi-wan & bail/breha & cast, 6.4k    Darth Vader eavesdrops on a very interesting conversation.✦ which grows higher than soul can hope by victoria_p, anakin & leia & luke & han & cast, 8.6k    “If Vader captures you, if he threatens to torture or kill you, you tell him you’re Padmé Amidala’s daughter.”✦ Everything That Rises Must Converge by victoria_p (musesfool), obi-wan & anakin & luke & leia, 5.1k   In which Leia makes it to Tatooine’s surface after the Tantive IV is boarded, and nobody is prepared for this particular family reunion.✦ I Won’t Disturb the Slumber of Feelings That Have Died by Darkmagyk, anakin & leia, 1.6k   Leia Organa is no angel. ✦ Clarity by Orange_Clown, anakin & leia, 1k   By the time that the Imperial Forces landed on Hoth, Leia was the only one left on the base. ✦ Flesh of My Flesh by igrockspock, anakin & leia, 3.6k   Leia was not adopted. She was stolen in the middle of the night and registered to House Organa with forged papers. This was kidnapping, a class one felony, and her parents could be executed – unless she returned voluntarily to her rightful father. Immediately. A man called Grand Moff Tarkin explained this to Leia when she was eleven years old.✦ Carmine by AceQueenKing, anakin & leia, 2.7k   The Princess stirs, waking; her eyes catch him at her door and her face darkens, ready for a fight. ✦ The Trick is to Keep Breathing by AceQueenKing, anakin & leia, 3.3k    She’s older now, and so is he. Far older now. She wonders: will he have lost any power with his age? Will he be shorter, weaker? An old man on a ventilator?It’s hard to imagine that he won’t still be dangerous. But then, that’s exactly what she’s counting on.✦ Hear Me by crowleyshouseplant, anakin & leia & luke & cast, 3.2k   Leia struggles to reconcile Luke’s experience with his father and hers with Darth Vader.✦ In Which Vader Discovers He is a Father by glompcat, anakin & luke & leia & cast, 27.7k   A collection of (mostly self-contained) AUs where Vader learns about his kids earlier than he did in the canon timeline. Exploring both that moment of initial discovery, and the way the story unfolds after Vader finds Leia and/or Luke. ✦ deep as a secret nobody knows by victoria_p (musesfool), leia & anakin & obi-wan & luke & han & bail & cast, 6.3k   “If Vader captures you, if he threatens to torture or kill you, you tell him you’re Padmé Amidala’s daughter.”✦ daughter of mountains (the flesh and bone remix) by darlingargents, anakin & leia, 1.4k   Vader was Leia’s father, too. To die by his side would be the greatest honour.✦ The Gifted Child by AceQueenKing, anakin & leia & bail, 2.3k    Bail Organa watches his daughter navigate Coruscant society.  So does Darth Vader.✦ Siren Song by madame_alexandra, anakin & leia, 1.8k    Lord Vader has a crippling headache, and the source of it fascinates him.✦ The War at Home by victoria_p (musesfool), anakin & leia, 1.4k   He’s been there for all her other losses, so it feels right for him to be here for this one, too.VADER & LUKE FIC:✦ Sibling Revelry by frodogenic, anakin & luke & leia & cast & ocs, 25.5k   After Bespin and before Endor, Darth Vader is shocked to discover that Luke and Leia are twins. He’s even more shocked when Imperial Intelligence reports that Organa and Skywalker are, erm, a tad closer than previously suspected. ✦ Limpet AU byfrodogenic, anakin & luke & mara & piett & cast, 69.8k   AU. Darth Vader, having survived the Battle of Endor, proceeds to get himself and his ship lost in the Unknown Regions for twenty-five years. When he returns, he finds the Empire has fallen, the New Republic is in force, and he himself has a new role to play…Grandpa. If you have ever wanted to see Vader vs. toddler, this is your story. Fluffily humorous.✦ a walk on part in the war by victoria_p, anakin & luke & leia & ahsoka & cast, 10.3k    Luke considers this family reunion far more successful than the one in Cloud City. At least this time, no one loses a hand.✦ In Loco Pirates by izzythehutt, anakin & luke & cast, 34.9k   A down-on-his-luck Hondo Ohnaka manages to capture the unicorn of all bounties–Luke Skywalker, which sends Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, on a painfully familiar trip to the planet Florrum to collect his prize. The failed negotiations leave Vader in the awkward position of being stuck in a besieged pirate bunker, trying to balance keeping his wayward child safe (and in his custody) with controlling the tongue of a loose-lipped pirate who–to the surprise of no one–has a bad habit of telling ‘amusing’ anecdotes from the Clone Wars.✦ Deja Vu by SkippingSteppingStones, obi-wan & anakin & luke, 2k   When Darth Vader is roused from sleep by a sob he feels strangely connected to, he is compelled to find its source.✦ Two and a Half Men (with a baby) by jerseydevious, obi-wan & anakin & luke & piett, 5.5k wip   After a long day of bargaining with Hutts and attempting to ignore his past, Darth Vader is nearing the end of his rope. When he discovers his two-year-old son, it’s the straw that breaks the semi-rational Sith Lord’s back; in a rash act worthy of the Skywalker name, he scoops his son into his arms, steals a shuttle from his own fleet, and punches in random hyperspace coordinates to a destination on the other side of the galaxy. Unfortunately, father and son are not the only ones on the ship.✦ The Family Tree by frodogenic, vader & luke, 12k   In which Luke Skywalker is stranded in a tree waiting for a flash flood to recede. Too bad he’s got company… Post-ESB oneshot, can be read as canon-compliant.✦ Out of the Darkness and Into the Sun by Spongyllama, anakin & luke & leia, 2.7k   Luke is desperate to keep his father alive after Endor, but he’s the only one who thinks Vader should be allowed to live.VADER & AHSOKA FIC:✦ trade your heroes for ghosts by victoria_p (musesfool), vader & ahsoka, 1.5k    Vader presents Ahsoka with an ultimatum. ✦ memories like ashes at our feet by ambiguously, anakin & ahsoka, 4.2k   Darth Vader was gravely injured in the explosion of the Sith Temple. Now Anakin Skywalker has no memory of what he’s doing here with Ahsoka.✦  the stillness of remembering by darlingargents, anakin & ahsoka, 2.3k   A few years after the rise of the Empire, Ahsoka starts to have a recurring dream ✦ Balance Point by Vinyarie, anakin & ahsoka, 34.3k   Ahsoka wakes up trapped beneath the rubble of the Sith temple on Malachor with the man currently known as Darth Vader. He’s a Sith lord who has done some truly awful things, but she’s certain that some part of him is still Anakin Skywalker, and she’s going to convince him of that. No matter how many times he tries to kill her for it.✦all the words i once believed by darlingargents, anakin & ahsoka, 6.8k    Anakin Skywalker wakes up after fifteen years with a body that isn’t his.✦ Precious Illusions by amarielah, anakin & ahsoka, 2.4k    In the aftermath of their confrontation on Malachor, Ahsoka pays Vader a visit. From a certain point of view.OTHER OT/VADER FIC:✦ Not Placid Stars But Singularities by iceplanet, anakin & cast (obi-wan & luminara & ahsoka & darth plagueis), 6.2k    In the weeks after Mustafar, Vader must come to terms with his new body and the remnants of his past. In the process, he has a few conversations that he does not expect. ✦ Salvage by SharpestRose, obi-wan & anakin & luke & padme & shmi & qui-gon, 4.6k    Obi-Wan thought he’d seen the worst of what Anakin was capable of. Obi-Wan’s not entirely right about that.✦ Wrong Number by Siamesa, obi-wan & anakin & luke & yoda & owen/beru, 3.4k   In hiding on Dagobah, the Lars family aquires a holocom. Things go horribly wrong.✦ Surrender to the Light by Raven_Knight, obi-wan & anakin & luke & qui-gon, 1.1k   Ben Kenobi knew exactly what he was doing when he saw Luke watching his duel with Darth Vader.✦ Domo Arigato, Mr Roboto by amarielah, anakin & sam & dean & cast, crossover, 16k wip   When Sam and Dean investigate a spate of Vader sightings in a remote Wyoming town, they discover that – this time – they’re hunting the real deal. Vader, meanwhile, has to adjust to a world that seems designed to piss him off. All while trying his best not to strangle the Winchesters.OBI-WAN & VADER FIC:✦ Cold by Yesac, obi-wan & anakin, 5.4k    Luke wasn’t the only one that Obi-Wan visited after he died. ✦ Betrayal: A Love Story by Shiny_n_new, obi-wan/anakin, 2.7k wip    A week after he kills Obi-wan Kenobi, Vader realizes he is being haunted. ✦ untitled by phosphorescent-naidheachd, obi-wan & anakin, ~1k    All you really need to know is that Obi-Wan’s ghost is in the slow process of haunting Vaderkin back into the Light during the original trilogy. ✦ Until Their Dying Breath by Down the Rabbit Hole, obi-wan & anakin, 1.1k    Vader’s ghosts are complicated. Set between The Empire Strikes Back and The Return of the Jedi. ✦ You Can’t Front on That by victoria_p (musesfool), obi-wan & anakin, 3.9k    When he hears Kenobi’s voice again months after killing him, Vader wonders if perhaps he’s begun to go mad.✦ Replaceable by amarielah, obi-wan/anakin, mildly nsfw, ~1k    He buries hands of flesh in thick, auburn-colored hair. He knows this is a dream. ✦ World Come Undone by crazyundeadfairy, obi-wan/anakin & luke + background anakin/padme, 68.3k wip    Unexpected things happen when ObiWan takes Luke to Tatooine. ✦ Second Chances by Driverpicksthemooseic (Ratkinzluver33), obi-wan/anakin & han/luke & leia + cast, de-aged fic, 106.3k wip    Leia wasn’t convinced inviting evil incarnate to join them in fighting the Empire was exactly one of Obi-Wan’s brightest ideas. ✦ Everything You Wanted by obaona, obi-wan & anakin + background anakin/padme, 11.3k    A RotS AU. Anakin is now Emperor and has captured ObiWan. But things are never that simple …✦ Back Drifting by puts foot in mouth, obi-wan & anakin, de-aged!obi-wan, 20.4k wip    After falling on Mustafar, Obi-Wan awakens to the dubious reality of being trapped in the cloned body of his child self, and now has to cope with the reversed father/son relationship fostered upon him by the new Sith Lord.Darth Vader redemption story. ✦ Disjointed by Ha_neul, obi-wan/anakin & luke, 2.1k    Returning to Tatooine to erase his past, Vader reunites with his old lover and their son. ✦ closing in by SpaceTimeSkywalker, obi-wan/anakin, 1k   Anakin and Obi-Wan were already long gone at that point, as their souls had perished together in the lava and amidst the acrid smoke; and all there was left was their shells, empty, remembering fragments of happier times that had long since passed. ✦ Obikin Drabble by fn_6969, obi-wan/anakin, ~1k   Anonymous prompt: “fic idea- darth vader thinking about obi-wan oh no”✦ we were born for better days by FireflysLove, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 3.6k wip   Obi-Wan attempts to save Vader from the Dark Side, but the Rebellion, especially Bail Organa and Ahsoka Tano, are not going to believe that after a decade of terrorizing the galaxy, Anakin Skywalker can possibly be saved.✦ Sear me pale sun by liv_k, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, bittersweet themes, 9.8k   “So here we are, a failed Jedi, a Sith, and our imminent deaths. I leave it to you to choose how we will meet our demise, whether fighting or doing something else entirely.”✦ my heart is an echo chamber by Burning_Nightingale, obi-wan/anakin, 3.4k   Obi-Wan Kenobi and Darth Vader don’t meet again until their final confrontation on the Death Star. Not in person, at least.✦ They rhyme by liv_k, obi-wan & anakin, 5.2k   Past and future, darkness and light, despair and hope meet one last time.FORCE GHOST ANAKIN FIC:✦ can’t carry it with you by irnan, obi-wan & anakin, 2.2k    So oneness with the Force is found in a field now? ✦ The Moment You Know by tricksterity, obi-wan/anakin & luke & leia, ~1k    A short, alternative ending to Return of the Jedi and the appearance of certain Force ghosts on Endor. ✦ The Last Temptation of Anakin Skywalker by theascetic, obi-wan/anakin, 4.9k wip    Obi Wan gives, and Anakin takes. ✦ Ghosts Can Become One by Lilly_Thoo, obi-wan/anakin, 1.3k    Anakin and Obi-Wan bicker a little bit. ✦ Complexities of Love by agentjedi, obi-wan/anakin, nsfw, 7.5k    Anakin comes to terms with his new existence, and learns new lessons in the Force in a most unusual way. ✦ Salvation by Spongyllama, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 6.8k    Following his death, Anakin isn’t quite sure if he’s in heaven or hell. Not that he’s ever really believed in either. ✦ i wake up more awake than i’ve ever been before by ShakyHades, obi-wan/anakin, 1.1k    He missed their bond and camaraderie, the times they trusted each other with their lives. It hurt, seeing Obi-Wan and remembering how Anakin was the one to destroy everything the other had held dear, including himself. ✦ Dig the Grave and Let Me Lie by de_corporis, obi-wan & anakin, 1k    “Anakin,” says Obi-Wan again, and slides one hand up to cradle Anakin’s cheek. “I am so very proud of you.” Obi-Wan welcomes Anakin home. ✦ Died last night in my dreams by SquaresAreNotCircles, obi-wan/anakin & qui-gon & yoda, force ghosts, 2.2k    Obi-Wan sipped his tea and stared morosely out into nothing. “Become a force ghost, he said. It’ll be for the good of the universe, he said.” ✦ Strange Meetings by gilestel, luke & ahsoka & anakin, 2.9k    Luke almost didn’t notice the figure cloaked in white who stood before the charred remnants of the pyre in which he had cremated his father’s empty armor.✦I Never Knew You by Ibelin, anakin & kylo ren, 3.8k   After the defeat at Starkiller, Kylo Ren is on his way to Snoke to complete his training and, during meditation, he gets a visit from someone he’d always wanted to meet. It doesn’t go as well as he’d hoped. Be careful what you wish for - especially when what you wish for involves Darth Vader.✦ I Never Knew You by Ibelin, anakin & kylo, 3.8k   After the defeat at Starkiller, Kylo Ren gets a visit from someone he’d always wanted to meet. It doesn’t go as well as he’d hoped. Be careful what you wish for - especially when what you wish for involves Darth Vader. ✦ Let the Past Die by Ibelin, anakin & leia, 2k   Anakin’s Force ghost has scared Kylo Ren. When he visits Leia next, it’s his turn to be scared.✦ we are here and it is now by victoria_p (musesfool), anakin & rey & luke, 3.5k   “So either you’re not here or you’re not living,” she says. “I’m definitely here,” he replies, and there’s amusement in his voice.✦ And There Shall I Find by ambiguously, anakin & leia, 5.6k    After her shuttle crashes on a desolate world, Leia has only one person to keep her company. ✦ Drowned in Moonlight by scarletjedi, anakin & leia & cast, 3k    Leia Dies. What, like that was going to stop her?✦ learn to live with what you can’t rise above by victoria_p (musesfool), anakin & leia, 1.9k     Leia doesn’t have time for the ghost of her dead father, except when she does.

