#charles is trying to make a proper lad out of him

[veevil]

feed erik pasta

bro he doesn't know how to use a fork😔

[occamstfs]

Should've Worn Green

Happy St. Patrick's Day! Figured I couldn't miss the best Irish Tf day of the year eh? Best! -Occam

Charles didn’t account for the drunks storming the streets today when he was getting ready this morning. Why should he have to step out of his way to avoid getting beer spilled on him. Nevertheless perhaps the accountant should have checked the calendar before wandering into the streets without wearing a hint of green.

Such a blunder would not long go unpunished however. Compact as he is, he nimbly ducks out of the way of glasses clinking in brutish hands raised high. He scoffs at their total disregard for sanitation as they spill beer all over each other in the cheers. Barely avoiding getting drenched himself Charles bumps into a figure who drunkenly laughs before reaching out towards him.

���Aye! Shoulda worn green lad! ‘S St. Paddys!” He shouts as he pinches the already frustrated clerk who yelps and slaps at the hand. Not even pausing to dignify the man with a verbal response, he pushes forward to not be late for work.

He stumbles onward, reaching the edge of the crowd and finally takes a break. In the scarcely fresher air, his stomach lurches and he leans onto a building to avoid falling over. His shoulder itches as he almost feels what can only be described as vertigo? He looks over the crowd angrily, sure that they are to blame for whatever this episode is, contemplating going back toward whoever assaulted him but every face in the crowd is impossibly similar. Jesus, he’s never seen so many redheads in one place?

Wondering if he’s somehow woken up in Ireland proper he feels a breeze on his midriff. Not only has his shirt been untucked but the skin exposed suggests it never could have been tucked in the first place. It’s as if he’s grown half a foot. Charles starts hyperventilating, trying to convince himself his shirt must have shrunk in the wash, though surely he would have seen his exposed belly button when he put it on no? 

He again looks towards the crowd seeking anything to blame for his state. This makes it evident that he has grown indeed, now  able to directly make eye contact with men in the crowd. There is a draft on his ankles as his increasing height only becomes more difficult to deny. Charles clenches his jaw as his eyes find the man who simply must be the culprit.

In the middle of the mass of Paddy’s day parishioners, he sees a man staring directly at him, a smirk edging out from under his thick beard. He raises a large glass of Guinness in cheers and Charles can’t help but stare at the man in turn, his anger quickly being replaced by confusion. He winks, the glass still raised, as Charles stumbles backwards trying to avert his eyes. They forcibly return to this man each time taking in a new facet of his impossibly masculine body. The jungle of hair in his pits draws him in as if there’s a fire in his still-raised arm. His powerful chest is covered in a similar forest of beyond dense red hair.

Charles, unbeknownst to himself, continues to hungrily stare at the statuesque man as the pitch-black coif on his own head begins to bleach as a red tint starts to force its way up from his roots. He scratches at his face wondering how he forgot to shave before work. Oh, work? He needs to get to work right? His eyes retreat from the specimen to check his watch. He raises his arm to check his watch creating a tear in his suit as his bicep involuntarily flexes. His face reddens just as his hair continues to do, his anger towards the crowd returns as they have clearly forced him to not only be late to work, but to arrive wearing less than his prestigious work demands of him.

Before enacting whatever meager retribution his increasingly muddy mind decides he looks up to see the mysterious man approaching him through the crowd. His body involuntary clenches in fear, each instinctual flex creating new tears in his workday attire. His chest bursts into existence shooting his shirt’s buttons far into the dancing crowd. Tears appear down the length of his dress pants revealing tight briefs barely hanging together underneath. He rips off the rest of his suit jacket lest it impede him as he prepares to bolt from the rapidly approaching giant, though with each surge of growth coursing through Charles the man seems less menacing and massive, and more familiar.

He again scratches at his shoulder as he begins to notice that someone in the crowd desperately needs a shower. At least he thinks it's the crowd, he looks towards his own pits questioning his cleanliness and sees pits with thin dark hairs. But that can’t be right? Surely they should be red like all his other hair. He flexes his pecs and watches the ginger hair on his torso dance in the morning sun. Laughing before he returns his attention to his pits that are rapidly agreeing with his assessment and growing thick and red, they also make it clear that the sudden stink in the air could be no one but him.

It’s chill though Charles thinks, he’s been partying all morning with the guys, he’s sure they’ll get it. Smirking to himself not even noticing how swiftly he has assimilated to being one of the parishioners that have taken over the block. As he stands there, his red pubes increasingly showing above his crotch as his briefs are weighed down with each growing pulse in his crotch. 

Finally the smirking Irishman who started it all makes his way over shouting,  “Ay Charlie! Yer gunna have to cover up ya! Shame we’re not Scots or I’d toss ye a kilt, Ha! And ‘Ere lad don’t be standing around without a drink in hand.” He tosses a large cup at Charlie who catches it, though losing the head as it splashes all over him, matting his ginger curls to his chest and revealing the most intricate details of his still-growing bulge.

Charlie cheers at the man who must be a friend, or at least a countryman, before quickly starting to down the tankard. As he swallows the swill he swiftly loses whatever smidge of himself that remained in this northern paragon of a body. His chest fills out with a bit of weight as beer trickles down the beard expanding further down his face. As he swallows his voice develops into an impossible to mistake accent. It’s just, didn’t he have something to do today? His brown eyes sparkle as they brighten to a green bright enough to be in the tricolor as he laughs. What could he have to do today more important than celebrating his home country! America is fine and all that but fwoh, could certainly stand to be more like his homeland. Charlie, tired of thinking so much on a day like this, gives into a primal urge of celebration and joins the bacchanal. Charles Morris would not arrive to push whatever buttons and keys he was supposed to at work that day. But Charlie Mulligan was having the greatest time of his life, as he would continue to do evermore.

[pipwasreal]

Day 3: eternity + tender sex

Characters: Charles Rowland, Edwin Payne

Content warnings: kissing, vulnerability, obedience, oral sex (mentioned)

Charles looks beautiful like this. He looks beautiful all of the time, in point of fact, but at this moment he looks particularly stunning.

Edwin could spend all day admiring the smooth expanse of warm brown skin before him, Charles' long limbs flung out across the blanket spread on the floor, the way his forehead crinkles and his eyelashes flutter and his mouth falls open to moan...

And why shouldn't he? It's not as if they have anywhere to be. They have no need to eat or sleep, and no open cases at present. The hours stretch ahead of them, not empty but free. For Edwin, each one that passes without pain, without fear, is a relief. And each one spent with Charles is a pleasure.

Edwin has been kissing his way down Charles' chest for... well, he's not exactly sure how long. But he wants to kiss every inch of him, wants to press his adoration and appreciation into his partner's skin.

Charles tries to reach for him at one point, propping himself up on one elbow while the other hand runs down his cheek to cradle his jaw. Edwin catches the hand in his own, turns his head to kiss Charles' palm, then gently but firmly returns it to the blanket.

"Lie back, please," Edwin says, looking up at Charles with raised, expectant eyebrows. Charles hesitates a moment before obeying.

"It's not that I don't appreciate this," Charles says. "It's bloody lovely. But there's no need to go to all this effort. I already know you love me, don't I? If anything, I should be trying to prove I love you just as much, after making you wait-"

"Stop," Edwin interrupts sharply, before Charles can spiral any further. "We have literally forever, do we not?"

Charles smiles, but his eyes dart away, glimmering wetly.

"Look at me, please," Edwin murmurs, sitting up a little from where he is straddling Charles' thighs. He adores the vulnerability and trust in those gorgeous dark eyes.

"And right now, I want nothing more than to show you how deserving you are of tenderness. Because you, Charles Rowland, are the love of my afterlife."

Charles grins, and drags him up for a proper snog, before letting Edwin return his attention to Charles' flat stomach and extremely kissable navel.

It hasn't escaped Edwin's notice that, while Charles is generally beautifully relaxed under him, a certain part of his anatomy is slowly stiffening instead.

Charles quirks a questioning eyebrow when Edwin presses a kiss to his hip but then pauses before moving any lower.

He does look delicious, and Edwin could kiss his prick, lick at it and suck him off... but there's no rush.

"Turn over, please," Edwin says, a tiny mischievous smile pulling at his lips and crinkling the edges of his eyes. "I wish to begin on your back now."

Charles throws his head back with an impatient groan that turns into a fond chuckle, then does as he's told. Good lad.

[futurewriter2000]

Under the Sun

A/N: I started this a while ago and I notced how I never did Charlie but always wanted to write for him. I really like this one and I know it won’t get a lot of notes since nobody really reads Charlie but he’s just a cute bean and I had to. 

PAIRING: Charlie Weasley x reader

XX

It was almost magical- funny to use this word since you did live in the magical world all your life.

You grew up in a traditional wizarding family, strict parents and restraining rules. And sometimes you hated your parents for making you obeying orders like a sheep but it was until your fourth year that you finally started to speak up for yourself. That was also the same year you realized you had feelings for a specific Weasley boy.

The Weasleys were the kindest family you ever knew. Always positive and comfortable to be around. You simply enjoyed their company. Arthur was always keen on creating jokes, whose talent Fred and George must have inherited, meanwhile Molly was more restraining when it came to jokes and fun yet you could always see that hidden smile under her chubby cheeks.

You knew Bill, Fred, George, Ron, Ginny and even Percy but Charlie- Charles  Weasley was the one that seemed to interest you the most.

You knew Charlie Weasley since every ball your family organised. There were always Mr. and Mrs. Weasley coming to them alone, then soon when you turned seven you met their oldest, William and later when you turned nine you met Charlie.

He was a fun person to be around. The two of you would sneak into the woods, not too far away and just sit and talk, sometimes even wander off too far.

But you were nine back then. Feelings and love were foreign to you.

Through Hogwarts years the two of you only talked on occasions. Mostly parties, sometimes when the two of you bumped into each other. It never even came into your mind until that one spring day...

You were walking on the path where young blooming daisies seemed to grow. Nobody wanted to come with you on this walk but you felt this sudden urge to just go out on the sun and breathe some fresh air. You loved sunny spring days after long dark winter ones.

“(y/n)?” someone shouted from your right and your shot your head to him, beaming as you saw him there, sitting under the tree with his vibrant red hair illuminating their colour.

“Charlie?” you turned your way to him and stopped in front of him. “What are you doing out here all alone?”

“I could ask you the same thing?” he smiled and scooched over for you.

You didn’t sit next to him, rather in front of him so the two of you could look at each other’s eyes when you speak. Your mother always taught you that.

“I just needed stress relief from all the work. You?” you asked and he smiled.

“I just love the sunny spring days... after those long winter ones.” he laid on his back and closed his eyes. “To just lay down under a fancy tree, close your tired eyes and feel the sun burn your cheeks.”

You smiled to yourself and laid beside him, turning your head to look at him as he sun-tanned. His eyes were closed, his lashes longer than yours, his freckles staining his skin.

“Go on.” he smiled even wider, his eyes still closed.

“Go on with what?” you asked and he finally turned his head to you, opened his brown eyes, which in the sun turned into a pleasing colour of hazel.

“Stop staring at me and close your eyes. Enjoy the sun.”

You laughed and turned your head straight, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath in. After a while, when you could feel the sun burning your cheeks, you said. “I wasn’t staring.” you opened your eyes slightly to eye him from the corner.

“Mhm.” he grinned. “Merely observed.” he teased and you laughed once again.

“Just shut up and sleep.”

He snorted and put his arms under his head, opening his eyes to see the brown net of branches, covered by the bright green of the leaves. “Remember when we used to do this at all of your parents’ party.”

“The ones I used to dread.” you kept your eyes closed.

“The ones I used to dread going to.” he turned his head to you, this time him observing just how beautifully you happened to be when the sun shone on you. Your skin, your hair- they were both a lighter shade, to which he was never used to seeing on you.

“Who’s staring now?” you opened your eyes and grinned.

“I wasn’t staring.” he quickly turned away, feeling something more than the sun heat his cheeks.

“Merely observing.” you teased and he rolled his eyes.

“Reckon, I should have seen that one coming?”

“Yeah.” you giggled and turned your head back at the sky. 

Charlie kept looking at you and he kept thinking of how you were so easy to talk to, so great to be around with, laugh with... He always knew that. Since day one, since that day at the tree under the which the two of you would lay just like the two of you do today. “I didn’t dread the parties.” he said and you turned your head to him, smiling.

“What?” you said, still a bit light-headed from the heat. 

“I didn’t dread the parties.” he repeated, gentle as before. You quirked an eyebrow and he continued. “You were always there and I love spending time with you.” he continued to watch with eyes as gentle as his voice. 

The two of you held the eyecontact and you swore to yourself you felt butterflies appear in your stomach because deep down, you always held a small crush for Charlie Weasley. Well... not that small. 

“You do?” you asked and he turned his eyes at the sky again, closing them. He was quiet. “Charlie?” you asked but he continued to ignore you. You narrowed your eyes at him and nudged him. “You can’t avoid this heart-touching moment.” you poked him in the ribs and knowing Charlie most of your life, he was quite ticklish. He didn’t budge the first time but then you put both of your hands on each side of his hips and started tickling him. 

“NO! STOP!” he started twisting on the grass, taking a hold of your arms and and crossing them in front of him. “Merlin, I hate when people tickle me.” 

“And I hate when people ignore me.” you gave him a smirk and he rolled his eyes. 

He let go of your arms and put his hands under his head with his elbows pointing out. He plastered a silly grin on his face and continued to watch you with his brown eyes. 

“What?” you asked, still sitting beside him and looking down on his light brown eyes, burnt cheeks covered with freckles and a big chump of red hair that looked quite light coloured on the sun. The look on his eyes was the one you never saw on him before. The look that made you feel adored and at the same time, quite shy. So you blushed. 

“You’re really pretty.” he quirked a corner of his lips, stretching it into a wider grin as he saw you a bit flustered by the compliment. You were speechless, trying to look anywhere else but him yet somehow your eyes always ended up locked with his. 

“So- uhm- .” you cleared your throat, tumbling over your own words, smiling and growing hotter as the time passed by. You could see a teasing look in his eyes, a prideful one. 

“You’re quiet.” he said, still grinning. 

“I am, aren’t I.” you forfeited. “You kinda do that to me.” 

“Why would I do that?” he teased, sitting up so both of you were close and looking at each other directly in the eyes, and eyes only.

You were looking at his pupils and his brown coloured iris, unable to say anything else but the truth and how you felt. Because now there was just you and him. “Because you know that I fancy you. You’ve always known that.” you spoke truthfully. 

And even if you didn’t see it, you knew that his mouth curved up and you exactly what kind of teasing smile he had. But just like you, he couldn’t lie looking in your eyes. “It’s true. I did always know you fancied me but you want to know something else?” he asked and you smiled, hoping the next words he spoke would be like the ones in your head. 

