#chapter title is I See You by Phoebe Bridgers!

[xxnashiraxx]

With Stars to Fill My Dream (10) - Let the Dystopian Morning Light Pour In

EVERYBODY!!! 🖤🖤 We've made it to Chapter 10!! I am so happy we've gotten this far! I don't think I've ever made it this far with my writing, and I'm really proud of myself and my perseverance- I care so much about this story and its characters, and I have so much more material written with no end to my inspiration and motivation in sight! I hope this train keeps rolling full steam ahead because I've made so many friends on this journey and I wouldn't be here without them! 🖤🖤

Anyway, I'll quit my yapping so you can enjoy the chapter! Please see some bonus screenshots below!

(P.S. The screenshots are meant to be enjoyed from afar because my editing stuff is not so good. 🖤🖤)

Summary: A street-smart, musically inclined human girl with a tragic past gets abducted by a nautiloid after her painfully average shift at a retro singing diner. What's worse- putting your all into Olivia Newton-John and Travolta for lousy tips, or getting your guts ripped out by a gnoll? Or worse- getting turned into a hideous humanoid squid? Ofelia Montez will have to see if she can survive long enough to find out.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Mentions of past abuse and trauma. Canon-typical violence and gore.

Word Count: 9,053

Opening under the cut!

Their group scatters to the winds to check out stalls and mill about as Ofelia and Alfira discuss a few lessons she can learn right away. Wyll and Lae’zel join Karlach and they descend to the blacksmith’s area, Astarion hangs off to the side, not quite in the circle with the two bards but not a part of it. Gale and Shadowheart head off to the apothecary and general goods vendor for potion ingredients and food supplies and in the meantime, Ofelia learns. She learns until her fingers hurt from overuse and twilight begins to overtake the evening sky. The ache is a pleasant reminder that she’s nailed a few spells, her delight overshadowing any exhaustion.

“Can I try one on you?” Ofelia attempts an icebreaker as she walks up beside Astarion, gesturing to her lute. He’s leaning against the weathered rock with his eyes closed, pretending like he hadn’t heard her. If she can free them from whatever rut it is that they’ve been stuck in, she’d like to try.

“I learned Bardic Inspiration, it might be a good idea to practice my skills-”

“Absolutely not.” He mutters sharply, lids still closed. She frowns.

“You’ve been nothing but cold to me all day. I’m sorry about Shadowheart, but whatever this-” She waves her hand in front of him though he can’t see it. “-is, it’s got to stop. The others are starting to notice.” Her voice is like a blade, slicing through his nonchalant demeanor. His eyes snap open and he glares at her- it makes her flinch gently, and it’s clear he notices.

“Let them,” He turns, walking down the ridge and she follows, anger boiling in her blood.

“What’s going on?” She shouts, grateful to be away from her tiefling teacher as he stalks toward the hillside. “What have I done to you? I’m sorry I almost killed you- I didn’t mean to! I couldn’t control it! What happened from when you left me at the river to this morning? What did I do?” She can’t keep the hot rush of emotion from pouring over her words to coat them in betrayal. What happened? They were conversing so easily yesterday- he’d been a bit bristly about her intentions to provide him with her blood, but she thought they’d at least come to an understanding…

“Nothing!” He growls, throwing his pack down on the ground to stake a claim on the dirt he stands upon. “All you do is suffocate me with your kindness- why? Do you like taking pity on a monster? I hate being treated like a charity case.” She freezes, stiff and stung. When she takes a soft step back, he glares at her and she feels herself shrink.

What spurred this on?

If anyone should be considering themselves a monster, it’s her.

[jaybirdie421]

Masterlist for songs used in chapter titles:

Book Title: Running Up That Hill (A Deal With God) by Kate Bush

Prologue: What Was I Made For by Billie Eilish

ARC 1

Ch1: Walking on Sunshine by Katrina

Ch2: Made For Me by Muni Long

Ch3: Mad World by Pentatonix

Ch4: Brother by Kodaline

Ch5: Devil’s Train by The Lab Rats

Ch6: Towards the Sun by Rhianna, Charlie’s Inferno/Terrible Things by That Handsome Devil/AXIE

ARC 2

Ch7: Not Like Us by Kendrick Lamar

Ch8: Devil Town by Cavetown

Ch9: Look Who’s Inside Again by Bo Burnum

ARC 3

Ch10: Burning Pile by Mother Mother

Ch11: The Cult of Dionysus by The Orion Experience

Ch12: Nothing’s New by Rio Romeo

Ch13: We Are Young by Pentatonix

Ch14: Spooky Scary Skeletons by Andrew Gold

Ch15: Material Girl by Madonna

Ch16: Blow My Brains Out by Tikkle Me

Ch17: Meet Me At Our Spot by WILLOW

Ch18: Wait A Minute! by WILLOW

Ch19: Dead But Pretty by IC3PEAK, Abbey by Mitski

Ch20: Just Dance by Lady Gaga

Ch21: Sweater Weather by The Neighborhood

Ch22: Let’s Groove by Earth, Wind, and Fire

Ch23: Pocketful of Sunshine by Natasha Bedingfield

Ch24: Take A Slice by The Glass Animals

Ch25: Breezeblocks by Alt-j

Ch26: Ride by Sir-Mix-A-Lot

Ch27: Touch The Sky from Brave

Ch28: Ole Therebefore by Rachel Zegler

Ch29: Rewrite the Stars from The Greatest Showman

Ch30: We Both Reached For The Gun from Chicago the Musical

Ch31: Too Sweet by Hozier

Ch32: Line Without a Hook by Ricky Montgomery

Ch33: Do You Remember The Rain by (?)

Ch34: 9 to 5 by Dolley Parton

Ch35: Jump in the Line/ Dead Mom (Reprise) from BEETLEJUICE the Musical

Ch36: I/ME/MYSELF by Will Wood

Ch37: Double Life by Pharrell Williams (Despicable Me 4)

Ch38: Your Love (Deja Vu) by Glass Animals

Ch39: When Will I See You Again by SHAKKA

Ch40: End of Beginning by Djo

Ch41: Baby Hotline by Jack Stauber (Micropop)

Ch42: I Know The End by Phoebe Bridgers

Ch43: Heat Waves by The Glass Animals

Ch44: Everybody Wants To Rule The World by Tears for Fears

Arc 4

Ch45: See You Again by Tyler The Creator

Ch46: Cloud 9 by Beach Bunny

Ch47: Plage Coquillage

Ch48: Poison from Hazbin Hotel

Ch49: good luck babe! by Chappell Roan

Ch50: Ghost by Confetti

Ch51: Never Be Alone by Shadrow

Ch52: A Sign of the Times by Harry Styles

Ch53: Work Song by Hozier

Ch54: Sailor Song by Gigi Perez

Ch55: When The World Caves In by Sarah Cothran

Ch56: Ghost Of Chicago by Noah Floersch

Ch57: Upside Down by JVKE

[exclusivecolette]

LOVE AGAINST ALL ODDS

PT.1

(Sorry if the title doesn’t really match the story. I struggled figuring one out. first story so please bare with me.)

(if you aren’t blonde or don’t apply to the features, you can just put your own features in. i just put my features because i didn’t really know what else.)

summary: a girl starts to fall in love with a boy in class. But, her abusive parents are extremely strict (ignoring the fact she’s even old enough to drive.) And what is she gonna do when she realizes, he isn’t just some crush.

TW in the chapter: abusive parents, family drama, cussing

“i’m so sick of this shit” i yell turning around walking into the door frame. “language!” satan yelled following after me. I turn around making eye contact with her. “mom im not a kid anymore” i say going to shut the door. “im not treated you like one by saying you can’t date.” my mom yelled back.

“how old am i?” i ask looking her straight in the face as she looked back with confusion. “16! you can’t tell me who i can and cannot date. you saw me hugging one boy. great now i’m pregnant!” i roll my eyes shutting the door. “i’m telling your father!” fuck. “i don’t care” i shouted back sitting on my bed. fuck.

-

I heard the front door shut. About 5 minutes passed before i heard footsteps toward my door. I had my tv on. “turn that off” my dad said clenching his jaw. I obliged almost shaking in fear. “when your mom tells you something, you listen you understand me?” he got closer until he was in front of my bed.

“dad she said-“ a sharp pain spread across the side of my face. My hand reached up to my cheek then was quickly jerked away. “do not talk back to me. you nod and listen that’s it.” he yelled still holding a tight grip on my wrist. I nod as a tear went down my face. He let go and before walking out said “and clean up your room” there’s a single shirt on the floor.

-

I woke up feeling like shit. I stumble over to the bathroom, use it. I sit at my vanity. great. There was a bruise almost shaped like a hand on my cheek. A bruise concealer couldn’t cover. And the mark around my wrist. Small towns usually seem to keep quiet.

-

Fourth period is so fucking borin- “if you could be any animal what would it be?” a brunette asked next to me. god. “i don’t know matt” i put my face in my hands. “i would be a dog preferably a-“ he paused. I looked up confused on the silence. “what happened to your wrist?” he asked sitting up from his lounging position.

I quickly put my hand over it. Nosy bitch. “nothing mind your business” i say looking away. He just silently sat back. i’m such dick.“i-id be shark.” i sigh looking at him. He just nodded, he looked kinda bummed out. did i make him upset? “why do you have an owl tattoo?” i ask turning my body more to face him. “i just wanted it” he said.

“i like owls, they’re so pretty.” i say turning completely towards him. I saw his eye twitch and he cleared his throat. he’s looking at my cheek. I undo the piece of hair tucked behind my ear. “you have a lot of tattoos. we’re only in highschool” i let out a small laugh and turn back in my seat so he couldn’t see it.

“i like them” he shrugged. “i like them too” i shrug and turn back in my seat.

-

I had just put my bag on my shoulder when someone bumped into me while running down the hallway with their friends. I fell towards someone. “you alright?” i look up to the boy id talk to earlier. “god.” i scoff looking back to the people that shoved me. Matt let out a chuckle.

“fucking prick” i mumble and realize matt’s hands were still on me. “sorry” i say taking a step back and he took his hands off me. his hands were soft. “hey are you going to the game tonight?” he asked. “the hockey game?” i ask. yes the only fucking game tonight. why am i so stupid? “yeah” he insured.

