#but i’m glad andre killed himself FINALLY

[maladaptvs]

marcela keep track of her child challenge

[viola-ophelia]

andre finally shows up in act 2 scene 1! the description of his appearance at the beginning is lowkey funny, but definitely pitiable (and seems to be directly referencing this sketch!! you know the one lol).

he has this soliloquy where he talks about how glad he is that he’s not dragging anyone else down to an unhappy fate with him - which is pretty sad, because he acknowledges that he never had the chance to marry or have children who would have to mourn for him. honora is mentioned for the first time as he wonders how she’ll react to the news of his death. he hopes she won’t feel “more than a transient pang” of sadness, which seems like a reference to his reaction to seeing the gallows. ouch.

all of a sudden, bland - the american sentinel from act 1 - randomly shows up. he immediately starts simping for andre HAHA.

andre starts crying and says bland shouldn’t consider him his friend anymore because he acted like an idiot, went “against reason,” and committed treason by accident. he’s worried that he’ll be remembered only as a traitor - interesting, this focus on legacy again!

bland is like “omg no way. you’re way too hot for that!”

here’s andre’s account of what happened when he was captured. it’s pretty historically accurate - though there’s no mention of joshua hett smith, the guide who arnold sent to accompany him to safety and whose incompetence was part of the reason for them stumbling across the skinners. smith wasn’t in TURN, and he is usually left out of retellings of the story for some reason. possibly, it’s more compelling to imagine arnold abandoning andre to find his way through the neutral backcountry by himself?

andre is very hard on himself here and repeatedly asserts that he knows he screwed up and made himself look like a spy - though irl, he tried really hard to argue against being labeled a spy because he didn’t want to lose his honor or, of course, be killed lol. though since the verdict for his execution has already passed, he seems to be trying to reconcile himself to it.

now this is interesting!! bland seems to be representing the average american/british POV here (at least in dunlap’s eyes) of lamenting the verdict because andre was just doing his “soldier’s duty.” andre is still being weirdly passive and tells him not to bother trying to persuade washington to spare him - which doesn’t seem super historically accurate because irl, he sent clinton multiple letters begging him to try and make a trade work; he was most definitely trying to save himself - BUT, his bit about “the manner of his death” is very on point. he fears the noose because he doesn’t want to be killed like a criminal, and he pleads for bland to try and get washington to change his sentence to a “soldier’s death.”

in act 2 scene 3, the two american soldiers, mcdonald and seward, are talking inside washington’s tent. they have this odd allegorical conversation about utopias that seems to envision/predict the creation of an independent america as a “heavenly” place. then bland shows up and is like “show me to the general” and they all leave lol.

act 2 scene 4 is an abrupt shift away from camp all of a sudden, and it’s really fascinating. bland’s mother, who i wasn’t even expecting to be a character, randomly shows up with her two children (bland’s brothers, i guess?). they’re eagerly awaiting bland’s father’s return home - apparently he’s also in the army but has been a prisoner on a prison-ship for a while. i kind of love this cute little exchange:

suddenly, a letter shows up for mrs. bland. she reads it and freaks out, because apparently bland’s father has now been sentenced to death along with andre (???) and runs out to try and save him. i’m honestly kind of confused by this HAHA because it seems like a pretty significant deviation from historical accuracy, but i guess i’ll have to keep reading to see what happens! an interesting thing about this play is how much information is conveyed secondhand rather than actually shown onstage (or relayed by the person who it happened to). on the one hand, it’s a pretty pertinent reminder of how central letter-writing was for communication in the eighteenth century, but i also feel like in the context of andre’s story, it also illustrates just HOW much of it turned into hearsay and legend almost instantly (starting, as the play shows, while he was still alive!).

anyway, that’s the end of act 2!  

hey all you andre sexyman truthers: i’m reading André (1798) by William Dunlap so you don’t have to!

a bit of background about WTF this is: written only 18 years after his execution, andré (1798) is considered one of the first examples of american tragedy. it’s a 5-act play dramatizing john andre’s life and death that - despite being written by a self-professed patriot - is VERY sympathetic toward andre, who is the undisputed hero of the play. drawing inspiration from anna seward’s “monody on major andre” (the background of which, if you’re interested, is explained very well here), dunlap focuses heavily on andre’s relationship with honora sneyd, a young englishwoman who he had been engaged to - and forced to break from by her disapproving family for financial reasons - right before enlisting in the british army. anyway, if that didn’t bore you to death and scare you away LOL, i’m gonna be liveblogging this as i read it, starting with the prologue! 

right from the get-go, i can tell william dunlap is a major simp for andre (aren’t we all…) LOL. 

i DO love the disclaimer that this isn’t necessarily historically accurate. sue me, but i actually fully support creative license in historical fiction! but yeah, maybe don’t use this as a source of actual facts about andre’s life lol. 

the last stanza of the prologue is basically like “teehee don’t judge my writing too harshly,” which, same, dunlap, same. 

i shall reblog this with more commentary as i get into the actual meat of the play!! 

[hphmmatthewluther]

HPHM April Prompts 2021: Day 6: One Truth, Two Truths, Green Truths, Blue Truths

And I thought yesterday’s prompt was juicy! Here’s day 6 of @stupendousbookworm ‘s #aprilprompts2021!

Prompt # 6 - It's Truth or Dare night! MC and co. sit in a circle for a fun night (with veritaserum for truths!). But when MC picks dare, Penny dares MC and (Love Interest) to play seven minutes in heaven in the broom closet!

‘Hel-ga Huff-le-puff’ Matthew mouthed as he knocked out the rhythm onto the closest barrel.

“That’s it?!” Merula said incredulously. “And it’s always the same barrel?”

“Indeed!” piped up Rowan, “Helga Hufflepuff’s son decided to have it this way as a tribute to her.”

“So?” Merula said, crossing her arms.

Matthew shrugged. “It’s worked for centuries, hasn’t it?”

“Defending a Wizarding Tradition? Who are you and where’s Matthew Luther?” Merula scoffed as the door swung open. There in the doorway stood Penny Haywood.

“Guys! You made it!” Penny exclaimed, letting them into the Common Room. Matthew had never been here before, and was beginning to wish he had found his way here beforehand. It was the very definition of cosy; a circular room filled with plants and a large fireplace at the far end of the room. In the middle of the room was a large cauldron surrounded by chairs, on which were quite a few of Matthew’s friends: Chiara, Tonks, Tulip, Andre, Barnaby, Charlie, Bill, Jae and, much to Matthew’s surprise, Talbott and Ben.

“We were wondering where you were.” Talbott said, eyeing the cauldron in the middle.

“Well, I had to convince these two to come.” he said, gesturing to Rowan and Merula.

“I was just...concerned about being tired tomorrow.” Rowan said, crossing their arms.

“But...it’s Saturday tomorrow, Rowan.” said Penny, a little confused.

“I..well...yes, um...anyway, I’m here!” they declared, sitting down. Their cheeks flushed as Penny sat next to them. That left two empty seats between Penny and Barnaby, which Matthew and Merula filled.

“Alright, you guys came just in time, I think it’s ready now!” announced Penny, stirring the potion in the cauldron. Matthew looked at it, shocked, as did Merula, Rowan and a few others.

“P-Penny...” stammered Rowan, “Is that what I think it is?”

“If what you were thinking was Veritaserum, then yes!” she exclaimed, getting some flasks ready, “When I found out some of you hadn’t tried this, I just had to get everyone here to try it!”

Matthew wasn’t sure he liked where this was going, “Penny, if this is some Wizarding thing, keep in mind that some of us...” he gestured to himself and Ben.

“I also don’t know what we're doing.” admitted Barnaby.

“I’d guessed, Barnaby.” said Merula.

“Well, we’re playing Wizarding Truth or Dare!” Penny declared. There were a few gasps. Bill and Charlie leant forward. Ben looked even more nervous than usual, and Rowan was right there with him. Barnaby still looked confused. Merula kept her face still. Matthew was only slightly nervous. He was with friends, and he knew none of them had any ulterior motives, not even Merula.

“Don’t tell me, we use the Veritaserum so we have to tell the truth?” he asked, gazing at the mixture.

“Very perceptive, Luther.” said Merula. He sighed, having an inkling as to what she was thinking about.

“Before we begin, let’s make a rule.” Matthew said, “Nothing about the Cursed Vaults. If we’re here to have fun, let’s not open that can of worms. Alright?�� They all nodded, and he noticed Merula relax.

“Well, if that’s everything, let’s get started. I’ll go first, Bill can choose what happens.”

“Truth!” said Penny.

“The most illegal potion I’ve made? I tried making Felix Felicis once...keyword tried...”

“Dare.” said Bill.

“Alright...four cartwheels...here we-”

“Okay, Impressive.” said Tonks, defeated. “Right, Dare!”

“Impersonate Dumbledore!” Jae declared.

They all watched as Tonks’ pink hair grew and became white, as several wrinkles appeared on her face.

“As Headmaster I declare...” she said in his withery voice.. “That you are not allowed to go into the Forest as it is too dangerous...except when we send you there in tournaments or for detention.”

“Not bad...Truth!” said Jae.

“Um..” said Ben, still a little nervous, “The craziest thing you’ve smuggled into the school?”

“Ooh, easy! A live cockatrice!” he said, “That was a wild one...”

“Right...now it’s me...T-Truth.”

This continued, until Tulip was sitting upside down, Charlie was speaking in a French accent and Merula was stroking Matthew’s Niffler Spencer, which she had convinced to follow her back here. They had gone round a few times, and it was now Matthew’s turn. So far, it had not got too...inappropriate, though they did all know one too many facts about Barnaby, and Penny had given Rowan (and everyone else) a reason to go red. Matthew was glad for that, and he wasn’t about to spill anything he didn’t want to.

“Dare.” he said, eyeing Penny nervously. She had that mischievous look that meant ‘I’m about to suggest something for you to do for my enjoyment.’

“I dare you...to spend 7 minutes in heaven with Merula!”

“What?!” they both said at once. Chiara gasped. Tulip laughed out loud. Bill merely smirked.

“There’s a storage room right over there.” The Head Boy said, pointing to the left. Matthew’s brain had fully ground to a halt. He had recently established that he liked Merula, and that he found her to be rather good-looking, but he had never expected something like this to happen so soon, and had reservations about acting on his feelings, especially considering his suspicions. They were both pushed to their feet and moved over to the closet.

“W-Well...look...do we...” Matthew spluttered. Merula looked more annoyed than anything, but at some point it must have occurred to her that she was still under the influence of Veritaserum.

“Oh, oh no...” she whispered. Matthew’s face was bright red, and hers was bright pink as the door to the storage room opened.

“In you go!” Penny said, pushing them in and closing the door. Matthew instinctively  pulled out his wand.

“L-Lumos.” he said hoarsely, illuminating his and Merula’s faces. They were unbearably close together now, the closet they were in being extremely small. Slowly, they both crouched down until sitting on the floor.

“S-So, um...” Merula began, pushing a hand through her hair, “H-how are you holding up, um...”

There were a few snickers from the other side of the door. Matthew scowled, before pointing his wand downward. “Muffliato!” After which, several annoyed grunt noises were heard. The two smirked at each other.

“Thanks.” said Matthew, flicking his wand’s light around.

“Anytime.” she replied sweetly, before illuminating the end of her own wand. Thirty seconds, Matthew’s brain worked. There was another pregnant silence.

“Why did Penny do this?” Merula asked impatiently, kicking at the ground.

“Because she loves to cause gossip and scandal.” Matthew said, “I don’t know what Rowan sees in h-” Oops. Merula leant forward.

“Khanna has a thing for her? Why? They’re so uptight! And she’s...a bimbo!”

“That’s a bit much.” said Matthew an eyebrow raised. “She’s better than any of us at potions.” One minute, Matthew thought to himself. The smirk on Merula’s face suddenly vanished. “Listen...um, I wanted to ask you something.”

“A-Ask what?” Matthew said.

“Why’d you stop them asking about the Cursed Vaults?” she asked, “This would have been the perfect time to oust the Mole.”

Matthew’s stomach began to fold in on itself. He wanted to say that he just wanted to have a good time tonight, and not worry about it, but: “I-I just...I think I already know who the Mole is.” He looked up at her.

Merula stared at him with fear in her eyes. “Wh-Who?”

Matthew didn’t answer. He couldn’t. She already knew the answer. Oh, how he hated seeing her like this. “I...don’t blame you. I-”

“What?! You know now, don’t you! I’m your stupid mole!” she shouted. Matthew flinched at the sound, hoping nobody outside could hear her.

“Yes, I know, but-”

“But what?! What could you possibly want? I don’t know anything! They told me nothing! They used me, and now I’m stuck with them, and now your friends will all abandon me, and…” she realised what she had started to say, and looked down at the floor. Expecting her to stop talking, Matthew extended his hand towards her.

“Merula. Listen to me. You’ve been through things nobody else should be through. I don’t blame you at all.” he announced.

Merula stared at him for a moment, then snorted. Matthew had to stop himself from smiling too, knowing that now wasn’t the time, no matter how adorable he found it.

“You ought to blame me. I’ve tried to kill you so many times. More than that, I doubt your little friend group is going to be as forgiving.”

“I don’t care.” he said simply.

“You don’t...” Merula had to stop and take that into consideration. “Look, I know we’ve...you know, the Celestial Ball and all that, but...it’d make sense for you to be mad at me, wouldn’t it!”

“I don’t care.” he repeated.

“Then...then for a Ravenclaw, you’re...an idiot! Why on earth aren’t you mad at me?!”

“Because I get it. I’ve always understood why you do the things you did.” Matthew explained, moving a step closer.

“H-How...”

“Merula...I grew up in the Muggle world. I had to deal with a lot of...arseholes, but also people who were arses so others wouldn’t bully them. Their insults were always empty. You could tell they were only saying it because someone else had said it.”

They stood in silence for a moment. “I...I see...” Merula said finally. “But it still doesn’t excuse me!”

“I know that. But, I know you’re going to try and make things right.” he said in reply.

“You don’t know that!” she yelled.

“Yes I do.”

“How?! I’m...I’m an awful person! Why would anyone trust me! I’ve been awful to everyone here!” she screeched, tears forming in her eyes. Matthew couldn’t take much more of this. He was trying not to do anything she might protest about, but seeing her like this was so gut-wrenching, that he found himself moving closer, until he held her slender arms in his hands. She pulled back slightly, but returned a few moments later. Tears were now well and truly forming in her eyes.

“I...I’m not a good person...you can’t deny that, can you...” Merula sighed, slowly moving her thumb around Matthew’s wrist. He shook his head.

“Mm...maybe you’re right. Maybe. But I know, deep down, you’re trying to be a better person. And that’s the difference.” He declared.

Merula looked up at him. “I...don’t know what to say...”

“Then you don’t have to say anything.” Matthew said, pulling her into a hug. He’d hoped this would make her feel better, but when she started crying more, he worried that he’d done something wrong and began to soften his grip.

“No...wait, it’s just....been a while since I’ve had a...” he heard, her head resting on his chest. He smiled, and put his arms back around her, feeling his cheeks flush and seeing hers do the same. He’d lost count of how long they were in there, but it couldn’t have been more than 2 minutes. Eventually, Merula moved her head up and looked at him, pushing him up against the wall, moving onto his legs.

“You know...I always thought you were alright. Even when we were enemies, it was sort of...nice, having someone to compete with.”

Matthew’s eyes widened slightly at this, “That’s...really nice of you to say, Merula. I...” he sighed, and took a breath. Having anyone, let alone a girl he really liked being this close to him, was very distracting. “For a while, when we were still in first year, I...didn’t think I could find the Cursed Vaults. I’d...all but assumed that my brother had gone forever. But then...you showed up. And I sort of said to myself, ‘Come on, she’s expecting a challenge now, you can’t let her down,’ and so...I actually tried. And, well, you know the rest...”

“Indeed I do.” she said with a smirk, moving closer to his face. “Remind me why we’re rivals again?”

Matthew returned her smirk. “For the reputation, I assume.” He wasn’t sure which one of them moved first, but they both seemed to have had the same idea, and so before either of them knew it, their lips were together.

It was a bit of a mess, with teeth colliding together at first, but both parties were thoroughly enjoying the experience. Story of our lives, Matthew thought to himself, the chastity of the kiss slowly vanishing as their tongues crossed over each other. He felt an overwhelming desire for more, and so he moved his arms up to Merula’s hair (something he’d wanted to do for the longest time) and grasped it in his hands, Merula then starting to elicit small moans. Still holding Matthew’s arms, she began to move backwards until Matthew had her against the other side of the closet, which quite frankly felt amazing. In fact, as he kissed her, he was surprised to see how little control he had over himself, as his lower quarters began to move of their own accord. Merula didn’t seem to mind much, as her own hips began to buck against his own, until they moved together in a rhythm. The teenagers were both so caught off guard by this that they broke their kiss. Upon seeing their hips moving together, they both broke into laughter, putting their foreheads together as they did so.

“Ah..haha...what even...is this...?” Merula giggled, in a tone of voice that Matthew had never heard from her before. Matthew couldn’t really think of much else to say; his mind was on a lot of other things instead of words, so he started pecking Merula with kisses up and down her face, eventually reaching her shoulders. With the last of his self-control, he pointed his wand at the closet door and whispered, “Colloportus.”, smirking as he heard a click behind him.

“It’s been...six minutes...I think.” he said breathlessly, before pulling her tie away to suck on her neck. 

Merula tugged on Matthew’s tie in return. “Better make this count, Luther.” she whispered, her hands moving towards his trousers. For fifty two seconds Matthew and Merula were in absolute bliss. 

Matthew had started fiddling with Merula’s top bottom when the door shook. “Hey! Your seven minutes are up!” yelled Penny.

“Alohomora...” he muttered, unlocking the door. Then, he noticed a small mark on Merula’s neck from where he’d been kissing it. “Episkey”, he whispered, watching it disappear.

“Thanks.” said Merula, straightening her tie. They pushed open the door, and saw everyone crowded around the door, including Spencer the Niffler.

“Well?” Andre asked, “What happened?”

“Ah, It’s Penny’s turn.” Matthew reminded him. All eyes fell on the blonde Hufflepuff.

“D-Dare.” she said finally. Matthew smirked. He pointed at her, pointed at Rowan, then pointed at the closet. Rowan went an even deeper red. Penny also went a shade pinker, getting up and moving towards the closet. Before she did, however, she pulled Matthew close and whispered in his ear:

“You resisted Andre’s question. There’s only one trigger for that to happen with my Veritaserum.” she said, giving him a silent wave before entering the closet, closing the door behind her and Rowan.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Plague Rat Chapter 3

Three months later…

 “Hello and welcome to Channel Eight! I’m Erica, bringing you the news!”

 “Today we are speaking of what is now called ‘the Plague of Truth’, brought upon us by the Akuma Plague Rat.

 Due to the Akuma’s powers of infecting people with a deadly virus resembling the Black Plague but targeting liars, many secrets came about. And many consequences have occurred. The most high profile ones are the former mayor, his wife and a dozen city officials who are now closing ranks and trying to-“ Marinette turned off the TV and closed her eyes.