“I’m in love with you since we were nine.” he whispered softly and making your heart leap from one side of your chest to another. 

He leaned in, pressing his soft and heated lips on yours. It was slow and gentle, ending too soon but that’s what you expected for first kisses. A taste, leaving you craving for more. 

You bit your lower lip as your eyes travelled from his eyes to his plump lips and as you observed them, he smiled, showing his bright teeth that furthered themselves away. He leaned back on his palms and lick the bottom lip. “I reckon this is the part you ask this lovely lad out on a real, proper date.” he wiggled his eyebrows and you snorted, rolling your eyes and punching him lightly. 

“You’re unbelievable.” you said and he laughed. 

He leaned forward again, smiling. “How about it then?” he looked in your eyes softly. “Would you go on a date with the love of your life?” 

“With the love of my life?” you questioned and leaned back. 

“I only accept answers yes or no.” he quirked an eyebrow. 

“With the love of my life...” you laid back on the grass and looked up at the sky. 

He popped his head into the view. “That’s me by the way.” he said and you laughed, sitting back up and putting your arms around his neck.

“I know.” you paused. “I would love to go on a date with you, Charlie Weasley.”

[misslisterkeepsajournal]

Wednesday 12 March

7 10/.. 12

|| L

Soft damp spring morning Fahrenheit 55.° at 7 1/2 a.m. out at 7 20/.. - Went for Charles H- [Howarth] - met him 1/2 way - a few drops of rain - Mallinson not here gone to open a vault for Mrs. Holroyde of Priestley Green who died on Sunday - only his man and lad here - Charles and James H- [Howarth] making drawers for butler's pantry cupboard and the mason and glazier, Firth's son (had had Firth himself in the morning) set the sink in the afternoon -

Pickels and co. [company] at the terrace - take it out square 5 yards wide and about 2 yards deep and the slope may be altogether 5 yards more and do 2 yards forward per day, so that they shift about 25 yards a day, the 2 carts going between them 50 Times a day - but 25 yards at 8d. [pence] = 16/8 How is this? 16/8 will not pay for 2 one horse carts and Pickels and 3 men and his son George cart driver, and Robert levelling down after the carts -

breakfast at 9 3/4 with my father in 20 mins. [minutes] - backwards and forwards during the whole day but wrote page 4 first sheet and 1 page and ends of envelope and finished my letter to Miss W- [Walker] and had Charles H- [Howarth] to measure and wrote copy of letter to Wolstenholme to go with Horners sketch of the north parlour for W- [Wolstenholme] to give me a plan of chimney piece and doors and finishing of top 4 feet 6 inches square entrance lobby, and to advise me whether to shew the recession of the studding opposite the window, or not -

At 5 1/2 had Mark Town again and his friend Patchett landlord of the Blue Bottle - I am to inquire Town's the character and if this suits, it is agreed he is to have the hanging hey and Flat field 11 DW. [dayswork] - about 6 perches at £22 per annum he paying all Taxes from the time of entering - to have the 1st. year's rent allowed for tillage, and, in consideration of the hanging hey being fallow, I am to give him £5 on signing the lease, the nature of which I explained - Towards buying lime - He is to have a road for tillage carting and cattle driving from the top of Whiskum road straight across into the flat field and all the fences made good - and to have water from the Little field well - I must some how contrive both for him and Pickels - Told Town (as he would like to have a small house, 3 rooms, at the top of the hill and 20 DW. [dayswork] if he could from next Spring) he had better try to persuade Empsall to give up the Allen car - but this must be amongst themselves - I should not quit E- [Empsall] against his will - Town to pay 5 p.c. [percent] for whatever money laid out on building - dinner at 6 20/.. and coffee in 3/4 hour - then wrote and sent the following to 'Mr. Bewsher Baggage Warehouse Custom house London Post Paid'

'Shibden hall - Wednesday 12 March 1834. Sir - I beg to repeat my thanks for your having taken so much trouble, and having managed so well for me about the plate - To save you the Trouble of going to Hammersley's, I enclose a sovreign; and should I ever have difficulty at the custom house in future, I shall be glad to have you to apply to - I am, sir, your much obliged A Lister'

then wrote out my letter to Wolstenholme - meant the parcel to have gone tonight, but Sarah has not sent the biscuits - 1st. 3 pp. [pages] to Miss W- [Walker] dated yesterday page 4 and envelope and ends dated this morning - Counted upon hearing from her yesterday but no letter this morning! 'What in the world is the matter?' Extract from written yesterday a pity I did not receive her letter till Thomas's return from taking the parcel on Saturday -

'But it, (my letter) was, in fact, an answer, by anticipation to the most important part of your last - As I wrote by parcel, under no fear of Mrs. Bagnold, I shall quote the passage to which I allude for the sake of making my present remarks the more clear - 'I am thinking about Lidgate, and will say more when I write next - qy will it be wise to irritate or brave public opinion further just now? for the same reason, ought, or can or can I accept your Kind offer proposition about Shibden' I am not the person to change Tomorrow, without extraneous cause, the opinion which, on mature deliberation, I have fixed today; nor am I at all likely to ask you, in one breath, to do that, which, in another, I immediately agree, you neither can, nor ought to do - I am still, therefore, convinced as strongly as before, that it would not only be wise, but wisest, for you to do that which I have advised - A proper respect to public opinion is due from all; but it is best shewn by paying a proper respect to ourselves; and that is always difficult under circumstances which seem equivocal - You have made up your mind - You therefore have, or ought to have, courage to avow it' - '.....S.W. [Samuel Washington] will lay the non-Taxpaying business all on me - I now advise you so differently, as I have often told you, from what I should have done under other circumstances, that you really must let the real reason be acknowledged - Think of this when you are Thinking of Lidgate - Good night-'

written today - John's son gone to live with Lord Chesterfield - Good of her to set her face against any long journey so long as my aunt lives - I had given up all thoughts of going to Paris so soon as we once intended -

'The distance from here to York is quite another thing - But if you are bent upon persuading me not to irritate 'or brave public opinion further just now', I have as little chance of going to you, as you have of coming to me'.....'I have done my best, and have surely succeeded, this Time, in practising what you preach - (to write nothing that might not be seen) If I failed beyond your patient endurance before, you had better scold than punish me by not writing at all - How fares it with the onyx? Is it constant to its charge, or dwells it now and then à la Pelotte? Does it as if the £20 was thought enough?' given to Miss Atkinson 'Do pray write as soon as you can - Ever faithfully and affectionately yours AL- Anne Lister'

with my aunt at 9 1/4 for about an hour - read the morning Herald - wrote so far of this page Till 11 1/2 - very fine day - Fahrenheit 58 1/2° now at 11 1/2 p.m.

Reference: SH:7/ML/E/17/0006 - SH:7/ML/E/17/0007

[fairiesherefairiesthere]

Hi. If the writing requests are still open, could you maybe do something with flirting freed and blushing Laxus. Thanks :)

Hello. I mentioned Laxus blushing maybe twice and got totally of track with this au. I’m awfully sorry and I hope u still accept this offer lmao 

Short summary: Au where Laxus works for a rich family. Their son is cursed to freeze the people he loves, so he has to keep a distance from them. Truly, A Very Not Good Time

WC: 5548 words

Fic under the cut!

With a slight tremour in his hand, Laxus looks up at the pristine white walls looming over him. Sighing deeply, he clutches the handle of his suitcase tighter and the servant next to him blisfully ignores him. "The Lord and Lady are awaiting you in the pavilion in the garden. You can leave your luggage here, someone will come and pick them up for you. If you'd follow me."

Without waiting for an answer, the stiff man turns around, striding away and Laxus awkwardly falls in tempo beside him. After a short walk that luckily doesn't leave him sweating, he is deposited in front of two people whose handkerchiefs look like they cost more than Laxus' entire outfit. It's now that he realises how out of his depth he is.

He clears his throat, but the servant stops him from going any further by stepping none too delicately on his foot. "Quiet", he hisses, "The Lord and Lady will speak to you as and when they see fit."

"Oh Charles, don't be like that", the Lord smiles and the servant bows hastily. Unsure of what to do, Laxus gives the man something between a bow and a firm nod. "You are dismissed", the man addresses the servant before beckoning Laxus to come closer. "Come hither young man, I've heard wonderful things about you." Laxus does as he's told and when the Lord offers him a chair, he accepts it. "Are you nervous?" his wife asks, eyes deep blue and sparkling with a barely hidden misschief.

Is he nervous? It's a wonder that she doesn't seem to ask it as a rhetorical question, instead she seems to be genuinely wondering about it. Of course he is. The two people in front of him own the land he's lived on all his life and then some. They're powerful, some say even on par with the king and with power does of course come an obscene amount of money.

Normally, Laxus doesn't care for the amount of cash one has or how many carriages they'll be able to buy in one lifetime. He'd gladly tell them to get hit by those carriages if he thought they'd deserve it. But now he can't afford to do that and somewhere, it does bother him. He's always been a man of simple pleasures and being brutally honest had been one of those things.

Being honest however, is something he can't do now. This job they've offered him pays more than any other in town and more importantly, he would be given a housing. With this job he could finally pay for his grandpa's medicine and he could give the old man a proper place to stay. No matter how these people will be treating him in the future, he'll have to shove his pride aside to keep this job.

"A little bit. But I don't think it'll affect my work and should it do so anything, you are free to claim it was artistic whims that made your garden look so avant-garde." The lady hums and spares him a little smile. "I am fond of whimsical things. It's why I married him", she jokes and moves her head into the direction of her husband. Laxus can't help but let a laugh escape.

Lord Justine raises a brow at that and Laxus quickly shuts his mouth again. Would you look at that, he's already overstepped his boundaries. The Lord's face clears up at that and he waves Laxus' worries away. "Young man, we've offered you to maintain our garden because we admire your work. You are an official part of our staff now, so don't be afraid to be frank. Life gets awfully boring when people trip over themselves to bend to your will without thinking. Do me a favour and don't be like that, okay?"

"Yes sir!" Laxus yells, bending to the man's will without thinking. Catching up to his own actions, he colours red. Ah damn. The couple doesn't seem to mind though, as they just brush it off with a laugh. "You are dismissed, change this garden as you see fit. It is your domain now."

"Ah dear", Lady Justine interrupts, "Let the young man settle in a bit first. Laxus right? We have honoured your request and have brought your grandfather over. He now resides in the room next to yours. Pardon me for asking though, but does he need a doctor? The man has a sickly glow about him." Concern colours her soft facial features and Laxus hesitates to answer. Then he remembers their command to be frank with them.

"I would really appreciate it if you did that. Thank you for your kindness. I'll try to pay you back in any way that I can." Lady Justine shakes her head, but the Lord gives him a once-over. "Say Laxus, can you hold your own in a fight? You are quite a big guy, I bet you could."

"I've had no formal training, but I have grown up around bar and streetfights", Laxus admits and the man hums in consideration. "We have a single child", he says and Lady Justine sighs: "And what a child it is."

"The boy has been cursed since birth by a witch who felt wronged by the both of us. This curse makes it so that our boy is very, very cold to any and all potential suitors. Cold to a painful degree for the opposing party and everyone who happens to watch the scene. Now if he were to be a bit of an ugly duckling, it wouldn't have been a problem. But unfortunately", Lord Justine moves his hand between his wife and himself and it hits Laxus just how stunning these two creatures are. "That's not exactly the case. Without meaning to, our son starts quite a lot of fights. He's a capable fighter, but if you happen to be around him, could you try to persuade him from instigating it? It would make the both of us very, very happy."

"I'll try?" Laxus says, unsure of how exactly he's supposed to keep a brat with blue who seems to be keen on starting fights in line. He's unsure whether it's really a curse or just a case of rotten personality. "That's all we could ask for", Lady Justine says before the couple lets him go.

The garden's magnificent and the fact that he's been given free reign over it makes his experience there so much better. It's all very pleasing to begin with, but there's so much unused lawn and after a moment of hesitation, he plants some fruits trees. After Lady Justine had commented on how nice they were, he had thrown his caution out of the window and had gone wild with the fruits and vegetables. He was a practical man at heart after all.

It's a few months into his work that he meets the young lord known as Freed Justine. No amount of warning had been able to prepare him for actually laying eyes upon the man in question.

He's dressed in a loose, light blue tunic. The fabric conceals some of his figure, but it does reveal a slight sliver of smooth skin and contrasting sharp collarbones and Laxus can barely draw his away from it. When his gaze travels upwards he lays eyes upon the softest looking pink lips in the world and he briefly wonders how they would feel against his own. After dismissing that thought, he spots the man's eyes, an impossible shade of blue that pops against the pale background of his skin. A beauty mark graces his left eye, making him look even more elegant. The finisher is his hair, looking like silk draped over one shoulder, moving softly as the stubborn wind tries to make a mess out of it. That doesn't happen though.

In front of the angelic looking man is another man, kneeling with his forehead against the ground. "Lord Freed!" the man in question yells, "Please accept my undying love and affection for you!"

"No. No, I don't think I will. Please leave." The object of the man's desires dryly says before turning his gaze towards Laxus. When his uncovered eye fully meets Laxus' eyes, he gets why people call the man in front of him cold. He's never once met someone who could relay complete and utter boredom that well with a single gaze. In a single eye. It's actually quite impressive.

"Are you a guard?" Laxus winces a bit at the sharp tone. "No, I'm the gardener."

"You lug wood around? Would you dispose of this for me?" Laxus has half the mind to tell him to dispose of the now crying lad himself, but then he remembers the request of Freed's parents. He promised them to try to keep their son out of fights, so he can't exactly tell him to start one. With a sigh he clamps the sobbing, love-struck fool under his arm and throws a salute. "I'll be putting him outside the gate."

"Have fun with that", Freed tells him and re-enters the home without sparing Laxus another glance. Somewhere within him, he wishes the man had looked back at him.

As soon as Freed's out of sight, it's like the man under his arm snaps out of a trance. "That fucking bitch", he rages as he trashes against Laxus' hold. "I'll kill him! Who does he think he is? He thinks he can go around stomping on people's hearts, just because he happens to be pretty and rich?"

"To be fair", Laxus starts, "He has every right to say no to people. You know that right?"

"He'll never get anyone better than me. At least I'm not only pursuing him for his money. He should be grateful. In fact, he should be the one begging for my attention!" Throughout his spiel, Laxus has taken the chance to take a proper look at the man he has trapped. "No offence, but aren't you a few decades older than him? Shouldn't you be a bit ashamed of chasing a young man in such a dishonourable manner?"

The old man now redirects his attention towards Laxus, but before he can voice his opinions, Laxus throws him over the fence. "Goodbye filthy geezer. Please don't come back."