“yeah i go to all of them” i say shrugging. “yeah i remember seeing you at our last one. When we won you looked like you hadn’t gotten in trouble for something.” he smiled “oh you play?” i asked “um yeah you didn’t know?” he asked confused . “no i go because i um have to, my brother plays. Charlie. i just read” i look away in embarrassment.

“yeah i remember seeing you holding one” he laughed. “well i’ll see you tonight” i smile. “if you look up from your book” god am i blushing? i feel like i’m blushing. fuck. “yeah whatever i’ll look for you” i smile about to walk away. His cheeks got red. matt sturniolo blushing?

[leafcabbage]

Hello! We don’t really know each other but one of my friends reblogged a tag game you participated in, and I’m REALLY curious about some of your WIPs! Namely, these two:

1. Yet to be named side fic about Tubbo's feeling in the hospital based on Chinese Satellite by Phoebe Bridgers

2. drdi wilburs backstory as told through his many misdiagnoses

You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, the titles just piqued my interest so I thought I’d send an ask :) I hope you have a lovely day!

hi!! sorry its taken me so long to reply, busy week !!

1. so i started the chinese satellite fic before i even got to seven day and the wrong side of twenty six percent, which is the fic it takes place during. i wanted to do an exploration into tubbo's atheism and how its hard for him to have no way to believe that, in the case of ranboo dying, he would ever see them again. especially coming from a christian family and in florida. and like... the idea that he wishes he Could believe that, but everything is out of his hands and its hard for him. its based specifically around the lyrics: "I think when you're gone, it's forever

But you know I'd stand on the corner

Embarrassed with a picket sign

If it meant I would see you when I die"

2. wilbur!! so he's got bipolar disorder but it took QUITE a while to get to that diagnosis, and he moved in with phil when he was... 10. i think (<- guy who doesnt know his own fic). and its about how hard it was to get him the help he needed, even with phil as a constant advocate, and like... just the struggles of raising a very mentally ill child and the lengths phil would go for him. i plan for each chapter to be around a different (mis)disgnosis hes gotten or Big Mental Health Event (he was in a mental hospital several times), that kinda stuff. i think itll be fun to write tbh but its on the back burner right now both because i dont have time and becuase i have bipolar II and sometimes writing things similar to my experience feels like eating rocks haha

thank you so much for the ask!!!!! i appreciate it a lot!

[clawdee]

WIP & ASK GAME

RULES: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

@beskarandblasters tagged me

Mmm let's see: (all are with 30s!fat!f!readers)

Can You Feel My Heart - Din

Untitled - Din. Kel's Phoebe Bridgers challenge (🤡 < me bc I haven't even started it)

Untitled - Din, Cobb. Din Fan Fic Club challenge "I don't know what's happening but I love it."

Corroded Coffin - Dave York, Eddie Munson (Control series)

Untitled - Dave York, Resnik (also from Equalizer 2- Jonathan Scarfe is hot ok)(Control series)

Untitled - Dave York gets tied up while he's sleeping 😌 (I'm blaming the Dave York discord for this one)(Control series)

The Crucible - Dave York. Sex club 👀 (Control series)

Jesse's Girl - Dave York meets Reader (Control series)

Kept - Donald Pierce (Boyd Holbrooks 'Logan' character) sex worker reader, dub-con.

Untitled - I guess divorced!slut!young!Joel is gonna have a 3rd part

Texas Hold 'Em - no zombie au! Joel. The Bey song had me thinking 👀

Untitled - Joel. Hells Kitchen AU. Very multi chapter.

Untitled - Cooper Howard/The Ghoul. Coop meets his biggest fan 200 years in the future 😌

GOD I think that's it. Me @ my brain: Stop thinking of things!!

Tagging: @rebel-held

I think everyone else has been tagged, and I'm on mobile and brain bad.

(don't forget my writing blog is @clawdeewritesfanfic )

[effyeffa]

a comprehensive list of (almost) all of my spotify playlists, sorted by theme

category 1: a bit of everything.

every feeling everywhere all at once opened by brian eno, closed by mitski, in between an eclectic mix of everything to scream cry and dance to  essentials. as the title suggests this is the music that makes up the foundation of my identity. funkadelic, air, spiritualized, y la bamba, weyes blood etc etc multitudes: similar idea but older. more hip hop in there, a little time capsule of 2017

seasonal playlists: these are closed chapters that won’t be altered

forbidden fruit february. self explanatory. aquarius season is for yearning and getting messy, thanks fiona apple idlings of march is when spring begins again, just barely but there’s a careful joy spreading. joyful tunes! this must be the place! spring has sprung and continues springing. instrumental interludes as standalone songs, everything sounds like water. the time that we wasted just hit like a wave begin again, another spring playlist. this time with childish gambino, laura marling, hayley williams, guns’n’roses, the classic combo april flowers. short and sweet, alice phoebe lou meets car seat headrest slowly come the saints of summer. do you remember when st vincent said daddy’s home well i made a whole playlist about it. mika is in there. genuinely no idea what was going on that summer. never ending summer, this IS the season of the witch. we love a strange mix of oldies and french and german new wave  i can’t believe summer is over and oh it’s so sentimental, it’s a cherry-coloured funk winter walking. it’s giving phoebe bridgers in the graveyard, mountain goats, springsteen, mother mother winter fruits: the first big thief singles off their latest album came out and sent me down this particular spiral. frankie cosmos and mitski, niche italian indie pop

playlists i still edit/add to, first: good moods.

still you. skinshape, biig piig, kadhja bonet, julia jacklin autobahn, a roadtrip playlist, best friends laughing, mostly italian 70s/80s many moons ago: it’s pop! it’s happy things! silly goofy times golden hour! an old one. started this in 2018, sylvan esso was big, king krule, her’s, clairo will you always love like this? dream pop. lesbianism. st south.  everyday’s a holiday: okay kaya and rex orange county, steve lacy vibes maybe i wasn’t there: kendrick, dijon, rosalía come on over & do the twist. they’re love songs. aching with nostalgia but happy coffee in bed is teetering on the edge between a lovely warm soup of emotions and desperate yearning clear the fog is where the yearning begins in earnest.

moody moods.

free drinks at the local bar, we’ve got mac demarco, the strokes, girlpool. you know the drill take me for a spin: something of a continuation of free drinks a few years later now including sam cohen, kevin morby. sad-ish music that still works if played in public ring: odes to being happysad on public transport in berlin, short and sweet peel you like a fruit. THEE playlist of psychological warfare.  i would be an electrician: if you enjoy julien baker’s happy to be here, the following ten tracks might do similar damage to your psyche  no more bad news from my jorja smith phase, also greentea peng, arlo parks gloomy. it’s the end of the world, sharon van etten said, and love is a losing game, and there’s stormy weather and love will tear us apart.  calm there’s definitely a flatsound track in there. be warned.  

and here’s three completely new ones, works in progress, not yet categorised:

touch. a very specific moment in time. listening to beach house and rhye with all my friends on a big couch, drifting off together, crying a little, holding on tightly all the in between: the only place that matters is by your side, mama you’ve been on my mind, only the strong survive, don’t think twice it’s alright. songs that transcend time and space transitional. seeing angels in everything

already this post is way too long. i have so many playlists, my god. i have a whole folder sorted by genre, one by decade, more by concepts and themes. i’m currently sorting through everything and thought i’d share my process, maybe you’ll find something for yourself new in my chaos :)

[spritehouse]

ShortMC's Whumptober 2023 Masterlist

Works

Fandom: Criminal Minds Final Word Count: 29.8k All works are Ralvez/Ralvez-related *Recommendations/Personal Favorites

*Terminal Velocity: Prompt: Safety Net (no. 1)

Hate Myself: Prompt: "They don't care about you" (no. 2)

*I'm Getting Desperate (losing my mind): Prompt: "Make it stop" (no. 3)

Kiss Me Before I Start to Think: Prompt: "You in there?" (no. 4)

*The End is Near: Prompts: Part 1: Pinned Down (no. 5) + Radio Silence (no. 7) Part 2: "It should've been me" (no. 6) + "It's all for nothing" (no. 8)

The Sky is Overcast (I'm sorry): Prompts: "You're a liar" (no. 9) + "You said you'd never leave" (no. 10) + Goodbye Notes (no. 24)

Wide Awake, Spiraling: Prompts: Captivity (no. 11) & Insomnia (no. 12)

I Can't Hide From You (like I hide from myself): Prompts: Infection (no. 13) + "Just hold on" (no. 14) + "I'm fine" (no. 15)

Please Hurry, Leave Me (I can't breathe): Prompts: Drugging (alt) + Touch Aversion (no. 17) + Tortured for Information (no. 18)

*It Hurts to Hope for More: Prompts: "I'm not as stupid as you think I am" (no. 19) + "You will regret touching them" (no. 20) + "Don't move" (no. 21)

*It Gets so Dark (so you can see the stars): Prompts: Vehicular Accident (no. 22) + Shadows (no.23) + Storm (no. 25)

Destroyed Everything & Spit Us Out: Prompts: "You look awful" (no. 26) + Scars/"Let me see" (no. 27) + Bloody Knife (no. 28)

Put Down the Knife (we're not swapping blood): Prompts: "What happened to me?" (no. 29) + Reluctant Whumper (alt) + "Take it easy" (no. 31)

Whumptober 2023 Playlist

Every song I used for a fic/chapter title

Hate Myself (dodie) Hate Myself + I'm Getting Desperate (losing my mind)

Four Tequilas Down (dodie) Kiss Me Before I Start to Think

I Know The End (Phoebe Bridgers) The End is Near | I'm Not Afraid to Disappear + When I Call, You'll Come Home

Two Birds (Regina Spektor) The Sky is Overcast (I'm sorry)

Emily I'm Sorry (boygenius) Wide Awake, Spiraling

True Blue (boygenius) I Can't Hide From You (like I hide from myself)

First Love/Late Spring (Mitski) Please Hurry, Leave Me (I can't breathe)

Afraid of Heights (boygenius) It Hurts to Hope for More

Black Hole (boygenius) It Gets so Dark (so you can see the stars) + Destroyed Everything & Spit Us Out

We're In Love (boygenius) Put Down the Knife (we're not swapping blood)

Scrapped Ideas/Work

Ideas Dumpsite: Ideas/concepts that didn't make it to a final draft

Scrapped Scenes (pt. 1): Short Scenes, dialogue, etc. that didn't make it into a final draft

Give it up to You (I surrender): Scrapped Work | Moreid | Prompt: Shock (no. 4)

Doors a Kid Shouldn't Walk Through: Scrapped Work/WIP | Moreid/Ralvez | Prompts: Pinned Down (no. 5) + Recording (no. 6)

more coming soon!