[chickensarentcheap]

I Found (chapter 8)

Warnings: none really. Some bad language. Maybe a bit of angst. I needed an Esme chapter for character building purposes before I get into the past chapters.

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @hemmyworthy @alievans007

Esme watches him; the way he stands thirty meters away with his arms crossed over his chest and a pair of Ray-bans covering his eyes. He stands out like a sore thumb. A peculiar site among a street crawling with folks in swimsuits and other summer gear.  The sun beating down on that simple yet surprisingly stylish black suit, the heat and humidity causing beads of sweat to gather on his forehead, at his temples, and on his top lip.  She both envies and feels sorry for him.  Envies the fact he hasn't yet seen the real heartache and the real darkness that comes with the job. He hasn't had the demons and ghosts settle in yet.

And that's what makes her sad. Because it is inevitable.  Somewhere down the road his eagerness to live up to a legend will lead him in the right direction but into the entirely wrong place. And he won't be the same kid that he is right now.  Anxious.  Scared to make a mistake. Wanting to impress.  Dreaming of the missions of guts and glory and seemingly endless brutality. Right now he finds it glamorous. They all did at one point.  But one day he'll wake up and realize just how fucked up it all was.  He'll look back on the places he'd been and the things he'd done and he'll wonder why the hell he'd ever been so eager to get into the trenches in the first place.

She'd been there. She WAS there. And it eats at you. It chews you up and it spits you out. And the memories come back so fast and so hard that there's times you pray...beg...that the ground will open up beneath you and swallow you whole.

“You can sit down you know,” she calls to him.  She admires the determination. She's sure there's a little bit of fear he'll fuck up and get his ass handed to him because of it. But he's steadfast. A rock. Even if he does look like a secret service agent.  “I don't mind. I could use the company.”

He regards her through the dark lenses of his sunglasses. She imagines he looks like a deer caught in the headlights right about now.

“I don't bite,” she assures him. Although her husband would beg to differ. He'd been at the receiving end of more than a few during their often rough and uninhibited love making sessions. Teeth marks like war wounds on his shoulders, neck, even the insides of his thighs.

He takes a step towards her.  Then hesitates.

“Are you being serious right now? Look, you're making me extremely nervous right now and people are getting suspicious. If you're going to be watching someone...if you're going to be someone's detail...you have to less conspicuous about it. If there was a bad guy around, they would have made you about ten minutes ago. Sit down. It's hot out. Get into the shade.”

He finally relents.  Crossing the promenade in two long strides, unbuttoning his suit jacket before sitting down across from her.  A waitress scurrying over to take his order.

“We come here a lot,” Esme says. “It's one of our favourites. The coffee is strong and the food is good and the people watching is A plus. You'd be surprised the weird and funny shit you see when you actually sit back and pay attention.   Sometimes I even come here by myself. When Tyler has his own shit to do or he's at the doctor's or at the shrink. He won't let me go with him to those things.  He says it makes him nervous.  That he's too busy worrying about what he might say and that means he won't actually say it.  So the baby and I will come here. Just hang out.  Forget about everything else in our lives for a while.”

“Shrink? What...?”

“You talk about wanting to fill those shoes. Believe me, those are shoes that are probably best left empty.  Don't go down that road kid. I know you admire him. I know you've heard the stories. You've seen the numbers. And it's impressive and it's bad ass and it's something you want to emulate. I get it. I do.  He's my husband and I admire him. But this isn't the life you want. This is not how you want to end up.  Because it fucks you up and it haunts you.  For the rest of your life. And if you're not strong enough, it will eat you alive. It takes no prisoners. Unless you're prepared for all of that, don't go following down anyone else's path.”

He nods slowly, considering her words.  Then smiles at the waitress when she returns with his coffee.

“But that's just words from someone who has been in the game. Who is living with the after effects. So I won't be offended if you tell me to  gofuck myself.”

His eyes widen. “I'd never say something like that to you, Mrs Rake.”

She laughs at that.  It makes her feel so old; Mrs Rake. It's so mature and so formal and it seems as if it should belong to someone twice her age.  But it's who she is now. It is part of her identity. Someone's wife, someone's mother. And they were the two greatest roles she'd ever been fortunate enough to play in her entire life.

“What's your name?” she asks.  

“Jason, ma'am. Jason Andrews.”

“Well Jason Andrews, it's nice to meet you. I'm sorry it wasn't under better circumstances. I was a bit more likeable a year ago.”

“I think you're likeable enough just fine, ma'am.”

She laughs, pushing her sunglasses up onto the top of her head. “Ma'am? Just how old do you think I am?”

“My mother always told me to never ask a woman her age or never even gather a guess. I'll have to plead the fifth.”

“You're from the south, aren't you.”

“Yes, ma'am.  Just a tad east of North Orleans.”

“I haven't been there in years.  University was a wild time.  Trips down to Mardis Gras. Back when I had less gray hair and people still called me Miss instead of M''am.  It's Esme, by the way. But I'm sure you already knew that.”

He nods in confirmation.  

“You can call me by name, you know.  It doesn't have to be so formal. This is some unprecedented shit you've gotten yourself mixed up in. I'm pretty sure that means we can move on to first names.”

“Nik has told me a lot about you,” he informs her. “A lot about the both of you.  You're from Colorado?”

“Snowmass. About fifteen miles from Aspen. Just a little place. All of twenty five hundred people.  Or at least that's what it was when I left. There's probably more now.”

“You haven't been home in a while?”

“I had a place there.  A house.  A quaint little thing with a porch swing and a fire pit in the backyard. My brother lives there now. With his wife and his kids.  He took it over once I decided I wasn't going back.  But I haven't been home, home, in just shy of six years. You know, family dinners on a late Sunday afternoon,  coffee on my folks' porch,  watching my nieces and nephews playing.  Life just got away from me. The job just took hold. IT became who I was as opposed to something I did.  Life got away from me.”

“Excuse me for saying this, but that's kind of....sad.”

“It is what it is,” she reasons. “Those are the choices I made.  I knew there was no going back...truly going back...when I made them. And then I took the job with Nik and I ended up in Dhaka and now...well here I am.”

“Here you are,” he echoes, a sense of sadness creeping into his voice. “You were military?”

“Once. The Marines”

“My older brother is a jar head. A gunnery sergeant.  Forgive me for saying this and I mean no disrespect, but you don't seem the type. You don't really fit the picture of what people have when they think of the Marines.  And you definitely don't seem to be the type to be involved in the job.”