God, Laxus wishes that old man would come back. Well, not really but the quality of men and women that have come in pursuit of Freed has only been declining since then. Although they're absolutely starstruck when meeting the young man, it doesn't conceal their greed and their particular brand of lewdness. The things Laxus has heard are absolutely disgusting and he wonders how Freed hasn't blown his own eardrums out yet, to save him from the comments directed his way. Laxus gladly disposes of them for him. Freed always leaves without sparing him a second glance.

One day, there's a change in routine. While Laxus is tending to his trees one morning, he hears soft footsteps and when he turns around, he sees Freed sitting down on the steps of the pavilion. "There are chairs in the shed, you know. I could get one for you if you want?" he offers and Freed jumps a little. Apparently the man hadn't noticed him yet.

The man gives a timid little shake of the head. "It's quite alright", he says and in the peaceful morning, Laxus can pay attention to the specifics of his voice. He's surprisingly soft spoken, but Laxus wouldn't call him shy. He has a velvety smooth and deep voice and talks in a calm manner, as though he knows that he'll be listened to without having to raise his voice.

For a while Laxus feels the man studying him. "Is there any reason you're here?" he decides to ask, unwilling to bear the silence any longer. "Peace, mostly", the younger man admits. "Also, they told me there was a big chance of meeting you out here."

"Oh."

"I don't think I've formally introduced to you. I am Freed Justine", he says and offers Laxus his hand. "I gathered that", Laxus answers as he shakes the hand. Freed's grip is surprisingly strong. "Jee, I wonder where you gathered that information from. Surely it wasn't from the string of admirers moaning it everyday."

Laxus snorts at the joke, but the facial expression of the young man in front of him doesn't change so Laxus quickly stops. "Please don't do that. This", Freed waves his hand in front of his stony expression, "doesn't ever change. I prefer it that way, it adds a bit of mystery to my character I think."

"You don't want people to know your thoughts", Laxus guesses and Freed gives him a nod. "I'd rather not. My life's bothersome enough as is, imagine how much more troublesome it would be if people could read my thoughts on my face instead of feeling them on their skin."

Seeing the puzzled expression on Laxus' face, Freed offers him both of his hands and Laxus tentatively takes them. The first thing he notices is the roughness of his palms and he wonders what Freed likes to do in his spare time. The second thing he notices is that they're unusually chilly and the longer he holds onto them, the colder they get. After a while it gets painful to hold onto them, so he lets go with an apologetic wince.

"The more I like a person, the colder I get. I think you're quite alright and I'd even say I like you a bit. But I have no deep attachments to you, so you are able to touch me for a little while. If I were to love you more than myself, you wouldn't even be able to be near me, you'd freeze into a fun statue of pure ice. If I felt completely neutral towards you, you would not be affected by the curse at all."

Laxus frowns at that. "That does not sound like a fun situation. How do you deal with it?" Freed gives him a mirthless smile. "I simply avoid getting close to people. It's easier than you think it is, mister Dreyar." He turns around after that, not telling Laxus goodbye and once again, he doesn't look back. Laxus, however keeps staring at the spot the young man had stood in. How awful it must be, to be close to no one. To not be able to feel the touch of someone who truly loves you.

After that particular conversation, Freed appears more often during Laxus' work. He never joins him in planting new plants or weeding though, he simply watches or reads a book in Laxus' vicinity. It's peaceful and every now and then they have other small talks. It's during those talks that Laxus learns that Freed does in fact have friends, he just doesn't meet up with them anymore after an incident he refuses to tell Laxus more about. When spotting his sad expression, Freed reaches over to smooth Laxus' worry-wrinkles out and Laxus notices that his hand feels colder than before. "Don't be saddened, we still write each other. Nothing's lost, it has only changed."

During one of Freed's visit, Laxus tells him he might as well get his hands dirty if he keeps distracting him from his work. He offers Freed a little sapling with a smile and quickly that smile withers as the plant in Freed's hands does the same. "My apologies", Freed says as though he had done something wrong instead of Laxus. "I fear I simply do not have the green fingers needed for this type of work. I'll leave it to the master of the garden instead." With an even colder finger, Freed briefly pokes him in the cheek and Laxus knows he isn't mad at him.

Freed's appearances are now a constant in his life and something Laxus constantly looks forward to. From what little hints Freed gives him, the man feels the same way. Freed still tries to keep a lather large distance between them, but more often than not he forgets himself and scoots closer to ask Laxus about the flowers he's planting or tell him about the all the poisons one could make with those flowers. He doesn't know why Freed knows such an alarming amount of poisons, but it's a quirk he doesn't dislike.

Freed likes to ramble, Laxus comes to find out. It's surprising how much he knows about various topics and how clearly he can explain things. Freed's face is the most open when he's ranting about one of the books he's read that day and Laxus finds himself fascinated. Besides talking, Freed's also really good at listening. When Laxus tells him about his past, the man lets his guard down completely to show his compassion from quite a distance away. Freed explains that his curse can temporarily rise up when he's feeling something very passionately.

It's on a sunny day, where the bees are buzzing and the heath is turning the atmosphere languid and the good kind of lazy, that Laxus offers Freed a hug.

Here's the story. Laxus, although brought up in a household where declarations of affection weren't the norm, knows what it feels like to receive positive bodily affection. A pat on his back, a ruffle through his hair, a loving shoulderbump, he has received them all. Freed hasn't. Not regularly and Laxus guesses, not ever.

He's seen the Justine parents interact with their son and although it hadn't been malicious, their interactions had been anything but warm and friendly. There was an obvious mutual respect, but the parents held their son at an arms' length. Laxus' heart ached when he had laid eyes on the spectacle and that had been the beginning of his desire to provide for Freed emotionally in some way, shape or form. God knows he himself is quite clumsy when it comes to being affectionate (quite clumsy doesn't start to begin to describe it, actually), but he wants to at least do something.

"Hey Freed", he calls out the man laying next to him on the picnic blanket. "Hm?" the man says, not opening his eyes at all, but still signifying that he's paying attention to Laxus. "Would you like a hug? I know you don't like touching people because of your accident, but we're not all that close, I think. It should be pretty safe, want to try it out?"

That does make Freed's eye snap open and he rolls on his side to face Laxus. "Why?" he asks and Laxus shrugs. "I thought it'd be nice, that's all."

"Do you pity me?" Freed asks, voice dangerously low and blue eyes glaring daggers. Despite the sunny weather, Laxus shivers underneath that stern glare. "No, but I sort of sympathise. There was a period in my life where I didn't receive any form of affection at all and it had quite the impact on me. Not a good one, mind you. I remember receiving my first hug after that period and I broke down and cried like a baby. It was a sight."

Freed smiles at that. "I bet it was." The fondness of his smile makes way for a particular brand of shrewdness that Laxus has come to associate with Freed. With a quick movement, the man has positioned himself above Laxus. He's not seated on his lap, which Laxus both mourns and doesn't. He doesn't mourn it because he can't embarass himself but he does mourn it because now he can see the muscles of Freed's legs working to keep him upright as he's kneeling above Laxus and dear lord, the sight of those could be the death of him.

With a rough hand, but a gentle manner, Freed tilts his chin up, forcing Laxus to meet his eyes and he dryly swallows as he sees the barely concealed heath in those deep blues. "Are you sure it's just that, mister Dreyar? Merely sympathy?" he asks, voice husky and Laxus colours a deep, deep shade of red in response. "Oh darling", Freed croons at that, "You have such an open face. You should really learn how to conceal your intentions."

"What if I don't want to?" That shuts Freed up and for a moment the man is quiet. Laxus wonders if he's screwed this up, but then Freed shakes his head and moves back away again. "Alright, give me a hug. It better be good. One of my eyes may be covered, but I am still plenty able to see those thick arms of yours. If I don't feel like the life is being squeezed out of me, I will consider this a failure."

Grinning, Laxus flexes his arms. "Don't you worry for even a second. I'll crush your ribcage." Freed snorts.  "Charming." The process of getting into the hug is a bit awkward, but once there, it's alright. Of course, Laxus starts the whole thing by absolutely crushing Freed's ribcage. The man laughs it off like it's nothing and that prompts a bit of a squabble.

After a while and a lot of shifting though, Laxus has Freed in his lap, his head tucked underneath Laxus chin, back resting against Laxus' chest. Feeling brave, Laxus moves his own head from the top of Freed's head to Freed's shoulder, angling himself so he's nuzzling the man's neck. "See, this is nice."

"It is", Freed agrees before fully relaxing against Laxus chest with a content little sigh.

The moment is soon broken though, as frost creeps along Laxus' body. At first he ignores it, because Freed himself doesn't seem to notice the effect he's having on Laxus. Then, it starts getting uncomfortable and so he tries to gets the man's attention. He finds himself unable to move any part of his body though and the cold numbs his mouth as well. The thin layer of ice keeps getting thicker and the creaking of the frost is what attracts Freed's attention.

With a brusque movement, the man tears himself away from Laxus. He reaches out to Laxus, before stopping himself and running off, shouting something Laxus can't hear. It's so, so very cold. He curls into himself to gather more warmth and he finds it. He should go to sleep, he thinks as he feels his eyelids get heavy. He doesn't fight his instinct to do so.

When he wakes up, he's in his own room. Looking around he sees only one other person in the room. With a wave, his grandfather greets him. "You sure live an interesting life huh?" Ignoring his remark, Laxus asks him where Freed's at. "The young Justine? He's been fretting all day, but he has not come to visit you because he's started freezing up the hallways whenever he came too close to you. I think it's fair to say the young man likes you quite a bit."

Laxus should be elated to hear that someone loves him, but his worry for Freed overpowers that notion. "I bet he's lonely again." His grandfather nods. "With a curse like that, I imagine it's hard not to be."

It's unfair. It's unfair that Freed will live his life void of companionship. He'll never be able to be surrounded by true friends and he's constantly preyed upon by people for his status and money. The saddest part is that those kind of people are the only ones Freed will be able to live his life with, as all other will be turned to statues of ice. It's unfair that an innocent young man is punished for his parents' crimes like that. Passionately, Laxus relays those thoughts and many more to his grandfather, who patiently listens to him.

"So what are you going to do about it?" he asks and because it's his grandfather talking, Laxus knows there's no malice behind the words. "I don't know. Do you know any witches that could help lift the curse?" Although it had been more of a joke than an actual question, Makarov strokes his beard as though he's mulling over Laxus' question. "No, because proper witch etiquette states that a witch should absolutely not undo another witch's curse. I do however, have an inkling who the witch might be that cursed this young man. I can tell you where to find her, but be prepared my boy. She's not a very reasonable lady."

"That's what many people say about me as well. I don't care, please tell me where to find her." After his grandfather tells him the whereabouts of this particular witch, Laxus prepares for his journey. He starts with writing Freed a letter, one where he explains that he does not blame Freed for what happened and asks for his forgiveness, as well as for the man to wait for him. That he's looking for a way for them to be together. After delivering that letter, he sets off.

This Porlyusica lady really seemed intent on ticking off all the "witch"-boxes. Unreasonable? Check. Old? Check, since his grandpa knew of her. Living in big, dark, nearly impenetrable woods? Abso-fucking-lutely. It's a bother honestly, whacking his way through all the branches and thorns. But he perseveres because he has to.

Finally, he reaches her house and before he can even knock on the door, she opens her window and tells him to get lost. "Leave me alone, I've seen enough of you humans for another hundred years!" Determined, he yells back a loud "No thanks! Please let me talk to you!" She doesn't open the door for him.

So he waits in front of her door, unwilling to move an inch even if she yells at him. After three days she's finally had enough and lets him in. "You're so annoying. That particular brand of mulishness can only be attributed to one family. You're a Dreyar, aren't you?"

Sheepishly he nods and she rolls her eyes. "Of course you are. Spit out why you're here and if I'm unable to help you, leave or I'll curse you to hell and back." She's got a spine made of pure diamond, but Laxus isn't easily intimidated. "It's about that topic actually. You've cursed a man called Freed Justine."

The woman lets out a bitter, little laugh out at that. "I most certainly did not. I cursed his parents, but gave them the option to relay it someone near to them. It was only me, them and their unborn son in the room where it happened. They chose to curse their boy. Don't put that on me."

That's certainly a revelation...Laxus wonders whether he should tell Freed about it. He fears that it might shatter the already frail bond he shares with his parents and it's not as though Freed's got bonds to spare. Deciding to tackle that topic at a later moment, he turns back to Porlyusica. "Can you reverse the spell? It's ruining an innocent man's life."

She strokes her chin and gives him a squinting look. "How far are you willing to go for your goal? Do you really want this curse to be lifted or are you trying to achieve another goal by doing this?"

He shakes his head vehemently. "I'd like for him to be able to smile near his loved ones, that's all. I promise." After scrutinising him a bit more, she shrugs. "Alright then, it's not like I've got something against the young man himself. Here's the two steps to breaking the spell: 1. You're the Justine family's gardener aren't you? Here's a list of a couple of herbs I'd like you to grow there. They are only able to grow on that particular patch of land and since they stole it from me, I had to buy them. It's a financial pain in the ass, you know. 2.", she looks Laxus straight in the eyes, "Confess your honest love to him." Laxus chokes on his spit at those words. "Oh don't be like that, you're so obvious. Do that and he'll be fine."

While Laxus is still gathering his wits, she pushes the list with instructions for the herbs and some packets with seeds  into his hands and manhandles him out of the door. "There you go loverboy, good luck and all that. Now scram, I've had enough human interaction to last me another three lifetimes." And with the list with herbs and a head full of confused thoughts, Laxus returns to the Justine mansion.

Part one of the counterspell is as easy as breathing. Laxus plants the herbs as soon as he comes home. He tends to them day after day, but sorely misses Freed's presence while doing so. He keeps looking out of the corner of his eyes in the hopes of laying eyes on the familiar see of green that is Freed's hair, but alas, he never comes. Sometimes Laxus thinks he can see glimpses of him through the window, but the moments are too fast and fleeting to fully conform this.

Once the saplings have fully grown, Laxus starts to work on part two of the plan. Or well, he starts to think about how he should even attempt to do such a task. He thinks, ponders and wonders a lot and ends up doing significantly less. It's embarassing, really.

A good thing though, is that recently Freed has been seeking him out again. Laxus wished they could've talked, but someone's always whisking either one of them away for something or other. It's infuriating and in those brief moments, Laxus can see that Freed thinks the exact same thing.

Finally, finally they can squeeze out of both their schedules and they find themselves in the garden, sitting on the steps of the pavilion. Before Laxus can try his hand at confessing (which probably would've gone disastrous), Freed grabs his hands with shining eyes and to Laxus' surprise, they're warm.