 After she had been purified, the girl had been horrified at her actions, feeling ill and disgusted. She had done that? She had attacked people? She had nearly…

 Luckily there was a therapist employed by the hospital that sat with her and spoke with her. He was open and honest and she had a lot off issues she usually kept locked up. 

 He helped her speak of them and confront them. Helped her understand her issues. Helped her realize how many were people putting things on her and expecting things if her when they shouldn’t. 

 She still didn’t feel okay. Knowing what she did made her feel sick, but her classmates where there. Alix spoke with her softly, the girl knowing she had killed one. Kim spoke of rewatching his actions and feeling horrified. Rose shuddered at what she had done.

 It helped. 

 More so, honestly, it helped knowing that her actions had exposed Lila and a lot of corruption. Not only had she hit the mayor, she’d hit the commissioner, Audrey, Nadja and a bunch of others. 

 Andre had been removed from office and was now facing trial for his crimes. The commissioner had been removed from office along with Roger being fired and were also facing charges. Rumors said they would probably get ten years at least.

Audrey was going away for child abuse, corruption and the abuse of her staff. She had admitted everything and Chloe had been removed from their care in a second, being placed with an aunt on the other side of Paris who hadn’t spoken to her sister in years and had never cared to. The aunt had agreed to take Chloe in but had warned the girl she would not put up with any of her actions.

 Marinette hadn’t heard anything since as Chloe had been expelled by the new principal that had replaced Damocles when the fact he was being bribed came out. Bustier had also been replaced. Marinette wasn’t sad to see them go- even if it was only recently she could go back to school after the shock to her system becoming an Akuma had been. It wrecked her metabolism again and she’d been stuck in a bed for months.

 Luckily, there was a friendly nurse around who was happy to take over for Akumas. Marinette has the best time hearing her rant about magic and how stupid it was she couldn’t tell who Ladybug was when she was in the hosptial. Often right in front of her door.

 Tikki found it hilarious to.

 But she had finally left the hospital and Tikki said she could go back to fighting, something she was glad about. She missed it, not that she’d admit it.

 But before that, there was a trial to be had.

 -0-

 “So you willingly did it-“

 “I did.” Alya interrupted the lawyer. “I willingly exposed her to sick children but that was at the urging of Lila who said she had to be lying. I believe the videos I’ve given show that.” Alya felt like a bug as everyone in the courtroom stared at her. She kept her chin up though. She would not be cowed by this lawyer Lila’s father got her. Apparently Lila’s nasty habits came from someone and that was her father. Her mother had been furious to know she was in contact with him and was not pleased by the lawyer but agreed to it.

 She didn’t want her baby in jail either.

 He was a good lawyer, knew how to come at things from all angles.

 But Alya had been Rena Rouge. The Fox Miraculous left marks deep in her soul, which made her slippery and sly. She had forgotten and gotten caught in lies herself, but she remembered now.

 And she would not yield. 

 “I wonder, if anyone actually knows that the reason she wants Marinette dead is because she called her out on her lies in college.” Snapped Alya, suddenly latching onto the thought. The lawyer blinked. “Didn’t know that? Lila is just angry that Marinette didn’t follow her around. That Marinette called her out.” The lawyer actually stepped back and turned to look at Lila who couldn’t hide her furious face fast enough. Alya smiled at her while the lawyer said he had to dismiss himself from the case now, his clients had been lying to him.

 Alya hadn’t been a good person for a while. She had followed a liar and had blinded herself to truth for a long time. But she had once been a hero, once been a good person. 

 She was going to start again.

-0-

 “So you thought it was like tabloids?” Dr. Shaw asked Adrien who sighed. 

 “Yeah I mean…” Adrien shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe if I hadn’t known the truth I’d have believed hem but when I did I saw how stupid they were and they reminded me of the tabloids. I thought they’d figure it out themselves. I didn’t think she was hurting anyone.”

 “But she did. Her actions almost caused many of them to miss out on incredibly important opportunities for their futures. It was lucky your friend Marientte managed to convince them it was a good way to show case their skills to the supposed contacts Lila had.” The doctor said and Adrien winced.

 “I… I didn’t want her Akumatized again.”

 “And yet Marientte was.” Adrien looked down. “Adrien, if I can be very blunt- you despise conflict and prefer a passive approach to it. While disliking conflict is fine, and I encourage you not to seek it out, not confronting people who you know are in the wrong isn’t always the best idea.”

 “...” Adrien didn’t want to think about it anymore. But he had to. His father had made him go to therapy and Plagg had told him it was a good idea for him to do so. He needed to get over this. “It’s easier when it’s not me.” Adrien blurted our. “Online I mean.” He quickly covered. It was easy to confront people as Chat Noir. 

 “Then pretend you’re not Adrien when you confront people.” The therapist offered and…

 That was really good advice.

Two months later…

 “Hello and welcome to the new Ladyblog!” Alya grinned on the screen Marientte was watching. “As you know due to certain circumstances I left this blog for the last few months. This is due to Lila and her actions towards my classmate and my own actions. However, this is a new start. First and foremost- this blog will now only contain facts. I have three people to check over anything I post that’s an article and needed to be researched who will do so. I spoke with Ladybug and she’s agreed to an interview with all heroes providing they agree-“ that was the only small crack, a shadow of sadness. After Miracle Queen everyone know she’d been a hero, and seeing a new fox must hurt.

 Marientte though was just amused that Alya was such a good actor. Sure she no longer used the fox but she fit the Turtle very well. And Nino was a fine Dragon, while Luka was a great Fox and Kagami was an amazing Bee.

 It hadn’t been to hard to manage to have an interview with them- though all separate. It was enough to show Paris they were human to.

 Marinette smiled,  watching as Alya continued her speech. 

 Things had changed since she’d become Plague Rat. Lila was now in jail back in Italy. Youth jail but still. She would spend two years there before being released on parole for either ten years or for the rest of her life depending on her actions. While she had lost her first lawyer they had been assigned a second one who had managed to get a psychiatrist in to look at her. 

 The man said she was either a psychopath or a sociopath. They had tried to say that meant she was allowed to be free but that was ended when the doctor pointed out she knew what she was doing was wrong. She just didn’t care. 

 She wasn’t allowed back in France and apparently other countries had also banned her. She was forever stuck in Italy.

 The former mayor was also in jail. Five years, chance of parole in two and a half, maybe less depending on behaviour. Nadja had lost custody of Manon after it got out she routinely used the girl to gather info and had put her in risk multiple times. Audrey was in jail, Roger had lost his job and was on probation. 

 Paris had experienced a revolution after Plague Rat. The new mayor was a woman who took no shit and was a hardass who was happily funding the police to find Hawkmoth, and bring him down. The new commissioner had fired all corrupt cops- Roger had been part of this sweep- and now Paris was thriving.

 Adrien as well seemed to have changed. He had formally apologized to her for his inaction and he was taking steps to be able to confront people. He’d already had a fight with his father about being a model and had leaked to the press how Gabriel treated him. Gabriel was in therapy now and Adrien had a social worker doing random checks on him. 

 “I guess even Akumatized I’m a hero.” She remarked to Tikki who chuckled. 

 “Perhaps. But I like you as you.”

 “Same.” She still has nightmares about what she’d done. She still freaked out about the hospital. Hell she was still recovering months later from the stress of being Akumatized while suffering from sickness and a horrible immune system. 

 But she was doing better. She was moving forward.

 And that was all she could do.

Tagged: @anastasian-dreamer @magicalfirebird @kibastray @thesunanditsangel @virgil-is-a-cutie @marinettepotterandplagg @heaven428 @sofmimis @so-freaking-done-with-people @moonystars14 @slytherinhquinn @spartanxhunterx

[hellomorganus]

Helen Draiz

I do not own The Phantom of the Opera. The book/musical/movies belong to their rightful owners. I only own my characters.

CHAPTER 3

Helen and Camille chatted quietly amongst themselves as they cleaned and polished the grand foyer. Other maids were present in the room as well, gossiping about the missing soprano that disappeared a week ago. She left no note or clue as to where she had gone. She simply vanished. 

The bruises on Helen’s neck had been healing slowly, now an orange color instead of the dark purple. Henry had dropped the topic of how she got the bruises after their dance session in the prima donna’s room, but he still gave her weary looks as she worked. She could tell he wanted to help her around the opera house but Mr. Reyer refused to let Henry miss another day of practice. 

Mr. Firmin walked into the room, smiling down to Helen and Camille as he passed, talking to himself about the disappearance of Christine Daae and the public’s reactions. He took his time walking around all of the spots that were previously cleaned, not wanting to mess them up with her shoes. 

“Damnable! Will they all walk out? This is damnable!” Andre shouted as Firmin made it up to the top of the staircase. 

“Andre, please don’t shout,” Firmin begged, lowering his voice as he led Andre down a hall. 

Helen and Camille shared a look, biting their lips from giggling as the two men began to lightly argue. They held out letters and read them outloud, shaking their heads as they tried to think of who would send them such a thing. Helen stood from the ground, taking a hold of the bucket before walking off with Camille to finish their jobs for the day. 

“They seem to be healing quite fast,” Camille commented on the bruises lacing Helen’s neck. “They’re not as vibrant.”

Helen hummed, tracing her fingers down her skin lightly. “I’m glad,” she mumbled, looking towards her friend and not where she was going. That was a big mistake. 

She ran right into a blonde man, gasping as the water poured between their feet. She stepped back, examining the damage made, her eyes widening at his soaked pant legs. 

“I’m so sorry,” she gasped, looking up at his face to find it was the new Vicomte. He clenched his jaw, looking down at his pants and shoes, breathing deeply before giving her a tight smile. “Don’t fret about it Mademoiselle.” he said before walking around and marching towards the staircase. 

“Where is she?” he demanded, climbing the stairs two by two. 

“Shit,” Helen mumbled, watching the Vicomte walk angrily towards the managers. 

“Shit indeed,” Camille laughed, getting down on her knees to dry up the spill with her cloths. 

“He’s really mad,” Helen said, crouching down to help Camille. “I hope I don’t lose my job.”

The redhead shook her head, chuckling. “Don’t worry Helen. I think he was mad before this happened. It just...might have pushed him over the edge.”

Helen nodded slowly, wringing out her soaked cloth in the bucket, shaking her head. She should have watched where she was going. 

“Where is he?” demanded a high pitched voice. Both maids turned to find a fuming Carlotta and Piangi entering the room with their entourage of maids. “Your precious patron, where is he?”

The patron, Raoul De Changy, quirked his eyebrow upwards, turning on the staircase as they approached. “What is it now?” he asked. 

“I have your letter! A letter which I’d rather resent!” Carlotta fumed, stomping her foot as she came face to face with the patron. 

“And did you send it?” asked the managers in unison. 

“Of course not!” exclaimed the blonde man, his jaw and fists clenching. 

They went on arguing for a few minutes, reading aloud the letters once more, shaking their heads as they were all signed by O.G. As the arguing progressed, none noticed Madame Giry and her daughter enter the room, standing at the bottom of the staircase. 

Madame Giry sighed in annoyance before projecting her voice so it was higher than all of the others. “Miss Daae has returned.”

Monsieur Andre seemed to be the only one who heard as he told everyone else to settle down. He then stepped away from the group, wringing the note in his hand. “Where precisely is she now?” 

Madame Giry answered quickly, frowning lightly. Her daughter took a step forward after her mother explained where she was, telling them that her best friend needed rest. 

The blonde patron’s face relaxed with relief as he took several steps down the steps. “May I see her?” he asked quietly, worry lacing behind his eyes. 

“No Monsieur, she will see no one.” she informed Raoul. 

The two maids, and several of the others who had awkwardly overheard the conversation, gave each other looks of relief. The young soprano finally returned. Maybe now all the gossip will stop on where she had gone. 

Camille and Helen sped the process up, not wishing to interfere in any way, shape or form. Helen lifted the bucket again and together they sped towards the yard to dump the water and hang the laundry. 

                                                       ~-~-~

“The Phantom seems very fond of Christine, don’t you think?” Camille thought out loud, clearing out all of the dead flowers from the prima donna’s room. 

Helen remained quiet as she shrugged, adding more water to the flowers that were still alive. “I suppose. He probably just wants a good soprano for the operas.”

Camille scoffed. “I don’t know,” she mumbled. “It seems more than that. Did you pay any attention to those notes?”

Helen had to admit. It did seem like he was fond of her. But she wouldn’t admit it aloud, in fear that he would strike again. “No,” she lied, placing the water down. 

The red head turned to look at the brunette, biting the inside of her cheek. She shrugged off Helen’s short reply, taking the flowers out of the room to toss them. 

The brunette, on the other hand, stopped from organizing the table, glancing at herself in the full length mirror. She walked closer to it, examining the bruises. They had gone down a considerable amount. So much so that it almost looked like they never existed. She wondered if she should risk another night in box five. Would he be there? Would he actually kill her this time?

She bit her lip, sighing as she turned to get back to work. Only one way to find out. She thought. 

They finished their duties in nearly record time, giving the girls a little less than 5 hours to do as they pleased before the sun set. Camille had opted to go walking along the streets while Helen decided to stay back. As she waved her friend goodbye, her gaze fell to box five which lay barren and dark. She couldn’t go up there now. She would have to wait until later that night. 

In the meantime, she thought about visiting the young soprano who had apparently not eaten or drank anything since her return. Maybe all she needed was a little push. 

So Helen gathered all of the things she needed, balancing the tray on one hand as she knocked. “Miss Daae?” she called, waiting for an answer. “May I come in?”

Nothing. 

Helen hummed, raising her hand to the doorknob. She opened the door slowly, finding the blonde girl sitting up in her bed, staring out of a window. At the sound of the door opening, she turned to face Helen, a glare plastered on her face. “I didn’t give you permission to come in.”

Helen smiled, shrugging as she closed the door, walking in with the tray. “You didn’t tell me to go away either,” she remarked, placing the tray on the girls bedside table. “How are you feeling?”

Christine looked her up and down before pouting and returning her gaze towards the window. “I’m fine.”

Helen had heard that phrase before. And that phrase meant the exact opposite of what was said. 

Helen nodded, pulling up a chair beside the bed. “We’ll pretend I believe you Mademoiselle.” she said, giving her a soft smile. “You must be hungry from your little adventure.”

The blonde remained still, a pout forming on her lips as the sun hid behind a cluster of clouds. 

Helen bit her lip, lifting the bowl of berries, holding it out towards the girl. “Please Miss Daae. I know you may not want to eat but you must.”

Christine glanced at the bowl in Helen’s hands before hesitantly taking it. She rested it on her knees, staring down at the colorful berries. 

Helen watched her in silence before crossing her arms, leaning back in her seat. “I’m not leaving until half of those are gone dear,” she told her, crossing her legs and swinging her foot. “None of them are poisonous if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Christien looked up from the bowl and examined her, her eyes falling on her neck for the longest time. “You’ve met him too…” she whispered, gently reaching out and moving a stray piece of hair from Helen’s neck. “He used his hands...not a rope…”

Helen frowned at the blonde, sitting up straight in her seat. “Christine...please eat. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

The blonde woman shook her head fiercely, “I do know what I’m saying! He choked you! He nearly killed you!”

Helen clenched her jaw, leaning forward in her seat. “How do you know who he is?” she asked through clenched teeth. 

Christine put the bowl of berries aside before slowly raising the sleeve from her arm, revealing a large bruise on her forearm. “He does not know his own strength.”

Helen stared at the bruise on her arm before looking up at her. “You were with him this whole time?”

Christine suddenly sat up straighter in her bed, nodding slowly. “Yes,” she mumbled, grabbing the bowl and eating a single blueberry. 

Helen could tell by her posture that the conversation was over. Christine was done talking about The Phantom. Maybe he was listening in on them?

“Well Miss Christine. Since I know your name, it is only fair you know mine,” started the maid, gently tugging the girl’s sleeve down over the bruise. “It’s Helen. Helen Draiz.”

                                                  ~-~-~

The brunette now stood anxiously outside of box five at a quarter past midnight. In her hands was her journal and pen, deciding to come without any light. She was now rethinking her decision, shaking her head. 

Would he even be in the box? What if he did kill her this time? What if he got her fired?

Helen shook her head, placing her hand on the curtain. She couldn't think like that right now. She wanted answers. Why had he kidnapped Christine? Why was her arm bruised? 

She gulped as she pulled the curtain back and walked into the dark box, freezing when she heard movement in one of the chairs. She held her breath, clutching her book tightly to her chest, expecting him to order her out of the box. 

“Erik?” came a hushed man’s voice. “You’re early.”

Helen bit her lip and took a hesitant step backwards, bumping into something. Her eyes clenched closed as a hand sprouted from the object behind her, tightly gripping her shoulder. 

“That I am Daroga.” the voice from behind her hissed. “I didn’t know we were expecting company. Did you?”

The man in one of the seats quickly stood up and spun around to find Helen in The Phantom’s tight grip. He looked between the two, shaking his head. “Let her go, my friend,” he begged. 

The Phantom only tightened his grip on her shoulder. “I warned you once about being in this box, didn’t I, Mademoiselle? Perhaps some more bruises will make you stay away.”

“No,” cried the man in front of her, reaching his hand out for them. “Release her. I’m sure she just stumbled into the wrong box, isn’t that right Mademoiselle?” he said taking a few steps closer to her. 

Helen stood tall, breathing as evenly as she could. “No sir. I came to the right box.” she replied, holding her chin up. “Phantom...could you be so kind as to release me?”

The grip on her shoulder loosened hesitantly until the hand fell away from her shoulder. She took a step closer to the man The Phantom had called Daroga before turning to face them both. “I wanted to ask you some questions Phantom.”

The tall form stood up straight, crossing his arms. Even though she could not see his face she could feel the heat of his glare. “Get. Out.”

Helen rose her brows, matching his form. “No. I only wish to speak about a few things.”

The man beside her gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “You should go Mademoiselle.” he begged. 

The girl pushed his hand off her. “And who are you? I wasn’t aware The Phantom had a friend.”

The man bit his lip before sighing. He looked up at the tallest form in the box before pulling out a match and lighting it. He held it between the woman and he, giving her a small smile. “I thought it was you miss.” grinned the policeman from earlier in the week. 

Helen hummed, examining the Persian man before tapping out the match. She sighed, turning to face The Phantom again. “Giving me bruises I can understand, but giving that poor soprano bruises is unforgivable.” she told him. 

She could swear she heard a few teeth in his mouth break from how hard he clenched his jaw. “You should watch what you say. I can still kill you.”

Helen let out a small shaky breath, raising a brow. “Then why don’t you?” she retorted. 

“With pleasure,” mumbled The Phantom reaching out for her neck again before the policeman jumped between them. 

“C-Can’t we keep this civil?” he begged, looking between the two. “No killing. No threats. Please?”

Helen crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at The Phantom. “Sir, where I’m from that’s all we do.” she replied, pushing past the man. She stepped closer to The Phantom. She raised a brow at him, raising her arms to her side. “If you want to kill me so bad, why didn’t you do it the first night we met?”