Thank you to everyone who read/interacted with any of my works/rambling this October & thanks so much Whumptober team!

[usanewsadventures]

gracie abrams tickets

Gracie Abrams Announces Six-Stadium Solo Tour After Opening for Taylor Swift’s ‘Eras Tour’

Emerging pop sensation Gracie Abrams has announced her first-ever stadium solo tour, a bold new chapter in her career following her stint as an opening act for Taylor Swift’s record-breaking “Eras Tour.” This milestone cements Abrams as one of the most exciting rising stars in the music industry.

Abrams’ tour, titled “The Good Riddance Stadium Tour”—named after her critically acclaimed debut album—will span six major cities across North America, including iconic venues such as New York’s MetLife Stadium and Los Angeles’ SoFi Stadium. The announcement comes just weeks after her final appearance on Swift’s tour, where her performances consistently wowed audiences and drew praise for her hauntingly intimate lyrics and captivating stage presence.

A Rising Star Finds Her Spotlight

The 24-year-old singer-songwriter has been steadily building her fanbase since the release of her EP “Minor” in 2020. With deeply personal lyrics and a knack for crafting heartfelt ballads, Abrams has quickly earned comparisons to artists like Lorde and Phoebe Bridgers. However, opening for Taylor Swift catapulted her to a new level of fame, introducing her music to millions of fans worldwide.

“Touring with Taylor was an absolute dream,” Abrams shared in a recent interview. “Getting to watch her perform every night taught me so much about connecting with an audience. I can’t wait to bring that energy to my own shows.”

What to Expect on the Tour

Fans can expect a mix of intimate storytelling and stadium-scale production on “The Good Riddance Stadium Tour.” Abrams’ signature vulnerability will be paired with high-energy performances of hits like “I Know It Won’t Work” and “Where Do We Go Now?” She also hinted at potential surprises, including special guests and never-before-heard tracks.

The announcement has already generated a wave of excitement on social media, with fans expressing their enthusiasm for the singer’s well-deserved solo moment. Presale tickets will be available starting next week, with general sales to follow shortly after.

A New Era for Abrams

Stepping into the spotlight of her own stadium tour marks a significant turning point for Abrams. While her music has always resonated deeply with listeners, this tour will give her the opportunity to showcase her artistry on an unprecedented scale.

“This is the start of something I’ve dreamed about for as long as I can remember,” Abrams said in a heartfelt post on Instagram. “Thank you to everyone who has supported me along the way. I can’t wait to see you all out there.”

With her talent, humility, and newfound experience from touring alongside one of the biggest stars in the world, Gracie Abrams is poised to take the music industry by storm. As her solo journey begins, fans and critics alike will be watching to see how this rising star continues to shine.

[poisonfrog0]

on songs about graceland

graceland: a sprawling 1930s estate in memphis, tennessee; the resting place of elvis presley.

graceland: faded red velour, antique wood, wrought iron and dust.

graceland: a final destination. a tourist attraction covered in a feeling of absolution.

i had no idea what graceland was until about a year ago.

paul simon won the grammy record of the year in 1987 for his song “graceland”, the title track of his seventh album. i believe this award was well deserved. i have not knowingly listened to any other songs from 1987.

simon sings about a road trip to tennessee with his nine year old son sitting in the passenger seat. he reflects upon his failed marriage: “she comes back to tell me she’s gone / as if i didn’t know that / as if i didn’t know my own bed / as if i’d never noticed the way she’d brush her hair from her forehead.” loss of love is compared to being “blown apart”, metaphorically comparing heartbreak to windows during a storm. the repeating chorus line “i’ve reason to believe / we all will be received in graceland,” is sung as a prayer rather than a lyric.

when i listen to this song, as well as “graceland too” by phoebe bridgers, and “morning elvis” by florence and the machine, i am overcome by the feeling of optimism - a kind of self-sacrificing optimism that occurs during a last resort. the kind of bittersweet you feel when things get better, even though you know the end of the story is tragic (or, at best, sad). but it seems like the composers of these songs know how the story ends. despite this, they are going to graceland. they’ve always wanted to see graceland.

for every artist to depict the same yearning, melancholic (yet hopeful) feeling that shrouds graceland is fascinating. this phenomenon spans multiple decades and genres. in the way that disneyland represents the quintessential american nuclear family and commercialism, graceland has morphed into a sum greater than its parts.

it has turned into an almost mythical destination; a place worshipped and revered for more than it is at face value. but what’s interesting about this to me is: it doesn’t have much to do with honoring elvis or his accomplishments. at least, that’s what i’ve gathered from listening to these songs about graceland. it’s always about - making it - to graceland. i need to make it to graceland. i wish i made it to graceland. what is waiting in graceland?

i can name a few gracelands for myself. i think it is human nature to search for yourself, to search for healing and belonging in other people and places. when i get there i will be okay. when i make it to the next chapter in my life i will be okay. when i am with this person i will be okay. i have experienced mixed success with this mindset - one of the many mindsets i’ve tried on to cope with living - but i do not see anything inherently wrong with this concept. it’s tricky but not wrong. for a long time, my mother country was my graceland. it does make me feel complete and healed, but every time i leave i am inconsolable for weeks. i decided to reclassify it as home. it feels better to miss it that way. a small tourist town on the northwest coast was graceland for many years - while the town itself is lackluster and unimpressive to visit, that specific stretch of the pacific ocean is special to me.

someone from my hometown used to be my graceland. we were not meant to be but i tried long and hard to challenge fate. i have since learned not to make anyone i loved my graceland.

to go to graceland is to be saved. it is a beautiful idea. in some ways i have been saved by these people and places.

graceland - graceland - people sing about graceland as if it’s a castle in the sky. even better than a castle in the sky. it is solace; a place for pilgrims and weariness.

how has a 1930s mansion become such an emotionally significant destination? graceland has transcended its reality: a barely historic building south of memphis, tennessee, with the corpses of a long-dead singer and his family buried somewhere in the lawn. i hope i can visit someday.

[yessadirichards]

Taylor Swift returns to Nashville, reveals 'Speak Now' date

NASHVILLE, Tenn.

Taylor Swift is playing catch-up with her fans this year in a massive and impressive stadium show that embraces her artistic reinventions.

Nearly two months into the 52-show Eras Tour, Swift returned Friday to the origins of her musical career in Nashville, Tennessee, a city she outgrew as a country starlet destined for pop stardom.

In front of 70,000 fans, Swift dropped the news that she would be releasing a re-recording of her Nashville-era 2010 record, “Speak Now,” on July 7.

Swift started releasing new versions of her early albums in 2021, after a dispute over the ownership of the masters, which were sold to — and then by — music executive Scooter Braun. “Speak Now,” Swift's third album, will also be the third “Taylor's Version” recording — she released the re-recordings of 2008's “Fearless” and 2012's “Red” in 2021.

“Speak Now” was an album she wrote entirely by herself and she performed one of the singles, “Sparks Fly” after her announcement, followed by “Teardrops on My Guitar,” from her 2006 self-titled debut record.

The tour started chaotically with a breakdown of Ticketmaster’s ability to withstand the demand of fans, who were eager to see Swift after an extended hiatus from touring due to the coronavirus pandemic. Those who were lucky enough to get into the first of three shows in Nashville made sure to show out in their cosplay outfits inspired by Taylor’s songs, ranging from marching band geek to cardigans and cottagecore.

“I moved to Nashville nearly 20 years ago,” she told the crowd. “And this dream I had since I was so little I can’t even remember even first having it, this dream came true because of this town and the people in it.”

She started off the nearly 3.5-hour show with a line from “Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince” as a gentle spring rain sprinkled on the crowd: “It’s been a long time coming, but it’s you and me, that’s my whole world.”

The Eras tour theme is a natural fit for an artist whose music is often so self-referential, winking and smiling at the previous Taylors and their moments. The show is broken up into acts, not moving chronologically through her discography, but instead presenting like a house with many rooms. The color schemes, choreographed dancers and outfits support the overall feeling of musical theater, with a stage that incorporates rising platforms and hidden trap doors she can disappear through.

With over 40 songs on the setlist from her 10 albums, Swift hits a lot of the highlights of her singles, ranging from “You Belong With Me,” “Shake It Off,” “Bad Blood,” “Anti-Hero” and “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together.” But she also made time for special songs, like her 10-minute fan favorite “All Too Well,” and brought back opening act Phoebe Bridgers to perform their duet “Nothing New,” a vault track released on “Red (Taylor’s Version).”

It was a five-year wait to see all the glittering chapters of Swift’s career on stage together, but the pop star’s marathon performance carried fans through to the last notes.

[sequinsmile-x]

I Know the End - Not Afraid to Disappear

She wishes they’d met earlier, that they’d had more time. Meeting him here, at the end, was cruel even by the universes standards.

A Hotchniss on the run AU, told in 3 parts

Series Master List

-x-

This is my 100th work on Ao3. Which is...ridiculous and amazing and just about everything. Thank you for your support, your love for my fics and even the (well deserved) screaming.

I hope you enjoy this story, and here's to the next 100!

The name of the fic, and the chapter titles, are from the song I Know the End by Phoebe Bridgers. If you want to get the tone of this fic, I'd recommend listening to it.

-x-

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: Major character death, canon typical violence, references to trauma/PTSD, criminal activity

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She’s seen his face before. 

It’s all she can think as she knocks back another scotch in a dive bar in a small town in Texas. 

He looked like a Fed, despite clearly trying his best to look anything but. The jeans and leather jacket and what looked like a polo shirt underneath were doing nothing to take away the serious way in which he held himself. A stiffness to his posture that she instinctually found herself wanting to mess with, to make him squirm. 

Emily can’t help but wonder if she’d been as obvious when she was pretending to be someone else. In many ways, she still was. 