"It's like the curse inversed", Freed tells him excitedly, smiling brightly. "The cold isn't getting to other people anymore, it's confined to me solely." Now that he says it, Laxus can see the snowflakes on Freed's already pale skin connecting, forming a layer of frost. With lips that are turning blue, he smiles and Laxus wishes he wouldn't look that grateful. "I can be around people without hurting them now. Everything's alright now."

"It's not", Laxus blurts out, "Freed, it's really not." With a scowl, the man immediately pulls his hands back and defensively curls into himself. "Can't you be happy for me?" he spits out, "This is the best thing that's happened to me in years, it's fine if I turn into an icicle, I don't care. Just let me have this, please." Freed's anger reaches a boiling point, before he deflates and sighs so deeply and sadly. With fingers stiff from the cold, he reaches out and tilts Laxus' head just slightly so. "Do forgive me", he whispers in Laxus' ears, his cold breath sending chills down Laxus' spine. After that he gives Laxus the smallest, most innocent kiss Laxus has ever received in his lifetime. It's so, so very careful and after he pulls away, Freed cradles Laxus' hand to his cheek and whispers a quiet: "Thank you."

His eyes turn empty after that and the continuous creaking of ice stops, leaving only a horrible silence behind. Freed had been crying, Laxus realises as he touches the man's frozen face. He looks peaceful and a melancholy sort of happy. With a soft bump, Laxus brings their foreheads together and places his own hand on top of the one cradling his cheek.

"Hey Freed", he breathes, voice barely a whisper, "What I meant to say, is that you deserve more. You deserve to reconnect with those old friends of yours without freezing either them or yourself. You deserve to make friends without fearing you'll end up hurting them. You deserve the world and if I could, I'd give it to you. But honestly, I'd just like to spend more time with you." He pauses, closes his eyes and presses a kiss to Freed's hand. "I love you."

It's not like those words suddenly make the ice burst, splinters flying everywhere and impaling Laxus, killing him upon impact. Instead, he finds out that the ice had in fact been melting when Freed's hand softly strokes his cheek. Laxus' eyes snap back open and Freed gives him the most gorgeous little smile. "Well, aren't you mister dramatic. Waiting until the last moment, all fairy tale-esque", Freed teases and Laxus flushes till behind his ears. "Shut up", he murmurs and because it look like Freed does not plan to do that and instead make fun of him forever, Laxus traps him in a bearhug.

Freed squeezes back just as hard and they stay like that for a long, long time. By the time they disentangle themselves from each other, the sun's already setting. "Would you like to meet my friends?" Freed asks, "Since the inversion of the curse, they've been living here again. They are very important to me."

Taking Freed's hand, he says: "Of course. I'd love to meet the people important to you." He squeezes Freed's hand and the man smiles at that little touch. "Well then, let's go."

[cassandraclare]

The first installment of Chain of Gold flash fiction is here for May! A short little story about the S4 — Thomas, James, Matthew, and Christopher — and how James found them their own private club room over a supernatural pub. ;) 

LONDON, 1900

James shouldn’t have been out on his own so late. A Shadowhunter walking city streets after dark was essentially on patrol whether he intended to be or not—and James was only fourteen, had not come anywhere near finishing his training, was wearing no runes suitable for fighting, and had only a single seraph blade tucked into his belt....

Worse, he had no real reason to be out at all. Since Matthew, Christopher, and now Thomas had returned to London with their families, he’d found he had a surfeit of energy, a sense of something important about to happen, though he could not have said what. He lay in bed trying to sleep and his thoughts flitted like agitated birds. He thought of conversations he wanted to have with his friends, he thought of Grace, he thought of his upcoming parabatai ceremony, he thought about his visions of shadow lands and blasted trees. He went through complex knife-fighting maneuvers in his head. Finally he gave up, threw on street clothes, and went for a walk. His parents would not be happy if they found out he’d gone, but he felt sure he’d be fine, remaining only a few blocks from the Institute at most.

What was on his mind as he walked was his friends, and how frustrating it was to try to have something as simple as a private conversation among them. He hadn’t appreciated, he thought wryly, how easy that had been at the Academy, and how annoying it would be in London. His own home was the London Institute, and strange Shadowhunters were forever coming and going there. Matthew’s house, the Consul’s residence, had the same problem. (Besides which, Charles was usually there, regarding them all with a beady eye.) Thomas’s house was far away in Golder’s Green. Christopher’s house in Bedford Square was tricky too. Aunt Cecily had just had a little boy, and Uncle Gabriel was constantly bursting in to warn them not to wake the baby.

“What we need is a gentlemen’s club,” Matthew would say. But they were too young to join a gentlemen’s club. “We’ll start our own, then,” Matthew would mutter.

Lost in thought, James did not notice he had wandered down a narrow alley with no one else around, and did not notice until it was far too late the three Kuri demons that came scuttling over the awning of a chemist’s and, on realizing James could see them, came straight at him. He dispatched one, wounded another, and chased the third off, but not before one of them got a fang into James’s arm and scored a line from elbow to wrist.

James stood in the alley, clutching his arm and swearing. Excellently done, James old boy. It felt like a hot wire was being jammed into his arm. There was nothing for it but to return home and wake at least one family member. He couldn’t get back in his own window; he’d have to come through the front door. And he’d have to clean the wound at the washstand upstairs, at which point he would inevitably face the music.

Or would he? The streets were quiet at this hour, but as he made his way down Fleet Street he came upon a pub still raucous with activity. With some interest, he noticed it was glamoured to be hidden from mundanes. It was called the Devil Tavern, according to the sign, which featured a man pulling the nose of a capering demon.

When he entered, conversation briefly stopped so the pub’s denizens could get a proper gander at the newcomer. James noted immediately that the place was full of Downworlders, which made sense. A gigantic gray-haired man, obviously a werewolf, was pulling a pint of foamy blood for an elderly-looking vampire at the bar, but stopped when James entered. There was a brief murmur at the appearance of a kid, obviously too young to be here by himself, in their pub, and then they noticed James’s Marks and there was a second, more unfriendly murmur.

Possibly this had been a mistake, but James thought turning and fleeing was probably only asking for more trouble, so he gathered his courage and approached the hulking figure tending the bar.

“Hello,” he began. “I’m terribly sorry, but I’ve sustained a bit of an injury, and I wondered if you might have a basin and some water I could make use of.”

The werewolf peered down at him, still holding the pint of blood. After a moment he said, in a surprisingly mild voice, “We don’t get many Shadowhunters in here, lad. We don’t get many children, either. And it’s vanishingly rare we get the combination of the two.”

James stood his ground. “I don’t want to make any trouble. I just need a place to deal with this wound and then I’ll be on my way.”

The werewolf took note of the angry red line along James’s arm. “What got you?”

“Kuri demon,” James said. When the bartender looked blank, he added, “Like a spider the size of a medicine ball. Little bigger, actually.”

The bartender grunted. “Better you than me.” He peered closer at James. “Wait, I recognize you. You’re Will’s boy, aren’t you?”

James blinked in surprise. “You know my father?”

“Oi! Ernie!” the elderly vampire interjected, slapping his hand on the bar with a bang.

“What? Oh.” The bartender, apparently named Ernie, put the pint of blood down in front of the vampire, who rolled his eyes and turned away to speak with his companions.

“Did know him,” Ernie went on. “Haven’t seen him for years, but he used to come in here all the time. Good man. Shadowhunters are bad for business, mostly, but your dad was a charmer, he was. Put everyone at ease. Had a real knack for it.”

James wasn’t sure how to respond. “I like him, personally,” he ventured.

Ernie roared with laughter. “Of course you do,” he said. “Look, there are some rooms upstairs, from way back when we let rooms. Long before my time, mind you. There’s a washstand up there you can use. Don’t have to go home and tell your father you got banged up. I know how it is.”

James was not sure that Ernie did know how it was, but he thanked him and followed his directions up the stairs. He found an interconnected set of rooms with various bits of furniture, all covered in cloths yellowed with age.

He washed his wound in the washstand and set about Marking himself for healing and to dull the pain. Several of the rooms here were tiny and unwelcoming, but one of them had clearly been a parlour of some kind, with tall windows overlooking the street and a pleasantly tiled fireplace at one end. James could tell it could be a nice room if only it was cleaned up a bit and the right furniture put about.

He returned downstairs and thanked Ernie, who told him to send Will over to have a drink on him one of these days. James hesitated, wanting to ask Ernie about the room. It was brazen, and he’d already leaned on Ernie’s hospitality more than was respectable, but now he was in London, his friends were in London, he was in love, and everything was different. So he leaned over and said, “Look, Ernie, can I ask you something about that room upstairs? The big one?”

* * *

“Et voila,” James said, making a wide gesture at the Devil Tavern’s upstairs parlor. It was a few days later, and he’d gathered his friends for a mission he’d refused to explain. Matthew, Charles, and Thomas had been dubious of James’s taking them through the ground floor of a Downworlder pub but followed gamely. Ernie gave James a nod of greeting as they passed the bar, and Thomas and Christopher exchanged a nonplussed look.

Now they stood in the larger room, which on a sunny afternoon turned out to get decent light falling in sheets through its tall, narrow windows. Dramatically James whipped a yellow cloth off of a large, comfortable-looking armchair and gestured to it.

Matthew figured it out first. “James, you old dog!” he said with a laugh. “You’ve made us a club.”

“What, now?” Christopher said politely.

“The owner says if we clean it up, we can use it whenever we want,” James said. “As long as we order drinks while we’re here.”

“I think,” said Thomas, “that that is a more than fair exchange.”

“We can store the things we don’t want in the bedroom behind,” James added. “There are some more chairs and things we might want to bring in here, too.”

“And everything will need a vigorous dusting,” Matthew added. “But marvelous. This is marvelous.”

A slow smile was growing on Thomas’s face, too. “I’ll bring some books in, I think. Books make a place homier. I daresay, I wasn’t sure at first about this business of relocating to London,” he added.

“Oh, we’ll be proper Londoners now, with a private room above a pub and a pint waiting whenever we need one.” Matthew rubbed his hands together. “James, it’s a pleasure to see you in your element. You were always a bit at loose ends at the Academy, but here in the city you are our guide and our leader.”

James waited for Christopher and Thomas to protest at Matthew calling him their leader, but they only looked pleased.

“I’m glad you’re here,” James said. “I’m glad we’re all here together.”

James felt something settling in him, something that had been restless since he’d first arrived at the Academy and now was, in surprise, finding itself at home.

[nevermindthewind]

the beach house on crack: a love island au

alright lads so basically i’ve been binge watching love island and got to thinking about how jake and amy would be if they were in the villa bc you know it’d be spicy af so naturally i called up my resident brit @fourdrinkamy​ and the two of us wrote up some (4k words of) headcanons!!! If you dont watch love island then 1) culture yourself 2) it’s a british reality tv show that’s like a better version of the bachelor

“The premise of Love Island is simple. A group of attractive 20-somethings are made to couple up and share a bed—regardless of whether they have a romantic connection—in a villa on the Spanish island of Majorca. New cast members and challenges are introduced to make things difficult and they are made to recouple.” - time.com (oh + the winning couple gets £50k)

keep reading below the cut for some reality tv/brooklyn nine nine madness!!!

· so jake and amy are part of the original ten in the villa, obvs, along with charles, terry, gina, sharon and rosa and a few other randos who we don’t care about

· when jake comes in amy thinks he’s cute in a goofy sort of way but she doesn’t step forward (therefore admitting she would want to couple up with him) bc she wants to keep her options open and what not but jake thinks shes a BABE so he decides to couple with her anyway

She’s not mad about it though, he seems like a good time

charles choses rosa and she is Not Pleased bc he seems like a goober (he is)

Terry picks sharon and they become like the jack and dani of the season (kinda)

· Charles and jake instantly bond and have one of the best bromances in love island history

· Gina is the biggest pot stirrer the island’s ever seen and is constantly trying to get terry away from sharon but he doesn’t ever budge

· within the first few days its clear to amy they’re just gonna be buddies but that’s fine bc while he likes orange soda in his cereal and is possibly the messiest man she’s ever met he’s really funny and they’re really good at all the different competitions and she’s got the perfect wingman for when mr. right does come around!

· jake doesn’t mind either bc amy’s super chill and also wants to join the police academy so they can talk cop movies which is dope and also they smoke the competition when it comes to challenges

· Amy loves that they get given water bottles and forces Jake to drink it in its entirety x3 daily

· The first set of new guys/girls comes into the villa and while amy and jake both try neither of them feel anything so at the first recoupling Amy chooses to stay with jake so they both can stay and try to find someone

Rosa choses the new guy marcus much to charles’ disappointment

· jake gets everyone in the villa to start making title of your sex tape jokes and it becomes a running joke and the public gets it trending on twitter

· Over the course of the next week or so they have become each other’s best friend in the villa and often find themselves hanging out one on one even when they don’t have to, to the point where everyone else is questioning whether they actually like each other or not

· The islanders get a text from the producers (“I GOT A TEXT”) saying each couple has to pick two other couples they think are the least compatible and whoever has the most votes will get dumped from the villa, but even though jake and amy are in a friendship couple the rest of the couples think they have such good chemistry they don’t receive a single vote

· jake’s thinking the same thing and confides in charles after a few drinks and charles convinces him to say something to her

Charles is already a self-defined “melt” for jake & amy

THATS WHEN TEDDY COMES INTO THE ISLAND dun dun dun

Amy’s instantly drawn to teddy and everyone is excited bc she finally found someone she’s interested in

“He’s 100% my type on paper”

jake is genuinely happy for her ( “how do i look? Is this lipstick too much?” “you look great, ames”) but at the same time is a sad lil puppy

That night they recouple and amy chooses teddy and the public are sad bc jake and amy belong together!!!!!

Gina recouples with jake to keep him around bc she’s his mate le duh

amy’s all excited that night because she finally has someone to cuddle with but teddy just??? rolls over and goes to bed??? uh okay…

Also he snores. Big time.

Charles brings his sleep apnea machine and between that and teddy’s snores no one can sleep

On the brightside no one can hear the couples who are ~doing bits~

(A/N to clarify: in the villa, everyone sleeps in the same room which has six double beds & you share a bed with whoever you happen to be ‘coupled up’ with at the time)

· The jimmy jabs is totes one of the competitions they do and jake lets amy (and therefore teddy) win bc he knows how bad she wants it……and because he still likes her

· The heist, on the other hand, is something jake comes up with on his own and eventually everyone in the villa starts swiping things from each other

· Eventually this super hot girl sophia enters the villa and jake is SMITTEN

Jake in the interview room: “Looks like the gods have finally answered my prayers…”

iain the narrator: “Yes, the gods. Or, our producers wanted a bit of action so they asked our intern to find out your type.”