“I guess that was my greatest weapon of all.  People looked at me and would never think...in a million years....that I was capable of doing the things I've done.  It's not one size, fits all. There's a lot of us that don't look the part. Sometimes that's good when it comes to the job. You blend in. People aren't suspicious of you. Half the time they don't give you a second glance.  It worked in Dhaka. I gained peoples' trust.  I got them to open up.  It worked until it didn't work.  And once that happened...” she sighs. “...well let's just say that it went way worse than anyone expected.”

“I've heard the stories. People like to talk. I'm not sure how many of the things I've heard are actually true.”

“When it went bad, it went extremely bad.  It happened so quick. We didn't even have time to catch our breath.  One minute we're making friends with the locals and the next we're running for our lives. No one expected it to go as horrible as it did.  I mean, you go into things expecting and fearing the worst. But that...” she runs the palms of her hands along the sides of her glass of iced tea. “...that was way worse than anything I ever imagined.”

“And now you're going back.”

“And now I'm going back,” she concedes, and then clears her throat noisily.  “Trust me when I say that it isn't a place I thought I'd ever return to. I thought that was behind me.  I needed it to be behind me.   But want and need are two entities of their own.  What my heart wanted and what my brain allowed are two entirely different things. I realize that while I physically put it behind me, mentally I've been hanging onto it.  Mentally I never left. If that makes sense.”

“Yes, m'am...Esme...it makes perfect sense.”

She noisily clears her throat, slides the sunglasses back down onto her face. “You have family? Other than an older brother?”

“A younger sister.  She's still in high school.  She wants to be a nurse.”

“Your folks?”

“Still alive. They've been together since high school.  You?”

“My father died when I was a teenager. My mom is still kicking. She remarried a about ten years ago. My step dad's a good guy. Ex Army. He still has the hair cut, the swagger, the stories.  We call him The Sarge,” she smiles at that. Fond memories of a man that had come into her life and filled a role that had been missing since those difficult teenage years.  “He treats her well. They're happy. They're the disgustingly content retired couple that owns two Harleys,  a motor home, and like to visit Graceland.  The type that has 'my grand kids are better than yours' bumper stickers. It's been a while since I've seen them...”

Her voice drifts off, recalling all the earlier times. The easier times. When all that mattered was bush parties and hanging out with friends and the fights and good natured ribbing that occurred between siblings.  

“...one day I'd like to go back,” she continues  “I'd like to see them again. I'd like to sit across the table from Sarge and have him light into me about my tattoos and my piercings.  I'd like to sit with my mom on the front porch; sipping sweet tea and eating her homemade peach pie.  I'd like to see my little sister graduate from high school.  Be the one that takes her to college and helps her move into residence.  And I'd especially like to see my brothers and their families again.  Hug and kiss my nieces and nephews. Meet the ones I haven't got a chance to.”

“You have a lot?”

“Fourteen,” she confirms. “My brothers wasted no time. They're baby making factories.”

“What about your baby?”

“They haven't met her. At least not in person. I send pictures. We do face time chats. That type of thing. I didn't even tell them I was having a baby until she was almost here.”

“Why not?”

“Things weren't easily explained.  Things were messy. Complicated.  They were still reeling over the fact that I had run off and gotten married without telling any of them. I'm the first daughter. My mom was super pissed that she didn't get that whole mother of the bride experience. She felt robbed. And I can understand that.  It's not an easy pill to swallow.  Your first girl running off and meeting some random guy and deciding to settle down in Australia and never coming home.  It's a lot for them to digest. And they don't even know the whole truth of it.”

“Why not?”

“Do your parents know about the job? Do they really know about it?”

“Just that I do security detail for a private company.”

“My parents thought I went into business when I left the corps.  Because that's what I told them.  I told them I was making a career change. One that would have me travelling a lot.  It was a half truth, I guess.  But they couldn't handle all of it. How do you tell your folks something like that? That your new skill set includes rescuing some and killing others? You don't. You don't tell them that. You make up some shit that will be easier on them.  They think I came here on a business trip, met some guy and never came back. That's pretty much it.  They know his name, what he looks like, his age. But they think he's in law enforcement. They think he was in an accident and I stayed here to help him through it and this is where I made my life.  It seemed so much easier when I first told them all that. Now I realize just how fucked up it actually is. Not that I lied to them. We all lie. Some more than others. But why I had to lie.  Why I had to cover  it up.  It's screwed up.  I'm screwed up. This whole thing is screwed up. And you know what the worst part is? There's no easy way out of this. No matter what I tell them or how I tell them, it will be messy.  They're going to hear things they don't like. And I'm worried they're going to hate me.”

“Parents could never hate their kids.  It isn't in their nature. Could you ever hate your daughter?”

“No. I can't imagine I ever could.”

“Your folks could never hate you.  They'd probably be surprised at the truth.”

“Probably? They would be.  The truth is stranger than fiction. At least in this situation.”

“But hate you? No. I don't think that could ever happen.”

She stares down at the amber coloured liquid in her glass, tracing a finger tip on the side, making patterns in the condensation.

She hopes he is right.

[antiquatus]

✧ ━━ the courts of switzerland present GIULIO DE MEDICI of THE PAPAL STATES, a CARDINAL of THE CATHOLIC CHURCH. the THIRTY-THREE year old had been LEARNED and CHARITABLE before the break of war but have now become RUTHLESS and ZEALOUS. HE is often remembered by their likeness to JAMES NORTON and THE SMELL OF INCENSE IN HIGH-CEILINGED CATHEDRALS AS THE SOUND OF LATIN ENUNCIATIONS SPILL FORTH FROM HIS LIPS ; A RED GALERO TO KEEP THE GLARE OF THE SUN AWAY , WHICH NONETHELESS SPARKLES OFF A BEJEWELED PECTORAL CROSS ; and ANTIQUATED TEXTS SMUGGLED AWAY FOR PERSONAL PLEASURE . the rumor mills of europe claim that his allegiance lies with THE CHURCH and that he is for WAR.

yes, hello, i am henry  (  twenty, gmt+8, they/them  )  and this is my bastard supreme catholic crusader-king wannabe : giulio michele cardinal de medici, archbishop of esztergom and cardinal of the  (  one, holy, catholic, and apostolic and bigoted  ) church. here is his about page , his biography  (  which is basically just the headcanons section of the app  )  , some wanted connections, and  (  if you care to read a whole buncha words  )  here’s the whole application. read down the cut if you want it summarised + the first task! :) if u wanna plot, send me a dm @ i am a mushroom! 🍄#9146 or hmu here on tumblr ims.

content warning for usual mediaeval church brand of bigotry + mentions of: disordered eating, scrupulosity, obsessive-compulsive tendencies

SUMMARY

hhhhhhhhh

crusader-king wannabe, what else do u need 2 know?

hashtag only 1099 kids will remember

CHARACTER SHEET

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME :  giulio michele de medici

MEANING :

giulio — from latin, a cognate of julius, the meaning of which is irrelevant, as it was chosen more to invoke julius caesar

michele — italian form of michael, meaning who is like god?

de medici — medici, plural form of medico, meaning doctor, physician

MONIKERS / NICKNAMES : giulio, papabile

TITLE : 

commander of several abbeys, scattered throughout the italian peninsula (multiple dates to present)

administrator of bozen (1538 to present)

archbishop of esztergom-budapest (1540 to present)

cardinal of the roman catholic church (1544 to present)

prelate of the roman inquisition (1550 to present)

vice-camerlengo of the apostolic camera (1556 to present)

GENDER & PRONOUNS : listen... he’s actually Agender but do u rlly expect the church/himself to like... accept anything beyond the gender binary... that being said, the imago dei is inclusive and also inherently non-binary so... there is that... (one day, giulio...... one day...........) — pronouns are he/him

ETHNICITY : white

DATE OF BIRTH & AGE: 25th december 1526, thirty-three

ZODIAC SIGN : capricorn sun / virgo moon / sagittarius rising

ORIENTATION : do u know that playlist in spotify that’s just like is this sufjan stevens song gay or just about god? ... yeah, like that exactly.

MARITAL STATUS : married to the LORD

OCCUPATION : cardinal, archbishop, crusader LARPer

CURRENT LOCATION : 

switzerland...?

BACKGROUND

PLACE OF BIRTH : florence, tuscany

RESIDENCES : 

basilica cattedrale metropolitana di santa maria nascente, milan, lombardy villa d’este, tivoli, lazio

RELIGIOUS VIEWS : roman catholicism, somewhat of a catholic mystic in the vein of pseudo-dionysius, hildegard von bingen, and meister eckhart (hashtag eckhart did nothing wrong!!!)

EDUCATION : private tutoring, ecclesiastical catechism, autodidact in a great deal many things

LANGUAGES SPOKEN : italian, latin, ancient greek, hungarian, bulgarian, serbian, russian, arabic, hebrew, french, german, spanish, english, old church slavonic

ALLEGIANCES : the church & himself (to him? there is no difference)

the house of de medici: only nominally loyal, he thinks there are far better things to pay attention to than temporal matters such as these

the one holy catholic and apostolic church: his #1 bae

FAMILY :

papa & mama medici: parents

piero de medici, older brother

francesco de medici, younger brother

giovanna de medici, younger sister

OTHER FAMILIAL RELATIONS :

—

APPEARANCE

FACECLAIM : james norton

HAIR COLOUR / STYLE : i’m so mad abt this... but yes... he has a tonsure... press F in the chat pls // though he has stopped shearing his hair in switzerland

EYE COLOUR / SHAPE : blue, and idk... eye-shaped? 

HEIGHT : 1.85m / 6′1″

BUILD : fluctates: for reasons specified in the neurological conditions section below, this isn’t very consistent; however, if this was modern day, redditors would just spam him with “delete facebook, hit the gym, lawyer up!!!!”

SPEECH STYLE : mellifluous to the point of inane verbosity, uses more words than he should; that being said, he possesses the uncanny ability to pick up a language easily and quickly, inserting local colloquialisms to the point that he sounds like a native speaker; nevertheless, he consistently speaks in a formal register (sometimes! even to family members!) and has a very blunted affect, diminishing the effect if only slightly

RECOGNIZABLE MARKINGS : n/a

BEAUTY HABITS : for a mediaeval european, he is actually very hygienic; takes baths obsessively, definitely more than once a week, which does link to his fixation with purity both metaphysical and temporal; hates public bathhouses with a passion; combs his hair and parts it to the side, favouring his left

PERSONALITY

TROPES : the chessmaster, bookworm, our angels are different, knight templar, lack of empathy, lonely rich kid, affably evil, & raised catholic (duh).