She knows he isn’t one of the people after her, she knew them well, their faces burned into her memory, the people who she once called her team. Her friends. She’d worked through the feelings of betrayal years ago. Allowed herself to feel it, crying in a cheap motel once she’d made her initial escape, the moment when she knew things would never be the same again. She’d learnt since then. Spent the last few years forging a routine, a way of life that she knew like the back of her hand. She knew when to make her exit, to find somewhere new. 

But she still can’t shake the fact she knows his face, and given the not so subtle looks he throws her way, he’s thinking the same about her. She knocks back the rest of her drink and stands, throwing money down onto the bar before she makes a quick exit.

She isn’t sure if she wants him to follow her or not. 

___

He knows her, remembers her name even after all these years. 

She’s older now. No longer the 20 year old he used to see in her mother’s house, an air of chaos around her no matter where she went, wilfulness following her like a sweet perfume. He’d let her back into the house once. He’d been on night duty, and she’d forgotten her keys. He’d got her to her room, drunk and underage to help her avoid accidentally waking up her mother. 

Aaron remembered placing a glass of water on her nightstand and helping her take her shoes off. High heels she’d clearly replaced since with more sensible combat boots. The following day she’d looked at him like they’d never met, and he wondered if she remembered it at all. 

He’d heard she’d died. Rumours throughout the bureau when he was still there that the ambassador's daughter had worked for the CIA or Interpol, depending on who you got your gossip from, and that she had gone rogue. Killed her target before she herself was caught. 

It was definitely her. He might have been married when he’d worked for her mother, but he wasn’t an idiot. She was beautiful, captivating. The kind of person you never forgot. 

Here, in small town Texas, he’d come across Emily Prentiss. 

She looks up at him, and their eyes meet. She frowns ever so slightly, averting her eyes back to her drink as she downs it, slamming the glass down with a little more force than necessary. She throws another look at him before she smiles at the bartender, putting money down at the bar before she makes a hasty exit. 

Aaron would never be able to explain why he followed her, what possessed him to hurriedly throw money down himself before he walked outside too, something about her pulling him towards her. Maybe it was intrigue, the comfort of a familiar face after so long. Or maybe, it was just that he was lonely, the life he had been living since Foyet had torn his old one apart too empty for him to take.

The street is empty when he walks out onto it and he sighs, briefly wondering if he had seen her at all. As he turns to walk back into the bar, he’s met with the barrel of a gun, a pair of dark eyes looking at him over the top of it.

“Why are you following me?” Emily asks, her eyes hard, boring into his as if she could read his mind to find her answer. “Who sent you?” 

“No one sent me,” he replies calmly, his hands up as she doesn’t lower her gun, her grip tightening on it. “I recognised you,” he swallows thickly, speaking as quietly as he can so she can still hear him, “You’re Emily Prentiss.” 

She frowns at him as he says her name, her eyes widening as she looks around to ensure they were alone, pushing her gun so the muzzle is pressing into his stomach, her finger on the trigger. 

“What do you mean you recognise me?” She asks, her face remains stoic, unaffected, but he can see the panic she’s trying to hide from him in her eyes. He looks around them, repeating her action to make sure that they are still alone before he turns back to answer her. 

“I used to work for your mother,” he replies, and he sees the shock flash across her features, her grip on the gun in her hand loosening for the first time, “you were in college, about to start your Master’s I think. Brown?” He continues to look at her, her face still emotionless, “I actually helped you sneak back into the house one time.”

He leaves out that she’d drunkenly come on to him, that she’d kissed him. The brief touch of her lips to his the closest he had ever come to cheating on Haley. 

“Yale,” she corrects him, finally pulling her gun back from him, clicking the safety on as she puts it in a holster, “it was Yale,” she takes a step back from him and looks him up and down. “You FBI?” 

“I used to be,” he replies, half smiling at her when she frowns, her eyebrows creasing, “It’s a long story.” 

He can almost see her entire thought process, the wheels turning in her head as she continues to study him. How she clearly contemplates just leaving him here, their interaction just a blip on her radar like it had been a lifetime ago. He watches as she bites her lower lip and sighs, frustration that seemed to be aimed at herself seeping off of her. 

“Well,” she says, clearing her throat, “you’d better come with me, we’ll find somewhere better for you to tell me.” 

She’s already turning around, her back to him before his brain kicks into gear. 

“Wait-”

“You look like a Fed, Aaron.” She cuts over him, turning to look at him again with a smirk on her face, “you should probably stick with someone who knows what they are doing, or whoever is chasing you will find you soon.” 

He wonders how she knows, what about him gave away that he was also running from something. If she could smell it on him, if he really was that obvious. But something else overrides it all, the question tripping out of his mouth before he can stop himself

“You…remember my name?” He asks, cursing himself internally immediately, the wry smile on her face making him feel something close to embarrassment. 

She steps towards him, the faint smell of her perfume and something that was clearly just her overwhelming his senses as she whispers to him. 

“I remember everything.”

___

She remembered kissing him.

As soon as he’d started talking to her in the alley behind the bar, his voice brought it all back. Memories she had boxed away when she became someone else all flooding to the forefront. 

She’d been enamoured with him from the moment he’d arrived at her mother’s house. The same feeling she’d had in the bar, the need to mess with him, to make him squirm, one of the few things that had entertained her that summer. Emily remembers the night he mentioned, how he’d let her into the house and treated her with such kindness she could still feel the warmth of it now, decades later. The lingering heat from an extinguished flame. That, combined with her general attraction to him and the amount of tequila in her system had made her kiss him. He’d pulled back immediately, something that she understood the following morning, his wedding ring one of the first things she’d noticed about him. 

She’d pretended nothing had happened, that their interactions were nothing more than those she had with the other people who worked for her mother. It was easier. 

Pretending, Emily had learnt, was one of the things she was best at. 

He was clearly running from something. His demeanour was that of someone who was uncomfortable, not used to his surroundings. All of his years working for the FBI still lingering around him, making him stand out in a way she knew would draw attention to him if something didn’t change. 

If asked, she wouldn’t be sure why she’d taken pity on him. It could be classed as loneliness. Intrigue because he wasn’t wearing a ring anymore, a part of her wondering if that was linked to why he had quit the FBI, why he was in a similar situation to her. 

Mostly, she knew it was because he knew her name. It had been so long since someone had known her name. 

She lets him into the motel she’s been staying in, locking the door behind him as he walks in. When she turns he’s looking around, seemingly taking interest in her belongings, her bag always mostly packed in case she needed to make a hasty exit. 

“Drink?” She asks, unable to stop herself from smiling when he jumps slightly, turning to face her as he nods. 

She takes two of the motel issued glasses and heads over to her bag, pulling out a bottle of scotch. She pours them a generous measure each, passing him his drink as she sits next to him on the bed. She turns so she’s looking at him, her eyes briefly lingering on the sharp edge of his jaw, the way this throat moves when he swallows some scotch. 

“You want me to start from the beginning?” He asks, his question snapping her out of her slight stupor. She nods at him, taking a sip of her drink, the burn in her throat distracting her from the one in her cheeks caused by being caught staring at him. 

“It’s as good a place as any.” 

He sighs, his lips set in a firm line as he looks straight ahead again, eyes fixed on the wall in front of him, as if he couldn’t bring himself to tell her if he was looking at her. 

“You ever heard of the Boston Reaper?” He asks, briefly looking at her so she can nod in response, before looking away again, taking a sip of his scotch, “I was part of the Behavioural Analysis Unit at the bureau, we profiled criminal behaviour, travelling the country to help catch killers. He was the first case I worked when we didn’t get the guy, the lead detective sent us home.” He chuckles dryly. “I’d almost forgotten about it, something that I’d think about when I couldn’t sleep, but I moved on. Then I got a call from the lead detective years later, saying he needed my help.” 

She watches as he talks, the way he shakes his head at himself, clearly placing the blame for whatever had happened on his shoulders. 

“Turns out he’d made a deal with the Reaper, a deal that was about to expire because he was dying. We caught him. He’d posted as a victim himself. George Foyet.” He spits out the name, his hand tightening slightly on his glass. “He escaped.” 

He falls into silence, and she clears her throat. “Did you find him again?” 

“More like he found me,” Aaron answers, briefly looking at her before he looks back at the wall, “he broke into my apartment, stabbed me 9 times, and then dropped me off at the hospital,” he shakes his head, “my team took forever to find me, too long. They thought I’d taken the morning off, they only realised something was wrong when they got a call that one of my agents was in the hospital. Foyet had his badge, he left it with me.” He pauses, knocking back the rest of his scotch, swallowing thickly, “by the time we realised what his plan was it was too late.” 

She feels a sense of foreboding wash over her, his sadness and guilt travelling through the air in the small gap between them. Her throat feels tight, her eyes fixed on his empty ring finger. 

“Aaron, you don’t have to-”

“By the time the SWAT team arrived at my old house, he was already gone. My son and ex-wife were dead.” He says through his teeth, clenching his jaw to keep himself together. She sighs sadly, closing her eyes. “My son was three. And he…” he drifts off, eyes screwed shut as he tries to rid himself of the images she knew he’d never be free of, “eventually I found Foyet, and I killed him. It wasn’t self-defence, I wasn’t even working at the time. I just killed him.” He laughs dryly, shaking his head. “I knew they’d be after me, that legally what I’d done wasn’t justified, so I left.” 

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” she says, not sure what else there was to say. He’d have heard all the platitudes she’s sure. From family, from the team who had once worked for him. “How long ago?” 

“About a year since I killed him. Haley and Jack have been gone 18 months.” He looks at her, his eyes cold, a humourless smile on his face, “So what do you think, Emily? Is my story sad enough for me to tag along with you?”

She feels embarrassment, and something close to shame colouring her face as he asks her, her gut twisting at the implication that she knew wasn’t entirely false. 

“That’s not what…” she starts in an attempt to defend herself that he shuts down with a single look, “Yes. But we should move on tomorrow, I’ve already been here too long and all the locals in that bar were staring at you like you were an undercover cop.”

He smiles for real this time, and she ignores the pull in her belly. 

“What about you?” He asks, his eyes meeting hers. 

“What about me?” 

“I heard rumours, stories about what happened-”

“Another time,” she interrupts him, her hand touching his arm, the first physical contact they’d had. He nods, understanding whether he liked it or not he wouldn’t be able to force her to tell him. 