· Pimento enters the villa the same time as sophia and he and rosa are instantly drawn to each other and poor marcus doesnt stand a chance

They become co-presidents of the do bits society within like a day, even doing it in the middle of the day

Jake walks in on them doing it TWICE in one day and just silently backs out of the room, it’s not like he needed sun cream anyway

· sophia gets to pick two guys to take on a date and one of them is jake and amy is v jealous bc teddy is a dud (not that she’s going to admit that to anyone apart from in the talking head…just yet)

“I just don’t get what he sees in her honestly? Oh god…am i jealous of sophia?! Noooooo…”

Iain the narrator: “Yessssssss…”

· Amy’s been trying to get to know teddy, but it turns out the guy is a total snoozefest, which she tells gina and rosa one day while they’re getting ready

“All he ever talks about is pilsners. I dont even like pilsners!!!”

“Also, I dunno if you guys noticed this but the guy wears mesh underwear. Like why? Is it medical? How do you even ask that?!”

· Jake and sophia immediately hit it off and in the same episode it becomes v clear amy is over teddy and his lack of a personality

Theres a recoupling where boys pick and jake picks sophia and teddy picks amy but amy is Not Pleased

· A group of the islanders (led by Jake) creates a game where they take a shot every time Teddy chooses a pilsner to drink

charles is pissed by like six pm

· UH OH THERES A KISSING CHALLENGE

The islanders play snog marry pie, so basically the boys line up in a line and the girls pick a boy to make out with and one they’d want to marry (and one they want to throw a literal pie in their face)

Sophia snogs jake ofc and then says she’d marry some rando (again who we don’t care about)

Amy, however, chooses to marry teddy - “i’m marrying you because i think we’d have cute babies who would go to code camp” - AND KISSES JAKE. jake is surprised but also not upset?? And when amy pulls away jake seems to lean in for more!!!

Cut to sophia in the talking head like “HANG ON. why did she kiss jake and why did he look like he was going in for more???”

Sophia gets pissed off at jake who’s genuinely confused

“It was just a game??  Like i’dve kissed anyone bc that’s literally the game”

“Yes jake but you clearly went for more. And you didn’t have to slip your tongue into her mouth.”

Jake tries to clear his name but sophia’s not having it

“If you liked amy you should’ve just told me, not made out with her in front of me and the whole damn country”

She storms off after that leaving jake alone on the swinging couch

Cut to jake smiling in the talking head: “amy kissed me…”

NEXT TIME ON LOVE ISLAND…

Just kidding i don’t have enough follow through to make two posts so we’re just gonna do it all now

· After all that ~drama~ sophia goes to sleep on the couch but jake, ever the gentleman, tells her he’ll take the couch and she can sleep in the bed

Teddy and amy still share a bed…i mean it’s not like they cuddled before anyway…

· Everyone in the villa gives jake crap for his bedhead and amy crap for her old lady glasses

Jake def makes the glasses/penis comment and iain makes some snarky narrator remark

· Jake and Amy kinda dance around each other most of the day and then they hear Gina announce “I GOT A TEEEEEXXXXXT”

“Islanders, tonight there will be a recoupling. The girls will choose their partner. The remaining boy with be dumped from the villa immediately. #choosewisely”

Everyone in the villa immediately turns to jake and amy

· After a proper gassing up from gina, rosa, and charles jake finally goes over to amy

“Hey ames, can we go for a chat?”

Amy tucks her hair behind her ears as she gets up heheheh

Gina, rosa and charles don’t even try to hide the fact that they’re watching the entire conversation unfold from their spot on the day bed

· They go to the hanging couch (the best spot in the villa in my humble opinion) and jake finally tells her how he feels!!!!

“Look, i dont wanna be a jerk…I know you’re coupled up with teddy and it’s going really well. It’s just…”

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen at this recoupling and I think I’d be pissed with myself if I didn’t say this. I kinda wish something could happen between us…romantic stylez. And i know it probably will never happen because you’re happy in your couple but…”

· Before either of them can say anything more they’re cut off by terry announcing he has a text!!!

“Islanders, it is now time for the recoupling. Whichever boy is not chosen to recouple will be dumped from the villa immediately.”

Jake and amy just kinda stare at each other for a few seconds before amy finally gets up wordlessly and walks to the bonfire

· In classic love island fashion, amy has to choose her boy last, so it’s down to just teddy and jake. Whoever she doesn’t pick has to leave the villa.

Everyone, e v e r y o n e is visibly stressed. Charles is full on crying, and rosa is clutching pimento’s hand so hard it may or may not break by the end of the night

Teddy, god bless him, looks completely at ease. Jake keeps scratching the back of his neck and wringing his hands

· Finally amy takes a deep breath.  

“I chose this boy because…he makes me laugh. He’s a good friend, and he knows me better than anyone in the villa. Also – he’s probably gonna make fun of me for saying this – but he’s, like, really fit. I don’t know, I just would be so, so sad if he left the villa. And I want to give us a chance to go beyond friends.”

At this point the camera flips to jake who is giving her the smallest, sweetest smile and then to teddy who’s finally catching on.

“The boy I choose is…”

*dramatic-ass pause*

“Jake.”

· THE MUSIC SWELLS. JAKE WALKS OVER TO HER AND GIVES HER THE SWEETEST KISS. EVERYONE CRIES, EVEN ROSA.

Amy smiles as they pull apart.

“So, a lot of change around here, huh?”

He kisses her again. :’)

· The first night they sleep together they don’t kiss but they do spoon

Jake is almost always the little spoon and at first he gets crap from the other boys when they see this but he doesn’t care because being the little spoon is the best!!!!! He gets to wake up in amys arms like hellooooo

· Amy and jake are surprisingly affectionate??? Not in a weird way like charles and genevieve but amy just always seems to have a hand on his knee or what have you

For the record, amy was NEVER like that with teddy.

· Amy has a STRICT no-sex rule in the bedroom bc hello they are on national television her abuela could be watching!!!! + it would be super weird to do bits in the same room as charles…of course jake completely and utterly respects this and doesn’t even question it. If he has to go 6 weeks without sex even though he’s sharing a bed every night with the hottest girl he’s ever seen then so be it

· UNTIL it’s announced via text that The Hideaway (a private area/bedroom in the villa away from everyone else but still not the cameras Obviously this is love island) is open and the islanders get to choose a couple to stay there for the night. Having had to put up with their blossoming love and flirting 24 fucking 7 everyone else unanimously screams “jake and amy!!!! It has to be Jake and amy!!!!” and they just grin at each other

· The bed is so big and covered in rose petals & there happens to be a very handy bowl of condoms on the bedside table…at first they just talk about how nice it is to get some alone time and just hang out….which of course turns to kissing and then making out and then………under the covers they go (for those who don’t actually watch the show it’s literally like seeing sims wahooing but irl) (maybe we see a cheeky black and white shot of amy moaning)

· The next morning amy wakes up with the BIGGEST grin on her face and her hair all mussed, and she kisses jake awake “morning, baby” and he immediately pulls her into him and kisses her back

Jake’s talking head: “Last night? Last night was….it was amazing. Stupid good. That’s all I’m going to say.” our boy!!! Cannot!!! Stop smiling!!!!

· When they get back to the main villa they naturally segregate into boys and girls and the guys immediately ask jake “how was your night? Did you get any??” “oh my god, did you FRENCH???” “charles, no nothing happened”

· (in true Jamie style) he goes over to the day beds with amy and lets her cuddle into his chest and asks if it’s okay if he tells people what happened in the hideaway - he’s a gentleman!!! And he’s always going to respect her boundaries!! Amy tells him of course that’s okay, people are going to find out anyway and that it’s really sweet of him to check with her…and she laughs to herself when jake goes back over to the boys and she hears charles scream “I KNEW YOU WERE GLOWING”

· Rosa and Gina casually-but-not-so-subtly ask amy “so did you shag? Tell us everything” and amy just smiles….rosa and gina look at each other like noice, they’re so proud of her!!

Rosa later confides in amy “the amy i knew two weeks ago would nEver have done that with Teddy…i’m happy for you, santiago”

· CASA AMOR. the boys have to sneak out of the villa (jake goes into full on spy mode rolling around on the carpet) and get shipped off to a separate one that has 6 new girls in it and then 6 new boys enter the old villa to shake things up (reality television at its absolute FINEST YALL)…the producers’ twist? Fucking Constantine Kane gets put in the girls’ villa - amy’s eyes widen out of their sockets when she sees her most random ex enter. He of course is still so in love with her, or so he claims, and tells her how excited he is to couple up with her and share a bed and win her over and get married and have babies with her. Amy naturally is like no way jose and spends the entire time trying to avoid him (with the help of rosa) hiding everywhere she can fit and sleeping on the sofa at night (and, also naturally, she worries that Sophia 2.0 is with jake right now and she realises it kind of makes her sick to her stomach thinking about jake kissing another girl….maybe she likes him even more than she thought she did?)

· Just to mess with him, jake gets a text that has a photo of constantine trying to kiss amy and poor bb gets beside himself with worry…

Jake’s talking head: “I mean Amy can do whatever she wants, I’m obviously not going to stop her from being with another person - we’ve only known each other for what a month…” [he looks away from the camera and rubs his face with his hand] “But I really like her…so it just kinda…sucks.”

· OBVIOUSLY he has nothing to worry about and his face!!!!!!!!! Just lights up in relief!!!!! When amy walks back into the og villa during the Most Dramatic recoupling without bringing back anyone from the new one!!! She rushes over to him and cups his face with her hands and kisses him hard in front of everyone

· “I missed you, you know” “I missed you too” “Hey I have to ask…that guy you were with-” “You saw that?” “I got sent a photo…nothing…nothing happened between you, right?” “Yes - I mean no. Things did happen. In the past, on the outside. But I was young and I regret it so much - i tried to avoid him the entire time in casa amor. Honestly all I could think about was how much i wanted to be hanging out with you” “really?”  she moves to sit on his lap, wraps her arms around his next and kisses his cheek.  “the only person i want to be in this villa with is you” “i could say the same thing about you, ames” and then they get straight back to kissing :’)))

Iain: “nope, that’s definitely not a tear in my eye”

· One morning the islanders wake up to the delightful sound of babies screaming bc you guessed it!! baby challenge!!! (i.e. towards the end of the summer, the couples are given plastic babies and have to look after them for a day)

Amy is SO excited and throws the covers off running towards the cribs (after Charles and Genevieve) screaming - “We made a baby! Oh my god I have a baby!” leaving a half-awake dazed and confused jake still in bed

Jake & Rosa eventually bother getting out of their respective beds, definitely not as excited as the rest of the villa, but jake will admit his heart flutters a little seeing amy cradling a plastic baby to her chest so attentively

“Jake! Look we have a little girl!” “awww she looks just like you, Ames” “we have to name her” “Nakatomi” jake answers immediately, to which amy whines “jaaaake take it seriously! I’m not having a daughter called Nakatomi” “fine, i’ll compromise on Holly”

At first jake is a little apprehensive about having this new Responsibility (and he’s not about to blurt out all his dad issues on national television) and so he keeps his distance and mainly lets amy take care of their new offspring in the morning (“amessss why does it keep crying?” “i cannot Believe you would call our baby it, peralta!”) That is until the girls get sent off on a Mommy’s Lunch, turning the villa into daddy day care….

He knows how much Amy loves this little baby so he decides he is going to take this seriously and it doesn’t take long for him to realise that??? This is kinda fun??? He takes Holly on strolls in her buggy around the villa and plays with her in the pool with charles and terry and (tugging at the public’s heart) sits on a day bed with her and tells her just how awesome her mummy is

When amy gets back, her heart completely MELTS at the sight of her new bf with their little one……and they end up talking about how they’re the best parents in the entire villa nay the world (“our kid is WAY cuter than terry and sharon’s” “oh for SURE”) & then of course win the challenge

· For the Final Date extravaganza they go on a helicopter ride and ngl even Amy is beside herself with excitement…they’ve spent the last 6 weeks talking about their favourite action films etc. and now it’s like they’re in one! They definitely act like literal children/real cops pretending they’re on a manhunt for a fugitive (instead of appreciating the view like normal people)

They get treated to a romantic dinner afterwards followed by dancing with live musicians and that’s when they FINALLY say those 3 words to each other….(well 5 if you count “noice, smort”)

· AND THE WINNER IS…..jake and amy obviously this is a b99 x love island au :’) they’re so sweet and humble about it & amy makes jake promise on live national television that he’s not just going to spend all their cash prize on sneakers. They each end up with over a million followers on their instagrams, where they regularly post photos of each other on date night/ at premieres/ evenings at home…and also video sagas of them pranking each other which starts with amy pieing jake’s face unexpectedly and escalates into fake proposals and frozen shoes….and maybe some *light* tasering

· Of course they end up getting married for realz and a baby announcement follows not too long after that…they are utterly the nation’s sweethearts (and Charles keeps doing interviews to the press saying he’s the one who brought them together in the villa from the beginning)

[fangirl-ramblings]

Pairing: Charles Smith x F!reader story

Summary: The story picks up just after Jack has been rescued from Angelo Bronte & the gang are celebrating the happy occasion - though not everybody in camp is in a mood to celebrate

Tags: Possible spoilers for the end of chapter 3 / part of chapter 4. A little bit angsty, a little bit nsfw, but then some fluff to lighten the mood

Notes: This is the first story I ever wrote for the RDR2 fandom and looking back on it...it's certainly is far from perfect, but I'm still proud I took the leap to share it with you all. Hope you enjoy

~* Tumblr Masterlist *~

Sweet Dreams

The seats around the campfire were starting to fill up fast, so you sat on the ground next to Javier, as he started to play his guitar.

Shit, poor Sean – shot dead in the middle of Rhodes. You weren’t there of course, but you’d walked past Arthur’s tent one day and saw he’d left his journal open on his bed. Curiosity had gotten the better of you so you wandered over, but as you approached, you wish you hadn’t – the sketch Arthur had drew showing the young Irish lad’s split skull had haunted you for the last couple of weeks every time you closed your eyes.

You reopened them only when you felt somebody nudge you with their leg and you looked up to see Arthur standing next you with a drink in each hand

You looked around at all the smiling faces around the campfire and try to think when was last time everybody was so happy & carefree; it decided it probably wasn’t since Sean was rescued from bounty hunters a couple of months ago.

“You okay y/n? “ he asked handing one of the bottles to you

“Yeah, I think so” you answered before taking a long sip “suppose I’m just tired”

“Already the party’s just begun?!” he laughed as he walked off to check on everybody else.

The truth was a bit more complicated than that, and you were finding it had to paint on a smile & pretend everything was okay, especially when you were sat in front of the scene that hurt you the most.

You watched as Abigail cuddles Jack, as if she’s never going to let him go again, before you turn your attention towards Hosea & John. Both wearing wide grins as the older man gives John a pat on the back.