The Phantom glared down at her, his breathing becoming more shallow. Helen knew she was pissing him off. In fact, she was pissing herself off. 

“Tell me how she got that bruise.” she hissed, placing her hands on her hips like a mother does scolding her children. 

[quickspinner]

Finding Harmony - Ch 7 Harmony (end)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

There’s quite a bit of music used in this chapter and I’ve linked the videos at the bottom, but here’s the list:

1. Aerosmith, I Don't Want to Miss a Thing (Harp Cover) by Amélie Guiboux (she has a ton of harp covers and they're all beautiful, be sure to look at her other videos; Luka's harp would probably sound considerably different, but I'm taking a little license here because it's so pretty. you can search for clarsach music on youtube if you want to hear what an actual Scottish harp sounds like, there's not a lot but there is some) 2. Chopin, Nocturne Op. 9 No 1, by Salvador Joya 3. Je Pense À Toi (original) by Amadou et Mariam 4.  Je Pense À Toi (cover) by Amar Amarni & Jasmina Petrovic

Luka surveyed his preparations critically and sighed, concluding there was really nothing left to be done. Which meant now all he had to do was sit around and wait for Marinette. He kind of hated this part, but at least tonight his phone was silent. No akuma alerts.

He took a slow breath, and then another, not quite meditating, but...centering. Reflecting. The past few months had seen their ups and downs, but he didn’t regret a second of the time he’d spent with Marinette. 

It took him hours to get to sleep that night after the gala. He was too charged up to even try to sleep in his bunk, and only long discipline (and the knowledge that his mother and sister would kill him brutally if he woke them) kept him still on the couch in the sunroom until he finally fell asleep. 

He never had wiped the lipstick off his face, which earned him at least a week of mockery from both of them. 

Neither the mockery nor the lack of sleep kept Luka from waiting outside the bakery that afternoon for their first official date. He’d never forget the look on her face when she came flying out of the door, right before she tripped and took them both down to the sidewalk (he should have been more prepared for that, but he had been too busy grinning like a loon to brace for impact). They’d walked all over Paris looking for Andre, and had a long, honest, necessary talk at the same time. 

It hadn’t stopped them from having misunderstandings and frustrations, and one horrible day where he’d lost his cool completely because he’d been scared to death watching an Akuma toss her around on the news that afternoon, without her costume. He’d never been so grateful to Chat Noir in his life as he had been when the cat finally got her out of danger at least long enough for her to transform. Ladybug finished the fight, as she always did, but Luka had been livid that Marinette had run into the fight as Marinette, and she had fired up defensively, and they had yelled at each other so hard that her parents had gently but firmly kicked him out so they could both calm down. The fight was worse since neither could tell the other what they knew, and it had taken them both days to cool off enough to talk about it. It had taken him at least a full day to admit to himself that he’d been a little unfair, because he couldn’t yell at her for the things Ladybug did, so he’d had a store of bottled up fear and frustration just waiting to spill out. It was a couple of weeks before the hurt feelings on both sides faded enough for them to be totally comfortable with each other again.

The other big issue had been her ditching him for Akuma battles. He didn’t mind, he knew she had a job to do, but Luka had, after putting a lot of thought into the phrasing, finally asked her not to give him any more false excuses. “Just tell me when you can’t tell me,” Luka told her. “Just say you have to go or whatever, I won’t push. Just please don’t make up things. Whatever it is that you’re trying to cover up, I don’t care, I trust you not to hurt me. I just...I can hear when you lie and I don’t like it.” He knew his unconditional trust confused her, but she agreed. Luka hadn’t realized how much of a strain it had been on both of them, for Marinette to come up with the excuses and him to pretend to believe them, until they stopped. It was an immense relief for them both, as it turned out.

The majority of their disagreements were small hurts, things that could be talked through and soothed and forgiven, just the normal average process of fitting two people together. Marinette was sweet, attentive, affectionate, and her confidence in his love buoyed her up when she felt down on herself. They were everything he’d dreamed they could be together. Luka knew his feelings for her were still stronger than hers for him, but he was okay with letting her feelings grow at their own pace. 

He tapped a nail painted with electric blue and black swirls on the rail with a rueful smile. If only he could get her to stop giving him things. The magnetic nail polish was an exception, her gifts were mostly small, useful things that she made herself, but it was like she couldn’t help herself. When she thought of something he might like, she had to make it for him. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate them, he loved her little gifts, it was just that things felt a bit...unequal. His mind didn’t work exactly like hers and his skills didn’t lend themselves to the sorts of gestures she made, and it left him feeling a little guilty. It wasn’t as if he felt he needed to pay her back, exactly, neither of them was keeping score, it was just...he wanted to be able to do things for her, too.

Well, it gave him an excellent excuse to make every grand, over-the-top gesture that came into his own romantic heart, and he’d given himself full permission to go completely overboard tonight. He shoved the sleeves of his blue v-neck sweater up his arms out of habit, and then winced and pulled them back down again as another breeze cut across the deck. The evening was pleasantly cool except when the wind picked up, but there was always wind on the river. Marinette had looked at him as if he’d lost his mind when he’d told her to eat dinner at home and then come to the Liberty after sundown. He’d refused to tell her anything else except that they would be out on the deck and to dress warmly. 

He was just wondering if he should have gone to the bakery to escort her when he spotted her walking down the bank.

Luka came across the gangplank to meet her. She was wearing a pink wool dress with white stockings and a white sweater, and she reminded him of one of her pink macaroons with the white lacy icing. Luka took Marinette’s hands in his and kissed her cheek softly. “You have got to be the sweetest thing in that bakery,” he told her, standing back to look at her again admiringly. 

She grinned, bouncing lightly on her toes. “I brought you something.” 

“Marinette,” he sighed, smiling affectionately.

“I know, I know,” she said, bouncing on her toes. “Please?”

“Okay.” 

She put a necklace in his hands made of knotted cord decorated with blue and black beads. Marinette pointed to what looked like a metal teardrop on the end. “I saw these online the other day - you can slide your pick in it, see, in the holder here, and then you can take it out when you need it, or you can just swap out to match whatever you’re wearing. It can actually hold a few at once, but of course you’ll only see the front one. I actually got a few of the holders to experiment with, I think I can do some really cool things, and if Jagged likes them, it could be a cool new accessory line. I was thinking about braiding one into a bracelet for Juleka, but I haven’t had time.” 

Luka took a pick out of his pocket and slipped it in the holder. “Cool,” he grinned, putting the cord over his head, and Marinette bounced in excitement at his pleasure. He kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Marinette. I love it, really.”

“I made one for me too,” she said, backing up to show him his Jagged Stone pick around her own neck, on a cord decorated with pink and white beads. “So we can match. I mean, not matchy-match, more...coordinate.”

Luka chuckled and pulled her into his arms. “What am I going to do with you?” he sighed into her hair, and she snuggled into his chest happily. 

“I don’t know,” she said cheekily. “You wouldn’t tell me.”

Luka laughed, and let go of her, sliding his hands down her arms to take hers. “You wanna find out?”

“Where’s everyone else?” she asked as they crossed onto the boat. 

“Below. They won’t bother us. The newest book in Maman’s favorite series just came out and I just happened to pick her up a copy this afternoon, so she probably won’t leave her room until sometime tomorrow, and I’ve given Juleka her privacy for this kind of thing enough times that she owes me.”

“What kind of thing is—” Marinette cut off as she caught sight of the tiny flickering candles scattered all over the unusually uncluttered stern. 

“Oh, Luka,” she breathed, revolving slowly.

“You like it?” 

“I love it, it’s so beautiful.” 

“I’m glad.” He took both her hands and guided her to the deck chair he’d set out for her. “Sit,” he said, and she sank into the chair, still looking around. One of the spool tables stood next to the chair, covered with a white cloth and decorated with a bowl (because a vase would tip over in a stiff breeze, he’d discovered the hard way) of flowers and more candles. Luka picked up a thermos that had been sitting by the table and poured hot chocolate into the waiting mug. “Something to help keep you warm.”

Marinette smiled as he handed it to her and took a sip. “Mm, it’s good,” she said, setting it the mug back on the table, knocking one of the little tea lights off in the process. Luka had to stop her from jumping up with a gasp. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he told her, smiling as he went to pick it up and show it to her. “Don’t worry, they’re battery powered. Fire is pretty much the worst thing that can happen on a boat so we can’t use real ones. They’re lighter than the real thing though so they’re easy to knock over, sorry about that.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Marinette sighed, sagging back in her chair.

Luka chuckled, kneeling in front of her chair as he set the candle back on the table. “I actually borrowed them from Juleka, she has a huge stockpile since she’s dating the most sappily romantic person on the planet. You wouldn’t believe how long she spent checking out every type of battery powered tea light she could get her hands on to find which one was the most realistic.” He shrugged. “I’m not above benefitting from all her hard work.” 

Marinette giggled, and then sighed. “You went to so much trouble,” she said, looking around. Too much trouble, he could hear her not say.

Luka put his hand on her cheek and brought her gaze back to him, thumb caressing her cheekbone softly. “If I let you spoil me your way, you have to let me spoil you mine, okay?”

Marinette smiled at him with so much affection that his heart skipped and stuttered. “I guess I can’t argue with that.” 

Luka couldn’t help himself; he leaned forward and kissed her softly. She smelled like chocolate as she leaned into him and his fingers tightened around hers. “I’m getting off track here,” he said, forehead pressed against hers, and then kissed her again when she nudged him with her nose. He groaned in weak protest when she let go of his hands to tangle her fingers in his hair, and he kissed her one more time, letting her draw him deeper. When she’d had her way with him he pulled back, taking her hands from around his neck and kissing them both together. “Please let me do this for you.”

“Okay,” she smiled. “Sorry. I’m not trying to ruin your plans.” 

“I promise that’s in my plan too,” Luka chuckled. “But later.” He reached for the table and unwrapped the plate of cookies and snacks that had been waiting there, and pressed the mug of hot chocolate back into her hands. “There’s a blanket by the chair if you get cold. If the wind picks up too much we’ll move to the sunroom, but I prefer it out here if that’s okay.”

“It’s wonderful. This is all so nice,” she sighed, taking a sip. “Mm, that really is good, you’re going to have to tell me what you put in it later.”

He licked his lips as he stood, tasting the chocolate she’d left on his lips, and took a breath, trying to get his head together. “I wanted to play something for you, if that’s okay.”

“Of course it is, I love hearing you play,” Marinette replied, cocking her head slightly in confusion. He played for her all the time, after all.

Luka smiled and went over to the chair he’d set up for himself across from her, uncovering the clarsàch he’d hidden next to it with a flourish. Marinette lit up with understanding and pleasure. He smiled at her as he sat down, glancing behind him briefly as he settled the harp in place. He’d arranged things so that she could see the dark water of the Seine and the glowing pillars of Notre Dame behind him. 

Luka turned his attention to the harp and found to his embarrassment that his hands were shaking slightly. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, centering himself.

“Are you...nervous?” Marinette asked, her voice sounding almost awed. 

“A little,” he admitted, opening his eyes to give her a lopsided smile. “I don’t usually get nerves like this but...this is the first time I’ve played this for anyone, and I really want to get it right.”

“Luka.” The way she said her name gave him shivers, softly and so full of emotion she sounded on the verge of tears, and he knew it didn’t matter how well he played, because she’d already understood and accepted his gift.

He prepared to play his best anyway.

Luka set his now steady fingers to the strings, and played. He glanced up after the first few notes for just a moment, and smiled to himself at the slight crease between her brows. She recognized the song, but hadn’t placed it yet despite the distinctive opening notes. 

Her confusion remained as he played the first verse. I could stay awake just to hear you breathing, watch you smile while you are sleeping, while you’re far away and dreaming…

He glanced up again as he reached the chorus, and caught the dawning recognition, the silent “o” her mouth made as she finally recognized it. He smiled to himself and returned his full attention to his playing.

I don’t wanna close my eyes, I don’t wanna fall asleep cause I’d miss you babe, and I don’t wanna miss a thing

No amp, no speakers, just the soft, intimate sound of the harp connecting the air between them. It wasn’t as perfect, as smooth as it would have been on his guitar, but that was okay. It wasn’t about perfection. 

“Only you would play Aerosmith on a harp,” she giggled. 

“Not true,” Luka said with a smile, setting the harp carefully aside. “I had to get the music from somewhere, after all. I’m not anywhere near ready compose my own arrangements on this thing.” He reached for her hand. “Did you like it?”

“I loved it, it was so beautiful,” she said, all humor in her voice replaced by sincerity. She pulled his hand to her and kissed it. “Thank you, Luka. This has all been so special, I’m truly touched.” 

“You’re welcome, Marinette,” he said warmly, putting his other hand over hers for a moment. Then he let go and picked up his guitar from where he had tucked it behind a crate. He strummed for a moment, and improvised a soft, warm, melting melody. Marinette relaxed back in her chair and nibbled at the plate of snacks, still sipping at her hot chocolate.

He waited until she was distracted and then slipped into the next song he had planned. Marinette looked at him with round eyes, and he grinned at her. “Is that Motzart?” she asked with her mouth full.

Luka chuckled. “Chopin, actually. Nocturne in B-Flat Minor.” 

Marinette swallowed her food and began to laugh. “You’re too much. Aerosmith on the harp and Chopin on electric guitar.” 

“Do you like it?”

“Absolutely,” she sighed, leaning back and closing her eyes as he played. He watched her with a smile on his face as he played. “That was really lovely,” she said wistfully when he finished. “Promise you’ll play it again sometime.”

“Of course, chérie, anytime you want,” he said, slipping into another improvised melody. Marinette looked at him in slight surprise. He’d never called her that before. Luka took a deep breath, stopped playing altogether and sang, “Je pense à toi, mon amour, ma bien aimée, ne m'abandonne pas, mon amour, ma chérie.” I think of you, my love, my beloved, don’t leave me, my love, my dear. Marinette’s eyes opened wide and she stared at him, a flush that wasn’t from the breeze darkening her cheeks. Luka grinned as he picked up the tune with his guitar, playing slower than it was written, and continued, “Quand je suis dans ma lit, je ne rêve qu’à toi, et quand je me réveille, je ne pense qu’à toi…” When I’m in my bed, I dream of nothing but you, and when I wake, I think of nothing but you.

She looked at him like he had two heads during the verse and chorus, and he began to feel a little nervous, but her shock melted into something else as she unconsciously leaned toward him, eyes warm. Encouraged, Luka got up and moved to kneel in front of her, still playing. “Certains t’ont promis la terre, d’autres promettent le ciel, y’en a qui t’ont promis la lune, et moi je n’ai rien que ma pauvre guitare…” Some promise you the earth, others promise you the sky, there are some who promise the moon, and me I have nothing but my poor guitar.

Marinette leaned forward, wrapping her arms around her knees as he sang softly, “Je pense à toi, mon amour, ma bien aimée, ne m'abandonne pas, mon amour, ma chérie.” The final strum faded away, and for a moment they were both motionless, lost in each others’ eyes.

“Now?” Marinette asked breathlessly. 

“Now,” Luka agreed, leaning into her as he set aside the guitar. Marinette threw her arms around him and kissed him so passionately he couldn’t remember his own name until she murmured it against his lips

Luka pulled her up from the chair and sat down on it, tugging her back down to seat her between his legs. She leaned back against him, and he bent down to pick up his guitar from the deck. He put his guitar in front of them both, reaching his long arms around her.

“Can you really play like this?” 

“We’re about to find out,” he chuckled. “You’re pretty small, I think it’ll be okay. Just scoot as close to me as you can.”

She snuggled back against him, and he nuzzled her cheek before testing his reach. It was a little awkward and her hands on his thighs were a little distracting, but he thought he could manage it. “Tell me if you get uncomfortable and we’ll move,” he murmured, and played as she snuggled close against him, leaning her head back on his shoulder. He played the peace of their hearts, the flicker of the candles, the rock of the boat on the river.

Eventually he set the guitar down and reached for the blanket next to the chair instead. He spread the blanket over them both and put his arms around Marinette’s waist. They sat, watching the stars and the lights on the water.

“This is heaven,” he said softly. Marinette giggled and he smiled, knowing what she was thinking. “Kissing you is amazing,” he told her, keeping his voice low. “Every time you touch me I get a thrill I can’t even describe. But this right here, just being quiet with you...I don’t know, it’s special. How often do you even just stop and be quiet at all, Marinette?”

“Pretty much never,” she admitted, keeping her voice soft as well. “Except...except with you.” She said it like it had never occurred to her before. “Thanks for being my quiet place, Luka.” Luka smiled up at the sky.

“Can I take your hair ties out?” he asked after a moment. 

“Hmm? Oh...sure, I guess.” 

Luka carefully pulled the ribbons from her pigtails. Then he ran his fingers through her hair from root to tip. Marinette’s eyes closed and her head tipped back, her lips parted in a quiet gasp. Luka smiled. “I’ve always wanted to do this,” he murmured, running his hands through her hair again. 

“Mmm,” Marinette sighed, melting into him. He chuckled. 

“I’m glad you like it as much as I do.” He kissed her cheek, and then sighed. “I’m going to say something and I swear it’s a compliment, but I’m not sure it’s going to come out right,” he said, a little uncharacteristic shyness in his voice. 

“I’m listening.”

“You make it hard to live in the moment.” He could feel her surprise and she waited for him to explain. “I’m not really the type of person to overthink stuff, you know? Really I probably ought to think of the future more, but I feel like it’s important to appreciate where you are right now. But sometimes with you it’s not as easy as it used to be. I can’t help thinking about all the things I want to do with you someday.” 

“Like, what kinds of things?” Marinette asked dreamily, still leaning into his touch as his fingers continued to move through her hair. 

“Like...doing just what we’re doing now, only out on the open ocean, with all the lights off so we can see the stars. Oh, you’ve never seen the sky until you’ve seen it like that, Marinette. Things like, a spring picnic up in the Alps, where the mountains just surround you and it feels like if you just jumped up in the air you’d be flying. I want you to teach me something I’ve never done before. I want us to learn something new together, something neither of us have ever done before.” He paused. “I just...I want to share things with you and I want you to share things with me.” He cringed slightly, letting his hands slip out of her hair and circle her waist. “Am I getting too heavy?”

“No,” Marinette said shyly. “Or...maybe, but I...tonight I think I like it.”

Luka hesitated. “There’s...one thing I’d kind of like to do that’s a little more achievable in the here and now.”

“Yes?”

“I’d like you to meet my friends. There’s an open mic night next week that a bunch of us were going to go to. Maybe you could come?”

Marinette was silent and he could feel her tense slightly. “Hey,” he said, nudging her temple with his nose. “Don’t go spiraling without me. Talk to me. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“What if they don’t like me?”

Luka chuckled. “What if you don’t like them?” 

“Luka.”