“Answer something else instead?” He asks, and she nods. “Why did you bring me here?” 

She can’t tell him the whole truth, she knows that. Can’t let him know that it was something as small, as sentimental as the fact he knew her from before. The old Emily that she was certain was long gone.

“It’s less conspicuous if we travel in a pair, people won’t pay as much attention to a couple than they will a single traveller.”

He seems to accept the answer, standing up from the bed. “I should get back to mine, I’ll meet you here in the morning.” 

“Stay,” she says, far too quickly, clearing her throat before she carries on, “you may as well. Then we can leave early, swing by where you’ve been staying to get your things.” 

His eyes flash to the bed, “There’s only one bed.” 

She rolls her eyes at him. “I’m not the 20 year old girl who tried to kiss you anymore, Aaron,” she says, smirking as he blanches, clearly sure she didn’t remember that part, “I’m a grown woman. I think we can manage sleeping in the same bed.” She grabs her pyjamas from her bag, heading into the tiny adjoining bathroom of her motel room. “Besides, we’d better get used to it, if we’re going to do this sticking to one room is safer.” 

She gets a vague response from him as she enters the bathroom, pulling the door closed firmly behind her. She blows out a breath and looks at her reflection in the mirror. She scrubs her hand down her face, and tries to gather herself, unsure if this truly was a good idea or not, but aware there was no turning back now, even if she wanted to. 

When she’s ready for bed she walks out of the bathroom, giving him a chance to do whatever he needed to. He walks back out in his boxers, his clothes in hand as he dumps them over the chair in the corner. 

“Well, that answers a question I’ve had for over a decade,” she jokes, dissipating some of the tension in the room as he climbs into bed with her, putting as much distance between them as physically possible, “always wondered if you were a boxers or briefs kind of guy.” 

He glares at her, something she can’t read in his eyes as he settles on his side, turning off the dim lamp on the nightstand next to him.

“Goodnight, Emily.”

“Night, Aaron.” 

Neither one of them mentions it when they wake tangled together in the morning, curled around each other like pieces of the same puzzle. 

-x-

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[atlabeth]

everything happens for a reason part 4 - zuko x fem!reader

The night was full of terrors and your eyes were full of tears

part 3 | masterlist | part 5

a/n: i told you this was where everything starts to go downhill !! throw one out for my girl kura though water tribe mothers stay winnin

i had this scheduled for next week but elle wanted angst so it’s out today😁😁

wc: 2.9k

warning(s): threats/talks of killing and violence, lots of stress, ozai being the worst (and racist), basically just. angst

chapter title comes from the night we met by lord huron + phoebe bridgers!

The blood in her veins turned to ice as she shot a panicked look at Zuko.

“What?” A frown was already forming on Zuko’s face despite his efforts to remain impassive. “Why?”

“I’m unaware of the reason, my prince. All I know is that I am supposed to escort you to the throne room, then once you are finished to deliver the servant. Another guard will be here shortly for her.” A pregnant pause hung in the air as the two children met each other’s eyes, the fear obvious in Y/N’s.

“I’m sure you know that the Fire Lord does not like to be kept waiting, Prince Zuko.” The guard’s voice brought them back to reality and Zuko nodded unsteadily as he began to walk with the guard, shooting a look that he hoped was reassuring back at Y/N.

She couldn’t even return the sentiment — she was completely frozen in place despite the age old urge to run shooting through her body. Servants didn’t meet with the Fire Lord in any sort of formal way — Spirits, they barely even talked to the royal family as a whole unless it was for some kind of business reason; even then they were at risk of their infamous explosive tempers.

Y/N might’ve been young, but she understood just as much — she was as good as dead the moment that guard arrived.

What was she supposed to do? Y/N was a child, a servant — if the Fire Lord wanted to see her, she had no choice but to follow along with it. But she knew that nothing good was going to come out of this. She cherished her friendship with Zuko more than anything but she hadn’t been treating it as seriously as she should’ve.

Her mother was right. She couldn’t imagine her life without Zuko now, but Y/N knew now that she never should’ve attempted anything more than professionalism. The Fire Nation was a cruel place, the Fire Lord was a cruel man, and she was going to pay the price for trying to go against it.

As if summoned by her thoughts, her mother came storming around the corner with an unusual haste in her step, the fire blazing in her eyes only offset by the pure horror.

“Y/N, what did you do?” Her mother’s frenzied voice went in one ear and out the other as she just stared at her wide eyed, mouth opening and closing but nothing coming out. “Why did I hear the Fire Lord’s personal servants talking about meeting with a servant girl?”

“I— I—” The stammered syllable was all that she could get out, but Kura didn’t wait for an answer. She grabbed her daughter’s hand and began to run, constantly looking behind her as they darted through the hallways towards the servants’ quarters. Once they had arrived, she slammed the door shut behind them and immediately got to work.

“I’m sorry!” she cried, finally managing to form a sentence. “I— I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking about—”

“You weren’t thinking about anything!” Kura flew around the room, shoving various items into a satchel and all but clearing out Y/N’s area of the quarters. “I told you to be careful just talking to him, and now— now this?”

“I’m sorry!” Y/N repeated, her words coming out in between choked sobs. Her head was spinning and she could barely breathe — no more than twenty minutes ago everything was perfect, how did it go so wrong so quickly? “I thought we were safe, I thought that they wouldn’t know—”

“The Fire Lord will always find out,” Kura muttered, still a whirlwind around the room as she tried to think of anything her daughter could need. “I was too lenient. I should have never let you get close to him.”

“I don’t know how it happened, but I started liking him and he started liking me and we went out into the city even though I knew we shouldn’t have and he told me he liked me and I like him even more now but now I’ve ruined everything!” Y/N heaved another shaky breath, the words flowing out of her like water as tremors ran through her whole body. “And now the Fire Lord is going to kill me!” she sobbed.

“Nothing is going to happen to you, baby. Okay? Not as long as I’m here.” Kura threw a cloak behind her at Y/N. “Put that on.”

“Why?” She began to do what her mother asked, but questioned it anyway.

“Because I’m going to get you out of here.” She dug through a parcel of coins and after a quick count, threw it into the bag as well. “The Fire Lord wants to mess with my daughter?” she muttered to herself. “He’s going to have to go through me first.”

“How?” Y/N asked yet again, her voice just as uncertain as she felt — it was like she was incapable of anything other than one word responses.

Satisfied with the contents of the satchel, she put the strap over Y/N’s shoulder. She then knelt on the ground in front of her and adjusted her cloak, carefully pulling the hood over her head to conceal any distinguishing features. “I want you to listen to me, and I want you to memorize every word I say. Is that clear?”

Y/N nodded and Kura cast another glance at the door, as if expecting the Fire Lord himself to burst through the door at any moment, before turning back to her daughter. “Alright. You are going to leave the palace through the servant door near the infirmary. You’re lucky — the guards should be changing shifts around this time, so if you move quickly you’ll be able to make it past the walls without getting caught. Do not stop running until you reach Harbor City — I don't care how tired you get or how much your legs ache, do not stop. Ask around for Eisuke, but be careful; the place is brewing with criminals. Once you find him, tell him you are Kura’s daughter. He’ll be able to get you out of the city; if he wants coin, give it to him. From there—”

The door burst open all of a sudden and Kura shot up, instinctively hiding Y/N behind her. She relaxed when she saw it was only Aiko, but the somber look on her face told her all she needed to know.

“There’s a guard looking around for Y/N,” she warned. “I managed to throw him off the path for now, but it’s not going to last. If you’re going to get her out, you need to do it now.”

Kura turned back to her daughter, once again kneeling in front of her. “From there, do whatever you can to get to the Earth Kingdom. You’ll have far more allies there than anywhere in the Fire Nation. Once you get far enough north, you’ll be able to find a boat to take you to the Northern Water Tribe. Tell them that you are Kura’s daughter, and show them this.”

She ripped her necklace off from around her neck and tucked it into Y/N’s hand — a simple band with a blue stone carved in the shape of a flower — and closed her fingers around it. “They’ll recognize it from my time in the tribe, and they will help you. Do you understand?”

Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded, her eyes already shimmering with tears. “I’m so sorry, mother. I’m so sorry.”

She shushed her and embraced Y/N in a tight hug, trying to soothe her as much as she could. “It’s alright, darling. You shouldn’t have to apologize for being a child.”

“Why can’t you come with me?” she asked desperately. “You’ll be safe too.”

“I have to stay back to make sure that you’re safe on the other side as well,” Kura reassured. She knew that if her daughter disappeared right before she was supposed to be punished, it would only serve to anger Ozai more. If she left alongside her, Kura was almost certain that all of the servants would be punished; if she stayed then she would be able to take full responsibility — as long as she knew her daughter was safe, Kura could weather anything.

“But I can’t do this alone,” Y/N pleaded, the tears now falling freely. “Please, mother.”

“You can, my little otter penguin. You’re braver than you even know. “ Kura pressed a kiss to her forehead and smiled faintly at her before looking back at Aiko. “Can you make sure she gets out of the palace safely?”

“Of course.”

Kura embraced her once more, squeezing so tightly that Y/N couldn’t breathe, but it was a welcome sensation this time. “I love you, Y/N. Always remember that, no matter what happens.”

Y/N nodded and shouldered her satchel, biting down on her lip hard to keep herself from shedding any more tears. “I love you too, mother. I swear, I’ll find my way back to you. I don’t care how long it takes.”

Aiko took Y/N’s hand and began urging her towards the door, looking back at her mother with nothing but pure sympathy. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Kura.”

“So do I,” she whispered.

-

Zuko knelt in front of his father, willing himself to keep his eyes on the floor as well as stop the tremors running through his body. He was in trouble, he had to be for a meeting like this, but all he could think about was Y/N and how much trouble she would be in. He had to figure out some way to save her—

“Prince Zuko.” Ozai’s voice boomed throughout the hall, and he worked to maintain the mask of stoicism. It was near impossible with the countless thoughts bouncing around in his head, but he somehow managed. “I’m sure you know why I have called you in here tonight.”

He counted in his head the seconds passed for an appropriate pause before answering cautiously. “No, father. I’m not aware of the reason for this.”

“Don’t lie so blatantly to my face,” he spat. “I have eyes everywhere, and I know you were in the city without permission. Am I correct?”