You had known eventually it would come to this; when you have somebody like Hosea, a master of charm, gently persuading John to do the right thing by his son, it would be only a matter of time before John listened to his head instead of heart. Yet you always had held out hope that one day the two of you could still run off into the sunset, perhaps far away so there’d be no going back this time.

But now that last fleeting moment of hope had suddenly vanished as saw John follow Abigail & Jack over to Pearson’s wagon and actually make pleasant conversation with her.

“Ay, Ay, Ay , ay canta y no llores, ay, ay ay ay” You try to join in alongside everybody else, but you’re too distracted. It was a small moment, over in a split second but you saw it, Abigail had turned to John & touched him lightly on the arm and for the first time since you returned to camp you noticed he didn’t flinch or scowl at her – in fact he placed a gentle hand on her back as she rose with the boy. You closed your eyes again and this was now the image plastered in your mind. The Marstons looking like a proper happy family

“Ay, Ay, Ay , ay canta y no llores, ay, ay ay ay”  the words rang in your ears. You spoke no Spanish, but when you heard Javier sing it for the very first time, you felt moved by the song and has asked him what did mean

“Sing and don’t cry” he had explained, but right now you felt like the opposite so you downed the rest of your bottle and stood up & excused yourself from the group

From here you could still listen to the events of camp – right now you could just about hear Dutch speaking to Arthur about Tahiti - but you were far enough away to left alone in your thoughts, not that you really wanted to go down that dark path.

You’d been sitting there for no more than five minutes, sobbing gently and taking swigs of alcohol, when you heard footsteps approach and then stop right behind you. You wiped your cheeks & turned your head around to see a shadowy figure topped with a white hat looking at down at you

Walking into your room on the ground floor of the house, you located your satchel and rummaged about before finding exactly what you were looking for – a bottle of gin. Taking the stopper out with your teeth, you opened the back door and sat down on the quiet patch of grass.

“Can I help you Mr. Bell?” you asked

He had piqued your interest

“How so?” you replied arching an eyebrow

“I was thinking more along the lines of I could help you Miss (l/n)?” he drawled

“Tsk, I’d rather go swimming with the alligators if it’s all the same to you” you replied before turning back round to finish off your drink

“I doubt the alligators would go anywhere near you stuck-up frigid bitch” he huffed marching back towards his tent.

“A pretty girl such as yourself, upset and by sitting on her lonesome – I thought maybe I could introduce you to a friend of mine. A real good friend who’d know how to make you moan in ecstasy rather than misery” he responded pointing to his crotch

After emptying the contents of the bottle down your throat, you were starting to feel a bit light headed, so you closed eyes once more and leaned back onto the ground. You could hear the voices from the other side of camp getting louder by the minute; a few rowdy songs being sung by Karen, Uncle & Grimshaw accompanied by Javier, Arthur drunkenly greeting everybody in his path and laughing at himself whenever he shouted Lenny’s name and Molly having a go at Dutch yet again.

Frustrated that you couldn’t just fall into a drunken stupor, you clenched your fists & pounded them into the ground – though it took you a few seconds to work out why the ground felt soft & squishy & had made an “Ow” sound

“Sorry, Charles” you slurred

You opened one eye and saw Charles crouched over rubbing his foot

“It’s okay Miss (l/n). It’s my fault that I didn’t see you down there”

“Are you okay?” he leant over and helped you sit up, only for you to wobble again “Here lean on me” he told you as he sat next to you

You did as you were told and took it upon yourself to place your head onto his chest.

“Stop with the Miss (l/n) nonsense” you told him as you tried to prop yourself up on your elbows, only to fall back down into a fit of giggles “Ooops”

You could tell by looking at Charles that he had a strong frame, but you were  stunned to feel how muscular his chest was and found yourself wondering what exactly was he hiding under his shirt

“Erm… you know that you just said that out loud” he blushed

“Did I? I don’t think I did”

He laughed at your drunken logic and thought it would be easier to just agree with you for the time being

“Anyway Miss (l/n) …” you cut him off

“(y/n), My name is (y/n)” you lifted yourself up to face him “You’ve known me for several months now Charles, you don’t need to be so formal with me all the time”

You smiled at him “That’s better” You found yourself focusing on his scars

“Sorry, *(y/n)*” He empathised saying your name as if it was something foreign to him “

“How did you get them?” you absent-mindedly ask as you traced them with your fingers. You feel him pull away slightly.

“Charles Smith” you sigh “a man who says so much by saying so little” He looks at you with bemusement and you stare back in his deep dark eyes, “but then again why do you need to say anything when you can let actions speak louder than words” 

“That’s a story for another day” he teased

You found you gaze was now focused on his mouth & you started moving slowly towards him. You gently placed your lips on his and was pleasantly surprised to feel him kiss you back. Without breaking you straddled his lap and draped your hands around his neck while he wrapped his around your waist whilst you both continue to explore each others mouths.

“Not like this” he shook his head “I’m not going to take advantage of you when you’re drunk”

You decided this wasn’t enough, so you moved your hands over his chest, working your way down slowly taking in the contours of his body. As you you finally reach the top of his trousers and started to unbuckle his belt, you found his hands over yours moving them away. You looked back at him with a confused look

“Trust me I want this” you plead, moving your hands back towards his area

“I want this too.” He lifted you off him and stood up. The sizeable bulge in his pants agreed with what he was saying. “But I don’t want either of us waking up in the morning filled with regret” 

He took hold of your hands and helped you stand up. You was still a bit wobbly, but that passionate kiss had sobered up you enough that you could walk, even it had made your legs turn to jelly. He placed an arm around your waist and helped guide you back to your room.

As you entered, you looked around and saw that none of the other girls had retired for the night yet, so it was just you & Charles standing there. He helped lower you onto the couch you were calling a bed and you leaned forward and pulled his shirt closer to you so you could kiss him again. He lingered for a few seconds before stroking your cheek and kissing your forehead

“Goodnight (y/n). Sweet dreams”

“Goodnight” you blissfully responded as you lay back down. 

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

You closed your eyes and for the first time in several weeks you did indeed have sweet dreams

A follow up to this story can be found here

[tlhnetwork]

MAY’s Chain of Gold Flash Fiction by Cassandra Clare

The Devil Tavern

LONDON, 1900

James shouldn’t have been out on his own so late. A Shadowhunter walking city streets after dark was essentially on patrol whether he intended to be or not—and James was only fourteen, had not come anywhere near finishing his training, was wearing no runes suitable for fighting, and had only a single seraph blade tucked into his belt.

Worse, he had no real reason to be out at all. Since Matthew, Christopher, and now Thomas had returned to London with their families, he’d found he had a surfeit of energy, a sense of something important about to happen, though he could not have said what. He lay in bed trying to sleep and his thoughts flitted like agitated birds. He thought of conversations he wanted to have with his friends, he thought of Grace, he thought of his upcoming parabatai ceremony, he thought about his visions of shadow lands and blasted trees. He went through complex knife-fighting maneuvers in his head. Finally he gave up, threw on street clothes, and went for a walk. His parents would not be happy if they found out he’d gone, but he felt sure he’d be fine, remaining only a few blocks from the Institute at most.

What was on his mind as he walked was his friends, and how frustrating it was to try to have something as simple as a private conversation among them. He hadn’t appreciated, he thought wryly, how easy that had been at the Academy, and how annoying it would be in London. His own home was the London Institute, and strange Shadowhunters were forever coming and going there. Matthew’s house, the Consul’s residence, had the same problem. (Besides which, Charles was usually there, regarding them all with a beady eye.) Thomas’s house was far away in Golder’s Green. Christopher’s house in Bedford Square was tricky too. Aunt Cecily had just had a little boy, and Uncle Gabriel was constantly bursting in to warn them not to wake the baby.

“What we need is a gentlemen’s club,” Matthew would say. But they were too young to join a gentlemen’s club. “We’ll start our own, then,” Matthew would mutter.

Lost in thought, James did not notice he had wandered down a narrow alley with no one else around, and did not notice until it was far too late the three Kuri demons that came scuttling over the awning of a chemist’s and, on realizing James could see them, came straight at him. He dispatched one, wounded another, and chased the third off, but not before one of them got a fang into James’s arm and scored a line from elbow to wrist.

James stood in the alley, clutching his arm and swearing. Excellently done, James old boy. It felt like a hot wire was being jammed into his arm. There was nothing for it but to return home and wake at least one family member. He couldn’t get back in his own window; he’d have to come through the front door. And he’d have to clean the wound at the washstand upstairs, at which point he would inevitably face the music.

Or would he? The streets were quiet at this hour, but as he made his way down Fleet Street he came upon a pub still raucous with activity. With some interest, he noticed it was glamoured to be hidden from mundanes. It was called the Devil Tavern, according to the sign, which featured a man pulling the nose of a capering demon.

When he entered, conversation briefly stopped so the pub’s denizens could get a proper gander at the newcomer. James noted immediately that the place was full of Downworlders, which made sense. A gigantic gray-haired man, obviously a werewolf, was pulling a pint of foamy blood for an elderly-looking vampire at the bar, but stopped when James entered. There was a brief murmur at the appearance of a kid, obviously too young to be here by himself, in their pub, and then they noticed James’s Marks and there was a second, more unfriendly murmur.

Possibly this had been a mistake, but James thought turning and fleeing was probably only asking for more trouble, so he gathered his courage and approached the hulking figure tending the bar.

“Hello,” he began. “I’m terribly sorry, but I’ve sustained a bit of an injury, and I wondered if you might have a basin and some water I could make use of.”

The werewolf peered down at him, still holding the pint of blood. After a moment he said, in a surprisingly mild voice, “We don’t get many Shadowhunters in here, lad. We don’t get many children, either. And it’s vanishingly rare we get the combination of the two.”

James stood his ground. “I don’t want to make any trouble. I just need a place to deal with this wound and then I’ll be on my way.”

The werewolf took note of the angry red line along James’s arm. “What got you?”

“Kuri demon,” James said. When the bartender looked blank, he added, “Like a spider the size of a medicine ball. Little bigger, actually.”

The bartender grunted. “Better you than me.” He peered closer at James. “Wait, I recognize you. You’re Will’s boy, aren’t you?”

James blinked in surprise. “You know my father?”

“Oi! Ernie!” the elderly vampire interjected, slapping his hand on the bar with a bang.

“What? Oh.” The bartender, apparently named Ernie, put the pint of blood down in front of the vampire, who rolled his eyes and turned away to speak with his companions.

“Did know him,” Ernie went on. “Haven’t seen him for years, but he used to come in here all the time. Good man. Shadowhunters are bad for business, mostly, but your dad was a charmer, he was. Put everyone at ease. Had a real knack for it.”

James wasn’t sure how to respond. “I like him, personally,” he ventured.

Ernie roared with laughter. “Of course you do,” he said. “Look, there are some rooms upstairs, from way back when we let rooms. Long before my time, mind you. There’s a washstand up there you can use. Don’t have to go home and tell your father you got banged up. I know how it is.”

James was not sure that Ernie did know how it was, but he thanked him and followed his directions up the stairs. He found an interconnected set of rooms with various bits of furniture, all covered in cloths yellowed with age.

He washed his wound in the washstand and set about Marking himself for healing and to dull the pain. Several of the rooms here were tiny and unwelcoming, but one of them had clearly been a parlour of some kind, with tall windows overlooking the street and a pleasantly tiled fireplace at one end. James could tell it could be a nice room if only it was cleaned up a bit and the right furniture put about.

He returned downstairs and thanked Ernie, who told him to send Will over to have a drink on him one of these days. James hesitated, wanting to ask Ernie about the room. It was brazen, and he’d already leaned on Ernie’s hospitality more than was respectable, but now he was in London, his friends were in London, he was in love, and everything was different. So he leaned over and said, “Look, Ernie, can I ask you something about that room upstairs? The big one?”

* * *

“Et voila,” James said, making a wide gesture at the Devil Tavern’s upstairs parlor. It was a few days later, and he’d gathered his friends for a mission he’d refused to explain. Matthew, Charles, and Thomas had been dubious of James’s taking them through the ground floor of a Downworlder pub but followed gamely. Ernie gave James a nod of greeting as they passed the bar, and Thomas and Christopher exchanged a nonplussed look.

Now they stood in the larger room, which on a sunny afternoon turned out to get decent light falling in sheets through its tall, narrow windows. Dramatically James whipped a yellow cloth off of a large, comfortable-looking armchair and gestured to it.

Matthew figured it out first. “James, you old dog!” he said with a laugh. “You’ve made us a club.”

“What, now?” Christopher said politely.

“The owner says if we clean it up, we can use it whenever we want,” James said. “As long as we order drinks while we’re here.”

“I think,” said Thomas, “that that is a more than fair exchange.”

“We can store the things we don’t want in the bedroom behind,” James added. “There are some more chairs and things we might want to bring in here, too.”

“And everything will need a vigorous dusting,” Matthew added. “But marvelous. This is marvelous.”

A slow smile was growing on Thomas’s face, too. “I’ll bring some books in, I think. Books make a place homier. I daresay, I wasn’t sure at first about this business of relocating to London,” he added.

“Oh, we’ll be proper Londoners now, with a private room above a pub and a pint waiting whenever we need one.” Matthew rubbed his hands together. “James, it’s a pleasure to see you in your element. You were always a bit at loose ends at the Academy, but here in the city you are our guide and our leader.”

James waited for Christopher and Thomas to protest at Matthew calling him their leader, but they only looked pleased.

“I’m glad you’re here,” James said. “I’m glad we’re all here together.”

James felt something settling in him, something that had been restless since he’d first arrived at the Academy and now was, in surprise, finding itself at home.

[heronstairs-grey]

May Chain of Gold Extra Content: The Devil Tavern

Chain of Gold by Cassandra Clare

London, 1900

James shouldn’t have been out on his own so late. A Shadowhunter walking city streets after dark was essentially on patrol whether he intended to be or not—and James was only fourteen, had not come anywhere near finishing his training, was wearing no runes suitable for fighting, and had only a single seraph blade tucked into his belt.

Worse, he had no real reason to be out at all. Since Matthew, Christopher, and now Thomas had returned to London with their families, he’d found he had a surfeit of energy, a sense of something important about to happen, though he could not have said what. He lay in bed trying to sleep and his thoughts flitted like agitated birds. He thought of conversations he wanted to have with his friends, he thought of Grace, he thought of his upcoming parabatai ceremony, he thought about his visions of shadow lands and blasted trees. He went through complex knife-fighting maneuvers in his head. Finally he gave up, threw on street clothes, and went for a walk. His parents would not be happy if they found out he’d gone, but he felt sure he’d be fine, remaining only a few blocks from the Institute at most.