“I’m serious,” he said, squeezing her lightly. “Maybe they won’t like you, maybe you won’t like them. That’s okay if it happens. You don’t have to be friends with everybody. Maybe you’ll like some of them and not others. Whatever happens, it won’t change anything between us. Worst case scenario, I see them at school and when we make plans to hang out, and I keep you all to myself when we’re together, just like we’ve been doing. It’s not some kind of test you have to pass. I don’t think you have to worry too hard about it, though, I think my friends are pretty cool people and they’ll see that you’re amazing. You seem to have a pretty high tolerance for weird, so I think you’ll be able to put up with them.” 

Marinette giggled and relaxed into him. “How are you so perfect?” 

A trickle of cold went down Luka’s spine. “I’m not, Marinette,” he said softly. “If you think I am, then you need to look closer, babe.”

“I know you’re not,” Marinette said seriously. She sat forward and tried to twist so she could see him. Luka pulled her up onto his lap and she leaned on his chest, their eyes nearly level. “You’re self-conscious. You’re not always proactive enough. You don’t always say what you’re thinking because you’re afraid it won’t come out right. You worry about others to the point where you neglect yourself or overwhelm them, you take too much on yourself, and you tend to hide behind your guitar. But those are all just the other side of all the things I love about you. You’re humble, laid back, considerate, empathetic, protective, responsible, and a true artist.”

Luka couldn’t breathe as he stared at her. “Are you okay?” she asked, and he nodded numbly. He reached up to hook his hand behind her neck and pulled her gently to his mouth. She kissed him, and then pulled back to look at him again. “I love you,” she told him, soft but sure. His chest tightened and his breath came short and quick. Luka pulled her back to his trembling lips and kissed her fiercely, aware of tears gathering behind his tightly closed eyelids. He focused on kissing her senseless so she wouldn’t notice when they slipped free. Even so he felt her hands on his face, thumbs wiping them away. “I’m sorry,” she spoke against his lips. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”

“No,” he said between kisses. “No, no, I wouldn’t change a thing. I love you so much.” He sighed, wiping the tears away himself. “Damn, sorry.” 

Marinette bit her lip, then took a shaky breath and sang softly, “Je pense à toi, mon amour, mon bien aimé, ne m'abandonne pas, mon amour, mon chéri.” Luka’s smile threatened to split his face. He already knew she had a sweet voice, but she was shy about singing around him. It was always a treat for him when she loosened up enough to let him hear her.

“Keep going,” he murmured. Marinette sang the line again, and her voice wavered slightly when he joined in with the harmony he hadn’t been able to sing alone, but she held true to her note. “Je pense à toi, mon amour, ma bien aimée, ne m'abandonne pas, mon amour, ma chérie.”

She paused, and he sang the next line for her. Marinette nodded and they sang it together, and this time she held the melody steady as he sang the harmony. “Quand je suis dans ma lit, je ne rêve qu’à toi, et quand je me réveille, je ne pense qu’à toi…” 

Slowly, they sang through the whole song, Luka giving her the line first and then the two of them together .

Luka nudged her nose with his. “Not bad. I think we sound pretty good together.”

Marinette smiled, laying her head down on his shoulder and pressing her face into his neck. “Yeah. I think we do too.”

[ladynuwanda]

The End of the World as We Know It - Part 2 (Michael LangdonXFemale Reader AU)

A/N: I can’t thank you enough for all the feedback I’ve received to the introduction of this story. So now’s when it actually starts to unravel... but I don’t think it works without the first part, so I suggest you click here before reading it 👉 Part 1. Or not. You know. I’m not the boss of you. 😜

Warnings: Same as Part 1, I guess. It’s a Mental Hospital AU, so Mental Health is gonna be mentioned. But I’m doing my very best to keep it light... Don’t be afraid to tell me if you find it triggering in any way.

Word Count: 3,9K

It was an obscenely cold morning for outdoor activities, but I didn’t even have to voice my protests at Doctor Mead, Coco and Gallant were already doing that, loud and clear, enough to compensate for the rest of our little shivering crowd. Nobody seemed happy to be outside except, of course, Dinah Stevens. She was telling the newcomer how very “invigorating” the fresh morning air was and he was listening politely, but probably too cold to reply.

But we definitely could use some distraction from recent events involving Tim and Emily For all the time they had been there, we have been watching over Hawthorne Hospital’s star-crossed lovers. But like the responsible adults we were, we always tried to make sure they weren’t braking any of the hospital’s rules. Specially the ones that were supposed to limit the level of intimacy between patients. You could barely say they were more than teenagers, but if they felt happy in each other’s company or looking doe-eyed at each other from across the room, holding hands under the table or even stealing kisses in remote corners of the halls, we would be glad to pretend to look the other way. They were not hurting anyone, and if this could make their recovery a little easier, who were we to judge? But isn’t it intriguing that they had been the first people Michael Langdon spoke to when he entered Wing 3 and then, only a couple of days later, the young couple had been caught having sex in a broom-closet by a member of the hospital staff? What a funny coincidence.

That’s the kind of thing that made it impossible for me to trust Michael Langdon. I probably shouldn’t blame him for the naughty behaviour of horny teenagers, but I just couldn’t help it. When Doctor Mead announced that we would be playing a game of Dodgeball in that freezing morning, I kinda enjoyed the possibility of hitting that smug perfect face of his with a ball. Accidentally, of course. Mead’s announcement was met with a look of pure dismay shared by nine pairs of eyes under woollen hats, mouths and noses covered by scarves. Not that it would ever be enough to brake Doctor Meads spirits. She said Dodgeball would be perfect to get everybody’s blood flowing, and we would all be feeling a lot warmer in no time.

I knew what she meant. Dodgeball was about self-preservation, team work and fighting back. Everything we lacked. She might actually be right, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that one of my frozen fingers would just fall off, if it got hit the wrong way by the ball. She said the new guy should be captain of one of the teams, and I volunteered to be the other. Easiest way to make sure we’d not be on the same team. “Ladies first”, Michael made a short curtesy and I made a conscious effort to think he was being polite, and not patronising. I wasn’t looking forward to the part where I’d have to choose the players - too many awful school memories - so I just picked Andre first. Not that I actually thought he was going play at all, I just wanted to make him feel included.

I got Andre, Emily and Gallant, Michael’s team had Coco, Tim and Dinah. Since we were now an odd number, Evie would be the referee. I wasn’t sure there even were referees in Dodgeball, but I couldn’t find the energy to question, eight grown-ups playing with balls on a freezing morning in a hospital yard was already weird enough for me. I was so focused on my intent of hitting Michael that I was probably single-handedly responsible for making our team lose. Well, that and the fact that Andre would barely move at all during the game. I felt bad for Gallant and Emily, they were actually taking the game seriously, bless their souls. Michael, on the other hand, didn’t throw the ball in my direction once. He wouldn’t even look at me. Not even when Dinah Stevens wanted so bad to rub their victory in our faces. Like winning that stupid game actually meant something, the insufferable cow.

My dislike for Michael Langdon had started with the Tim and Emily incident, but it was really set in stone during his first session in group therapy. I was trying to grow some sympathy for him back into my heart, when he began his story. I kept looking at the tell-tale bandages around his wrists and felt honestly sorry for him. Until he opened his mouth and stated, in so many words, that he was the son of the Devil. He said he had been born cursed. That his mother and twin brother had died so he could live. His mother’s widowed husband had never accepted the spawn of Satan in his house, so he was raised by his grandmother. I nearly laughed out loud when he got to the part where he had aged ten years overnight, but he was being dead serious. And worse: the others seemed to be buying into it, somehow. You hear a crazy story and you call bullshit, right? But then you see that everyone else is taking those words to their hearts, and looking teary-eyed at the person telling the story, you start wondering who’s really the crazy one in the room...

Doctor Mead was right, in the end, as the game went on we all ended up peeling off some of the layers of wool that covered our bodies. I had stayed a little behind, after the game, gathering my stuff to go back inside, but I couldn’t find my scarf. I looked up and the boy-Devil himself was holding it out for me. I reached out to grab it in a harsh movement, but he wouldn’t let go when I pulled. So I ended up pulling myself towards him by my own force instead, stumbling a little forward, both of us grabbing tightly to the piece of wool. I looked at him properly for the first time in that morning, with an angry frown on my face, and found the blue flames of his eyes blazing on mine.

“You really don’t like me.”, this wasn’t in any way a question, “You are so... angry.”

“Am I that obvious?”, I tried to keep my tone light, unsuccessfully.

“Not to everyone, but I was paying attention.”, he finally let go of my scarf “I know you’re in pain.”

“Well no shit, Sherlock! I have tried to kill myself and now I’m a patient in a mental institution... what makes you think I’m in pain? It’s probably because of your mad satanic powers...”, the painfully sad look on his eyes made me regret my words the moment they left my lips.

“I know how you feel because... I feel it too”, he looked down and bit into his lower lip before he continued, “I can help you. I am not unlike you.”

“Well, I am nothing like you.”, I turned on my heels and walked towards the main building, without looking back. Mostly because I didn’t want him to see the tears that were welling up in my eyes.

To be honest, I had never cried all the time I had been at Hawthorne, and I had no idea why a short interaction with Michael Langdon would make me want to. But even Doctor Venable seemed worried about me, when I was in her office that afternoon. Probably because I refused to sit down and kept pacing around the room, talking about my nemesis.

“It’s just so infuriating! How everyone has decided to humour him on his fantasies... like he can actually be who he says he is!”

“And that really bothers you?”

“Why? Doesn’t it bother you?”

“It doesn’t matter if it bothers me, or not. I’m not the patient. And for that matter, while we’re having our sessions in here, neither is him. You’re my only concern while your in therapy.”

There was a certain kindness to the way she said those words, but I still had to turn away and look out the window to hide my embarrassment. Doctor Venable was right. I should be using our time together to heal myself, and I had just spent almost half an hour talking about somebody else. She got up from her armchair and I heard her footsteps punctuated by the sound of her cane on the floor as she walked towards me.

“All the time you have been here, you’ve been my most cooperating patient, you’ve always been so committed to your treatment, and I thought we were making great progress...”

“I am committed to my treatment!”

“... the stories Michael Langdon tells are his way of coping with his own life story. The question is: how do you cope with your story?”

I had to think about it for a moment before responding “I don’t think I do...”, I said it in my smallest voice.

“Maybe that’s what bothers you so much about him. The way I see it, if he can make you this agitated just by being around you, it’s probably because you have something to learn from him...”

“Doctor Venable, I don’t wanna be a bitch... but what could I possibly learn from a guy that says the world is about to end, and that he’s here to lead the few chosen ones to safety?”

“Who’s to say he’s wrong? The end of the world doesn’t have to be something as dramatic as a literal nuclear blast, it can be anything! The point is: every end marks a new beginning... some things have to die for others to exist. This end could be just the breaking of a cycle, it could be freedom... but is it really the end that you fear, or whatever may come next?”

I left Venable’s office feeling slightly dizzy. I wanted nothing more than to go to my room and lay down for a while, to process everything my therapist had said. It was certainly a lot to take in, all at once. But as I passed the common room I saw that all the patients in Wing 3 were gathered around the sofa on one corner, with a few of the nurses. Michael had one arm around Gallant’s shoulder, while Gallant was resting his head in one of Michael’s. As approached the sofa, I heard the soft tones of Michael’s voice, as he leaned his face against the top of Gallant’s head, “She died peacefully in her sleep... she’s in a better place now, she’s free.”

I saw that Nurse Mallory was sitting on the sofa, with Coco kneeling on the floor beside her, Coco’s head resting on Mallory’s lap while silent tears fell from my fellow patient’s eyes. So, Evie. Evie was gone. Dinah was holding the hand of an indifferent Andre, and Tim and Emily were crying in each other’s arms, unashamed to be so open in front of everyone else. And it’s not like someone would have the heart to break them apart in that moment, either. Mallory looked at me, still gently running her fingers through Coco’s hair, and I saw there were unshed tears in the nurse’s eyes as well. She didn’t say a word, but the look she gave me spoke clearly enough: She was inviting me to join the mourning crowd. I froze in place for a second, merely shaking my head and mouthing “I can’t” at Mallory, and I left the common room as fast as I could without actually running.

I sought refuge in the “Arts and Crafts” room, a place I had avoided like the plague, so far. There were drawing and painting supplies in there, a typing machine and a piano. And also an entire wall covered by a mirror, where we were encouraged to dance until we were too exhausted to think about our problems, or until the exercise had given us enough endorphins so the problems wouldn’t seem so serious anymore. Whatever happened first. I kneeled on the floor and cried like I never had before. I let the tears roll down my cheeks freely, never bothering to wipe them away and howled the pain out of me like I was some wounded animal. I cried for Evie’s parting. I cried for Gallant and Coco, that were going to miss her the most. But I also cried for me. For what my life had become, for hurting my family and friends by trying to end my own life. For not being able to. For not believing I would ever feel well again. I just cried, until I saw my own glistening eyes in the mirror.

Taking slow deep breaths, I stood up and gave a long, good look at the girl staring back at me through the looking glass. It was something I hadn’t actually done, since “the incident”. I’d take quick glances in the bathroom mirror when I was brushing my teeth, or washing my face, but I would never really, properly look at myself. So that’s what I did now. The girl in the mirror was pale, like someone who hasn’t seen the sun in years, and had dark circles around her eyes. She was skinnier than I remembered, and not in a good way. But it was the utter sadness in her eyes that really worried me. She looked like she was never going to be able to feel hope again. But I remembered how fiercely she had fought to stay alive, when I tried to destroy her body. She had fought back whatever was trying to end her, and she defeated it. She was so strong! I had underestimated her so much...

I took my woollen hat off and let my hair down. Everyday I’d wash my hair in the shower and comb it afterwards, I didn’t want to be one of those depressed people with dirty, tangled hair. But then I’d just cover it with a hat, so I wouldn’t have to think about it again. Now it was no surprise that it would fall a little flat, looking thin and neglected. I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to style it in way that wouldn’t be completely awful to my own eyes. The common room radio played in the arts & crafts room as well. Even though the speakers were off over there, in a sign of respect for Evie’s passing, somebody had forgotten to turn them off in here, and I heard the guitar intro to the song Time in a Bottle begin to play.

I moved my body ever so slightly to the irresistible melody. It was such a sweet song. I thought about the days when dancing was my entire life, when I had the dream of being a professional ballerina. I thought about the little girl that I was, giving everything she’d got in those ballet lessons, how happy she was before the illness that killed all the joy from her life. And I danced for her, for all her hopes and dreams. I simply moved my body to the song, waiting for my feet to remember the moves by themselves. I closed my eyes and just let go, moving around with nothing specific in mind, just feeling the music, the familiar soft impact of my feet on the floor. My muscles remembered, and they’re were happy to be dancing again. I was happy.

As the final chords of the song played I opened my eyes, and the girl in the mirror looked a lot better than before. I was relieved to notice she had flushed cheeks and a slight smile on her lips, but I was terrified to see a tall, blonde figure standing by the door. He started to apologise hastily the moment my eyes found his on the mirror “Please don’t be mad! I just wanted to see if you were ok. And then... you looked so blissful while you were dancing, I didn’t want to disturb you”, Michael Langdon’s words sounded sincere, but I still felt like he had walked in on me while I was in the shower.

“And you had to sneak around silently, like a snake?”

“In my defense, I don’t think you would have noticed me, even if I had stomped into the room like an elephant...” he chuckled a little shyly, walking in my direction.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed the show, at least...”, I really hoped he would just drop dead, he had no business being there, why couldn’t he just get hit by a lightning.

“To be honest, I think you were moving a little too fast for that song.”

“Excuse me???”, the absolute nerve on this guy!

“Nothing that would ruin the general picture, tho...”, he smirked standing in front of me.

“Well, I had no idea I was being judged by a specialist...”

“Not quite so, but my grandma loves jazz... she would teach me a few moves when she was in her good days”, I just stared at him at those words, one eyebrow raised in suspicion, and he continued “fine! She liked to dance when she was drunk, since there was no one else in the house to dance with her, she thought me a little as soon as she thought I was tall enough... satisfied?”

“That I can believe.”, he took one of my hands and held it to his chest, above his heart.

“You feel the song with your heart, and you dance following its beating...”, he gently tapped the long fingers of the hand that held mine on the back if my hand, following his own heartbeats.

That was the most intimate moment I had shared with anyone inside the hospital. I can’t remember the last time I had been close enough, and silent enough, to someone so I could just feel their heartbeats. My own heart felt like it was beating hard against my throat, and I could almost feel tears stinging my eyes again, but I couldn’t look away from him. Michael Langdon’s silvery blue eyes were sweet and warm, and I had no choice but to stand there, my palm on his chest, feeling his heart beating steadily. I realised that his heart had also fought hard for the right to keep on beating. And it did so now, strong and proud under my palm.

“We can draw a square on the floor with our feet, moving clockwise and starting right... your right, not mine: Because women are always right.”

“Your grandmother?”, I laughed for the first time in what felt like ages.

“She heard it from a jazz singer in a bar, when she was a teenager...”, he laughed back at me.

I knew the song that was playing now, it was called Devil’s Playground, by The Rigs, and I thought it was ironically appropriate. Michael never let go of my hand on his chest, but placed the other one on the small of my back, while I rested my free hand on his shoulder, and we started moving as he had said. He really was a good dance partner, his grandma had thought him well. He lead me around the room with smooth and sure steps, his sweet eyes on mine all the time.

Come, if you're curious to see

Pull the tricks out of my sleeve

All you find is yours to keep

Brave, are you brave enough to meet

The desires that you seek

Hold my hand, I'll set you free

As the song went on, our steps grew softer and smaller, until we were barely moving our feet at all. He pulled me a little closer and rested his cheek gently on mine, while our bodies slowly swayed together. After everything that’s happened to me, I‘d had the feeling that I would just crumble to dust if someone ever touched me again, but the skin-on-skin contact of his cheek on mine seemed to be the only thing anchoring me to the world right now. His body was so close, it felt so good, so safe. His warm embrace made me feel alive again. I had already forgotten what it felt like, the proximity of another human-being. He was so real, so alive, it was almost overwhelming. The earthly scent of his body was so human, I had no idea how much I had missed that until that moment. It was only then, when it was melting away inside Michael’s embrace, that I noticed how I had encased my heart in ice all this time. But it was gone, now. The ice never stood a chance to the gentle grip of his hand on mine, his firm hand on my back, the smooth touch of his cheek. I found myself running the fingers of my free hand through the silky stray hairs on the back of his neck, that had come loose from the knot he wore, and I felt his breath hitching on his throat at my touch.

Come, pull up your throne and sit

Where good and bad cease to exist

Here your command is our wish

Feast on the fruit of every tree

You can bathe in every dream

These chains of freedom are yours to keep

It happened so naturally, none of us would ever be able to tell who started it, but Michael and I were soon lost in each other’s lips. It was a kiss that felt as old as time, like it had been happening since the beginning of the world. But his tongue tasted like all things new, like being reborn. The fire I felt burning inside my chest made me wonder if I had ever really been alive before this moment. And the hunger on his hands and his tongue told me that he felt the same.

I felt my back being slammed against something flat and hard, but I couldn’t find it in me to care. The only thing I cared about was the weight of Michael’s body pinning me against the wall. His hands sliding down my thighs, catching me behind the knees and lifting me up from the ground. He pressed his body on mine even harder, grinding his hips for friction, moaning softly with desire. I felt a hardness against my core and we both whimpered lightly into each other’s mouths, breaking the kiss.