Zuko swallowed the sudden lump in his throat and nodded shakily. “Yes, father, you are. I went into the city today with—”

“With a servant girl?” The flames on either side of him flared up as a result of his growing anger. “I would ask what was going through your head when you decided to do something so stupid, but it doesn’t seem like anything is going on up there.”

“She needed silks for a project she was working on,” he said, trying in vain to defend himself. “She didn’t have the materials that she needed so I thought I would take her out into the city to help her.” It was so much more than that, but Zuko feared for what would happen if his father knew the feelings he harbored for her.

“You are the crown prince,” Ozai growled. “It is not your job to help servants. You should know better than to go prancing around with Water Tribe savages, but I suppose I have to teach you a lesson.”

“Please, don’t—“ Zuko began, but he was cut off yet again.

“You will speak when spoken to,” he interrupted through gritted teeth. “If you won’t take such a coveted position seriously, then I will take it into my own hands. I will not have your feelings ruining the image of this family after how hard I have worked. The Water Tribe peasant will suffer severe consequences, and it will be your fault. This will be your lesson to remember just who you are. Nothing in this world comes without a cost."

Zuko felt his heart stop for just a moment as his father’s golden eyes bore into his own, and he dug his nails into the flesh of his palm in a half-hearted attempt to stay calm. “Father, is this really necessary?”

“The mere fact that you are questioning my decision proves that it is,” Ozai seethed. “This is not your choice to make, and every attempt in undermining my authority will make her suffer more. Do you understand?”

He found himself unable to speak, the horror of the situation still processing in his head. Y/N was going to get hurt, possibly killed, and it was all his fault. He should’ve been more careful, he shouldn’t have been around her at all, he was being completely selfish by wanting her company and now his father was going to—

“I will not repeat myself again; do you understand?”

Zuko inhaled sharply and nodded, his vision coming back into focus as he croaked out a “yes”.

Ozai appeared less than satisfied, but it seemed the extended company of his son was not worth worming a better answer out of him. He directed his attention to the guard waiting by the door. “Take him back to his quarters — station two guards outside to ensure that he stays put. Once you are done, find the savage and throw her in a cell. A night in the cold will loosen her tongue. You are dismissed.”

Zuko felt numb as he pulled himself up from the floor, bowed, and walked out of the throne room with the guard. Every fibre of his being screamed at him to break away from the guard, to run and find Y/N, and take her away from this dreaded place before any harm could come to her.

But he didn’t. He remained in place, following the guard silently to his room as a storm brewed in his mind.

What in Agni’s name had he pulled her into?

-

Prince Zuko doesn’t sleep a wink that night, spending every moment staring out the window with wide eyes and a petrified heart. He has no idea how Y/N is going to get out of this, and he feels like a coward for not being able to protect her. What good is any kind of honor if this was the cost?

The next day, he is forced to be with a guard at all times — he doesn’t catch a single glimpse of the waterbender.

The next day, the rest of the week, a month — no sign of her. He tries to find Kura, but is met with the same result. He manages to sneak his way into the prison, but he can’t even find her there. None of the other servants will tell him anything about their whereabouts, either out of fear that the same will happen to them or direct orders from his father.

He feels like he’s tainted, like he only brings pain to those around him. His mother gone, his love missing, dead, or worse, and the same for her mother. The effortless cruelty his father shows to everyone around him — it makes him wonder if that’s what will become of him when he eventually takes the throne.

It makes Zuko sick, to think of what she went through and that he was the cause of it. It takes everything in him to hold the tears back, but the floodgates open at night when he is alone — with Y/N gone, he feels that way more often than not.

Every sign points to her being dead, but Zuko prays to every spirit he knows that she somehow found a way out.

-

Y/N doesn’t sleep either that night, every breath and every step dedicated to getting farther away from the palace. Every sound she hears sends tremors through her body, expecting every cracked branch or bump in the night to be someone coming to finish the job. More than once she questions what in Tui’s name is she doing, and Y/N knows that her mother’s final words are the only reason she is able to get through this.

She feels like a coward for leaving. Her mother is going to bear the consequences, and it’s more than likely other servants will suffer because of her too. And Zuko — she has no idea what is going to happen to him. He may be the crown prince, but title has never stopped Ozai before. She doubts it will stop him now. Knowing that it won’t last is the only comfort — she’s just a servant; punishment will only be inflicted to make an example out of the situation and then it will be left alone.

At least, that’s what she hopes for.

Y/N tells herself that she will reunite with Zuko no matter the cost. No matter how long it takes, how much she has to go through, even if she has to break into the damn palace — she knows that her story with the prince is not over, even if she has to keep writing it herself.

She will see him again. Y/N knows that much.

-

oops²

perm tag list: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

ehfar: @chandies-sideblog @persica27 @anzanity

atla: @marianne1806

[playlistmusings]

Everyone knows you’re the way to my heart

*Completed*

Chapters:

(1)Prologue (2) Yelled down the hall, but nobody answered (3) Always surprised by what I'd do for love, Some things I'll never expect (4) But I feel something when I see you now (5) And I've never seen you smiling so big

Jude Duarte x Cardan Greenbriar

Jude and Cardan love each other so much that they're convinced they hate each other. Everyone else can see through their lies to themselves. So, with the help of some enchanted necklaces, the Court of Shadows decides to solve this problem-- because all the complaining and yearning is really getting old. Ft. Jude and Cardan refusing to have one (1) singular thought about their actual feelings and a very helpful Roach. Set vaguely between the Cruel Prince and the Wicked King.

(title from Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers)

[wannaliveattheholidayinn]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Zoey Clarke/Simon Haynes, Zoey Clarke & Simon Haynes Characters: Zoey Clarke, Simon Haynes, (mentioned) Max Richman Additional Tags: Post-Break Up, Reveal, (idk that was the only tag that wasn't identity reveal), anyways zoey reveals the powers, Ambiguous/Open Ending, kinda???? i guess, i transcribed the post break up convo i hope y'all like this, :), Mention of polyamory Summary:

And yeah, she still had weird feelings for Max, but that didn’t take away from the fact she also had very strong feelings for Simon and the fact that it felt so goddamn wrong to call Simon her ex-boyfriend.

title partially from ICU by phoebe bridgers

[olliethealright]

Three Steps From Home: Update 4

Hey everyone! Long time, no see! Basically, I’ve been unmotivated for the past month or so, and as a result I’ve barely touched my socials. Good news, I’ve written the next eleven or so chapters of my WIP, and it’s almost doubled in word count lol. I don’t want to do a full sized update on every chapter because that would take a stupidly long amount of time, so I’m just gonna summarize and then give a little excerpt (this ended up being chapters 11-16) Not every quote has a picture because I am a tad lazy lol. Enjoy! 

Trigger Warnings: Emotional abuse, toxic relationships, homophobia, self harm, suicide, mental health, drug use, religious content

Disclaimer: Please don’t steal my words, ideas, characters, etc.

chapter eleven - problem child - 2118 words

theme song - if i get high - nothing but thieves

summary: Jude and Aaron have one last dinner with Jude’s mother before moving to Seattle. Shit goes down, Jude’s father is addressed, Jude’s mom has an anti-religious experience, everyone is upset. 

except - Jude thinking about his family before his dad left

I was two months from finishing my Junior year as a top student, six from applying to every out of state school I could think of, fourteen from leaving everything and never coming back. From the outside, the Alvarez-Carter family was a model of the American dream; we took family photos everywhere we went and cooked each other dinners on alternating days of the week. We  attended every house party, where my mother exchanged gossip like trading cards and my dad sipped Bud Light from a bottle and played cornhole. At those same parties, I flirted shamelessly with every girl in the vicinity, then cited my religion as the reason I wouldn’t do more than exchange pretty words.

The night dad left wasn’t the first time my parents fought in front of me, but it was the night they shattered the already paper thin barrier they had held between me and their issues. I never knew who started it, never knew who threw the first punch, but I knew who delivered the killing blow.

chapter twelve - golden days - 854 words

theme song - ribs - lorde,  also chelsea - phoebe bridgers 

summary: Aaron and Jude move into their new apartment, very light airy vibes, Jude idealizing everything, Aaron and Jude being adorable (yeah can you tell nothing actually happens in this one lmao). 

excerpt - Aaron and Jude leaving Montana

A taxi dropped us off at the Amtrak station the next morning. Our breath rose in front of us on the platform, I tiled my head back and tasted the sunlight; sweet and overflowing with new beginnings. Maybe, I’d be lucky enough to catch one for both of us. 

chapter thirteen - unholy creation - 900 words

theme song - reflections - the neighborhood

summary: Aaron’s mental health takes a turn, Jude is worried but has no idea what to do, Jude and Aaron fight for no good reason

excerpt - a description of Aaron falling off several wagons 

You were a shell of fragile bones and sharp edges when I wrapped an arm around you during a scary movie or curled against your chest late at night. You started wearing a flannel or a sweatshirt over every outfit, an extra layer to hide your ribs and hip bones and elbows, so sharp they could cut through glass. I stopped holding you so tight, afraid of the snap of calcium or cartilage or spirit.

okay one more because I like this chapter haha - Aaron getting mad when Jude asks about his parents

“It’s not about them, alright? I’m not going to talk about them because they’re not part of my life, they don’t control anything. Stop asking about them because they don’t matter, and I wouldn’t tell you if they did.”