What was on his mind as he walked was his friends, and how frustrating it was to try to have something as simple as a private conversation among them. He hadn’t appreciated, he thought wryly, how easy that had been at the Academy, and how annoying it would be in London. His own home was the London Institute, and strange Shadowhunters were forever coming and going there. Matthew’s house, the Consul’s residence, had the same problem. (Besides which, Charles was usually there, regarding them all with a beady eye.) Thomas’s house was far away in Golder’s Green. Christopher’s house in Bedford Square was tricky too. Aunt Cecily had just had a little boy, and Uncle Gabriel was constantly bursting in to warn them not to wake the baby.

“What we need is a gentlemen’s club,” Matthew would say. But they were too young to join a gentlemen’s club. “We’ll start our own, then,” Matthew would mutter.

Lost in thought, James did not notice he had wandered down a narrow alley with no one else around, and did not notice until it was far too late the three Kuri demons that came scuttling over the awning of a chemist’s and, on realizing James could see them, came straight at him. He dispatched one, wounded another, and chased the third off, but not before one of them got a fang into James’s arm and scored a line from elbow to wrist.

James stood in the alley, clutching his arm and swearing. Excellently done, James old boy. It felt like a hot wire was being jammed into his arm. There was nothing for it but to return home and wake at least one family member. He couldn’t get back in his own window; he’d have to come through the front door. And he’d have to clean the wound at the washstand upstairs, at which point he would inevitably face the music.

Or would he? The streets were quiet at this hour, but as he made his way down Fleet Street he came upon a pub still raucous with activity. With some interest, he noticed it was glamoured to be hidden from mundanes. It was called the Devil Tavern, according to the sign, which featured a man pulling the nose of a capering demon.

When he entered, conversation briefly stopped so the pub’s denizens could get a proper gander at the newcomer. James noted immediately that the place was full of Downworlders, which made sense. A gigantic gray-haired man, obviously a werewolf, was pulling a pint of foamy blood for an elderly-looking vampire at the bar, but stopped when James entered. There was a brief murmur at the appearance of a kid, obviously too young to be here by himself, in their pub, and then they noticed James’s Marks and there was a second, more unfriendly murmur.

Possibly this had been a mistake, but James thought turning and fleeing was probably only asking for more trouble, so he gathered his courage and approached the hulking figure tending the bar.

“Hello,” he began. “I’m terribly sorry, but I’ve sustained a bit of an injury, and I wondered if you might have a basin and some water I could make use of.”

The werewolf peered down at him, still holding the pint of blood. After a moment he said, in a surprisingly mild voice, “We don’t get many Shadowhunters in here, lad. We don’t get many children, either. And it’s vanishingly rare we get the combination of the two.”

James stood his ground. “I don’t want to make any trouble. I just need a place to deal with this wound and then I’ll be on my way.”

The werewolf took note of the angry red line along James’s arm. “What got you?”

“Kuri demon,” James said. When the bartender looked blank, he added, “Like a spider the size of a medicine ball. Little bigger, actually.”

The bartender grunted. “Better you than me.” He peered closer at James. “Wait, I recognize you. You’re Will’s boy, aren’t you?”

James blinked in surprise. “You know my father?”

“Oi! Ernie!” the elderly vampire interjected, slapping his hand on the bar with a bang.

“What? Oh.” The bartender, apparently named Ernie, put the pint of blood down in front of the vampire, who rolled his eyes and turned away to speak with his companions.

“Did know him,” Ernie went on. “Haven’t seen him for years, but he used to come in here all the time. Good man. Shadowhunters are bad for business, mostly, but your dad was a charmer, he was. Put everyone at ease. Had a real knack for it.”

James wasn’t sure how to respond. “I like him, personally,” he ventured.

Ernie roared with laughter. “Of course you do,” he said. “Look, there are some rooms upstairs, from way back when we let rooms. Long before my time, mind you. There’s a washstand up there you can use. Don’t have to go home and tell your father you got banged up. I know how it is.”

James was not sure that Ernie did know how it was, but he thanked him and followed his directions up the stairs. He found an interconnected set of rooms with various bits of furniture, all covered in cloths yellowed with age.

He washed his wound in the washstand and set about Marking himself for healing and to dull the pain. Several of the rooms here were tiny and unwelcoming, but one of them had clearly been a parlour of some kind, with tall windows overlooking the street and a pleasantly tiled fireplace at one end. James could tell it could be a nice room if only it was cleaned up a bit and the right furniture put about.

He returned downstairs and thanked Ernie, who told him to send Will over to have a drink on him one of these days. James hesitated, wanting to ask Ernie about the room. It was brazen, and he’d already leaned on Ernie’s hospitality more than was respectable, but now he was in London, his friends were in London, he was in love, and everything was different. So he leaned over and said, “Look, Ernie, can I ask you something about that room upstairs? The big one?”

* * *

“Et voila,” James said, making a wide gesture at the Devil Tavern’s upstairs parlor. It was a few days later, and he’d gathered his friends for a mission he’d refused to explain. Matthew, Christopher, and Thomas had been dubious of James’s taking them through the ground floor of a Downworlder pub but followed gamely. Ernie gave James a nod of greeting as they passed the bar, and Thomas and Christopher exchanged a nonplussed look.

Now they stood in the larger room, which on a sunny afternoon turned out to get decent light falling in sheets through its tall, narrow windows. Dramatically James whipped a yellow cloth off of a large, comfortable-looking armchair and gestured to it.

Matthew figured it out first. “James, you old dog!” he said with a laugh. “You’ve made us a club.”

“What, now?” Christopher said politely.

“The owner says if we clean it up, we can use it whenever we want,” James said. “As long as we order drinks while we’re here.”

“I think,” said Thomas, “that that is a more than fair exchange.”

“We can store the things we don’t want in the bedroom behind,” James added. “There are some more chairs and things we might want to bring in here, too.”

“And everything will need a vigorous dusting,” Matthew added. “But marvelous. This is marvelous.”

A slow smile was growing on Thomas’s face, too. “I’ll bring some books in, I think. Books make a place homier. I daresay, I wasn’t sure at first about this business of relocating to London,” he added.

“Oh, we’ll be proper Londoners now, with a private room above a pub and a pint waiting whenever we need one.” Matthew rubbed his hands together. “James, it’s a pleasure to see you in your element. You were always a bit at loose ends at the Academy, but here in the city you are our guide and our leader.”

James waited for Christopher and Thomas to protest at Matthew calling him their leader, but they only looked pleased.

“I’m glad you’re here,” James said. “I’m glad we’re all here together.”

James felt something settling in him, something that had been restless since he’d first arrived at the Academy and now was, in surprise, finding itself at home.

[queenhelenblackthorn]

May’s TLH short story: The Devil Tavern

LONDON, 1900

James shouldn’t have been out on his own so late. A Shadowhunter walking city streets after dark was essentially on patrol whether he intended to be or not—and James was only fourteen, had not come anywhere near finishing his training, was wearing no runes suitable for fighting, and had only a single seraph blade tucked into his belt.

Worse, he had no real reason to be out at all. Since Matthew, Christopher, and now Thomas had returned to London with their families, he’d found he had a surfeit of energy, a sense of something important about to happen, though he could not have said what. He lay in bed trying to sleep and his thoughts flitted like agitated birds. He thought of conversations he wanted to have with his friends, he thought of Grace, he thought of his upcoming parabatai ceremony, he thought about his visions of shadow lands and blasted trees. He went through complex knife-fighting maneuvers in his head. Finally he gave up, threw on street clothes, and went for a walk. His parents would not be happy if they found out he’d gone, but he felt sure he’d be fine, remaining only a few blocks from the Institute at most. 

What was on his mind as he walked was his friends, and how frustrating it was to try to have something as simple as a private conversation among them. He hadn’t appreciated, he thought wryly, how easy that had been at the Academy, and how annoying it would be in London. His own home was the London Institute, and strange Shadowhunters were forever coming and going there. Matthew’s house, the Consul’s residence, had the same problem. (Besides which, Charles was usually there, regarding them all with a beady eye.) Thomas’s house was far away in Golder’s Green. Christopher’s house in Bedford Square was tricky too. Aunt Cecily had just had a little boy, and Uncle Gabriel was constantly bursting in to warn them not to wake the baby.

“What we need is a gentlemen’s club,” Matthew would say. But they were too young to join a gentlemen’s club. “We’ll start our own, then,” Matthew would mutter.

Lost in thought, James did not notice he had wandered down a narrow alley with no one else around, and did not notice until it was far too late the three Kuri demons that came scuttling over the awning of a chemist’s and, on realizing James could see them, came straight at him. He dispatched one, wounded another, and chased the third off, but not before one of them got a fang into James’s arm and scored a line from elbow to wrist.

James stood in the alley, clutching his arm and swearing. Excellently done, James old boy. It felt like a hot wire was being jammed into his arm. There was nothing for it but to return home and wake at least one family member. He couldn’t get back in his own window; he’d have to come through the front door. And he’d have to clean the wound at the washstand upstairs, at which point he would inevitably face the music.

Or would he? The streets were quiet at this hour, but as he made his way down Fleet Street he came upon a pub still raucous with activity. With some interest, he noticed it was glamoured to be hidden from mundanes. It was called the Devil Tavern, according to the sign, which featured a man pulling the nose of a capering demon.

When he entered, conversation briefly stopped so the pub’s denizens could get a proper gander at the newcomer. James noted immediately that the place was full of Downworlders, which made sense. A gigantic gray-haired man, obviously a werewolf, was pulling a pint of foamy blood for an elderly-looking vampire at the bar, but stopped when James entered. There was a brief murmur at the appearance of a kid, obviously too young to be here by himself, in their pub, and then they noticed James’s Marks and there was a second, more unfriendly murmur.

Possibly this had been a mistake, but James thought turning and fleeing was probably only asking for more trouble, so he gathered his courage and approached the hulking figure tending the bar.

“Hello,” he began. “I’m terribly sorry, but I’ve sustained a bit of an injury, and I wondered if you might have a basin and some water I could make use of.”

The werewolf peered down at him, still holding the pint of blood. After a moment he said, in a surprisingly mild voice, “We don’t get many Shadowhunters in here, lad. We don’t get many children, either. And it’s vanishingly rare we get the combination of the two.”

James stood his ground. “I don’t want to make any trouble. I just need a place to deal with this wound and then I’ll be on my way.”

The werewolf took note of the angry red line along James’s arm. “What got you?”

“Kuri demon,” James said. When the bartender looked blank, he added, “Like a spider the size of a medicine ball. Little bigger, actually.”

The bartender grunted. “Better you than me.” He peered closer at James. “Wait, I recognize you. You’re Will’s boy, aren’t you?”

James blinked in surprise. “You know my father?”

“Oi! Ernie!” the elderly vampire interjected, slapping his hand on the bar with a bang.

“What? Oh.” The bartender, apparently named Ernie, put the pint of blood down in front of the vampire, who rolled his eyes and turned away to speak with his companions.

“Did know him,” Ernie went on. “Haven’t seen him for years, but he used to come in here all the time. Good man. Shadowhunters are bad for business, mostly, but your dad was a charmer, he was. Put everyone at ease. Had a real knack for it.”

James wasn’t sure how to respond. “I like him, personally,” he ventured.

Ernie roared with laughter. “Of course you do,” he said. “Look, there are some rooms upstairs, from way back when we let rooms. Long before my time, mind you. There’s a washstand up there you can use. Don’t have to go home and tell your father you got banged up. I know how it is.”

James was not sure that Ernie did know how it was, but he thanked him and followed his directions up the stairs. He found an interconnected set of rooms with various bits of furniture, all covered in cloths yellowed with age.

He washed his wound in the washstand and set about Marking himself for healing and to dull the pain. Several of the rooms here were tiny and unwelcoming, but one of them had clearly been a parlour of some kind, with tall windows overlooking the street and a pleasantly tiled fireplace at one end. James could tell it could be a nice room if only it was cleaned up a bit and the right furniture put about.

He returned downstairs and thanked Ernie, who told him to send Will over to have a drink on him one of these days. James hesitated, wanting to ask Ernie about the room. It was brazen, and he’d already leaned on Ernie’s hospitality more than was respectable, but now he was in London, his friends were in London, he was in love, and everything was different. So he leaned over and said, “Look, Ernie, can I ask you something about that room upstairs? The big one?”

* * *

“Et voila,” James said, making a wide gesture at the Devil Tavern’s upstairs parlor. It was a few days later, and he’d gathered his friends for a mission he’d refused to explain. Matthew, Christopher, and Thomas had been dubious of James’s taking them through the ground floor of a Downworlder pub but followed gamely. Ernie gave James a nod of greeting as they passed the bar, and Thomas and Christopher exchanged a nonplussed look.

Now they stood in the larger room, which on a sunny afternoon turned out to get decent light falling in sheets through its tall, narrow windows. Dramatically James whipped a yellow cloth off of a large, comfortable-looking armchair and gestured to it.

Matthew figured it out first. “James, you old dog!” he said with a laugh. “You’ve made us a club.”

“What, now?” Christopher said politely.

“The owner says if we clean it up, we can use it whenever we want,” James said. “As long as we order drinks while we’re here.”

“I think,” said Thomas, “that that is a more than fair exchange.”

“We can store the things we don’t want in the bedroom behind,” James added. “There are some more chairs and things we might want to bring in here, too.”

“And everything will need a vigorous dusting,” Matthew added. “But marvelous. This is marvelous.”

A slow smile was growing on Thomas’s face, too. “I’ll bring some books in, I think. Books make a place homier. I daresay, I wasn’t sure at first about this business of relocating to London,” he added.

“Oh, we’ll be proper Londoners now, with a private room above a pub and a pint waiting whenever we need one.” Matthew rubbed his hands together. “James, it’s a pleasure to see you in your element. You were always a bit at loose ends at the Academy, but here in the city you are our guide and our leader.”

James waited for Christopher and Thomas to protest at Matthew calling him their leader, but they only looked pleased.

“I’m glad you’re here,” James said. “I’m glad we’re all here together.”

James felt something settling in him, something that had been restless since he’d first arrived at the Academy and now was, in surprise, finding itself at home.

via Cassandra Clare’s Newsletter

[imissthefire]

May Chain of Gold Extra: The Devil Tavern

exclusive extra from Cassie's email list

LONDON, 1900

James shouldn’t have been out on his own so late. A Shadowhunter walking city streets after dark was essentially on patrol whether he intended to be or not—and James was only fourteen, had not come anywhere near finishing his training, was wearing no runes suitable for fighting, and had only a single seraph blade tucked into his belt.