INSPIRATIONS : lenny belardo (the young pope), crusader kings ii (the game), pope julius ii (history), adso (the name of the rose), john the beloved (history, the bible), jacopo belbo (foucault’s pendulum), henry winter (the secret history), the prince (the prince, niccolo macchiaveli)

MBTI : intj-t (the architect) 

ENNEAGRAM: 5w4 1w9 4w3 (the researcher) sp/sx

ALIGNMENT : lawful good, insofar as goodness is aligned to catholicism

TEMPERAMENT : choleric but perhaps more arguably a choleric-sanguine hybrid

HOGWARTS HOUSE : slytherin

POSITIVE TRAITS : charitable (to catholics), brilliant, prodigious

NEGATIVE TRAITS : manipulative, narcissistic, self-serving, self-righteous

HABITS : has a tendency to fidget his fingers; gnaws on his lower lip to the point of bleeding when thinking, not that he realises it

HOBBIES : reading, writing, playing this new thing called chess

USUAL DEMEANOR : affable to the point of boring people, charming to catholics but cooler against non-catholics, somewhat easy to talk to but one has the niggling feeling that he’s not as invested in the conversation as he should be, people hear the word cardinal and thinks he’s bigoted to the extreme (which he is) but he always deflects and he can be agreeable (but probably slips by still calling istanbul constantinople though!), very learned and nerdy and will talk about theology all the goddamn day if nobody stops him, presents as a very non-threatening (affably bland) cardinal who albeit has very fixed opinions about All The Things

HEALTH

PHYSICAL AILMENTS : n/a

NEUROLOGICAL CONDITION : thinks of himself and presents as neurotypical but probably has szpd (schizoid personality disorder), a form of scrupulosity in the vein of alissa (in strait is the gate by andré gide); also arguably has some form of disordered eating, cycling between binging and extreme fasting, which gives him a weight leaning toward lanky

PHOBIAS : haphephobia, fear of touch; his scrupulosity can also be arguably defined as a phobia of sinning, but that’s basically a whole other complex

ALLERGIES : allergic to SIN!!!! n/a

SLEEPING HABITS : an insomniac, though he thinks it a common affliction; has a habit of reading until late as a way of staving off boredom; may sleep a grand total of only three to four hours at nighttime, though he makes up for it through a post-lunch siesta (which is a habit he picked up from the pope)

SOCIABILITY : presents as a social butterfly, if albeit sterner than most; can slip into conversations of any kind easily, but always ever in a professional context; has no real friends, but can lay claim to easy acquaintanceships; forever holding people at an arm’s length, which is just the way he likes it

ADDICTIONS : drinks the communion wine more often than he should; other than that, he can be almost puritanically temperate, to the point of self-affliction (?); addicted to the idea of purity

[thronesofshadows]

Storms May Collide || Alain & Evelyn

Takes place just before the fish rain ended. Alain finally comes to the Artesian, and he and Evelyn get talking.

This was, in nearly two decades, the first time Alain would be in a room full of people who were much richer than him, and even if he had spent the whole drive to the Artesian telling himself that Evelyn would never allow that he spends a bad evening, and that the worst thing that could happen was people looking at him, he was still rather stressed as he opened the door and realized that this was not somewhere you could just walk in. There was a reception. Of course. He rubbed his hands nervously against his trousers as he approached the woman standing there, indicating his full name, too unsure of whether Evelyn would have booked him as Alain or Mr. Babineaux. His lips pinched together, he forced himself not to look too much as what was going around him yet, and was relieved when she told him he could walk to the bar counter now. “Thank you,” the place looked a lot like he imagined it to be. He left his umbrella by the entrance, with the other ones. With the fish storm out there, it was more than necessary. The bar reminded him of the room where his father used to talk with other hunters from who knows what aristocratic family except that this one didn’t smell like cigars and wasn’t filled with laughter. People were chatting rather quietly, although as he had expected, his presence was already granting him some eye glances. Surprisingly enough, he doubted that this was about his outfit. If he was not wearing five grand on his shoulders, and carried himself quite well, thanks to his parents, people recognized him for who he was, an outsider. 

It was quite an understatement to say that he was happy to reach the counter and to see there a familiar silhouette with her back still turned toward him.

She was glad he’d agreed to come by her work. Evelyn had, for whatever number of reasons, decided against a suit tonight. So on went a nice dress instead. Still formal, nothing too flashy, but nice. Because if someone who she’d come to consider a friend and that deserved more than Super Formal Evelyn. For now at least, to maybe make him feel more comfortable because she wasn’t quite sure that he’d really and truly wanted to come. But he had agreed, and so she’d made herself present behind the bar - and lucky for her, Sterling Hudson was there, in all his absolutely aggravating glory. She’d avoided him mostly, offering a few smiles at him, pushing Joseph to make all of his drinks. Throwing a glare at him when he made a comment about her dress. “I can wear dresses too, you know.” Luckily, for the last twenty minutes or so he’d left her alone. So she’d been turned around, organizing and carefully fixing some of the bottles behind the bar. After not too long, she heard a small noise behind her, but no words or request followed. Evelyn turned around and felt a small smile covering her lips. “Bonsoir, Alain. How can I help you this evening?”

“Bonsoir Evelyn,” he smiled back politely but also genuinely. It had been a while since Alain last saw her, but they had been speaking so often that he barely had time to miss her company. “Well, what would you suggest for someone who does not want to end up bankrupt over a glass of alcohol.” He knew too well that he could probably afford a glass or two of wine but he was also aware that good whiskey could get insanely expensive and while he could splurge a little as he was usually reasonable with his spendings, he still had loans to pay at the end of the month. Although with the amount of broken windshields and cars since the year began (thanks to the fish and lobsters), the end of the month was more comfortable than usual, although exhausting. It was one of the reasons he had called her for a reservation too. He could have used a break. “Work on your car is moving slowly I’m afraid,” he added.

It was nice to see him in person, she had realized that for whatever reason, she found him to be a nice friend. Evelyn was not always so used to that whole thing - becoming friends with someone, because it was not something that she was used to. It had never been her normal when she was a child. She placed her elbows on the top of the bar and placed her chin in both hands. “Hm?” Her lips quirked to the side. “I have a new whiskey, if you would like that?” She lowered her voice to a whisper, “besides, I think, given all you are doing for me, I can swing a friend discount?” Another thing that she rarely did. If ever. “What are you most in the mood for?” She pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Oh, it is not a worry, I hope you are having a nice time working on it, and that I have not troubled you too much with all the extra work I placed upon you.” She stood back up and adjusted her ponytail. “I am so deeply appreciative.” 

"A friend discount," Alain repeated in a lower voice, mirroring her movements and resting his head on one of his hands. "Well that sounds delightful. I should have trespassed much sooner," he laughed, leaning back in his seat. "Do you think you could get me an Old fashioned," he glanced up at her although his glance drifted toward a man at the counter who seemed to be looking at them with a disapproving look on his face. "A friend of yours too?" Alain raised an eyebrow. He remembered Evelyn ranting about some of her customers and apparently she had reasons to feel this way. "It's fine. Considering how terrible the weather has been the whole month, with the fish, I needed a hobby that happened underneath a roof." He paused, "I should be thanking you, really." Whatever anxiety he had walking into the bar had already vanished, although he hadn't noticed it yet.

“Mhm.” She murmured. “I did promise you that, and I am not one to go back on my promises.” Evelyn bit her lip at his comment, giving a shrug. “Yes, you are rather delayed in all of that, I have been there nearly four years, now.” She nodded at his request. “That is easy, Alain. One old fashioned, coming right up.” She turned around and made up the drink, her hands working quickly and deftly. She brought it back over to him, sliding it across the bar. “Oh, him?” She rolled her eyes. “That would be the ever-lovely Sterling I told you so much about.” She lowered her voice, her lightly-painted red lips curving into a smile as she leaned towards Alain. “Not so much friend as an utter, well, words I would prefer not to use. They are not so very polite.” She stood back up again, her ponytail swinging behind her. “Yes, that is an advisable thing to do, the fish turned out to be far more damaging than one might have expected.” She tapped her fingers against the top of the bar, red polish shining in the light. “No need to thank me, I am excited to see how it all turns out.” A pause. “Speaking of, how is the drink? Did I do it well?”

"Four years," he raised an eyebrow. That seemed like so little time and yet, it was more than enough time to notice things about this town. He wondered how she felt about this place. Alain didn't doubt for a moment that she liked it here, as she had decided to settle down here, it was the oddness of the town he cared about. "I'm sorry, I hope you can forgive me for being so late," he shook his head as he smiled. His smile didn't falter as she turned her back on him, and was rather joined with a softness in his eyes, one he did not quite understand yet. "Merci," he took the glass in his hand and followed her glance at Sterling, who strangely enough was now looking anywhere but in their direction. "Oh, you mean the Sterling you're so fond of." He paused, taking a good look at that man. "I can see why. I'd do him too if I were you," holding back a smile, he took a sip of his drink and looked at her from over the rim of his glass with amusement. Putting the glass down, he idly played with the spoon. "It's going to be fantastic. I just finished painting the parts on the first one. It's looking great already," he spoke with passion, and while he wanted to tell her more about it, show her the pictures, he also wanted it all to be a nice surprise. "Heh, it's okay. Wish you had used William Peel instead of that fancy whiskey though," he teased.

“It will be four years on my birthday.” She replied, grinning. “I think I can find it in my heart of ice to forgive you. After all, you have reignited my interest in the stars, so I think that is only fair.” Evelyn brushed a single stray strand of hair behind her ear. “De rien,” she responded. Watched as Alain looked over at Sterling. “Alain.” Her voice was firm, posture straightened. “I have no desire to do him, as you so artfully described. He wishes, though.” Still hushed whispers, murmurs coming from her lips that she knew Sterling couldn’t hear. “But yes, that is him. I think he might not like I am paying you so much attention.” Another smile, softer this time, crept over her lips. “Well, you are an expert, so I am certain it looks brilliant.” As she had always been someone filled with passion about topics she loved, and she found herself enjoying seeing it in someone else. “Well hey, it is not my usual, but perhaps you can come by my place sometime and I can do that for you.” She said, raising an eyebrow.

"You know, I don't think I asked you when your birthday was the other day," he pursed his lips. He remembered telling her that he didn't celebrate his birthday and being a bit taken aback by her age as she often sounded older than that. "A heart of ice? Sounds like something a fairy tale character would be cursed with," he observed, glancing away from her to stare blankly at the round piece of ice in his glass. "How did you like the book, by the way? It's pretty thick... It's fine if you didn't get the time to look at it," he mumbled the last bit, pulling on the collar of his sweater, feeling warmer he supposed from the heat in this place, compared to the freezing outdoors, and not from any other reason. "Really? A gentleman of this class?" He smiled. "I'm glad you appreciate my talent for poetry, thank you." He had never been shy, not really, and sometimes he could be a bit too abrasive in his choice of words. Now and here were maybe not the place and time but she didn't seem to mind too much. "If he's going to be jealous of me, then he must be really obsessed with you." It struck Alain at this moment that just like him, Evelyn may have had a habit of not letting people close. "It is brilliant," he commented before he sighed heavily. " And it's a real shame that's all I can tell you about it," he was not even trying to be annoying. He wanted to talk to her about it. "Well you must really be fond of my company if you wanna drink that with me." This brand of whiskey was still quite good for getting drunk however and he wondered what kind of drunk she would be as he brought his glass back to his lips again. Probably a happy drunk.