You said the words like a chant, a litany, like you were the one who needed convincing. I pictured my mother in her dark dining room, palms up to God, praying for a miracle. You looked like her then, all the fear and anger coming out in one jumble of meaningless words. I flinched away when I should have stood my ground.

chapter fourteen - (has a title but I hate it) - 674 words

theme song - fear of falling asleep - TENDER  

summary - Jude has a mental breakdown, Aaron buys him sleeping pills and then takes them himself, they (kind of) fight, everything is toxic

excerpt - Jude watching Aaron sleep (it’s a weird chapter)

You took my meds that night, I cheeked them until you turned your back, then spit them into the dishwater and washed them down with green suds and scraps of tofu and rice. An hour later, you were passed out in our bed, skeletal limbs stretching out like the fragile branches of a birch tree. I watched as your chest rose and fell, dappled in moonlight and the neon buzz of constant electricity. For a few moments at a time, I convinced myself that your steady rhythm of in-and-out had stopped, I watched as you left this world and then came back. I couldn’t tell how much time was in between.

chapter fifteen - forest, electric (aka my favorite chapter in the book?) - 1279 words

theme song - are you bored yet - wallows 

summary - in an attempt to renew their relationship, Aaron takes Jude on a hike to a construction site in the middle of the night. The two sit on the roof and watch the sunrise. 

excerpt - starting the adventure

We walked four blocks south to meet our Uber, then set off down the winding streets of the city. It was one in the morning and if I looked close enough, I could convince myself I had woken up in a ghost town. Or maybe I was stuck in dreamland, where my boyfriend was perfect and everything I saw was real and I didn’t have to negotiate with myself when I needed an hour or two of rest.

excerpt - the end of the chapter that I just really like

We didn’t talk about our problems that night; we pretended I wasn’t sick and you weren’t hooked. That night, my mother didn’t hate you, we visited your parents once a year during glamorous Scottish vacations, we weren’t runaways. We dangled our feet over the edge of the roof, neither of us thought about jumping, about how our stomachs would drop faster than our bodies, about the inevitable crush of bones and life that awaited at the bottom.

That night, we leaned into each other and locked our hands and whispered ‘I love yous’ until a band of pink and orange lit the horizon and we realized we would get caught if we stayed much longer. We walked the two miles home and fell asleep curled in each other’s arms an hour before your 7:00AM alarm, two before you would leave the apartment again, eight before you would return home just before your high wore off.

I knew all these realities to be true at once, so I breathed in cologne and coffee grounds, took a picture in my head so that image of you, asleep and unaddicted and bathed in the sunrise, would stay with me forever.

chapter sixteen - gods and monsters - 1378 words

theme song - freakin out on the interstate - briston maroney 

summary - Aaron and Jude’s friends come over for the Fourth of July, Aaron comes home drunk and makes his friends leave, Jude’s friend tells Jude to break up with Aaron, Jude refuses 

excerpt - Jude convincing himself that everything is fine when it is clearly not fine (aka the theme of the book and also should probably be the title)

You were sallow and gaunt, your hair was greasy, your breath smelled of vomit and alcohol and whatever else you had taken. You were a monster in our bed, but I could feel that lazy half smile against my skin. I could close my eyes and see you sitting in that tea shop, long limbs sprawled over the pillows, the sun on your skin making you glow like a god.

That image of you couldn’t lie, not when I had lived that moment, not when it had been so beautiful. I wouldn’t leave you because you would be alright and this would pass. You convinced me everything would look better in the morning, all our problems would fade with the rising sun.

You were wrong. They didn’t.

Okay, this is getting way too long so I’m gonna end it here! Thank you so much if you actually read all that! If you want more information on any chapter, just message me and I will do that. The update on the last few chapters of the first draft should be out somewhat soon, and I may or may not have a new WIP coming up :)

ALSO, it has come to my attention that most people have these things called taglists? And I don’t have one? If you wanna be on mine for this project, or any future projects, message me or repost this and I will make one. Thank you for reading!

-Ollie

[chiefnooniensingh]

I Won’t Hesitate (for you) Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Do not try me, devil devil

In this chapter: We meet Detective Valenti who tries to solve the Rosa Ortecho case. In the present day, we'll find out the source of the screaming and Alex's three day holiday is cancelled. Alex and the young doctor Kyle team up. A connection is found.

A/n: A special thanks to Aileen (@acomebackstory​), Callie (@callieramics​), @hm-arn​, @royalshadowhunter​ and @ladymajavader​ over on Tumblr for their continued support and cheerleading. I don't know if I would've finished it without you guys!

Last week's chapter was titled "Oh take me back (to the night we met)" and it was taken from the song "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron and Phoebe Bridgers. This was guessed correctly by @hmd23 (on AO3)!

Can anyone guess this week's title AND performing artist?

also on: ao3

other chapters: 1 2

October, 1920

Almost a month after the kidnap and murder of Rosa Ortecho, Detective Valenti still had no solid leads. The poor girl’s body was completely clean of traces. Not even a hair was out of place on her body; it was as if she’d gone to sleep and simply never woke up again. Yet her windpipe was crushed, so Detective Valenti knew it was murder.

What he didn’t know, was who did it.

There were several tips from the local community. Most of it was false, Jim Valenti knew. Several people had reported a homeless veteran. He was supposedly sighted near the Ortecho residence around the time of the kidnap. Jim did his job, brought the man in, and released him the same day. War had destroyed the poor man’s mind and had taken his body with it. This man was neither mentally nor physically capable of planning a kidnap and murder without leaving any trace. Detective Valenti gave the man the address of his wife’s organization, that helped down-on-their-luck veterans get back on their feet. He doubted the man would go, but it was all he could do for the poor man.

The first real lead came a fortnight after the body had been discovered. Several of Chef Ortecho’s regulars had seen a young man fighting with Chef Ortecho one evening, about a month before the kidnapping took place. None of the stories matched on what they were fighting over, but they all ended the same; with the young man storming off and yelling, “You’re going to regret this, Ortecho!”

So Detective Valenti went to pick up the young man, who refused to identify himself and did not seem to have any legal documents to speak off. Jim suspected he was a recent immigrant still waiting for his papers. Or perhaps an illegal. It did not matter. He wasn’t border police; he was trying to solve a murder in his town.

The man steadfastly denied any involvement or knowledge, no matter what tactics Valenti and his department threw at him.

Apparently, the argument had been about a job Chef Ortecho had denied him. Tempers had run high, and the young man had said some unwise things. “I would never hurt anyone, Detective Valenti. I swear this.”

“I would be more inclined to belief you if you told us your name.” Detective Valenti said coldly. It was the third day of interrogation and he was beginning to lose patience. Either this man really did not know anything, or he was toying with them all. Either way, it was a frustrating process.

The young man shook his head, dark eyes glittering in the interrogation room’s half-light. “I cannot. I have no papers to prove myself, no real way to prove who I am. If I tell you my name, you will use all available measures to besmirch my name. I will never find any work. I’m sorry, Detective. I wish it were different.”

Five days Detective Valenti held the man in custody. Any and all legal tactics (and sometimes slightly illegal ones) were thrown at the man. Nothing yielded any results. The state’s capital was putting pressure on the sheriff’s department to just accuse this man, but Jim refused. He knew the state liked the young man as a suspect because he was dark-skinned and had no papers to speak off. To them it didn’t matter. He was guilty of being non-white, and that was good enough for them. Jim Valenti refused to participate in such barbaric practices. He wanted the real murderer, not some ponzi people could use to justify their racism.

So on the sixth day, Detective Valenti let the man go, with the Sheriff’s Department’s sincerest apologies.

They were back to square one.

Cursing profusely, Jim Valenti sat at his desk and stared at the picture of Rosa Ortecho from when she was found in the forest. He wanted justice for this poor young girl who was taken before her time.

But it was looking more and more as if that justice would never come.

Present day, 20th of October, 1935

Alex Manes sat bold upright, as the shriek from the cabin next to him continued and changed to hysterical sobs. There was shouting outside his cabin and hurried footsteps up and down the corridor. Several more people screamed or cursed.

As fast as his bad knee would allow, Alex dressed himself just enough to be decent and then yanked open his cabin door.

Outside, it was pandemonium. All the passengers were crowded around the Bracken’s cabin, from which hysterical sobs were still floating. “Move!” Alex shouted, and he started pushing a tall man he had not seen before aside. Beth and Mr Otto realized who was doing the pushing and immediately forced everyone further back, away from the door to clear a path for him. Alex reached the cabin door, which was closed. He tried the handle, but it was no use. It was locked. “Michael!” he yelled loudly, and the man appeared immediately, looking half-terrified and half-apprehensive. “Keys,” Alex said shortly, no time for pleasantries. Michael handed over the keys and Alex jammed the master key in the lock. Within seconds, he yanked open the door. His breath caught in his throat, and several people behind him gasped. Isobel Bracken was on the floor, her body flung over the still body of her husband, who was…drenched in blood.

“Mrs Bracken!” Alex said in astonishment. Behind him, someone had begun to sob.

Isobel looked up, her eyes red and her face wet from tears. “He’s dead!” she screeched. “Someone killed him! My husband!!” She was covered in his blood; her nightgown was soaked through and her blonde hair had stained pink in some places.

“Isobel, you need to come away from there now,” Alex said as calm as he could, even as his blood ran cold. A man was murdered in a locked cabin on a moving train. Worst – or maybe best, depending how one looked at it – of all, the carriage was locked at night.

Meaning the murderer was still in their midst.

This train ride had just become a murder scene.

“Out of the way, out of the way! What’s going on here?”

“Director Manes, there’s been a murder!” That was Mimi DeLuca’s voice, weaker than it had been last night and constricted with barely contained emotion.

“A murder? Wha – ?” Jesse Manes appeared in the doorway, looked in and cursed profusely. “That’s Noah Bracken, the director of the biggest oil company in the Midwest!”

Alex rolled his eyes. He knew his father was already thinking of the death of his reputation instead of the literal death that had happened here. Making a snap decision, he turned around. “A murder, yes, Director Manes. Alright, I need everyone to go back to their cabins, immediately please.”

Shocked and muttering amongst themselves, the small crowd dispersed.

“Michael!” Alex called, not even thinking about it. Michael was beside him immediately, looking grim. “Please take Mrs Bracken out of this cabin. Take her to the dining carriage, close it to the public. Keep the other door closed as well. Instruct the train staff that meals will be served in the cabins until further notice.” Michael nodded and began prying a still hysterical Isobel from her husband’s body.

As Michael wrestled her out the cabin, Jesse Manes grabbed Alex’s upper arm quite roughly. Alex flashed back to his youth momentarily, before yanking his arm from the grip and turning around to face his father. “What do you think you’re doing, Alex?” Jesse Manes hissed.

Alex leaned in close. “Solving your problem for you,” he hissed. Then he straightened. “Dr Kyle!” he called to the front of the carriage.

Kyle came out of his cabin, white as a sheet and looking shocked. “Yes?”

“Am I correct in assuming you covered forensic examinations in your studies?”

Kyle trotted over and swallowed hard. “You are, though it is not my specialty.”