He pulled away a little, still holding me firmly against the wall, and rested his forehead on mine, both of us breathing hard. “We can’t do this.”, his voice was just a pained whisper, but it was enough to break the spell. He let my legs back down slowly, and didn’t remove his hands from my thighs until I was standing firmly on my own two feet. With a gentle hand on the back of my head, he kissed my forehead, and left the room without looking at me again. Leaving me there all alone, feeling colder and emptier than I’d ever felt.

Welcome to the devil's playground

You can tread where demons play

It's your Candyland where dreamers dance

And I promise that it's safe

Welcome to the devil's playground

You can look and you can touch

It's a real fine day at the black parade

And I swear it won't cost much

Taglist: @alexcornerblog @are-you-lilith-or-eve @ccodyfern @coloursunlimited @echo-nohar @henrycavillstalkingmustache @langdonsdemon @lathraios @michael-langdon-appreciation @mollymcbutter99 @mytrash-mylife @puppy5474 @queen-of-quotes @tsuukichan @wheredoiwhaaat25 (If anyone else wants in, just let me know... It will be my absolute pleasure to add you! ❤️)

[andremarshallwhite]

COMPANION MEME! | mods used at the bottom

i saw @life-is-no-sugarlicking do this and it looked so fun!

Tagging: @eisenhexa and whoever else wants to! <3

NAME: Andre White

LOCATION: 

Sitting by himself at a table in the Dugout Inn, smoking a cigarette or drinking a bottle of whiskey.

COMPANION PERK:

“Sharpshooter”. Criticals are 25% more likely while aiming or with VATS and the chance to decapitate raises 10%.

WEAPON OF CHOICE:

A highly modified sniper rifle. The only way to get it/one like it is if you kill him before meeting him or when he makes you one at the final affinity talk, called “Marie’s Wings” with a legendary effect of +2 to your Perception.

I THINK WE SHOULD TRAVEL TOGETHER:

first meeting → “Me? Huh. Long as you got some cigarettes and don't stab me in the back, I'm in.”

highest affinity → [smiles] “You got it.”

USE MELEE:

“You're fucking kidding me, right? I'm a sniper. Jesus.”

“Right. I’m going to assume it’s because the prosthetic leg just completely slipped your mind.”

USE RANGED:

“Now we're talkin'.”

OPEN INVENTORY:

“*sighs* Just don't touch my cigarettes, okay?”

“I'm not your lacky, y'know.”

“What d'you need?”

STAY CLOSE:

“No shit? I was planning on walking right up to the bastard!”

“Did you hear something?”

“On it.”

KEEP DISTANCE:

“It's what I'm best at.”

“Not a problem.”

STEALTH:

“Sweet, I'll be harder to see.”

BACK UP:

“You gonna tell me why?”

“Hmph.”

BE PASSIVE:

[laughs] “That's like asking Strong to be gentle. Nice one.”

AGGRESSIVE:

“I've got enough anger issues, no thanks.”

“Well, I was looking for a moment to let all this out...”

USE STIMPAK:

[deep intake of breath] “Shit. Thanks.”

“I needed that, thanks. Couldn't feel my leg there for a minute. Get it? Haha!”

“I hate how those things feel, Jesus.”

WAIT HERE:

[sighs] “Hurry up, okay?”

“And what, read a book? ...Actually? That sounds nice.”

“You know where I'll be. Provided you don't forget, of course.”

FOLLOW ME:

low affinity → “'Bout time. I can only read the same four intact books so many times.”

high affinity → [smiles] “You're back. Did you need my help? We better get going, then.”

DISMISSED:

low affinity → “Okay.”

high affinity → [concerned] “Just... don't get yourself killed out there okay? I'll raise hell if anyone hurts you.”

SEND HIM HOME (FOLLOWER BASE):

“Well, it's better than a dingy old bar.”

ENEMIES (LONG RANGE - OR COMPLIMENTS ON PLAYER CHARACTER’S CONFIRMED KILL USING A SNIPER RIFLE ON LONG RANGED TARGET)

“Hell yeah! Just like I taught ya!”

“Oof. Looked like it hurt. Good.”

“Bye, bastard.”

“Headshot!”

ENEMIES (CLOSE RANGE)

“Personal bubble, asshole!”

“I haven't been in a moshpit in years and I wouldn't want to be in one with you!”

“This really isn’t good for my leg!”

ROMANCEABLE:

Yes.

ROMANCE LINES:

“Y’know, this is probably the first time I didn’t have to overthink. Thank you.”

“This is the closest I’ve ever let someone in and I’m so fucking glad I did.”

“I never imagined myself in this kind of relationship with someone after what happened to Lily, but I guess the world works in strange ways.”

“Wanna get out of here?” [fond voice, winks]

LOVERS EMBRACE LINES:

“Mm, good morning.”

“This is a good look on you.”

“Do we have to get up yet?”

“Get back down here, I want breakfast in bed...”

AGGRESSION: aggressive/not aggressive/very aggressive/frenzied

CONFIDENCE:cowardly/cautious/average/brave/foolhardy

ASSISTANCE: helps nobody/helps allies/helps friends and allies

mods ↓

azar’s ponytails | treym’s film looks - khaki | fo4 piercings | tactical flashlights | smokeable cigars and cigarettes | tats and scars (i wouldn’t personally pick these tattoos specifically for andre but i’m limited on xb1 for tattoos soo...) | holstered weapons | cross_chosen_of_atom (colored differently) | hairspray

[munofsilver]

One Night Chapter 3

Still working on this. I have time since I injured my ankle and can’t walk much. You can read on my Ao3. Leave comments and kudos, please. Summary: It seems Chloe and Nathaniel won't be able to tell Chloe's parents about the baby the way they wanted too.  

Eight in the morning, and Chloe is still sleeping. Her father has a meeting at ten. If she wants to talk to him before, then she needs to get up soon. If it weren’t for the promise Chloe made to Nathaniel, the not a morning person that is Chloe would still be in bed dead asleep.

“Stupid artist wannabe, making me get up this frickin early,” she grumbles getting out of bed. “I doubt mother would even care that I’m pregnant.”

Chloe gets dress, take the curlers out of her hair, and brushes it. Then she ties her hair back into a high ponytail like always. Next is makeup and then meet with daddy. Checking the time it’s now nine.

The mayor is in his office getting ready for his meeting when he hears a knock on the door. Looking at his watch. It’s five after nine. “Come in!”

Chloe opens the door, surprising her father. Chloe never knocks, but today she did. Now Mayor Beourise is confused. “Chloe, dear, what brings you here? Do you want to sit in during the meeting like you used when you were younger?”  

“Do you know when mom will be back in Paris?”

Andre checks his schedule. “It seems not for another seven months.”

Chloe knows that won’t work. She’s already three months in, and seven months from now the baby would already be born. It looks like the phone is the only way to tell her. “Thank you, daddy. Let’s have dinner tomorrow night. I’m going to bring a friend,” she smiles.

“How does eight sound?” Still looking at his schedule.

“That sounds fine to me,” Chloe leaves the room and calls Nathaniel.

Nathaniel is an early riser. He likes to be up before the sun or with the sun. More time to work on projects, homework, or just plan study. Right now at 9:30 am he already had breakfast and is working on some commission. One of the ways he helps show off his talent. When the phone goes off.

Hoping it’s Chloe with some good news about her mother, the energetic artist nearly falls out of his chair as he grabs his phone. “Hello, Chloe!” You can hear the excitement in his voice.

“It looks like the only way to tell my mother is over the phone. She is not going to be in Paris until after the baby is born,” Chloe sighs.

Nathaniel himself is also feeling a little down by this. He wants to share the news with Chloe’s parents as soon as possible, in person. If by phone the only way, then that’s the way it has to be.

“We’re having dinner with daddy tomorrow night at eight. We’ll tell him then,” Chloe yawns.

“What about your mother?”

Chloe ends the call. Nathaniel starts at his phone for a minute, wondering if he should call her back. Good thing his day is clear of work tomorrow. Nathaniel calls Chloe.

“What?” Chloe yawns again.

The tired blonde was hoping she could go back to bed. “Sorry to bother you. Do you want me to meet you at the hotel for dinner?”

“We are going to have dinner at the restaurant in the hotel,” Chloe sounds mad.

Nathaniel being the way he is, always caring about others is a concern, “Is everything alright?”

“You care about me now because I’m carrying your child?” Chloe sounds mad and hurt.

“Chloe I would be worried about you right now no matter what. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, just tired. I’m not a morning pers….”

The sound of coughing and odd gross sounds means morning sickness is saying hello to poor Chloe. Nathaniel just puts his phone down until he hears Chloe complaining, “Stupid fucking pregnancy. I’m going to kill the man that did this to me.”

Chloe sees her phone on the floor. She remembers Nathaniel was on the other line. Picking up the phone, she hears, “If that’s the case, I feel bad for the man.”

Now embarrassed, Chloe starts to blush. “You heard that. You know I didn’t mean it.”

Nathaniel laughs, “I know. Everything is fine?”

“Yeah, all is fine. Thanks for asking,” Chloe ends the call.

Chloe tosses her phone away from her. It lands safely on the carpet floor. Not that she cares, if need be daddy can buy her another phone. Now it comes to her, Chloe has to think of what to say to her father. What if he gets mad and cuts her off? How will I raise the baby? If he cuts me off, then I’ll have to get a job.

The thought of getting a job scares Chloe. She never had to work a day in her life. She never did her own homework. Not thinking about her future, she not even going to University. “What kind of an example will I be to my child?”  

A crying Chloe never left her room that day. At night around seven, she gets a call. Chloe now a bit over her freak out this morning answers the call. “Hello,” her voice is raspy due to her dry throat.

“Chloe, you sound ill. Are you alright?” Nathaniel sounds worried.

“Why are you calling me again?” Chloe whines then she heads to the bathroom to get a glass of water. “First answer my question, please.”

Chloe takes a sip of water, ignoring Nathaniel. “Why are you calling me again?” Chloe repeats.

When nothing was said, Chloe finally gives in. “I’m fine. My mouth was dry cause of all the crying I’ve been doing.”

Then she slaps her hand over her mouth. ‘Why did I say that?’ Chloe is hoping Nathaniel wouldn’t freak out. What she got instead was something she wasn’t expecting. Nothing, she heard nothing from Nathaniel, she was about to say something when there was a knock on her door. Keeping her phone near her ear in case he still there, Chloe doesn’t even get up just yells, “It’s open!”

A certain redhead burst into the room, rushing right to Chloe, and kneeling beside her. “Chloe, what’s wrong? Why were you crying?” Nathaniel is out of breath and looking scared.

“Why are you here?” Chloe stands up.

Nathaniel stands up with her and moves closer. “Why don’t you like answering my questions?”

Chloe sighs, “I was crying because I was freaking about telling my father about the baby. I mean what if he won’t love me any more or kick me out?”

Chloe starts to cry again, as Nathaniel pulls her into a hug. He starts rubbing the back of her head. “Don’t worry, your father won’t stop loving you or kick you out. He might not like the thought of you being pregnant without a husband. I’m sure your father will help you out as much as he can.”

Chole was about to hug him in return but pushes him away instead. “You are your need to get close to me got us into this,” she roars.

Nathaniel only sighs. He was about to say something but decides not to. He starts to head towards the door. Chloe grabs his arm, “Why are you leaving?”

“I’m not going to stand here while you blame me for everything,” Nathaniel doesn’t look at her, but he does stop walking.

“You did get me pregnant,” Chloe defends herself and tighten her grip on Nathaniel’s arm.

“That is true. I should never have done that with you while you were drunk, and I’m sorry. You still shouldn’t blame me for everything that happened. We share responsibility,” Nathaniel turns, showing Chloe his glare.

That made her release his arm and took a few steps back. No one has ever disagreed or stood up to her. Back in college, he would hide in the corner when Chloe would yell at him. She tries to talk, but only mumbling comes out. Taking a seat on the chair, Chloe uses when she’s getting a pedicure.

“I….I’m sorry. I don’t think it’s all your fault,” Chloe whispers as she brings her legs up and wrapping her arms around them while placing her head onto her knees. “I just don’t know who to blame.”

Nathaniel releases his glare and sits down next to Chloe. He wraps his arms around her once again. “You don’t need to blame anyone. No one is at fault here. Unless you think being pregnant is a problem.”

“I never thought of having kids. Mostly because I never thought anyone would want to have kids with me. I don’t think me being pregnant is an issue. I just wish I got pregnant in a more normal way,” Chloe leans closer to Nathaniel.

“To be honest, this could count as a normal way for those that aren’t married. I do understand what you’re saying. I do agree. I always dreamed of getting married and having kids. Life is never a sure thing, always changing, always giving you surprises. Sometimes good, but not in a way you want.”

Chloe wipes away her tears. “When did you get so smart?”

Nathaniel laughs and kisses the top of her head. “I always have been smart. You just never noticed.”

Chloe also laughs then she stops and pushes him away again. “Why did you kiss me?”

Nathaniel shock by what he did stands up. “Sorry. It felt right for some reason. You seem fine, so I’m going home now,” he rushes out the door like someone trying to steal his car. Chloe goes and closes the door, Nathaniel left open when he exited. She knows Nathaniel wanted to ask her something when he called. Calling him now may not be the best thing to do; instead, she just sends him a text.

Nathaniel was running down the stairs. Forgetting there was an elevator. After running down three flights of stairs, he stops the leaves the stairway and takes the elevator the rest of the way down. While waiting the shocked man tries to clear his head. “Why did I kiss her?” He mumbled whisper.

He sighs when the elevator doors open. Stepping inside he’s glad no one is inside. “I did enjoy holding her in my arms,” Nathaniel smiles.

Then he shakes his head so hard he felt a little dizzy. “I think there is something wrong with me.  No, I just want Chloe to be happy because she’s carrying my child, that’s all,” he told himself but didn’t believe it.

He never saw Chloe as anything other than a self-centered bully. Until today seeing her cry like that hugging her knees, he felt something. It wasn’t guilt, maybe sympathy. That has to be it. Again Nathaniel doesn’t believe it. He will admit Chloe did overreach it’s not like he kissed her lips. Nathaniel sighs as the elevator doors open. He reaches the lobby and leaves.

Both Chloe and Nathaniel keep thinking about the kiss. Chloe will never tell anyone that she liked it. Nathaniel also liked it, and it was driving him crazy. Why did he do it? What was that feeling? “Wait a minute I never asked her that one thing,” Nathaniel realized as he was brushing his teeth.

With quick spit and rinse, he dashes towards his phone. He noticed a texted from Chloe. Scared, he stares at his phone like it’s going to attack soon. He opens the texted.

Chloe: I know you wanted to ask me something. Since you ran off like a dog with its tail between its legs. Text or call me when you want to talk.

Nathaniel thinks for a minute. First, he changed Chloe’s info on his phone then respond to the texted.

While laying in bed trying to sleep, Chloe is staring at the ceiling with the lights on. Her phone pings and she checks the time. Ten at night. She goes back to looking at the ceiling, then she jumps up. “It might be Nathaniel,” she cheers. “It better be he’s the reason I’m unable to sleep.”

Soulless: I just wanted to know if I should wear a suit for dinner with your father.

Chloe changes Nathaniel’s name on her phone. It was stupid to have him named soulless on her phone. It’s not like he’s ginger just a redhead. Then she returned his text. Princess: Cancel all your plans tomorrow. I’ll be over at nine in the morning. Have breakfast ready. No coffee for me, bring milk.

Nathaniel sighs then he texted her back.

Tomato: I have class. Princess: Skip.

Nathaniel thinks he only has one class and it’s a writing class he took as an elective. Missing one day couldn’t hurt. Besides, he can always ask Nino what he missed. He does need to pick up his paycheck.

Tomato: There is something I have to do before five. Princess: I’ll find a way to work in it. I want pancakes for breakfast. Tomato: With syrup, I’m guessing. Princess: Maple. Tomato: Fine. Princess: Thank you.      

Nathaniel blinks and rereads the message. “She did say it.” Nathaniel sends a text to Nino.

Artistdude: I won’t be able to make it to class tomorrow. Can you tell me what I missed and all that? DJD: NP dude. Are you okay? Artistdude: I’m fine just unable to make it. DJD: Kay.

Nathaniel sets a new time for his morning alarm. Then makes sure he has everything ’that’s needed for breakfast with Chloe. Since she doesn’t want coffee, it doesn’t really matter that he’s running low right now. Just adds it to the list and heads into the shower. Nathaniel wakes up at eight instead of his usual nine.

Five to eight Nathaniel wakes up. He turns off his alarm, gets dressed, makes his bed, then gets started on breakfast. First, he sets the table, that took about twenty minutes because he keeps rearranging the chairs. At first, they were next to each other. Then he moved one on the other side of the table, so they are across from each other.

Then he moved, so they are next to each other but not on the same side. One that never moved is still on the side towards the living room while the other one is slight to the left of the circle table. Then he moved the chair to the right side, back across and left it there. He still has to finish setting the table and make breakfast.

With the table finally set, he starts to make some pancakes. Not sure how much to make, he only makes about two each. If need be, he can always make more. Once the pancakes were done, he places two on a plate and a jug of maple syrup in the middle of the table where both can reach. A glass of milk for Chloe while Nathaniel makes himself some coffee.

He heard his doorbell when he was putting the milk away. Dashing towards the door, Nathaniel almost trips over some boxes. Unlocking the door, Nathaniel takes a step back as Chloe opens the door. She’s wearing sunglasses and a big hat like her mother. “Good morning, Chloe,” Nathaniel says as he closes the door.

Chloe looks around his place. She never got a good view when she was last at Nathaniel’s apartment. The smell of food leads her to the kitchen. All the way there she keeps going, “Hmmm.”

Once she sees the table all set up, she smiles as the yummy smells make her mouth water. Nathaniel pulls a chair out for her as Chloe takes her seat. Nathaniel sits across from Chloe. After one bite, Chloe notices these pancakes are nothing like the ones she used to have. For one thing, the syrup tasted cheap, the pancakes have something inside them. Something that made the pancakes tasted better. Before she knew it, she ate all on her plate.

Nathaniel was impressed by the way she ate. He sees her being too kind that would take forever to eat. Then again Nathaniel never thought princess of Paris would eat typical food like pancakes. That’s why he put some blueberries in with the batter. At first, Nathaniel thought against it, but it seems Chloe loved/liked it.

“Those were good. I never had pancakes like that before,” Chloe said after wiping off her mouth.

“You never had blueberry pancakes before?” Nathaniel was shocked by that.

He always thought Chloe ate nothing but fine fancy foods like pancakes with fruits in them. With breakfast done, Nathaniel clears the table while Chloe shows herself around his tiny apartment. Looking at it without being drunk or in a hurry to get out, Chloe is glad Nathaniel is going to move in with her. “Why are you here, Chloe?” Nathaniel finally asked.