“You did not. It is in April - the eighteenth.” She nodded. “I always liked watching the flowers bloom right around then, or sometimes before. Depending on the weather.” She glanced down at her hands. “Not to talk about the weather. I know we established that talking about the weather is not especially a good sort of thing. Shows a lack of creativity or something.” She rolled back her shoulders for a moment. “Yes, well, I am almost a princess, so it fits. Not really a princess, obviously, but once you get to American they hear “English Elite” and equate it to being related to the Royal Family.” She reached out to grab his free hand with one of her own. “I have plenty of time, Alain, and it was a book that meant a lot to you, so of course I read it. I loved it.” Evelyn raised both her eyebrows at him. “Yes, really. His class if anything lends itself to the remarks he might feel a need to make, or to imply.” She made a face at his next comment. “Obsessed, or just a creep with a lot of money, take your pick… I had plenty of people obsessed with me back home. Something about being publicly there, but also not. If that makes sense? I was at parties, I attended events, but I was not as much in the real world as some.” She was so rarely this open, so rarely allowed others into this side of who she was. Because it was easy to make vague remarks, to comment without being specific on her childhood, or to shove the fact that she’d been a model years ago into everyone’s face. But not so much this. Though perhaps this was because she had a feeling that somehow, perhaps, Alain could appreciate this side of her too. “Yes, we have established that we mutually enjoy one another’s company.” She pressed her forefinger against her mouth, “but shhh, that is a secret. Right?”

“April, the 18th,” Alain repeated to himself, as he took out his phone to write that down in the calendar. “Alright, it’s noted,” he put his phone away before she could comment on the fact that he had a physical keyboard on it which, he was aware, was not really in fashion these days. “Well, when talking about when flowers are going to bloom, we do have to mention the weather. I’m afraid I’ll have to mention the weather if we’re going to be stargazing together again,” he raised his eyebrows and nodded as if to say: I know, that’s terrible, but it has to be done, Evelyn. Leaning his back against his chair, he glanced up at her as she spoke of her social background and how people associated it with the Royal family. He was about to comment on it when she went ahead and grabbed his hand. Okay. This is fine. He had never been too fond of being touched by other people, and he felt his stomach clench as she did that, although it wasn’t exactly for the same reasons as usual. He did not remove his hand from her hold, and kept his eyes on her as she was talking about something that mattered to him. “That makes me really happy,” his smile reached his eyes. When they first met, he had promised her that when he would come to the Artesian, he would bring along some astronomy books. Things had changed now, and it was empty handed that he arrived tonight. “If you want to read more, do tell,” he raised his eyebrows and made a face as she mentioned the creepiness of people such as that man at the counter. Sharks, people who took everything they could without ever being condemned for their selfishness or their cruelty. This was a description that could have worked perfectly for many people in his family. Had he been born from the right mother, he probably would have been just like that man at the counter, wouldn’t he? Probably. “I imagine. My parents had plans for my sisters too,” oh God no. Had he gotten this comfortable around her? Was it the fact that she was sharing with such honesty all of this with him, that made him feel that way? Well now he had to change the subject, as he really didn’t want to discuss growing up rich and having the shittiest family around town. “Of course, my lips are sealed. No one has to know that the mechanic likes to spend time with princesses and vice-versa,” he finished his drink and sighed. 

“Yes, precisely that.” She watched him take out his phone and put in her birthday. Despite the actual keyboard on his phone, she found herself fighting away a smile. It was nice to have someone who cared enough to genuinely try and remember details like that about her. Though, Evelyn supposed, many people had known of her birthday, but it was different when someone was a friend. Which Alain had become, somehow. Perhaps it was because they had just enough of a mixture of extreme differences mixed with similarities. A nice balance, even if he was human. Her mother’s fondness for humans too ingrained into her blood. “I suppose for you, I can suffer discussions about the weather. It is rather necessary in order for us to discuss stargazing. I would not wish to go out while it was a terrible rainstorm, or too snowy, or even simply too cloudy.” He didn’t say anything about her hand being around his own, and she fought away the urge to bite her lip. She wasn’t usually this touchy-feely, though she did acknowledge that for most, simply touching someone else’s hand was not considered overly so. “I am glad. I would like to read more, if it pleases you.” But she dropped his hand, suddenly and once again acutely aware of that they were in a public space and maybe she ought to not be doing things like that, unless she wanted people like Sterling to remark on it next time they had her alone. “They did?” She said, her voice soft, gentle. He had not really ever spoken about his family, and she didn’t want to have him stop on account of her jumping into conversation about that too quickly. “Such is the way, sometimes.” He moved beyond the conversation, then. “Well, I appreciate it. I mean -” She scrunched up her nose, “I like spending time with you, but I do not think either of us are especially known for that. I just would not wish to ruin your reputation, is all. Even if you are one of my favorite people in town.” She coughed, suddenly. “So, would you like a refresher on your drink, Mr. Babineaux?”

“You won’t be watching a lot of things if we go out there on a stormy or a snowy night,” which was weather, he supposed, people like her weren’t really used to suffering from. Ever since the snow had started falling months ago, Alain had not stopped going out nearly every night, even if it was freezing out there, and it was the same schedule for him whether it was raining or not. Of course he didn’t like it, but liking it had never been really part of his job or education. It had to be done. He moved his hand away from where it used to be when she removed her hand from his. Still, the thoughts he had had just seconds ago on the subject still remained, and the feeling lingered in his stomach still. “I’ll see if I find you some copies of books I have in English,” he glanced down at his glass with a thin smile. “I would like to keep some of my library intact, if you don’t mind,” and besides, most of his books were on the more complicated side, and even someone with a good level in French would struggle with the vocabulary. It was probably best this way. He crossed his arms on the counter and fell silent for a moment, collecting his thoughts.Evelyn was probably one of the most genuinely kind people he had spoken to in a while, and he felt like her mind was just as polished as her looks. He could tell that she did not exactly have a dream childhood and that her life today was far from being spotless, and yet, she radiated with optimism and kindness. This should have repulsed him as he’d always been the kind to see the glass half empty, but she must have found a way to make her feelings contagious because he had yet to feel like he had nothing to do here while he was around her. She had even managed to make him feel at ease while he was trespassing on her property. Evelyn really was good with people, and so he didn’t really believe that she didn’t have a lot of people she hung out with. Although he didn’t put her word in doubt but rather smiled and replied : “Only one of your favourites? And here I thought I was already your new best friend, as the kids say,” he paused, “ruining the reputation of a friend would be very friendly yes,” he nodded as she offered to make him another drink.

“That is true. If we hang out on nights like those, it should be inside, with hot beverages and perhaps rewatching an old movie - like Rear Window or another one of your French films.” Evelyn remarked, watching him carefully. She hoped that she was not being overly enthusiastic. Though her tone had not changed, she wondered if she was being too eager. If being starved for true friends had left her overly willing to grab onto anyone who wanted to genuinely spend time with her, outside of a formal obligation through status or parties. “I will give you your books back, if you wish. I promise.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “But yes, English would be nice, even though I do like any chance to practice my French.” He became quieter then, and she did find herself biting her lower lip, wishing that her abilities let her understand how someone’s mind worked more, wished that she could sometimes tell what someone was thinking. Because she wanted to understand him more, she found, she wanted to figure him out. She had always been desperately curious, even before she found out that her purportedly weird tendencies and physiological abnormalities had an explanation beyond a “rare genetic mutation”, and after that it had only increased tenfold. He let her be herself, let her be both venomous in some of her remarks but also made her smile, made her laugh more than most people were able to. “Sorry, but it is perhaps promising that you may achieve that some day.” She brushed her fingers against her nose. “Another old fashioned?” She asked. “Would you like to share a drink with me? I think it is only a basic courtesy to do that while engaging in such delightful conversation, after all.”

“Sure, why not.” He looked at her with his chin resting on his hand which was his attempt at hiding at least a part of his smiles from her. “That sounds delightful,” he added. There were quite a few movies on his mind that he knew she would enjoy, but at the same time, he didn’t want her to end up bored to death even if most of the things that they had planned to do were very different. Still he couldn’t help but think that there was no way she could be friends with someone like him. Even without the hunter part, they were still so very different and from the looks he was still getting from the rest of the clients, he was not the only one thinking it. “That’s not what I meant. The first book is still a gift,” shaking his head slowly he replied to her next comment in French : “I’m sure there will be plenty of other chances for you to improve your French if you plan on doing all those things on the list with me,” the few times he saw her write in his language, he didn’t notice any grammar errors, and he doubted that she would have a lot of room for improvement but he wouldn’t refuse an opportunity to speak in French. Evelyn was easy to talk to and he appreciated their conversations, as they almost made him forget for a moment that he was this close to have what looked like a normal life. Life felt just normal then. He felt the same way around Erin and Cassie these days too, and that was nice. "I'll have a drink with you, of course. Surprise me." It was already established that he enjoyed whiskey and he didn't recall ever trying one as nice as the one she just had used. Now he was curious as to what she would pick for him.

“It does. I have a nice television and an excellent couch, and I will admit I have halfway memorized some of these films.” She scrunched up her nose. Evelyn ignored the looks that the two of them were getting - now not only from Sterling, but from a few others who had made their way over to the bar. She knew that even if they didn’t say anything now (though who knows, they could start making remarks at any moment), she’d get an earful of comments the next time they came by the bar when only she was there. “Well, it is a gift I treasure.” It was true, she had always loved receiving books, no matter how fond she was of all her many material items, too. “I do plan on it, and now I have even written them down so who knows? Perhaps it is some sort of binding contract. We now have to hang out, spend time together, speak French or English and attend to the many different items there.” At his request for her to surprise him she bit her lip, snapping her fingers together in a quick motion before she turned around again, back to him. A mint julep, she decided. Bitter enough, but also a little bit sweet. She went about crushing the ice, mixing everything together. It was a terribly American drink, but perhaps that was alright. She grabbed the juleps and turned around, her face lit up with a smile. “Let me know how it tastes.”

“Now you really sound like you have too much free time,” his shoulders shot up with repressed laughter. Alain shook his head. While he didn’t know movies by heart, he always made sure that he was busy as it kept him from doing too much introspection, or thinking about hunting, his family, or losing his sanity over too many disappointments : Alain couldn’t count the amount of times his relationships had followed the same two patterns. Either people found out that he was a hunter and left, either they found out he was a hunter, and being hunters themselves, they stuck around and wound up dead. He had for a while tried to stay away from people, but it only made things worse. “A binding contract,” he bit his lip, doubting that such a contract would resist to time and revelations. Maybe he didn’t have to tell her. Why did he feel the need to be honest. It felt as if liars were much more successful in life anyway. “Sounds to me like it’s another one of those things you love who are half enticing, half frightening,” his eyes lingered on her silhouette as she turned around. For the first time since he walked in, he had a look at the rest of the place. If keeping his eyes on her made him feel safer in this shark tank, a glance at said sharks comforted him in his idea that he didn’t miss much by no longer being part of this masquerade. This was at least one good decision he had made. His eyebrow raised as he turned to find what looked like a mojito in front of him, and he gave her a confused look. He had expected something more european coming from her and hadn’t expected for her to actually listen to him and surprise him in every sense of the term. “Alright…” He had a puzzled look on his face as he put his glass back down. “Alright.” He paused. “It is a surprise,” if he had an aversion for Mojitos and all those popular drinks who he found to be too sugary, this one felt a lot more balanced. “Good job, Evelyn,” he raised his glass at her, “to an unlikely friendship and a never-ending to-do list.”