“It will have to do. I will assist with any knowledge I have acquired over the years. But we need to examine this body and do it quickly. This was a murder and we need to find the murderer before we arrive in Paris, or we lose them forever,” Alex said, his logical brain going as fast as possible. Kyle nodded and returned to his cabin for his medical bag. Alex turned to his father, who was white with barely controlled fury. Some vindictive part of his brain thoroughly enjoyed seeing his father like this, but Alex had no time to dwell. “Director Manes, I need all the passengers to be kept in their cabins until further notice. I need a staff member from another car to stand guard. Under no circumstances is anyone allowed to venture out alone, especially not when we are at a station. The doors to the other cars were locked all night, yes?”

“That is procedure, yes,” Jesse Manes said, his jaw clenched hard. He was not used to being ordered around.

“That means that you and the rest of the staff can be discounted as suspects. So our suspect pool consists of 7 people. Eight,” he corrected himself as he saw Michael making his way towards them, his uniform stained with blood and his hair dishevelled. “Everyone who was present in this carriage after the doors were locked to the moment Mrs Bracken first discovered her husband to be dead.”

“Don’t you mean nine?” Jesse Manes said nastily. “You were present as well.”

Alex saw red with fury for a moment. “If you believe me capable of cold-blooded murder, you’re an even worse judge of character than I thought. Besides, if I were to murder someone, there is only one man for whom I hold enough hatred.” The vague threat hung in the air between them, as Jesse Manes blanched completely, then turned red with an impressive speed.

“You insolent little – ”

“Not so little anymore, father. Your precious army saw to that,” Alex spat, getting as close to his father as he felt capable.

“Alex,” a soft voice broke into his red haze, and a warm hand on his arm pulled him a step back. He looked at the hand and recognized it immediately. Michael. He looked up at him, and the man was looking at him in a way Alex hadn’t been looked at in close to ten years. Just like that, he was back to being that 16-year-old kid, spending his afternoons with Michael under their tree.

He shook his head to clear the image and took another step back, brushing his own hand to Michael’s ever so lightly in gratitude. Michael broke his gaze and stepped back, looking at Jesse Manes with contempt. “I’m going to solve this murder, father. You can either assist or get the hell out of my way.” He turned to Kyle, who was wearing gloves and carrying his bag, looking awkwardly between the three of them. Colour had somewhat returned to his cheeks and he looked determined. “Are you ready, doctor?” Alex refused to give the situation any more attention that it’d already gotten. They had, after all, a murder to solve.

At Kyle’s nod, Alex turned his back on his father completely and preceded Kyle into the cabin.

The first thing Alex noticed was that it was icy cold in the cabin. The window was open, letting in the crisp morning air. Alex immediately filed this away as odd. He didn’t think the Brackens would have opened that during the night. Which meant it might have been done by the murderer. “Michael, did we stop during the night?”

“Yes, we made a short stop in Vinkovci. It was only ten minutes though. I think it was around 3am?”

Alex nodded. “Can you fetch me my notebook, please? Top drawer of my nightstand.” Michael nodded and vanished, returning almost immediately with the book and a pencil. Alex scribbled down the information on a fresh page, headlining the page with MURDER ON THE ORIENT EXPRESS. It was a stupid habit but naming all his cases helped him remember them all the better.

Kyle had kneeled down next to Noah Bracken, and Alex now turned his attention fully to the body as well. The man’s dark skin had turned a noticeable shade of pale, his mouth had sagged open and his eyes were closed.

His eyes were closed.

“He never woke up,” Alex said out loud, frowning deeply. Kyle, Michael and Director Manes looked at him in surprise. “If he was murdered in his sleep, he would’ve woken up, even for a moment, an automatic reaction to the pain sensation. His eyes are closed. He never woke up.”

“What does that mean?” Michael asked, stepping closer. At Alex’s raised hand, he stopped and stepped back again.

“It means he was probably drugged before he was murdered. Maybe hours before. Maybe just before. Either way, the murderer went out of their way to make sure he made no sound.” Alex looked around and saw a teacup on the floor, chipped. He picked it up with his handkerchief and took a sniff. He coughed. “Yes, barbital.” Clever, really. If Noah Bracken had made even the slightest noise, Isobel would’ve woken up and the murderer would’ve been apprehended before being able to escape.

“Barbital?” Kyle said, incredulously. “That’s a very heavy sedative, how on earth did someone get hold of that?”

Alex shrugged. It was hardly the first time he’d seen a person drugged by barbital. It had even happened to him once. It had not been a pleasant experience. “It’s usually given for heavy anxieties, for people who cannot go outside on account of fear. And since women are often seen as hysterical and anxious…they get their hands on it quite easily, I assure you, Doctor.”

Kyle clicked his tongue. “Ridiculous.”

“Why don’t you tell your prejudiced colleagues, Doctor?” Alex said, putting the cup down gently and scanning the rest of the cabin for more clues.

Kyle flushed a bit, then straightened himself. “I’m ready to begin examination, Alex. Would you join me?” Alex went to his knees next to him, ignoring the painful twinge in his leg. The two men nodded to each other and Kyle went to work. “Alright, I’m removing the night shirt.”

“Careful,” Alex said, “That might be evidence.”

To his credit, Kyle was very careful to push the shirt out of the way only as much as was necessary for the wounds to reveal themselves. And wounds it was. Kyle and Alex both inhaled sharply. There were at least a dozen stab wounds on Noah Bracken’s torso. “It seemed the murderer wanted to make sure he was dead,” Kyle said, after a moment, his voice slightly constricted. Alex nodded mutely, counting the wounds and making a note of them in his book. “I’m going to take his temperature now.”

While Kyle went to work, Alex looked around the cabin. It was a mess. Isobel had evidently knocked over some stuff as she was trying to get to her husband. A pair of glasses, a book, a water glass, an old pocket watch. Frowning, Alex took out his kerchief again and picked up the watch. It was grievously damaged, its face shattered as if a knife had pierced it at great speed. Which, Alex realized, was probably exactly what happened. The hands were still, set at just a few minutes past 3AM. Would that be the time of the murder? Alex wondered, examining the watch curiously.

“Alright, internal temperature is about…32 degrees,” Kyle piped up, drawing Alex’s attention back to him. “That would put the time of death around…” He checked his own watch. Alex already knew what he was going to say, and so they said it in unison, “Three AM.” Kyle looked at him, surprised. Alex held up the watch, showing three AM.

“Two sources are better than one, my professor always said,” Kyle said, with an attempt at a smile. Alex inclined his head in agreement and made another note in his notebook.

“What can you tell me of the wounds, doctor?” Alex said, wrapping his hand tightly around the watch.

Kyle returned to the body and bent over the wounds to examine them closely. “Well, whoever it was, the murder was not business. Some of these wounds are very ragged, as if someone stabbed him quickly and roughly, as if in anger. Then again, these two,” his gloved pinkie finger pointed out a wound near the heart and on the lower left side, “look more precise. Deliberate. In fact, these two may have been the two that killed him instantly. That’s the heart and that’s the large intestine. The heart is the obvious killer, but if that one hadn’t killed him, this one would have. This much damage to the large intestine releases toxins and waste into the body. It kills a person slow, but it will kill.” He looked at the wounds again and frowned. “Odd. Some wounds go deeper than others, as if the murderer lost their strength halfway through.” Kyle sat back on his heels, frowning deeply. “Detective Manes, nothing makes sense about these wounds. They appear completely random and yet deliberate. Made by passion and yet with cold precision.”

Alex wrote it all down, frowning deeply. “Do you have an explanation?”

Kyle blew out his breath. “If I was a forensic examiner by trade, I might have had. But I’m a doctor. I deal with the living, not the dead. I can only tell you what I see, but not the why.”

Alex nodded. He wished he had his favourite forensic examiner with him from the NYPD. The man was a genius and had, at this point, seen everything. But he didn’t, so it was no point dwelling on the matter. “Any theories on the murder weapon?”

“A knife. It was a sharp blade, no ridges or blemishes to speak of. Military, perhaps. That’s about as precise as I can get.” Kyle rose to his feet, taking off the gloves and running his hands through his hair. He looked pale again. “Nasty business. And his poor wife. They’d only been married for a year, you know. To be widowed so soon is a crying shame.”

Alex nodded, barely registering Kyle’s words, still engrossed in his notebook as he tried to make sense of the details he had so far. A murder that was not planned yet performed deliberately? Nothing indeed made sense. “Thank you, Dr Kyle, that will be all for now. Please return to your cabin and stay there until otherwise instructed.”

Wordlessly, Kyle packed up his bag and left the room. Alex remained behind, engrossed in the details and in the room. Slowly, he backed away to the cabin door, so he could have a complete overview of the cabin. Sticking from beneath Noah Bracken’s bed was a newspaper clipping, faded yellow and looking as though it did not belong. Going laboriously to his knees again, he picked it up and examined it. It was only a headline, and incomplete at that, as it was half-burned.

… Ortecho (11). Her body was disc…

Alex froze. Ortecho. It couldn’t be. Looking up slowly, he looked at Noah Bracken’s face, then back at the newspaper clipping. Could this be…? Noah Bracken had the complexion, but Alex knew that was by far not enough. However, now that he looked really well, the man before him looked suspiciously like the man Detective Valenti had brought in for questioning. The only real suspect the sheriff’s department had ever had.

“Rosa Ortecho,” he said out loud.

“Excuse me?” said Michael and Jesse Manes in unison, making Alex jump. He had completely forgotten they were still there.

Alex showed them the newspaper clipping. “Rosa Ortecho. The girl that was kidnapped and murdered in Roswell, remember? This was the man who did it, or at least the police suspected he did. Noah Bracken, the young immigrant sheriff Valenti once questioned and cleared of all charges on grounds of no evidence. When I made the switch to private investigator, I reviewed the details of the case, see if there was anything the detectives missed back then. I remember the picture of the immigrant man they brought in. It was him,” Alex said, pointed to Noah Bracken. “This wasn’t a random murder at all. This was revenge. For Rosa Ortecho.”

Michael stared in shock at Alex, and Director Manes narrowed his eyes. Alex turned back to the body. Rosa Ortecho’s murderer. Finally found, and now a victim of a murder himself.

Alex nearly scoffed. This case was going to be the toughest one he’d taken yet.