“Do you have a suit?” Chloe asked, trying to remember which door leads to the bedroom and not the bathroom. She has no need to enter that room at the moment.

“I only have one,” Nathaniel answered.

Chloe looks over her shoulder at him before she ordered, “Show me.”

[missnight0wl]

Shattered

Summary: Ben is going through the hardest times and Charlie is the best friend you can wish for.

Inspired by their lines during DADA classes.

Words: 1560

1988

After the events of year four, Ben Copper was shattered. The last days of school he spent hiding from his friends, although, he wasn’t sure if he could still call them that. He felt too ashamed of what he had done, too scared. He was especially avoiding her, one of few people who had shown him true kindness over the years. Luckily, she was in another House. It was way harder to escape from his roommate.

Ben was getting up very early in the morning when all the students were still asleep. He was leaving classrooms possibly quickly to wander around the castle by himself, just to not have to talk to anyone. Nobody actually tried, really, except for Charlie. He made an attempt to start a conversation a couple of times, but there was always someone to interrupt them. It changed only on the train back home. Ben was sitting in an empty compartment when suddenly the door opened.

“Can I join you?” asked Charlie. “Just for a moment,” he added quickly.

“I’d really rather not, to be honest…”

But he didn’t listen. He closed the door behind him and sat in front of Ben. He appeared very determined. And worried.

“Look, Benny,” he started calmly but firmly. “I want you to know that I don’t blame you for what happened in the Courtyard. I want to help you. If you’d like to talk with me…”

“I’m not ready,” interrupted Ben. “I’m sorry…”

“All right.” He looked at his friend in silence for a while, despite him avoiding any eye contact. “Just promise me,” he said finally, “that you let me know when you’re ready. Send me an owl, anything.”

Ben knew Charlie wouldn’t go otherwise, so he gave the nod. It wasn’t the most satisfying answer, but it had to do. The redhead was about to leave when he turned around one more time.

“She doesn’t blame you either, you know.”

Well, she probably should.

It didn’t get any easier during summer. It was unlikely that someone would want to make Ben hurt his parents, but there was a tiny possibility, and it was enough. Mr and Mrs Copper didn’t know what happened to their son, they didn’t know much about his school at all. Not because they didn’t care; Ben had simply decided it’s better that way. They were so happy when he got his letter from Hogwarts, especially his mum. How could he break their illusion of the magical world? How could he tell them that he was usually afraid of everything? That he almost killed someone because he was controlled by the dark force? No, there’s no need to worry them. They had gone through enough therapies already when he was a kid.

At the same time, his insomnia became a lot worse. He had gotten pretty good at pretending at home, but he was more and more tired, and it was hard to focus on anything. He was almost glad when it was time to go back to the platform nine and three-quarters. At least, he wouldn’t have to be troubled about parents anymore.  

It was Barnaby this time who found him and dragged him to the Hogwarts Express where they joined Penny, Tonks, Tulip, and Andre. Everybody tried to act normal, talking about their holidays, and while Ben appreciated it, he didn’t speak much himself. He wasn’t a very talkative person in general, so it probably didn’t seem odd. He even survived the Welcoming Feast somehow, and the first night. It wasn’t so well on the second…

For some reason, his anxiety came back with even more power. Not that he slept before, but now he was terrified of losing his consciousness even for a moment. He decided it’d be easier to stay awake if he sat on the floor; he didn’t want to be too comfortable. Just as he was looking into the darkness, a silent sob came out of him.

“Ben?” he heard Charlie’s whisper.

There was some rustle after that, and a moment later, Weasley appeared next to him, holding his lit wand.

“Bloody hell, I forgot to take my dragon slippers…” he muttered. “Can’t sleep too, mate?”

He sat next to him, curling his bare feet. It was just the beginning of September, but the floor was always rather cold in the castle.

“It’s going to be a pretty stressful year,” he continued in a low voice, not waiting for an answer. “I’m starting to understand Bill’s complaints.”

Ben smiled weakly. It must’ve been nice to have such insight from your sibling.

“Hey, I was thinking,” spoke Charlie. “Could you help me with that spell from today’s class? I don’t really get it.”

“Like now?” asked Ben surprised.

“No, not necessary,” he chuckled. “But maybe tomorrow?”

Ben nodded. Helping his friends with Charms was actually something he felt good about.

“Remember when I had problems with Engorio?” Charlie leaned on the frame of the bed, trying to find the right position. “We were practising the whole weekend…”

“On the sweets sent by my mum,” added Ben. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Y’know, now that I think about it, it had to be quite bad spells, after all, at least mine. That chocolate tasted awful.”

“Maybe it’s just not to your liking?”

“No way, I’ve eaten it in normal size too, and it’s delicious.” Just a memory of it brought a grin on his face. “I don’t know, maybe it works only on butterbeer.”

They both laughed. The snoring coming from Jae Kim’s side of the room stopped suddenly, so they hushed each other, but apparently, their roommate just turned on the other side. It was really hard to wake that one up.

“I’m sorry, Charlie. For what happened.”

“I’ve told you it’s fine. It wasn’t your fault.” He seemed genuine, there wasn’t the slightest sign of resentment in his voice. “Should we try to get some sleep?”

Ben agreed, only because he felt bad about Charlie staying up with him. The next day around midnight, however, he decided to evacuate to the Common Room instead, to not draw anyone’s attention. By some means, Gryffindor prefect followed shortly after him.

“Are you avoiding me again, Ben?”

“No,” he lied. “I just didn’t want to wake you…”

Charlie gave him a disapproving look but didn’t comment. He sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace, so Ben had no choice but to take place next to him. For someone as easy-going as Charlie, he could be surprisingly stubborn.

They were talking a lot that night, and the next ones as well. It became kind of their habit: when Ben couldn’t lie on the bed anymore, he was going down to the Common Room, and Charlie was joining him moments later. They didn’t really settle it, it just happened. At first, it was mostly Charlie who was carrying on the conversation. He shared his concerns about handling his responsibilities: being a prefect, playing Quidditch, and of course, studying for O.W.L.s. He admitted how worried he was that his future as a dragonologist, his biggest dream, depends on those exams. He tried to not talk about dragons themselves to not make his friend nervous. It turned out that Ben didn’t really know how to approach that big test ahead of them because he hadn’t figure out what to do after graduation – so they were wondering about it together. The next day, Ben joined the Astronomy Club.  

Shortly after the start of the year, Penny’s sister got trapped in the portrait. They both were anxious about this situation, and they wanted to help. Nevertheless, Charlie was trying to focus on more positive things during their little sessions. He was describing how it is to grow up in the wizarding family and how fun it could be. He told about their magical family clock, proving that everybody is trying to take control over their fears somehow and there’s nothing wrong about it.

He also asked Ben a lot about his muggle childhood. He listened very carefully so he could repeat it later to his father. They agreed to finally visit each other in summer.

One night, when Charlie was going down the stairs, he heard some voices. It was his older brother talking with Ben. Bill must’ve been studying to his N.E.W.T.s.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, Bill.”

“Wow, you look terrible, Charlie,” he greeted him lovingly. “Go back to bed.”

“No, I can stay with you two,” younger Weasley protested.

“Bill is right,” joined Ben, a bit more strongly than normal. “You need to rest.”

“McGonagall will be pissed off if we lose the next game,” pointed out the Head Boy.

Charlie wanted to say something on that, but Bill’s face told him there’s no point to argue. And he was in fact quite tired.

“Are you sure…?” he asked, for formality sakes.

“Yeah, I will take care of Benny.”

The following day Charlie was well-rested, but he also felt guilty. Going to bed, he promised himself that he wouldn’t leave Ben again. So when he woke up later than usual, he panicked. He jumped off his place and was about to leave when he noticed that Copper’s bed wasn’t empty. Ben was lying in there, and it looked like he was sleeping soundly.

Charlie smiled to himself. Maybe everything will work out eventually.

[unbefuckinglieveable]

Holific #2 - theresneverenoughfandoms

(( The next one is for @theresneverenoughfandoms, I love their content and even though we have never spoken I wanted to let them know they are awesome!

Trope: Teachers dating with less than suspecting students.

Pairing: Lamp

Word count: 2,006

    “Mr. Prince? We were wondering, who did you get for the secret Santa today?” One of Roman’s students questioned at the end of class.  Roman let out a light laugh.

    “ Come now, it wouldn't be much of a secret Santa if I spilled the beans, don't you have another class to go to?”   He was putting on his sash for his next lesson, reading Macbeth's father, and being the narrator, a wrinkled sash, simply was not going to cut it.  Plus he had a lot of fun orchestrating his students, teaching the intentions of characters. It also helped he was the drama teacher, so many props, fun fact allow kids to learn and play with fake blood was working so far.   Even if other teachers were less than enthusiastic.

    “ Did you get nurse Hart? Almost everyone ships you guys.”  Roman's expression went immediately from shock, to amusement then to the guttural laughter.  They didn't know?  Tammy, a sophomore with not the biggest interest in drama, seemed taken aback.  

    “ So you guys are all shipping me with Mr. Hart, that is, adorable.” The adult mused lightly, as his student gave him a slightly confused look.  

    “ I said almost. There are a few others that have  been shipped with you.” Roman could die now, his laughter could be considered borderline.   

     “ Oh that's hilarious, Tara, you have to drop those details. The curiosity is killing me.”   Tara looked at him enjoying his laughter, it shouldn't have been that absurd to think people would ship teachers.  What else would they be doing during the more tedious of lessons. Tara shifted a dark curl behind her ear

    “ There are a couple unspoken ships you and Mr. Croft and you and Mr. Sanders.”

    “ Why are they unspoken?”

    “ Well Mr. Sanders is always arguing with you, and  Mr. Croft is…. Mr. Croft, all business, not very emotional, not very romantic  and you are.” Roman could only laugh at that, to him it was all absurd. This could not be happening.   He shook his head and gave a light pat to his students shoulder.

    “ That is… marvelous, anyway get to lunch, when the time comes you'll know who I got.”  With that he sent Tara to lunch and gathered up his empty coffee cup. He had to tell the others.  He dusted off his white shirt and black slacks before shoving his fingers through his hair.

     Ro sauntered to the teachers lounge not trying to rush through the crowd of students.  Reminding them that they had places to be, it was mostly friends too caught up in chit chat.  Others were just students who lingered at their lockers, some made a beeline for the library. He gave a nod to certain students who were walking to the drama room for lunch.  He didn't mind his teaching assistant was in there, and Valerie was fine with them hanging out.

    The young woman was a gift, it helped him be be two places at the same time.  Especially with practice for auditions for the spring play on the way, ‘Grease’.  Valerie and Roman had debated on it for days, only settling on Grease when Roman said it was uplifting for the last of the  winter months, and a good send off for the year.

    Roman let out a little smile As he pulled out a little ball of fabric as he entered the faculty room.   Logan sitting at the table grading papers, his tie loosened. His slicked back hair curling up slightly at the end in the back. The responsible man tapping his pen in his right hand as he read an answer.  His hand grasped desperately around a coffee cup. “ Have you finally realized you put too many open ended questions on that test, specs?”

    “ No, I stand by my choice, I need to know they have a solid comprehension of the material before we proceed with next semester. These are midterms after all..”  Logan said looking up to give Roman his focus. The tests too important to give only half of his attention.

    “ Right well, I don't see how they couldn't, you are the most thorough man I know, you make packets every semester with bluff notes. Then elaborate. Then review, they if they are struggling you still turn around and have correction sessions for half credit.  If they don't understand now they are hopeless.” Roman drawled as he walked to the coffee pot and pouring a cup. Logan sighed and gave a dismissive wave.

    “ As such their understanding of what I teach is my priority. Them knowing the truth, is vital to progress and I don't give a damn what you say I am doing it regardless, now please, I have work to do, Princey.”  Logan responded with a small smirk, he didn't like being disturbed, however Roman, Virgil,and Patton were exceptions. Their frequent distractions kept the stress migraines at bay for the history teacher.

    “ Careful, don't let Pat catch you, no swearing on school grounds Virgil was sitting with a student, each strumming on a ukulele, the purple one in Virgil's hands  his name in black paint on the face, the student's was green, a spare one Virgil kept. Roman shook his head lightly and took a seat on the arm of couch the gloomy music teacher was occupying.    

    “ Right, well we need to discuss secret Santa business.” The theater nerd mentioned as he sipped his coffee.  

    “ Roman I'm busy!” Logan insisted pinching the bridge of his nose.  

    “ Hi busy! I'm dadd-!” Patton cut himself off when he saw the student as he walked into the room with a cookie platter in hand. Logan groaned while Virgil gave a small smirk looking at his student.

    “Andre, practice your this piece over break, don't forget, hard work yields good results have a good one kid.”

    “ Later Virgil!” The teen laughed, standing and making an exit with the uke in hand. Virgil stretched lightly he was glad it was almost break.  

     Roman waited for the boy to leave, once the door shut Roman walked to the closest, “ I am so Excited!  And I have something hilarious to tell you guys.” He set the cup to the side, smiling at how Patton was still flushed in the face.  

     Virgil was the first to saunter over, “ Spill it Ro, I got ten minutes before my bell.”  Roman was stunned that Virgil didn't roll his eyes at him.

     “ People are shipping me with you three, mostly our pastry proficient padre.” Roman laughed as Virgil shook his head.

    “It makes sense the students voted who we did secret Santa for, and we all got each other. Speaking of which your wearing this one.” Virgil spoke while he pulled out a black suit bag, Roman pulled off another one and set it to the side.

      “ They aren't wrong,  Logan this is yours.” Roman smirked excited to see the different colors on his partner.  He laid the suit bag on Logan's work, careful to not hit his coffee. Virgil hooked Roman's bag on the back of his costume.  Roman's hands fly to the back of his collar, “ Virgil please unhook it I don't need my pristine princely attire ruined. “

     “ Ah ah ah, be nice kiddos, this may be a style swap but let's not  ruin things.” Patton interjected as he pulled out Virgil's outfit bag.   

    “ Ah, yes, my pastel poison. Let's get this over with.. “ The gloomy man said before going to change.  Roman burst into an out right guffaw as the surly man let out a cry of dejection after the deafening sound of the zipper.   “ Patton please not this, this ruins my entire aesthetic!”

    “ That is the point surly temple! “ Roman called out with a sigh as Patton removed the bag from his shirt.

    “ Get in another stall and change then! See how you like it! “ Virgil said his voice breaking,Logan tapped Patton gently on the shoulder and held out the last bag  to Patton his own bag in hand as he waltzed into a stall.

     Patton waited patiently for the other's to exit. He smiled hearing the actor cry out in dismay, “ Really Virgil,  you made me the bad guy!”

      “ Oh come on Princey the phantom's masquerade costume was awesome!”

       “ It is purple Virgil! You made me  the bad guy and couldn't keep my red.”

       “ Roman you put me in a white dress shirt with gold embroidery on the shoulders. And red pants, Live with it.”  Logan responded in a seemingly neutral tone, “ And do you want me to go into your bastardized version of a necktie?”  

     “ Now now guys, there was a reason we agreed to this.”. Patton reminded the others with a gentle smile. It grew wider when he saw Virgil step out in beige khakis and a lavender shirt with a light grey sweater around his shoulders.   Patton's squeal of delight startled the music teacher, Patton didn’t care. “ You are so cute!”

    “ No I am a creature of the night! And will be respected as such!”

    “ Surrre you are. “ The youngest of the group beamed before he walked into a stall, excited even as as he revealed the three piece  blue suit. “Lolo you are going to have to show me how to do this necktie thing.”

     “Very give me a moment to sort out my own attire.” Logan said in the same neutral tone.

   “Padre, do remind me why we agreed to this? Oh the cape! It is so soft!” Virgil shook his head in amusement,  only to laugh out right and see Logan leave the stall clothing bag in hand. “ We have proper gifts for each other at home, Ro. We decided to have fun with getting secret Santa gifts for each other.  We agreed on this simply because our students would get a laugh from it.” Logan stated dusting off the white dress shirt, the red tie with gold poinsettias on it and a small black embroidered message that read, 'Property of PH, VS,and RP. '   

   Small enough to go unnoticed by the student's but large enough to make Mr. Croft smile softly to himself. A little reminder he was not alone and he would never be alone again. Though he wished Roman had not put it on the front.  Logan also wished that he had not put him in red skinny jeans, the snug feeling around his legs was somewhat uncomfortable.

    Patton came out in the suit  immediately hugging Logan close, “ This is so much fun and you made me so stylish, I really must put  on a suit more often!” Logan smirked slightly and pulled back to do the youngest's tie.

     Roman came through the stall door with a smirk,  while he did not like the fact he was the villain, he did like the cape and the way the black mask made his lighter brown eyes look sharp. The cape trailed behind him.  “Okay I must admit, it is pretty cool! Ahem! Masquerade! Paper faces on parade! Masquerade! Hide your face so the world will never find you! Masquerade! Every face a different sh-”

   “ Princey, as much as I am glad you are not pissed, I want to watch Phantom  of the Opera tonight, would really like it if you didn't sing it all day.” Virgil muttered, his eyes rolled as the actor let out an indignant huff, but ultimately nodded at the prospect of watching the musical that was  how they met. College..

   “ So shall we go mess with the fans?”  The drama nerd cheered

   “ You mean our students.”  Logan mentioned as he walked back to his seat  to continue grading his papers. Roman shook his head lightly, smiling at the his brainiac of a partner.

   “ Well,  Clearly the theories about us dating and this will surely ignite  their interests now.” Roman boasted with a grin. Logan shook his head with a sigh.

    “ Well, it is just one of those things I suppose, they are children, they would not suspect the four of us to all be together… it is adequate to…. Keep them guessing"

[elmomachete]

Wrestlemania XXXV Predictions.