“I mean,” she shrugged, making a small face, “my bar is only open three nights and two days a week, so you are not incorrect. I do have a great deal of free time.” Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “Plus I had free time as a child, and I have always been drawn to those movies more than the romances.” Perhaps in part because I was never really shown what nice romance was as a child, and perhaps just due to my nature. “Well, you see, when you say it like that it sounds like I am doing something terrible.” As his next words came, she couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, I suppose it is one of those sorts of things.” She ran her tongue against her teeth again as she grew quiet. Once she’d made the drink and handed it to him, her heart rate increased just so - not normal, but she didn’t want to mess up the drink she had made him - part of her wondered if she should have done something else with just plain whiskey, make a joke about being half Scottish and be done with it.  But he took a sip and her fingers clenched around her side of the bar, nails halfway digging into the wooden counter. But he seemed to like it, or at least was kind enough to pretend - though she didn’t see him as someone to put on false niceties, at least not in a situation like this one. She grabbed her glass and clinked it against his. “To a lovely friendship, if a bit unexpected, and a to-do list that we shall never be free of.” She took a sip of her own drink and grinned at him. “So, not so bad here after all, hm? We did not even have to retreat back to my office.”

“Dear God,” this sounded like an awful lot of free time to have, and it said a lot about how well her business was doing. He, on the other hand, was open 6 days a week, early in the morning and late enough in the evening which was a completely different schedule. “I’m not sure what it is I prefer in the movies,” he looked up at the lights above the bar, as he thought about it. He certainly had a taste for David Lynch and Terry Gilliam, which weren’t for everyone’s taste, but it was mainly about the emotions it made him feel, and romance was part of that. It wasn’t his favourite, but he could enjoy something well made, like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, which was one of his favourites. Evelyn probably could appreciate something like that. “You’re a bit twisted,” he remarked. It was not a reproach, but rather something he had noticed about the woman, who as polished as she liked to appear, had, he believed, some rough edges to her. Alain wondered how rough those edges truly were. Nibbling on the back of his thumb, which was something he did quite idly whenever he felt anxious, he looked back at Evelyn. This couldn’t last forever, could it ? This relationship they had, the laughter and the good times. Still his glass was raised with hers. “You’ll tell me how they felt about having a commoner in their favourite bar, alright?” He might have not belonged here, but it would feel nice while it would last.

[twohearts-hs]

‘You’re A Monster’ - Shawn Mendes Gang AU

Words: 5k

Pairing: Gang Leader!Shawn Mendes & Surgeon!(Y/N) (Y/L/N)

Warnings: Swearing and Death

|| Masterlist in bio ||

-

“So you’re a surgeon?” The man in front of her asked, a smirk on his face. This wasn’t what she intended to happen, sitting in front of a quite large man in a dimly lit room in the basement of a warehouse. The email led her here for the job offer, therefore she shouldn’t complain.

“Was.” She replied, trying to keep a strong front. He nodded slowly, leaning back in his chair and giving her a look that sent shivers up her spine. He quickly leaned forward, inches away from her, creating a reflex of moving back for her.

“What’d you do to have your license removed?” He grinned mischievously. This definitely was not her scene.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She replied. He shook his head and clicked his tongue.

“This is not how it goes, honey. What did you do?” She refused to speak, “Do you want the job or not?” He reasoned.

“Of course I want the bloody job.” Y/N replied all too quickly, while he merely shrugged his shoulders. She took a breath, “I saved a woman who was pregnant, but I didn’t follow protocol, so they stripped me of my license. I didn’t kill someone, I saved someone; that’s a surgeon’s job.”

It was all true. Y/N did indeed need a job as she was fired from the last one over trying to save a woman. But, she constantly reminded herself it was for the best because it would’ve been selfish to let the woman die in order to keep her license. But, she didn’t expect herself to be using her medical knowledge in potentially getting a job at a well-known gang. She was desperate, the med school loans were getting higher, and her bills were due or late; she had to figure something out, and this was her only option.

“Let’s get you to talk to the boss and see if you’re hired.” He told her, getting up and motioning her to follow. Y/N accepted, taking a deep breath and calming her nerves; after all, it was a gang; she was allowed to be nervous.

She grabbed her bag and followed the unknown man down a few hallways. He turned around, looking at her, “He can be a little too much sometimes.” Y/N didn’t know how to respond, so she kept walking. She really didn’t know what to expect, possibly some old man or maybe a middle age man that had way too many girls in his life or a wife that is more plastic than alive. But, she remembered the fact that she didn’t even know his name.

“Boss?” She bumped into the man interrogating her and looked up, seeing a tall man’s back ahead of her.

“What?” The man spun around and glared at the man calling him.

“Dr Y/L/N is here to meet you.” The so-called ‘boss’ raised his eyebrows.

Y/N looked at the man and had to admit that he was definitely not what she was expecting. Young, early twenties, curly brown hair, and chestnut eyes; he was attractive, yet her eyes wandered down and saw a pistol. This is definitely a gang.

“Who?” He growled. She was shocked by his tone; it was harsh, controlling.

“The new surgeon.” He nodded, walking up to her.

“You’re a surgeon?” He asked. She nodded and smiled.

“Uhh, yes, sir.” She managed to say. He nodded and walked away. Y/N raised her eyebrows and scoffed, “Am I hired?” she blurted, causing Shawn to stop in his step.

“Can you take care of a gunshot wound?” He asked, back to her.

“Of course I can,” she scoffed, “simple medicine.” Shawn turned around and stood in the same spot, a smirk on his face.

“Then you’re hired.” He told her, “Are we done?” She rolled her eyes.

A burst of confidence came to her, and she walked towards him, “I think we should talk terms in your office. I don’t work for whatever.” He smirked at her and shook his head.

“Princess, this is life or death right now. Work with me, you live, and if you don’t I’ll kill you on the spot because you know where we are stationed. There are no terms in this business, you work for me in order to keep your life.” He replied sternly.

“If I don’t accept, your men, doing illegal things, may I add, would die—” She began but was interrupted.

“I can call any surgeon to replace you. But, you can’t get another job, princess, your license has been stripped. Yes, I’ve read your file, Y/N.” He added, she stood still.

“Then call any other surgeon, I am not working to keep my life.” Shawn groaned, throwing his head back.

“You bloody doctors think you own the place with all your medical knowledge...thirty grand.” He tried to settle.

“A month?” He scoffed and shook his head.

“A year.”

“I am a surgeon. I make five times that.”

“You’re not a surgeon, not anymore.” He really had to rub it in.

“One fifty.”

He was so close to being done, but honestly, he was starting to dig her persistent personality, “One hundred, beautiful.”

She nodded, placing her hand out to him. “Deal.” He shook it, “So what do I call you, boss?” Y/N asked.

“Shawn, princess.”

-

Y/N hasn’t seen Shawn since and she had been there for a week. It was a job, she went there to help people because that was what she was destined to do. She went there to save people from bloody (excuse the pun) gunshot wounds, and repeat.

It was boring if she was, to be honest. Y/N missed the OR and holding a beating heart in her hands, having to figure out whether they live or die, but at least she still had a scalpel in her reach. The most interesting thing that had happened was a knife in the eye, where she had to give that man a pat on the back and an eye patch, nothing else to do.

Yet, it was a job. She could pay her bills, but it wasn’t the best paycheck to pay off med school. It angered her, how stubborn and unfair that her boss was. But, she was paying the price of her mistake; though she didn’t regret saving that woman.

Y/N closed the door to her car and locked it, shoving her handbag on her shoulder and taking steps to her townhouse. Another interesting day of gang members with awful tattoos hitting on her.

“Princess,” she jumped looking to her left and seeing Shawn leaning against a fence. Y/N placed her hand over her heart and let out a breath.

“Fuck, Shawn,” she mumbled, looking at him, “next time warn me.”

He laughed, pushing himself off the fence and walking to her. “Aren’t you gonna invite me in?”

She didn’t know how to reply, therefore she walked up to her door. “Think I have too.” She told him, opening her door and walking in, the handsome fella following her.

She set her bag on the kitchen counter and watched Shawn look around her living area, particularly eyeing her degrees.

“I’ve read your work. You’re an amazing surgeon. The boys and I are blessed to have you.” She scoffed, opening a bottle of wine and pouring herself a hefty glass.

“Your boys. Fuck, they have no respect for women.” Shawn raised his eyebrows and gave her a worrying look. Y/N passed him also a glass of wine, which he declined, making her pour his portion into her glass.

“What do you mean?” Shawn sounded worried.

She shook her head and brought the glass to her lips. “They are your typical ‘bad boys’. Catcalling, touching, etc. But, don’t worry, it’s my job to help them, live or die, ey?”

Shawn just looked blankly at her. “It doesn’t matter. They need to respect you. You’re a part of the group, princess. Fuck, you’re more valuable to me than them.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t care who and what is valuable, I’m not an object. I’m just there to do my job. Now, why are you here?”

He raised his brows and smirked. “A few reasons. For one, I want to tell you that I am your boss and you have to talk to me with respect. And, if anything happens to you regarding those shits or anything, you bloody tell me, ok?” She nodded, “Now, you’re well known for your surgical skills, so I need you to fake your death.” That came out of nowhere.

Y/N choked on her wine and stared, “what?”

He groaned; no patience in within him. “You are known to the medical community. If word got out that you were working with a gang and that leads them to me, that’ll be a problem. So, I have to do something. I’m going to arrange for you to die, so you can’t be traced, and then we go from there.”

She stared at him with shock. “What?” She sneered, “I’m not going to die, I have family and friends. I am not part of your gang.”

Shawn stood blank-faced and just stared at her. “Life or death, honey. Chose wisely.”

Y/N had no idea what she got herself into. She had no idea what this meant, “You keep saying that and I really don’t know what you mean.” She yelled at him, grabbing her hair in frustration, “I signed up to save your people, and I am pretty god damn good at my job.”

Shawn was mesmerized by her attitude. She wasn’t scared of him, even though he had killed more men than he could count on his fingers and toes. He had scars across his body, people quivered from his stare, and he was more than just deadly. Y/N didn’t give a fuck about all that, and it was mesmerizing to him.

“You’re not scared of me, eh?” He placed an arm against the wall and leaned in.