Yeah, yeah, they don’t use the Roman numerals anymore. They don’t even use regular numerals. Humor me, it’s out of habit. I actually watched most of NXT Takeover last night, mostly live. I’m still not entirely sold on Blackochet or Matt Riddle, but the War Raiders and Velveteen Dream are the tittyballs and so were both matches. I fell asleep during the UK Championship match and intended to finish the show this morning, but then the results were spoiled for me by Cageside Seats in article headlines. Weak sauce, gentlemen. The weakest of sauces. Oh well, I’ll finish the show eventually. Anyway, with a 42 match card, the pre-show is liable to start any minute now so I better get these predictions up before all the poor souls in New Jersey (I’m sorry, I meant “New York”) start freezing their asses off. Let’s get prognosticating, shall we? Fabulous Moolah Memorial Women’s Battle Royale Totally not promoting human trafficking since 2018. Who won last year, Naomi? It’ll be tough to live up to those standards. I’ll go with Lacey Evans as the winner, because I’m sure that makes sense as a payoff to her coming out, doing nothing, turning around and walking to the back in Crazy Uncle Vinny’s mind. It’d be nice to give Asuka something after her seemingly random dethroning, but Lacey seems more predictably random. Cruiserweight Championship: Tony Nese vs. Buddy Murphy (c.) 205 Dead Crowd. I watched the Cruiserweight match from the Rumble pre-show the other day, and Buddy Murphy seems like a pretty good wrestleperson. Let’s say he retains, because he’s marrying Alexa Bliss and the company still loves her even though she’ll probably never wrestle again. Andre Roussimoff Memorial Battle Royale (ARMBaR) Just look what it did for Mojo Rawley! How can they make up for having Braun Strowman win the tag titles with a ten year old last year? Have him feud with two schmucks from Saturday Night Live so WWE can end up on a legitimate sports program the next morning! So either he wins, or after he eliminates the aforementioned schmucks he eliminates himself and chases them to the back leaving it open for (randomly points at list of entrants with eyes closed) Curtis Axel to win. Side thought: I think next year they should bring back Nicholas and rehire Matt Striker, putting them against the Bar, the Usos and the New Day. Striker can tutor the kid on the road, and putting them over the entire division will really solidify Nicholas’ legacy as an undefeated two-time tag team champion. Raw Tag Team Championships: Zack Ryder and Curt Hawkins vs. the Revival (c.) The Battle of the WWE Random Name Generator Recipients! ...good lord, they’re actually giving the Edgeheads a Mania match? For the titles? I know the belts don’t matter and that maybe a dozen people give a rat’s ass about both teams combined, but still - Ryder and Hawkins’ whole shtick is that they never win. That ALWAYS gets over. So obviously they have to win here to get their “Wrestlemania Moment,” in their “home state” of “New York.” Smackdown Tag Team Championships: Nakamusev vs. the Bar vs. Blackochet vs. the Usos (c.) Aren’t I so witty with my portmanteau tag team names? I’m glad Wikipedia exists to not only tell me all 107 matches, but to remind me that yes, the Usos are tag champs again. What with them losing in Brooklyn, I expect Black and Ricochet to win the titles to start off their big show (no, not that one) debut with a bang and to finally tie them to Smackdown instead of Raw. they’ll have better matches on that show anyway. Or the Usos retain because they’re related to the Rock, who cares. Shane McMahon vs. the Miz Because Super Shane needs to get his annual hyperventilating stunt show in. God bless the Miz, he may be the best company man since John Cena for doing whatever stupid shit they come up with for him. Case in point: this fucking match. Does anyone besides Shane or Vince give two shits about this? Logic says the Miz wins because he’s (somehow) the babyface, so I’ll say Shane wins and the Miz’s dad hugs him afterwards because even though his son main evented Wrestlemania and defeated John Cena (there he is again) and got married to a smokin’ hot model and had a kid, NOW he’s finally proud of him because he put up a valiant effort against the 50 year old son of the owner of the company. Women’s Tag Team Championships: the IIconics vs. Nia Jax and Tamina vs. Beth Phoenix and Natalya vs. the Boss n’ Hug Connection (c.) Who’s got the worse name, the Australians or the champions? I guess Trish and Lita said no, so they dusted Beth Phoenix off and pretend she’s important enough to justify her Hall of Fame induction. Nia and Tamina suck, Billie and Peyton don’t matter, Beth won’t be around the next day and I can’t see them changing the titles so soon after creating them. Bayley and Sasha retain. Kurt Angle vs. Baron Corbin John Cena Oh, shut up. You know it’s going to happen. Cena beats up Corbin on the way to the ring, spouts some jargon about hustling respect loyally, he drags Angle through three minutes of suck hoping he doesn’t accidentally kill him, somebody wins and they both go away. (Flips a coin) Cena wins, LOL. AJ Styles vs. Randy Orton Fighting because reasons! Um... let’s say AJ wins, because Orton is a made man and they wanna thank AJ for not leaving for All Elite Wrestling (what a terrible name). Christ, how many pointless matches could they trim to make this a show of reasonable length? Not everybody needs a Wrestlemania payday... do those even exist anymore with the Network? United States Championship: Rey Mysterio vs. Samoa Joe (c.) I’ve got nothing sarcastic to say about this match, I’m actually looking forward to it somewhat. Rey Mysterio can still go, and although people say Joe has lost a step since coming to WWE I’m actually a bigger fan of him now than ever. I think he’s benefited a lot from having to tone it down and only do two or three big spots in matches as opposed to a billion, although whether that’s due to the restrictions of the “WWE Style” or age/injuries is up for debate (I felt the same about Cesaro slowing it down going from Ring of Honor to WWE). Rey can survive a loss here and I think they wanna get as much out of Joe while they still can, so he retains. WWE Championship: Kofi Kingston vs. the New Daniel Bryan (c.) Remember when the “World” title wasn’t likely to be in the middle of the show? As much as I’d hate to see the Hempyweight Championship belt go (and no matter what it’ll eventually have to), I think the crowd would riot if Kofi didn’t win. So I reckon Kofi wins, then Big E. and Xavier turn on him right afterwards to piss the crowd off right after throwing them a bone. Y’know what? I think it would be interesting to see a riot at a wrestling show. Fans have threatened it with signs ever since Cena vs. Van Dam, but we’ve never actually seen one. It’d certainly be a “Wrestlemania Moment.” Roman Reigns vs. Drew McIntyre Yay, Roman’s back! And he’s not in the main event again! Yet! I’m as glad as anyone that Reigns seems to have beaten leukemia, but the entire feud with Drew seems like something they threw together at the last minute because they didn’t expect him to come back so soon. I can never tell if they’re behind Drew or not, they seem to change their minds every other week. Roman wins, obviously, then probably goes right back into the Universal title picture. Triple H vs. Batista The epic final battle between Drax the Destroyer and whatever Triple H’s character was called in Blade 3. I’m interested in this match due to sheer sideshow curiosity. Big Dave hasn’t wrestled in however long, and last time Hunter wrestled he ripped a titty off his chest in the beginning of the match. I have enough faith that’ll it be something watchable at least, Triple H’s match with Angle and Rousey was good last year. Batista wins and rides off into the sunset, and Trips “retires” for about a year. Let’s give it a year and a half if we’re being generous. Universal Championship: Seth Rollins vs. Brock Lesnar (c.) Prediction for number of German suplexes: 11. Now this one is a sticky wicket. On the one hand, it’d be nice to have the Rumble winner, y’know, win, and have someone with the belt who’ll be around every week. On the other hand, I’m sure Vince is already salivating over the thought of Roman conquering the unstoppable once every four months onslaught of Brock Lesnar. On the THIRD hand, they did make a t-shirt for Rollins that says “Beastslayer” which would be completely pointless to peddle at shows if he lost. I’ll go out on a limb and pick Lesnar, but whoever wins is getting Roman as a challenger  Intercontinental Championship: Finn Balor vs. Bobby Lashley (c.) Can we get this show over with already? I’m already bored just writing about it. The Demon wins back the title that he just lost for no reason a few weeks ago, Lio Rush probably gets beat up and the crowd continues to go mild for Bobby Lashley. Next. Women’s Championship, winner takes all: Becky Lynch vs. Charlotte Flair (c., Smackdown) vs. Ronda Rousey (c., Raw) Becky. Becky, Becky, Becky. Wait, I have to say something other than that about the match? The build for this has been all over the place. Becky taps to Asuka at the Rumble, then takes Lana’s spot to win the Rumble match itself. Becky’s suspended, but she’s on every show anyway. Then she’s not suspended, she and Ronda break the fourth wall on Twitter, Charlotte replaces Becky, then she wins the Smackdown belt from Asuka and it’s a triple threat, and my God I think I’ve gone cross eyed. Who wins will really depend on where they place this match on the card. I know they’ve said it’ll be the “main event,” and if it truly goes on last then they’d be insane not to give it to Becky. I’ve been trying to reasonably predict the order in which the matches will take place. BUT... we all know WWE has been saying double main event, triple main event, whatever for years. If it DOESN’T go on last, it’s probably gonna be Charlotte. She’s already beaten Trish’s record for number of Women’s title reigns, and lord knows WWE wants to make her seem like the best at everything due to her name. I’ll (perhaps foolishly) put all my chips on Becky, but won’t be surprised in the least if it’s Charlotte. Oh yeah, Ronda’s in the match too. How ‘bout that. *whew* So yeah, sixteen matches on what’s liable to be a seven hour show. I’m likely to watch it in spurts, because A) my TV is always at the risk of being hijacked by a six year old, and 2) I’m going to fall asleep if I try to watch it all in one shot. I won’t be drinking, because I’d rather fall asleep due to boredom rather than alcohol consumption this year. I almost don’t want the women’s match to go last, because the crowd will be fucking exhausted by then. Of the sixteen matches, I’m confident about half will be good. So there’s that. We’ll have a couple overblown entrances, some forced “Wrestlemania Moments,” the possibility for an entertaining car wreck or two, maybe an Undertaker appearance. This is the first year though where I’m sort of dreading the Grandest Stage of the Showcase of the Immortally Ultimate Thrill Ride in twenty years of fandom, and that’s pretty disheartening. That Takeover sure was something though, wasn’t it?

[gokinjeespot]

off the rack #1242

Monday, December 24, 2018

 I was hit by a spasm of back pain on Saturday like the ghost of Christmas Past. That'll teach me for being such a Scrooge this time of year. I try not to be naughty but being nice is such a pain in the pants. I am slowly recovering under the gentle ministrations of Santa's Helper. Being around family and friends is better medicine than any pain pills I could take. My brother and sister-in-law hosted a brunch yesterday and seeing everyone together laughing and happy soothed me greatly. Just holding baby Oliver and making him smile eased my back pain.

 I saw the Ottawa premiere of Aquaman thanks to my Jee-Riz partner Chris, who won passes from the comic book store Myths, Legends and Heroes. I can sum up how I felt about the movie in one word; wigs. I wish they had spent some of the Atlantis special effects budget on better wigs for the actors. Arthur's dad's toupee was glaringly obvious. I've seen better hair on Cosplayers than Nicole Kidman's wigs. It looked like Amber Heard/Mera was wearing a wig at times but even when it looked like her real hair the colour red they chose was too unnatural looking. The movie's saving grace for me was Jason Momoa. He makes a great Arthur/Aquaman. I'm glad I didn't pay to see this one.

 Ugh. Stan Lee tribute covers. Terrible marketing idea.

 Dead Man Logan #2 - Ed Brisson (writer) Mike Henderson (art) Nolan Woodard (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). A couple of things really annoyed me this issue. Sin, the Red Skull's daughter, acted like a spoiled brat. It's not a stretch to foresee the villains losing at the end of this 12-issue story. Then we have Forge repairing a machine that can get Old Man Logan back home. They actually go there and he doesn't stay. I'm for super heroics as much as the next nerd and maybe I'm selfish, but that irked me to no end. Old Man Logan has been whining about getting home ever since he showed up in this timeline and now he wants to stay to prevent all the super heroes from being killed by all the super villains. There isn't even a guarantee that is what happens in the future. And why don't they use the machine to fix things? Man I hate time travel. I really like Mike Henderson's art but this looks like another travelling super heroes versus super villains battle every issue, and that's not very interesting to me.

 Defenders: The Best Defense #1 - Al Ewing (writer) Joe Bennett (pencils) Belardino Brabo (inks) Dono Sanchez Almara (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). It's the big Defenders reunion to save Earth. Old Man Dr. Strange, Hulk, Namor and the Silver Surfer have to sidetrack The Train in order for Earth to survive. It's a bit complicated and I'm surprised that you didn't really need to read all the one-shots to get what's going on. I mean all those scenes where the stabby killer in the bed sheet is killing aliens isn't even mentioned in this story. So what was up with that?

 Marvel Knights #4 - Vita Ayala & Donny Cates (writers) Joshua Cassara (art) Matt Milla (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). Here's where they explain why all the super heroes have forgotten who they are. T'Challa/Black Panther is featured in this issue that ends with him discovering the lair of villains. I'm wondering how the bad guys retained their memories.

 Old Man Hawkeye #12 - Ethan Sacks (writer) Francesco Mobili (art) Andres Mossa (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). That was a very satisfying ending. What a great prequel to the Old Man Logan story where Clint and Logan go on a road trip. This is where Clint loses his sight for good. I loved the last page epilogue showing Clint tracking down someone who will help him to continue to fight the bad guys despite his blindness.

 Runaways #16 - Rainbow Rowell (writer) Kris Anka (art) Matthew Wilson (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). Reading this Christmas special is better than getting a lump of coal. Having Doombot as a dinner guest made this a treat. I wish he was a regular member of the team.

 West Coast Avengers #6 - Kelly Thompson (writer) Daniele Di Nicuolo (art) Triona Farrell (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). The good guys have been captured by the bad guys: Satana Hellstrom, M.O.D.O.K., The Eel and Madame Masque. Kate is still free however and she's not going to abandon her team mates. Too bad she gets waylaid on her way to rescue them. Her captor is a complete surprise, which will make the next issue a hoot.

 Thor #8 - Jason Aaron (writer) Mike del Mundo (art) VC's Joe Sabino (letters). This is an awesome issue with Thor fighting the Angelus. It ends with an ex-Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. being paid a visit by the Black Panther. I like how this book is being tied into The Avengers.

 Season's Beatings #1 - Jason Latour (writer) Greg Hinkle, Chris Brunner, Veronica Fish & Mario Del Pennino (art) Rico Renzi, Jim Campbell & Veronica Fish (colours) VC's Travis Lanham (letters). I should have realized from the cover that this was a Deadpool Christmas Special. If I had known, I would have bought a pair of socks from the Dollar Store with the $4.99 US that this comic book costs. Unless of course, you're a big Deadpool fan or West Coast Avengers fan or even an X-Force fan. They're all in here too. Plus Squirrel Girl and Doctor Doom. Come to think of it, this is an everything but the kitchen sink gift for a Marvel Comics fan who will get a few chuckles out of it.

 Freedom Fighters #1 - Robert Venditti (writer) Eddy Barrows (pencils) Eber Ferreira (inks) Adriano Lucas (colours) Deron Bennett (letters). This is some heavy duty patriotic poop right here. We start this 12-issue story in 1963 America that is ruled by Adolf Hitler and his "ratzi" party. The original Freedom Fighters meet to plot a resistance attack on a war robot factory. Things don't go well for the good guys. Jump forward to 2018 and the surprise appearance of the New Freedom Fighters; Black Condor, Doll Woman, the Human Bomb and Phantom Lady. All we need is Uncle Sam. Robert Venditti holds nothing back showing the Germans as ruthless racists. The art is really well done so I will give these Golden Age heroes a chance to see how they fare in modern times.

 Middlewest #2 - Skottie Young (writer) Jorge Corona (art) Jean Francois Beaulieu (colours) Nate Piekos (letters). A new character named Jeb is introduced who helps Abel get out of a bind. Jeb reminds me of the first time we meet Gandalf. Abel's quest continues and we find out a bit more about the symbol on his chest. I predict he'll meet his mother down the road but unlike the talking fox, I won't be travelling down it with him.

 Cover #4 - Brian Michael Bendis (writer) David Mack (art) Michael Avon Oeming (Owen art) Zu Orzu (colours) Carlos Mangual (letters). This issue is a great example of how a comic book can tell a story with words and pictures. I felt like I was watching a TV show or a short film. Brian, David and Michael work together seamlessly

 Hardcore 1 - Robert Kirkman & Andy Diggle (writers) Alessandro Vitti (art) Adriano Lucas (colours) Thomas Mauer (letters). Yeah man, it is. Agent Drake is a drone pilot but what he controls are other human beings. A new nanotechnology allows him to take over and move a remote body for 72 hours so he can complete wetwork missions. It's really cool. The big problem arises when the guy who invented the tech comes back to reclaim it from the government. That guy is not asking nicely. I like this concept and the predicament that Agent Drake finds himself in at the end of this issue. Therefore, this goes on to my "must read" list.

 Klaus and the Crying Snowman #1 - Grant Morrison (writer) Dan Mora (art) Ed Dukeshire (letters). This $7.99 US one-shot tells the tale of how Sam the snowman helps Klaus save the Earth from murderous aliens. I loved how they wove in Norse mythology. You'd think a crying snowman would be doomed in the end and you'd be right, but fear not, 'tis a happy ending.

 Betty & Veronica #1 - Jamie Lee Rotante (writer) Sandra Lanz (art) Kelly Fitzpatrick (colours) Jack Morelli (letters). The BFFs are back with a 5-issue mini that starts off their senior year of high school. I know that these slightly more mature Archie Comics want to draw in a new audience but Betty dating Reggie? Sacrilege. A few other things bothered me storywise that turned me off even more. Betty drinking a spiked punch without noticing? C'mon. Then there's the art. I didn't like the interiors compared to the nice cover that Sandra drew. I expected my girl Betty to be treated better than this.

 Catwoman #6 - Joelle Jones (story & art) Laura Allred (colours) Josh Reed (letters). The finale of "Copycats" is a quick read so I read it twice. The first time was to see how Catwoman deals with the evil Mrs. Creel and her pumped up on drugs son. The second time was to see Catwoman in action and to savour the beautiful art and layouts. I wish Joelle Jones would do a Betty & Veronica mini.

 Extermination #5 - Ed Brisson (writer) Pepe Larraz (art) Marte Gracia (colours) VC's Joe Sabino (letters). I tolerated this time travel tale because of the amazing art. I wish Pepe Larraz would do a Betty & Veronica mini. If you thought that the mutants being exterminated was a real threat then you haven't been reading X-Men comic books for very long. This story puts the young X-Men back in their own time and all is well again. The big surprise comes on the last page and I'm thinking "oh geez, here we go again".

 Domino #9 - Gail Simone (writer) David Baldeon & Michael Shelfer (art) Roberto Poggi (ink assist) Guru-eFX (colours) VC's Clayton Cowles (letters). Soldier of Fortune part 3. The ladies are asked to kill Longshot. Haven't seen him in a while. Might not see him for long though, since he's supposed to bring about the end of the world. This is interesting because both Domino and Longshot have the same super power. Who's luck is going to run out first?

 Firefly #2 - Greg Pak (writer) Dan McDaid (art) Marcelo Costa (colours) Jim Campbell (letters). Mal and Zoe are being hunted by a gang of thieves and the Alliance. Darn tootin' there's going to be shootin'. I have been watching Nathan Fillion's new cop show The Rookie and I quite like it.

 Batman #61 - Tom King (writer) Travis Moore (art) Tamra Bonvillain (colours) Clayton Cowles (letters). Knightmares part 1. The "what the!?" appearance on the last page of #60 is explained here as a new story starts. I knew something was hinky when I saw the string of pearls around the dead body of Martha Wayne in the alley. I thought we were in an alternate universe and we sort of are but it came as a complete shock when what was going on was explained. Arkham Asylum is getting a new inmate. At least he's new to me unless I want to go back and read Batman #38.

[hockeyandstuff91]

Cuddles Make Everything Better

AHHHHHHH its my first blurb! You all can thank @inthebyf for convincing me to actually post this, because I wasn’t sure I was going to do it or not! Why? idk! Its so adorable and I love it so much! haha I hope you all enjoy it!!!

Word count: 1,439

Players: Andre Burakovsky, Tom Wilson

Warnings: None, just a lot of softness going on lol

It had been the longest week at work of my life. Or at least it felt that way, because honestly people got way too crazy around the holidays and I couldn't deal with them anymore. Tom had decided to grab a couple drinks at a bar with some friends and asked if I had wanted to go but I was just too tired to even move off the couch. I was so glad that I finally was able to have a couple days off this weekend and just relax.

I was laying on the couch watching some TV, pretty wide awake for having worked almost 12 hours straight, when I heard footsteps behind me. I sat up a little and looked over my shoulder and saw that Andre was standing there, looking down and biting his bottom lip a little.

"Whats the matter hun?" I asked and sat up, making room for him on the couch.

Andre plopped down next to me and sighed. I could tell that his eyes were watery and it broke my heart. He had been doing a lot better lately about being less hard on himself, but he still had bad days. It made me so upset that he got this bad sometimes because he was such an amazing guy and deserved the world. When I had moved in with Tom, Andre and I got super close. He had found comfort in me, which I was glad that I was able to provide for him since it didn't seem like he had an outlet anywhere else. He had come to me first about his whole mental struggles before talking about it on the interview, which sadly he had caught a bit of flak from some fans. I had threatened to go on a twitter rampage to protect my baby boy when Tom had taken my phone away from me, not wanting me to cause a whole thing that the media would for sure eat up.

I scooted over next to him and wrapped my arm around him, resting my chin on his shoulder. "Did you have a bad day sweetie?" I asked softly.

Andre just nodded and tried to turn his head away from me, which I had learned had meant that he didn't want me to know how upset he was. I grabbed his chin gently and turned it towards me. He finally looked at me and my heart broke as a single tear fell down his face.

"Aw sweetie," I wiped his cheek with my thumb before pulling him close, rubbing his back. Living with him was always so much fun, he brought so much life and happiness to this place. Tom and I had basically adopted him and took care of him because to us he was a kid, even though he was older than I was I saw him like a younger brother who I wanted to do nothing but protect.

The days that were bad he would always come to me, knowing that I would listen to what he needed to get off of his chest. Then there were some days where he didn't want to talk he just wanted to be held and loved. Honestly how couldn't you love this kid? He was adorable and sweet and caring and loved everyone, he just made everyone around him happy. The world didn't deserve someone as amazing as Andre and it killed me to see how pained he was right now.

"Its okay," I soothed into his ear as he laid his head on my shoulder. I could tell he was crying as my shirt was starting to get wet, but I didn't care. I just wanted to take all of his pain away and stop him from feeling like this.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, pulling back to look at his face, which in response he pushed closer into my shoulder.

"Do you want to just lay here for the rest of the night?" I asked and he nodded. "Okay. It's a good thing we have a big couch," I laughed a bit which I could tell got a small smile out of him.

I pulled back from the embrace for a second to get myself comfortable with a few pillows behind me before laying down most of the way. Andre scooted between my legs and laid against the rest of me, laying his head back on my shoulder, sniffling into the crook of my neck.

"Shhh its okay sweetie," I soothed as I rubbed his back, playing with his curls at the base of his head. He always seemed to calm down the fastest when I did this. He told me it reminded him of when he was back home when he was little and his mom would calm him down after a bad day. After a few moments his breathing had calmed and there was a soft snore in my ear, which meant he finally was getting some rest. I sighed and smiled a bit, pulling back to look down at him and seeing that he was in fact completely knocked out. I continued to gently rub his back and tangle my fingers in his curls.

The last couple days I had noticed how tired he was looking which meant he hadn't been sleeping well. There was clearly something that was bothering him but he wasn't ready to talk yet, which was okay. I was just happy that he was getting some rest finally, even if he was pushing half of his body weight into me.

Not long after Tom came home. He walked into the living room and saw Burkie laying on top of me, the shoulder of my shirt still damp from his tears. Thankfully Tom was very sweet and didn't mind when Andre needed a little extra love. When this first started happening I had worried that Tom was going to think something else was going on, but he reassured me that he knew how much Andre adored me and appreciated that I spent so much time with him making sure he was okay and happy. So on the random nights when Tom would find us cuddling, he had no problem with it, he was just glad that someone was there to comfort Andre and make him feel better.

"What happened?" Tom asked, concerned as he sat down on the other side of the L shaped couch.

I sighed softly and looked down, gently rubbing Andre's back. "He had a bad day I guess," I whispered, looking over to Tom, sadness on my face.

Tom leaned over and pressed a kiss onto my forehead and smiled at me, rubbing my cheek with his thumb. "He loves you you know."

I nodded "I know. I love him too. I just wish I could take away whatever pain he has."

"No Brooke I don't think you get it. He really looks up to you like an older sister. He appreciates you more than you could ever imagine. He's expressed to me how much better hes been getting because of you being around. In moments like this he says he use to never be able to calm himself down, but now he can just go to you and everything is okay again. And I'm glad because I was really started to get worried about him for a while there."

I smiled and looked back down at Andre who was still sound asleep, his mouth half open as his warm breath covered my collarbone. I pushed some stray hairs out of his face. He rustled a bit, turning to his other side and nuzzled his face close to my neck. I rested my chin on the top of his head and Tom smiled at me.

"I love you," Tom said softly.

I smiled brightly, it was the first time that he had ever said it to me. "I love you too," I whispered back.

"Thank you for taking care of him the way that you do. You are an angel," Tom said and leaned forward to give me a kiss before he laid down on that side of the couch.

The three of us slept there for the night, Tom on his side of the couch and me and Burkie cuddled up on ours. Most boyfriends would not be okay with this situation at all but Tom saw it differently. He had taken Andre under his wing and took the time to understand him and what his needs were and if he needed extra love and cuddles, he didn't mind sharing me for that.

[immortalpramheda]

Riverdale ‘Chapter Thirty-Four: Judgement Night’

And so we have come to the penultimate episode of the season, which promised answers and definitely delivered!

We left off the last episode with the Black Hood about to attack Cheryl. But who knew that she was Little Red Riding Hood/Robin Hood?? She managed to climb out the window, get her red hunting cape and archery set and showed no fear. I don’t know why I was even worried about her, she is more than capable of taking care of herself. She’s been learning how to defend herself, and now it’s paid off. She manages to shoot him in the shoulder, enough to wound him but not kill him.

After Fangs was shot there are riots throughout the streets. Of course, Hiram is responsible for it, for all of it actually. But that’s what he wants, he lives for drama that benefits him.

Reggie did not shoot Fangs. I didn’t think so, the angle wasn’t right. Someone else did, and Veronica is the one who figures it out. She finds Midge’s mother wandering the streets holding a gun. She shot Fangs, as revenge for the death of her daughter. Case solved.

Although not everyone seems to think so. The Serpents believe it was Reggie, they every reason to believe so, and they are hellbent on revenge.

Archie finds Reggie hiding out at Pop’s and wants to help him get somewhere safe. But then the Ghoulies turn up. Oh right, long time no see, I kind of forgot they existed. They lay siege to pops. Not again!! Pop does not need anymore problems, he just needs a break. They lock down the shop, and then Archie throws flaming bottles off the roof, which was a sight to behold.

They’re saved by the ‘Hot Riverdale Dads’, as Kevin says. Sherif Keller, Fred Andrews and FP Jones. Even through Sheriff Keller was fired, he still has his police car and a shotgun. They save the day, which I have to admit was pretty awesome!

Hiram is not pleased about that, his whole plan was to to stir up some drama. He is the one who contacted the Ghoulies and asked them to show. Plus, he told Reggie and co to mob Fangs as he was released. He caused all of this. Every single thing.

Hermione is offering a reward to find the Black Hood, one million dollars. Veronica thinks that it’s the money she got from the St Clair’s, and she is not happy about that. So she rummages through her fathers office, and finds something interesting. Photos of her mother and Fred’s affair. Hiram is going to leak an article about it, to ruin his campaign. And Hermione is well aware and on board. Okay… but those photos make it seem like it was very mutual, they both look just as agility as each other so I am not sure if it will benefit Hermione?

Small Fry, the son of the late (or rather, murdered) Papa Poutine comes to the Lodge’s apartment, wanting revenge on Hiram by killing his loved ones. He breaks down the door, and Veronica and Hermione run off and lock themselves in the study. Luckily, Hermione manages to get a gun and shoots him in the chest multiple times, and it’s all over.

He also killed Andre, which is sad. Hermione and Veronica are not pleased, but Hiram cleans the mess up and, acting disturbingly cheerful, covers everything up. How can he feel no remorse about what almost happened to his family? More and more he is seeming like a psychopath.

Betty discovers that her father was admitted to the ER, basically confirming that he probably is the person that Cheryl shot. But when she gets there, her father is nowhere to be seen, and a doctor is in his bed who has been murdered.

It’s all but confirmed now, but I’m glad we got a bit of backstory, a bit of a motive as to why he is doing all this. Betty comes home to find her father, and her very calm mother, settling in to watch some home movies chosen by Hal.

They are shown a video of a very young Hal, being told by his mother to manipulate the ‘Conway boy’, aka Mr Svenson, aka the fake Black Hood, to lie about who killed his family. He has to do this to protect his father, who was the real killer, the real Riverdale Reaper. He became the Black Hood because he believed that sinners needed to die.

And in another twist, it turns out Great Grandpappy Cooper was not killed by his brother, who was a Blossom, he was actually the killer. He became a Cooper to hide his true identity. Hal has a darkness inside of him, just like this father. And it has also been passed down to Betty. He reveals that he is the Black Hood.

Finally, we know the truth, and it makes sense with what we’ve been told previously. Although I think it was a bit underwhelming, as Betty has been suspecting him for a few episodes now, but it made sense and was a satisfying answer. Plus, he’s not the only Black Hood, because he wasn’t the shooter at the debate. There is still more to this story.

He’s gotten Alice to record their whole conversation, because he’s planning to kill them all. Murder suicide, so none of them would have to live with the ramifications of what he’s done. But Alice tells it like it is and I’d just like to give her a round of applause! She says he’s a lousy serial killer and can’t do anything right. And, the most burn of all, that FP is more of a man than he ever was. Alice Cooper everybody, the real MVP, the queen of belittling Hal! That gives Betty a chance to knock him out and he’s arrested.

While all this going on, Archie is attacked by the Black Hood at his home. Fred comes to his rescue, and is shot again. But thankfully this time, he’s wearing a bullet proof vest thanks to his ‘Hot Dad friend’ Sheriff Keller. And of course, in true Archie style, he runs after the Black Hood, but he’s already gone. Seriously, Archie has to chase after someone on every single episode it seems. So, that couldn’t have been Hal, which means that there is someone else.

I didn’t think we’d seen the last of Penny Peabody, surely there would be consequences of what Jughead did to her. She’s teamed up with the Ghoulies, and she’s taken Toni hostage. Jughead enlists Cheryl and her archery set to set her free. And then Penny gives Jughead a choice, either peacefully give up the Southside to her and her Ghoulies, or battle it out with them.

To make things even worse for the Serpents, Fang’s didn’t make it, which is really sad. That riles everyone up and everyone is behind FP to battle it out with the Ghoulies.

Jughead is not pleased with any of this, and he knows that Hiram is responsible for everything. That’s why he’s bought everything in Riverdale and has almost taken over the town. But there is one key thing he does not have, the Serpents. He needs them out of the picture to complete his takeover. Jughead knows that the Serpents don’t stand a chance against the Ghoulies, so he makes a deal with Hiram. Instead of all the Serpents against the Ghoulies, he’ll hand himself over. He will give his life to protect the lives of his loved ones.

He calls Betty and says goodbye, and then goes to Penny, and hands himself over. He lets them do whatever they want, with the knowledge that he has stopped a war from happening. They beat him, possibly to death, and I could not watch. It was to brutal, too painful.

Riverdale is going to be different once they’re done with him. Hiram will have gotten what he wanted and taken over over all of Riverdale. But Jughead’s family and friends will be safe and that’s all that mattered to him.

By the time FP figures out what his son has done, it’s too late. He finds his bloodied and mutilated body (Penny cut out his serpent tattoo just like he did to hers) and carries him out, to the horror of Betty and everyone else.

That ending horrified me. I don’t believe the Jughead is dead. He is the narrator of the show, he is the heart of it, he can’t die. Surely he’s not dead.

It was confirmed that Hal is the Black Hood, well one of them at least, which as I said I’m fine with. It all adds up, at least it didn’t come out of nowhere. But who could the other Black Hood be? At this point, it could be his twin. We do know that twins run in the Blossom family, but I really hope that is not the case. Another secret twin would be pretty lame. Or, considering all the shit Hiram has done, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s him, or if he hired someone to be the second Black Hood. After all, he has been ordering everyone around in this town, and we know how much he wants to tear down Fred.

Overall, this episode was amazing!! Cheryl was the highlight for me, her hunting cape was amazing! And Jughead’s sacrifice broke my heart, and although I’m 99% sure he’s alive, he is still going to be very traumatised by the ordeal he went though. Looking forward to see everything come together in the finale!

[fillintheprompts]

Sequel to the Infinity Prompt

My village held its’ breath when I was born. Never before had they seen someone with that symbol on their wrist. The midwife took me away from my mother immediately and gave me to the village doctor. They told her that the number on my wrist was a zero. That I’d taken one breath and never drew another. It was my first bit of irony. The man cursed to live forever, dead to the world at birth.

The first few years of my life were strange. I wasn’t allowed to leave my home. I knew the doctor as my father, but I knew who my parents were. I just wasn’t allowed to see them. In 1902, the year I turned 3, my mother died, trying to protect my father. He owed a lot of money to bad men overseas, and he couldn’t pay his debt. They tried to take his life, but my mother stepped in front of him and he ran away. I decided that day that my father wasn’t a good man. I was glad to have the doctor.

The bad men came back when I was 4. The doctor explained that I was halfway through my life that year and I became reckless. I ran where I wasn’t supposed to and did things that would get me killed. These men found me and were very impressed by me. I was a small African boy with green eyes. They saw dollar signs and snatched me. I never got to say goodbye to the man that raised me.

I spent days on a ship alongside my real father. He was always either sad or plotting. Before we reached the shores, he’d found his way to the edge and fell overboard. No one was really cleared if he jumped or actually fell. I remember the last thing he said to me: “Look out for yourself and only pay attention to the people who are after you and those who can get you away”. Terrible man.

We made it to America. I was sold to a private adoption agency under the name Andre. My baba named me Adetokunbo, so that is my name, I thought. I was adopted by a lovely white family. Mildred and Leonard Wilson. The Wilsons took care of me and taught me the value of life. Mildred was a homemaker and Leonard, a doctor. I was happy to be with another doctor for the time I had left. When I turned seven, I went to them.

“Are you going to miss me,” I asked. “You know, when I’m gone?” They looked shocked and confused.

“What do you mean, Andre,” Mildred asked. “Where are you going?” I showed her my wrist. She looked confused for a moment then laughed. “Sweetheart, what does that look like to you?”

“It’s an eight,” I replied. “In a year, I won’t be here. Are you not going to miss me?” Father sat me on the couch and motioned my mother to join us.

“We would miss you so much if you were going to be gone from us,” he started. “But you won’t. That sign isn’t an eight, son. It’s an infinity symbol. It’s supposed to symbolize forever. You won’t be dying at all.” That’s all I remember from that conversation. I was too busy thinking of what I was going to do for the rest of my life. There was so much.

When the roaring twenties were starting, I’d just turned 21. I was finishing university and moved from my home in Oklahoma to live in New York City. My family was saddened by my move and looked down on New Yorkers, who didn’t have the privilege we had of having a celebration when Oklahoma became a state. I was 8 then and I was celebrating a lot more than that. Now that I was in New York, I planned on being an entertainer. I wanted to be in the films, but ended up backstage.

That’s where I met the love of my life. Her name was Lillian. She was a gorgeous woman with the acting skills of an angel. We went dancing a few times and she was the one to convince me that I should put makeup over my number. So I did. I was no longer the freak that would live forever, but the hero who could die at any time. I enjoyed it for a bit, but then I came to realize some things. I wasn’t dating Lillian. I loved her and she was using me to one up Zelda Fitzgerald. Apparently there is nothing more wild and free than carrying a colored on your hip. 

I left New York shortly after. I went back to school to become a doctor like my baba and father. I’d loved doctors so dearly, I thought becoming one would make me love myself again. It didn’t work. Being a student was hard for me. I could memorize things like I did my cues, but in practice, I had no idea what I was doing. By the time 1925 hit, I was spending my days in a speakeasy trying to figure out my life. I met the love of my life there. Her name was Eliza and she was the bartender. She cared for me. She made me laugh. She even got me to make her promises so I wouldn’t be super drunk and violent anymore. I loved her.

What made me love her the most was that she was like me: she didn’t cover her number. The 20s were full of people trying to one up each other and appear mysterious. The best way to do that was to use makeup to cover your number. Eliza was concerned about her number because she was also unusual. Not like me, but she had two numbers on her arm, separated by a dash. So, she new she lived somewhere in the ballpark of 29 to 45. That could happen any day for her. We spent each day like it was our last even if I wouldn’t know a last. We made a life together and had a child, James. James was born with a 15.

When James was 5, we sought the help of someone who could change fate. She was supposed to change my number so that I would not know eternity without my family, but instead, she sealed it. I was bitten that day, and Eliza was murdered. She was 37. I was 35, and not ready to live forever without her. Even worse, my beautiful son had only 10 years of life left in him. I knew what I had to do.

I went home and tucked my boy in for bed. He slept peacefully. I watched over him until he fell asleep and reached over to bite him. As I was close to coming down on his neck, the door was kicked in and I was brought out onto the streets by a group of men. They threw gasoline at me and set my on fire. I was in pain for days before I finally stopped screaming and pretended to die. The men stopped checking for me and I ran away. I looked after my son from a distance as they spun tales about his father’s change and how they think I killed his mother. On the day James died, I was there, but I couldn’t reach him in time. He was walking down the street and a shootout started up, making him the first casualty. I cried for months.

At some point, I thought it was okay for me to return to public light. It was the 60s and no one knew me. I didn’t have a mirror in hiding, and didn’t account for my change in appearance after being set aflame. People ran screaming from me. I went back into hiding, only to come out at night to feel the fresh air against my crisp skin. Every now and then I’d find a person clinging to life and check the number on their wrist. It would look suspicious if someone with an actual number on their wrist lived forever. I’d only found one other like me. An old man, washed upon the rocks along the water, soaking wet. He was old, extremely old, and looked like he’d suffered many regrets and losses in his life, which he was barely clinging to. I bit me, then took him home with me to rest. I thought I would have a friend to grow with and learn from. Instead, I was met with fear, anger, and tears. He tried to throw things at me, but his frame was to small and weak. He just tired himself out.

When he settled down, he told me his story. His life and loves lost. I cried. What had I done to this poor man? He left me not long after that. Every once in a while, I watch him  from a distance. He sits on his porch and watches the young couples. Some of them stop to talk to him, but he refuses their company. I don’t think he knows I lurk between buildings to make sure he’s okay. I don’t think he ever will. Honestly, I do it more for me than for him. I couldn’t live with myself if I knew he’d been bitten only to suffer, and I still have a long way to go for that to rest on my mind.

@fandomscoffeeandbooks @art-over-matter