She scoffed, “Some people may be scared of you, boss, but I see the real you. I see the soft Shawn inside. I read people, and that is why I am so good at what I do. I know when people are in pain without them telling me.” She replied with no emotion. Maybe she knew, maybe she didn’t.

“Really? Tell me what you get from me then.” He whispered playfully.

“You are lonely, and you fill your days by being rude, nasty, mean, and murderous to try and make yourself feel better. But, it doesn’t work. At the end of the day, you just want someone to hold you.”

Shawn stayed still, not knowing what to say. “You don’t know shit about me.” He mumbled, smirk long gone.

“I know you don’t like people knowing your secrets.”

“I think you should be careful who you open your mouth too, princess.” He cocked, putting his hands on his hips and revealing a hidden gun. He looked at her once more and walked out the door. She knew that she couldn’t get out of this any more.

-

“Alejandro!” She exclaimed as she walked into the room, grabbing rubber gloves and placing them on.

“Mi amor!” She welcomed him with a big smile. She pulled the stool out and sat down, gathering her utensils to check out his wound.

“How are the grandkids?” She asked, beginning to remove the bandage from his arm.

The older man chuckled, “Fine, fine, mi querido. How are you, beautiful?” She smiled, as she began stitching his wound up.

“Quite dandy. So, tell me about your day?”

Alejandro was her favourite patient, always able to make her laugh and forget her worries. He was the kind of guy you’d never expect to be in the drug business. He was so kind and wore his heart on his sleeve. He was the only piece of sunshine in her life at the moment.

“Any cute boys in your life, amigo?”

She laughed. “I’ll tell you once you stop injuring yourself. Every week I see you in here. Your poor wife.”

He laughed, shaking his finger. “That bitch doesn’t care, amor. But if I don’t get hurt, I can’t see you. Boss doesn’t like when we hang around the medical bay.”

She laughed and nodded.

They talked for a few more minutes until they got interrupted. In a second, Shawn appeared with a gun to her friend’s head.

“Five million. Where is my five million dollars?” He spat out, not even looking at Y/N. It hurt him seeing her expression in the side of his eye. She stood there, shocked while clenching her forceps.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, boss,” Alejandro muttered, quivering by the tip of the gun hitting his forehead. Y/N stared at the man that she deeply believed had a little bit of remorse or nobility. She wouldn’t accept that she was scared, in fact, she truly believed that he was a good person.

“You stole five million from me.” Alejandro looked at him with a blank expression, and instantly he was shot.

Y/N screamed. Shawn looked at her, sadness in his eyes for her, but no pity for the dead man.

“Get him out of here.” He muttered to his two guys next to him, “And grab her.”

She was grabbed by the arm by some guy, yet she didn’t object as she was simply in shock. She was in shock because she just saw her only friend at the moment getting shot. Not just shot, but dead in front of her eyes.

Y/N had seen death many times in her life before. She had battled it for her patients every day, but seeing someone kill another was totally different. Death was nasty to her, constantly trying to steal people away from her. But, Death didn’t play the role today; Shawn did. Shawn took away someone.

Shawn closed the door behind him, telling his guys to leave them alone. She was left in a darkened room with a desk and computer. She sat, looking blankly at him.

“Are you scared of me?” He asked, closing the door, but still back towards her.

It took a while for her to find her voice, but eventually, she did, “No.” She muttered. He sighed, turning around and looking at her with the most loving eyes she had ever seen in her life.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, Y/N.” He mumbled, walking towards her and pulling a chair out, sitting and grabbing her hands.

He looked at her, wanting sympathy, yet she didn’t know where she was lying at the moment. He’d just killed someone. He was a murderer.  

“You killed someone,” she choked out, letting a tear roll down her cheek. He nodded, gripping her hands so tightly, as if he wanted human connection more than oxygen. He wanted to be real for a moment, to expose himself to her.

“I had too.” She shook her head rapidly, as she looked up to his chestnut eyes.

“You don’t have to do anything, Shawn. You killed a man who meant so much to me. He was the only person in my life that cared for me at the moment. You took that away.”

She was shocked not only by his actions minutes ago, but the way he was opening up to her was even more shocking, yet he still killed someone. 

“I care for you, Y/N. I care so fucking much about you, you don’t understand. I can’t sleep because all I can think of is you putting your hair into a ponytail or the laughter you share with the guys or the smile you have whenever you look at me. I care way too much for you and it hurts that I can’t be the person you want me to be.” He told her, holding onto her hands hard as they faced each other.

“Don’t use that as an excuse for what you did,” she spat. Shawn understood where she laid. He shouldn’t have brought up his feelings for her. But, he did, and that was what made him an awful person in his eyes.

“He stole five million dollars, princess.” She shook her head, pulling her hands away from his. His heart sank from the lack of heat from her small hands.

“I knew he stole five million dollars from you, Shawn, he told me when he did. He was so afraid of you. Yet, he stole it to save his village back at home. He stole it to send his granddaughter to university; she wants to be a doctor. You have so much money, Shawn. He wanted to be a good person, someone you could never be.” She told him, getting up and heading to the door.

“You said you’re not scared of me.” He said right as she was about to grab the doorknob.

“I’m not scared of you, Shawn. But, I do think that you’re a monster.” She told him, turning around and looking at the man she had caught feelings for the last few weeks.

She walked out. Shawn closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, anger and misery beginning to consume his bloodstream. She told him that he was a monster, and she walked out. And in theory, he did believe he was a monster.

-

Shawn didn’t sleep that night. He constantly rolled around his king bed, trying to find comfort, but her words lingered in his brain. “You're a monster.” To him, Y/N was perfection in his dark world of corruption. Shawn opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He needed to clear things with her, but at the moment it was so raw. He was falling for her, and he was falling for her hard.

He got up, walking through his apartment and grabbing a glass of water. It was a little past three. He opened the fridge, looking for something, but there wasn’t much; leftovers mostly. He groaned the only light in the room was the fridge light and the moonlight coming from the big window behind him.

The brunette was up all night, therefore he had time to think. He was a monster; he had come to terms with it. But, he got into this business, so he had to be. But, he wasn’t a monster to her. He was trying so hard to be perfect to her. But, Shawn was quiet and rude around her. That, or flirtatious and mysterious. He was a player, but for her, he’d go down on his knees and beg for mercy.

A knock was what brought him out of his daze. He walked towards his door, loose sweatpants hung to his figure, messy hair and tired bags complimented him. Yet, he wondered who would come at this time. He hadn’t gotten a call telling of an emergency, but he had an urge to open it.

“Y/N?” He opened, staring at the girl’s worried expression. She stood in front of him, with pyjama pants and a coat. She looked at him, and he questioned everything about why she was there.

“You sell drugs, right?” She asked out of nowhere. He was still trying to place puzzle pieces together; how she knew he lived here, why she was here, was she ok.

“Yes.” He answered. She looked cold and he just wanted to grab her and hold her forever.

“Do you have enemies?” Y/N was so emotionless with her questions, and it drove him to pain; he needed to figure out what was wrong.

“Of course.” She nodded, noticing now that he was shirtless, scars littering his body.

Yet, she didn’t know how to put this next statement to him, “I feel unsafe,” she muttered, “I went to the warehouse to find you, but you weren’t there. Matt told me your address.”

Shawn instantly got worried and opened the door to let her in. He closed it and turned to her.

“I was about to go home, but there was a guy hanging by my door. I stayed put in my car for an hour and he didn’t move. I can’t call the police, so I came to you.” Shawn nodded, looking at her as she stood in the moonlight, and all he could do was be in awe.

“What did he look like?” He watched as she dropped her coat and grabbed the blanket that was thrown across his couch. “Here, let me get you a hoodie.” He mumbled, walking back to his room and retrieving one and handing it to her.

Y/N reluctantly put it on, and she was so cute in it, so perfect. “I couldn’t see his face, but he had this tattoo on his arm. It was like a skull and a triangle and-”

“Fucking Isaac.” He muttered, running his hands through his hair and looking at her. “You aren’t going back to your house until this is sorted. I’ll get one of the guys to grab you some stuff, but otherwise, you’re staying with me.” He told her.

“Shawn, is that really necessary?” He looked at her and placed his hands on her cheeks.

“I care about you a lot, Y/N. Isaac is from our rival gang. He must’ve heard how important you are to me. So, yes, it is necessary. You aren’t to leave without me, you go with me to work, you are to never be alone. Because this could go either two ways: he kills you, or he kidnaps you, and that’s worse than being killed.” She nodded. He let out a shaky breath and grabbed her shoulders, bringing her into a hug.

Y/N was surprised for a second, yet later wrapped her hands around the gentle giant. Shawn nuzzled his face into her hair and placed a delicate kiss on her head. He pulled away and tucked her hair behind her ears and smiled. She had to admit, he may be a horrible person in his work environment, but he was the softest person to her.

“Thank you.” She muttered, looking up at his eyes and he smiled, grabbing her hands and bringing it to his lips.

“Bedtime for you.” She nodded, as she followed him to the guest room.

“But Y/N, thank you for being in my life.” She smiled, getting into the duvet as Shawn closed the lights and headed to his room.

The minute his head hit the pillow, sleep drowned him. He was finally able to sleep at this late hour, but it didn’t take long till he heard small paddling of feet in his hallway. As a person who is constantly in danger, the smallest sounds wake him. His eyes shot open and he heard his door open and instantly - forgetting that he had Y/N staying over - he leaned to his left and grabbed his gun on his bedside table and pointed it at the unknown figure.

“Shawn?” Her small delicate nectar voice was heard and he relaxed, placing the gun down.

“Hi, honey,” she leaned against the door, “can’t sleep?” She nodded. Shawn bit his lip and placed the gun back to where it was. He pulled the duvet up to signal her to come in; which she complied.

Y/N sat on the mattress and swung her legs over, watching as Shawn placed the blankets on her small body compared to his.

“Thank you.” He smiled, watching as she turned away, therefore he followed.

Moments later, he heard the ruffle of blankets and a body moving. He was welcomed to an arm swung across his frame and a face nuzzling into his neck. He smiled, feeling so happy at the moment. Y/N was cuddling him. His future love was touching him in a matter that wasn’t forced. She was asleep in his bed and she was holding him, so he fell asleep with a smile on his face.

-

His first feeling was heat. He felt sweat and heat between two bodies and he instantly remembered the beautiful lady in his bed. A humble smile came to him as he opened his eyes to morning dawn and the chirping of little birds outside his window.

Shawn looked around and saw that her face was laid on his chest and his arms were wrapped around her. It was perfect. It was the most beautiful way to be woken up. He just pitied himself for not having this happiness sooner.

He placed a kiss on her forehead and she began to move gently. “Morning,” he mumbled as her pearl eyes opened. She wasn’t afraid, far from it.

“I have to get to work.” Is all she mumbled. Shawn let out a little laugh and she smiled.

“Let’s get something to eat first.” He mumbled, playing with her hair as he stared into her eyes. She gave him a smile.

“Shawn?” He cocked his eyebrow. “Kiss me.” He laughed awkwardly, but she was so much in a daze to realise.

“Y/N-” She shook her head.

“You care about me, I care about you. We have major tension between us. We have feelings for each other, so just kiss me.” He nodded, leaning down and grabbing her cheeks gently as their lips met.

It was so clichè, but it was perfect for them. He was gentle, not dominating, as they kissed each other with perfect rhythm. Her fingers were in his hair as his hands wandered to her hips. He tugged on them, making her move to be on top of him as they continued to make out. But, it was pure bliss and way too overwhelming to worry about anything.

“You’re so cute,” she mumbled, pulling away and looking at him like a lovesick puppy.

“I prefer the word sexy or hot, honey, but that’ll do.” He told her, kissing her lips again.

-

They left each other at the warehouse with the linger of a hand touching and a kiss to the cheek. It was cute, honeymoon-like. And every one of Shawn’s mates would agree that he deserved this, he deserved to be happy.

Little did she know what the problems were with being with a gang leader. He was constantly in danger.

Y/N hadn’t heard from Shawn all day. Honestly, she wasn’t worried about it. She sat, hanging around, checking up on her patients, going out for lunch with Geoff and grabbing a coffee for herself, and doing a little shopping. She honestly thought that being out in broad daylight wouldn’t cause problems, and Geoff was with her. So, that night she filled it with drinking wine and watching reruns of a sitcom.

But, she went back, hearing from Geoff that there was a heist that night and had to return back to the warehouse. Yet, he let out all the details as to just how bad this fight was.

“What do we got?” She asked, grabbing gloves and walking to Geoff. He gave her a look and pointed to one of the medical beds that a curtain covered.

She went to it, opening it and stared. Shawn. Shawn was in her medical bay and he was hurt...really bad.

“Don’t touch me. Get my girlfriend.” He muttered to one of the guys who was trying to apply pressure to the gashing wound on his stomach.

“Get, Y/N. She’s the best, don’t bloody touch me!” He kept going on and on and Y/N took a breather.

“Shawn.” His eyes shot up to her and he smiled, yet recognised her worried face.

“Baby. I got a little roughed up, that’s all, I promise you.” She nodded, walking towards his wound and pulling open the bandage. She closed her eyes and looked at him.

“What happened?”

He smiled, trying to lighten up the mood. “Just got in a fight, that’s all.”

She laughed. “A fight? You’ve got a cut in your abdomen, so close to muscle. And your shoulder is dislocated.” He smiled an awkward smile and she groaned. “Everyone get out!” She turned away from him, gathering supplies to disinfect the wound and to create stitches. “You’re gonna be out of the ballgame for a little while.” She muttered, turning around as he looked at her with puppy eyes.

“Baby…” She raised her eyebrows and walked towards his dislocated shoulder.

“This is gonna hurt… a lot. Scream as loud as you want.” She told him grabbing his arm and placing it to the side, hearing a groan. Then, slowly she moved his arm so that his hand was behind her head. Finally, she began reaching for the other shoulder and his shoulder popped right in.

“Fuck!” He yelled, making her giggle.

“Stop being a pussy.” She mumbled, grabbing the needle and forceps and getting down to business.

“So, keep that patch on for a few days. I live with you, so I’ll change it soon.” She told him, still not making eye contact with her boyfriend.

He sensed her anger and worry. Yet, he knew she shouldn’t let personal feelings break through. Shawn was hurt, yes. Shawn got himself in trouble, yes. So she shouldn’t be such a bitch.

“Y/N,” she turned around and stared at him, all bandaged up, “come here.” She obliged and walked towards him.

Shawn grabbed her hand with the hand that wasn’t strapped within the brace and looked at her.

“Thank you,” She smiled as he gave her the kissy lips, which she leant down to, connecting the two together.

“I love you,” he muttered, pulling away. She looked at him, as he realised what he said.

“Y/N, princess, I-”

She smiled, placing her finger against his lips, “I love you too, doofus.”

-

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[9or10allgood]

I love Tumblr.  Far more than Facebook, which has become a seething morass of political partisanship, and while I’m all about seething partisanship when it’s discussed by people willing to engage their intellects, I’m less so when “debate” means posting memes and gifs which are, let’s be honest, the electronic equivalent of saying “nanny nanny boo boo”.

Anyway… Tumblr.  You can, to some degree, control your content.  If you are, like I am, mildly (*snort*) obsessed with a certain tall, lanky, Scottish actor, you can find like-minded individuals and follow them and bask in his glory to your heart’s content.  Likewise, you can follow fandoms based on television shows and movies and plays and music… and you get my point.  You’re all here so, of course, you do.

And, if you are interested in things like politics or social issues or the environment or science or all of the above (and more), that content is also readily available on Tumblr.

Generally speaking, I find the folks on Tumblr to be considerably more relaxed and open and accepting than on Facebook.  I attribute that, for the most part, to the members being mostly younger.  I’m a great believer in young people.  The future belongs to them and I am, present circumstances notwithstanding, mostly optimistic about the future. 

I’m a Boomer.  I was born eleven years after the end of WWII. (Good Lord, I feel old!)  There were no twenty-four-hour television or radio stations, and the internet wasn’t even conceived of, even by the most forward thinkers. Doctors still made housecalls as a matter of course.  Milk was still delivered to your door every morning.   The polio vaccine was still being tested.  Putting a man on the moon was a science fiction fantasy.  

As a generation, we “Boomers” were guilty of a lot of things, beginning with not quickly enough shedding some of the baggage from the generation before us. We were still largely segregated and we are paying the price still and we will until - I don’t know how long and that disturbs me more than I can say.  We were too quick to distrust the other - just ask the immigrants that came to these shores during and after the War.  There was a dear older lady in my church when I was in high school.  A kinder, more charitable, more joyful woman you could never hope to meet.  She was a German war bride - met an American soldier and they fell in love and married and he brought her home to his small, south Georgia hometown.  Their first decade was tough - folks were slow to forget and she was sometimes ostracized.  Even when I knew her, people would sometimes refer to her (in lowered tones) as Leroy’s German frau.  

We were abysmal when it came to the environment.  I mean, look at the cars we drove in the sixties and seventies before the oil crisis forced a turn toward economy cars.  Gasoline was $.37 a gallon - and that was hi-test!  What did it matter that my mother’s 1971 Mercury Grand Marquis land yacht only got 11 miles to the gallon?  Gender equality?  Seriously?  Gender Identity?!?!?  How you came out of the womb is what you were.  Period.  And if your family had that special uncle or the aunt with a Very Close Friend, well, it just wasn’t talked about, was it…

On the other hand, there were things we did do.   That social conscience that drives our society today?  You can thank those who loudly and visibly protested the Vietnam War for a lot of it.  Sure, there were anti-war movements always, but the Vietnam War lit a fire that, with the availability of news cameras and microphones and news cycles, burned hot and bright until the last helicopter departed the US Embassy in Saigon on April 30, 1975.  And when the war was over, there were plenty of other things to get riled up about:  the environment, women’s rights, the right to choose, civil rights, gay rights.  Anger over things that are wrong today didn’t just start in the 2000s.  A lot of us - and I mean a lot!  - have been pissed off for a while.

Putting a man on the moon belongs to the generation before the Boomers, obviously, but the drive to continue space exploration - the space shuttle, the probes that are still sailing toward places beyond our solar system, the International Space Station, the Hubble telescope - belong to us.  Medical advances?  Advances in diabetic screening and treatment, the MRI, treatment of HIV/AIDS… Cancer research was largely theoretical until the ‘70s.  The idea of DNA re-sequencing as a therapeutic treatment?  Late ‘70’s.

And as for culture?  My generation embraced the idea of embracing the accoutrements of other cultures.  Clothing, jewelry, hairstyles, music, food… we were all about it.  I see people commenting on “cultural appropriation” as if it’s a bad thing.  We - my generation - considered it to be a tangible form of acceptance.  

(As an aside, I have a dear friend who is battling uterine cancer.  She has lost all of her hair due to chemotherapy.  On one of her “good days”, she and her family took in an Indian (the country) festival and, while she was there, saw an artist creating henna tattoos.  On impulse, she asked the woman to create one for her scalp.  It was a masterpiece, absolutely glorious, and it gave my friend so much of her joy back.  For the first time, she was proud to show herself without a wig or scarf.  I think if I’d heard anyone say anything about “cultural appropriation”, I would have punched them in the mouth.)

My point to this ramble is this.  Lately, I’ve been seeing anti-Boomer things on Tumblr.  Boomers are rude.  Boomers are backward.  Boomers are outdated.  And while I get that it’s just a thing for generations to complain about each other, it’s the absolutism that I see that bothers me.  When I was young and dealing with my parents’ generation, I didn’t consign the whole kit and kaboodle to the Dark Ages.  And, from my viewpoint as an older person, I don’t heave a great sigh and clutch my pearls over the entirety of the Gen X'ers, the Millennials (raised one!), or the Gen Z'ers.  I may get annoyed with one or two individuals and have a sudden urge to shake my cane and yell “get off my lawn, whippersnapper!” but I manage to contain myself.  (There was the young man in the electronics department at WalMart who, in his most condescending manner, asked me if I knew what a USB port was.   I wanted to tell him that I’d been working with computers since before his father first bought his mother a malt at the chocolate shoppe.  Instead, I just gave him The Look™ and he mumbled an apology.)

Absolutism about anything is corrosive.  I mean, think about it.  It lies at the heart of so many of the evils that are tearing at us now.  It feeds the desire to hate all of the “other” because of a crime perpetrated by one or a few.  Wars result from this kind of thinking.  Down through history, you see it.  And it’s so much more easily spread now with social media.  Again, I would abandon FB altogether - except that it’s how I keep up with the folks back home - because it’s become a political, partisan, largely unintelligent cesspool.  All because those on the Left believe that those on the Right are the Minions of Satan and those on the Right think that those on the Left are Bloodsucking Snowflakes.  And, of course, they don’t all think that, but it’s so easy to click a “Like” or a “Share” without really thinking about the message they are sending, and before you know it things are out of control and we’ve put a dictator wannabe in the bloody Oval Office!

(Sorry.  I’m still upset.)

There are those who ask why boomers are offended.  I mean, “ok boomer” is just a joke, right?  Well, yeah, but that same reasoning has been applied to how many derogatory labels.   (I read one comment that “Boomer” isn’t an ageist slur. Except it kinda is, y'know?)  And, again, it spreads and it gets blown out of proportion and there are those who are just ready to jump on a bandwagon - any bandwagon! - and the next thing you know, it’s trending on Twitter and we’ve got one more thing to get mad about that shouldn’t be anything at all because there are so many other things that we really should be mad about and trying to do something about…

Do you get my point?  

If someone of any generation gets on your last good nerve, by all means, express yourself.  (Short of violence, obviously.)  But ease up on projecting the “they’re all bad" mentality.  It isn’t true.  It doesn’t make anything easier.  And we’re all better than that.

Aren’t we?