Worse, he had no real reason to be out at all. Since Matthew, Christopher, and now Thomas had returned to London with their families, he’d found he had a surfeit of energy, a sense of something important about to happen, though he could not have said what. He lay in bed trying to sleep and his thoughts flitted like agitated birds. He thought of conversations he wanted to have with his friends, he thought of Grace, he thought of his upcoming parabatai ceremony, he thought about his visions of shadow lands and blasted trees. He went through complex knife-fighting maneuvers in his head. Finally he gave up, threw on street clothes, and went for a walk. His parents would not be happy if they found out he’d gone, but he felt sure he’d be fine, remaining only a few blocks from the Institute at most.

What was on his mind as he walked was his friends, and how frustrating it was to try to have something as simple as a private conversation among them. He hadn’t appreciated, he thought wryly, how easy that had been at the Academy, and how annoying it would be in London. His own home was the London Institute, and strange Shadowhunters were forever coming and going there. Matthew’s house, the Consul’s residence, had the same problem. (Besides which, Charles was usually there, regarding them all with a beady eye.) Thomas’s house was far away in Golder’s Green. Christopher’s house in Bedford Square was tricky too. Aunt Cecily had just had a little boy, and Uncle Gabriel was constantly bursting in to warn them not to wake the baby.

“What we need is a gentlemen’s club,” Matthew would say. But they were too young to join a gentlemen’s club. “We’ll start our own, then,” Matthew would mutter.

Lost in thought, James did not notice he had wandered down a narrow alley with no one else around, and did not notice until it was far too late the three Kuri demons that came scuttling over the awning of a chemist’s and, on realizing James could see them, came straight at him. He dispatched one, wounded another, and chased the third off, but not before one of them got a fang into James’s arm and scored a line from elbow to wrist.

James stood in the alley, clutching his arm and swearing. Excellently done, James old boy. It felt like a hot wire was being jammed into his arm. There was nothing for it but to return home and wake at least one family member. He couldn’t get back in his own window; he’d have to come through the front door. And he’d have to clean the wound at the washstand upstairs, at which point he would inevitably face the music.

Or would he? The streets were quiet at this hour, but as he made his way down Fleet Street he came upon a pub still raucous with activity. With some interest, he noticed it was glamoured to be hidden from mundanes. It was called the Devil Tavern, according to the sign, which featured a man pulling the nose of a capering demon.

When he entered, conversation briefly stopped so the pub’s denizens could get a proper gander at the newcomer. James noted immediately that the place was full of Downworlders, which made sense. A gigantic gray-haired man, obviously a werewolf, was pulling a pint of foamy blood for an elderly-looking vampire at the bar, but stopped when James entered. There was a brief murmur at the appearance of a kid, obviously too young to be here by himself, in their pub, and then they noticed James’s Marks and there was a second, more unfriendly murmur.

Possibly this had been a mistake, but James thought turning and fleeing was probably only asking for more trouble, so he gathered his courage and approached the hulking figure tending the bar.

“Hello,” he began. “I’m terribly sorry, but I’ve sustained a bit of an injury, and I wondered if you might have a basin and some water I could make use of.”

The werewolf peered down at him, still holding the pint of blood. After a moment he said, in a surprisingly mild voice, “We don’t get many Shadowhunters in here, lad. We don’t get many children, either. And it’s vanishingly rare we get the combination of the two.”

James stood his ground. “I don’t want to make any trouble. I just need a place to deal with this wound and then I’ll be on my way.”

The werewolf took note of the angry red line along James’s arm. “What got you?”

“Kuri demon,” James said. When the bartender looked blank, he added, “Like a spider the size of a medicine ball. Little bigger, actually.”

The bartender grunted. “Better you than me.” He peered closer at James. “Wait, I recognize you. You’re Will’s boy, aren’t you?”

James blinked in surprise. “You know my father?”

“Oi! Ernie!” the elderly vampire interjected, slapping his hand on the bar with a bang.

“What? Oh.” The bartender, apparently named Ernie, put the pint of blood down in front of the vampire, who rolled his eyes and turned away to speak with his companions.

“Did know him,” Ernie went on. “Haven’t seen him for years, but he used to come in here all the time. Good man. Shadowhunters are bad for business, mostly, but your dad was a charmer, he was. Put everyone at ease. Had a real knack for it.”

James wasn’t sure how to respond. “I like him, personally,” he ventured.

Ernie roared with laughter. “Of course you do,” he said. “Look, there are some rooms upstairs, from way back when we let rooms. Long before my time, mind you. There’s a washstand up there you can use. Don’t have to go home and tell your father you got banged up. I know how it is.”

James was not sure that Ernie did know how it was, but he thanked him and followed his directions up the stairs. He found an interconnected set of rooms with various bits of furniture, all covered in cloths yellowed with age.

He washed his wound in the washstand and set about Marking himself for healing and to dull the pain. Several of the rooms here were tiny and unwelcoming, but one of them had clearly been a parlour of some kind, with tall windows overlooking the street and a pleasantly tiled fireplace at one end. James could tell it could be a nice room if only it was cleaned up a bit and the right furniture put about.

He returned downstairs and thanked Ernie, who told him to send Will over to have a drink on him one of these days. James hesitated, wanting to ask Ernie about the room. It was brazen, and he’d already leaned on Ernie’s hospitality more than was respectable, but now he was in London, his friends were in London, he was in love, and everything was different. So he leaned over and said, “Look, Ernie, can I ask you something about that room upstairs? The big one?”

* * *

“Et voila,” James said, making a wide gesture at the Devil Tavern’s upstairs parlor. It was a few days later, and he’d gathered his friends for a mission he’d refused to explain. Matthew, Charles, and Thomas had been dubious of James’s taking them through the ground floor of a Downworlder pub but followed gamely. Ernie gave James a nod of greeting as they passed the bar, and Thomas and Christopher exchanged a nonplussed look.

Now they stood in the larger room, which on a sunny afternoon turned out to get decent light falling in sheets through its tall, narrow windows. Dramatically James whipped a yellow cloth off of a large, comfortable-looking armchair and gestured to it.

Matthew figured it out first. “James, you old dog!” he said with a laugh. “You’ve made us a club.”

“What, now?” Christopher said politely.

“The owner says if we clean it up, we can use it whenever we want,” James said. “As long as we order drinks while we’re here.”

“I think,” said Thomas, “that that is a more than fair exchange.”

“We can store the things we don’t want in the bedroom behind,” James added. “There are some more chairs and things we might want to bring in here, too.”

“And everything will need a vigorous dusting,” Matthew added. “But marvelous. This is marvelous.”

A slow smile was growing on Thomas’s face, too. “I’ll bring some books in, I think. Books make a place homier. I daresay, I wasn’t sure at first about this business of relocating to London,” he added.

“Oh, we’ll be proper Londoners now, with a private room above a pub and a pint waiting whenever we need one.” Matthew rubbed his hands together. “James, it’s a pleasure to see you in your element. You were always a bit at loose ends at the Academy, but here in the city you are our guide and our leader.”

James waited for Christopher and Thomas to protest at Matthew calling him their leader, but they only looked pleased.

“I’m glad you’re here,” James said. “I’m glad we’re all here together.”

 James felt something settling in him, something that had been restless since he’d first arrived at the Academy and now was, in surprise, finding itself at home

[punkscowardschampions]

Scummy GC

Charlie: hope you two are having a very merry sober holiday 😘 Ronnie: just say f u its shorter like Joe: yeah cheers mate 👍 Bronson: I'm gonna go with Feliz navidad bitches 'cause I'm multicultured and it's a bop 🕺🎵 Bea: Always said that about you, babe, bringing the much needed culture, Charlie bringing the class Charlie: she gets it! nothing but genuine festive feelings here kids Bronson: She's a smart girl, always said that about her 🤓🧠 Ronnie: yeah getting knocked up by freckles is well smart Bronson: Don't be bitter 'cause you're barren Karen Ronnie: 🖕 got enough kids to look after here cheers Bea: Stopped you making the big separate claims per kid so isn't an advisable career move for you, no Bronson: 😂 Joe: alright don't need a headache coming at me from this direction as well Ronnie: trouble in paradise? shocker Bea: Turning up and seeing otherwise would be too 💔 I suppose Bea: no need to act like we don't all know the actual problem Ronnie: that my invitation yeah? speaking for mummy dearest now you're playing at being one, that's proper sweet Bea: Just 'cause you're waiting for it to be written in blood Ronnie: or sweat or tears like Ronnie: I'm easy Charlie: this is exactly what I was after Charlie: creating that family christmas vibe, thanks ladies Ronnie: we all know you've got a boner for my ma and stepdaddy Charles the only thing that's shocking is you ain't there with that lot Charlie: shocking in what world Ronnie: the one where you're a step away from wrapping yourself up and getting on their front step baby Charlie: obviously there'd be no greater gift for you than to sulk all alone 'til dear joseph gets back Charlie: but I'm skint 😘 Bronson: Go on and keep pretending I ain't here, it's cool Charlie: OBVS you'll be coming too because you don't 💘 her as much as you love milfy, right ron? Bronson: I mean... 😉 Ronnie: only your backstory is a match for the princess' if we're going for the pity adoption though babe Ronnie: unlucky B boy Ronnie: we're in the cold this year and every Bea: and here's me thinking I'd missed this year's obligatory sob-story film Bea: tah for the recap Ronnie: gotta give you everything you want 💋 Bronson: 🤶💉 Bronson: You're alright, she had a dose of the clap last year Bea: I'm set, oddly enough Bea: and thanks, Bronson Bronson: Have I earned MY seat at the table? 🤞 Joe: crack that joke to my brother and you'd find out, like 😏 Bronson: Reckon I could take him, no offense Charlie: hot Bea: 🙄 Bronson: 🤢 Charlie: 😂 Bea: That all then? Bea: Merry Christmas etc Bronson: 😂 Bronson: Sounds like a Ma, doesn't she? Bronson: Busy busy 🐝 Ronnie: love you too 👑❤🖕 Bea: Obviously Bronson: It's been fun lads! 🙌🍾 Bea: Have to see you some time in the new year, yeah? Bronson: Text me and just me, like Bea: Will do ❤ Charlie: Bit rude when I've not seen you for longer but okay Ronnie: he means leave me out your text chain, yeah? Ronnie: can do Ronnie: don't fuck with stepford wives Charlie: you can dream, babe Charlie: 'tis the season Bea: If I thought I could trust you around pool chemicals Bea: still wouldn't hire you as my poolboy 💔 Ronnie: is it christmas without some casual racism? nah Bea: If I was being racist, I'd have gone with Bron Bronson: Always the bridesmaid Bronson: Thanks though Bea: Exactly, you're welcome Bronson: 🎁🎁🎄🎁🎁 Bea: actual gifts to come Bronson: I posted yours meaning you'll have it by July maybe Bea: 😂 Bea: hopefully they post it right back then Bronson: 🤞 Joe: have a good one 🎄 Joe: back asap Ronnie: be more of a walking greeting card mckenna Joe: think they're usually a lot more flowery than that Joe: but sweet of you to say anyway Ronnie: not how I write 'em but only got so much blood, yeah? Joe: I won't watch the post then Joe: noted Ronnie: don't Ronnie: disappointing you is 🎅s job like Joe: you'd never Ronnie: you wish Ronnie: there's enough loved up couples at your table baby Joe: don't I know it Bea: Could you do this privately Bea: don't need the notifications Ronnie: not coming for your incest 👑 relax Ronnie: you can still be the people's princess Bea: not taking your 🩸ties Bea: deal with it Ronnie: 💔 Bea: you cry more than my kids, honestly Ronnie: give 'em time Ronnie: don't know they're born yet Ronnie: plenty left to fuck 'em up and over Charlie: This is why you aren't being asked to be godmother Charlie: terrible speech, come on now Ronnie: nah it's 'cause you're the biggest fairy she knows Charlie: babe 💘 Charlie: that's more like it Ronnie: 💋 Joe: please don't put the idea of a christening out there Ronnie: gotta save 'em from hell somehow mckenna Ronnie: they'll already be living it Joe: don't start Ronnie: don't tell me what to fucking do like I'm your missus Bronson: Come and get your medicine, Grandma, maybe you'll calm down Ronnie: you either Ronnie: ain't too big to get sorted out Bea: Bless Bronson: NOW it feels like Christmas Bea: and all before the Queen's speech Bea: which obviously, we don't have to endure Bronson: Could be a record Bronson: The festive feels are definitely higher than last year Bea: don't act like you remember 😏 Bronson: Shhh Charlie: You ungrateful brat Charlie: I always do the best christmas Bronson: Calm down, dear, I'm trying to make Bea feel like she's missing out so she'll rush back to save Christmas Charlie: 💡🤓 Charlie: I'll 🤫 Bronson: I'm a smart boy, you should all be saying it about me, like Bronson: I'll pretend to leave so you can have a practice Bea: You're both idiots Bea: but you're both sweet too Bronson: We love you 💞 Charlie: yeah, thanks for letting me hit that before you got wifed, babe Charlie: remember it always 😘 Ronnie: and you pussies want me to shut the fuck up Ronnie: fitz you're the gayest it's hardly a 5 star review Ronnie: bet she wishes she could forget, like Charlie: how dare you erase me Charlie: RUDE Ronnie: you're still here and queer babe Ronnie: can't get rid Charlie: unlucky Ronnie: that's me Ronnie: stuck with yous Charlie: Yeah, yeah and our hearts bleed Charlie: seriously, get some more 🍾 in your glass immediately Ronnie: can be arranged twat 🖕👊💔🩸 Charlie: don't threaten me with a good time Charlie: already having so much fun Ronnie: it's not a threat baby it's a guarantee Ronnie: sit on the 🍾 and shut the fuck up, yeah? Charlie: I'm sorry, shoulda complimented you too Charlie: I remember you were there, don't worry Ronnie: fuck off Ronnie: always was, hand and dick holding for you Ronnie: you ain't got enough sweet talk Bronson: 🤢 Bea: I agree Joe: same Bronson: You two are the real married couple Bronson: You're making the kids uncomfortable mum and dad Joe: get a room and a 💍 charles Ronnie: ain't getting one of you, Joseph Joe: not asking to be your third Ronnie: gutted like Charlie: Spring wedding? Charlie: 🌷 🌹 🥀 🌺 🌸 🌼 🌻 Bronson: Bagsie Best Man Bea: Just don't clash with my christening Bronson: I won't let that happen, I've got you Bea: 💕 Bea: worry about them, no one would show Bea: 👑 Charlie: 😱😱😱 Bronson: 😂 Charlie: 👜🌄 Charlie: you ain't pregnant now, sweetheart Bea: don't all rush to defend my honour at once Bronson: I've just decked him IRL Bronson: keeping it Christmassy Joe: fa-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la Ronnie: you two wanna get a room after that love tap Bea: 💚👹

[irelise]

the yew tree 2.1/?

Erik has worked with Sebastian Shaw, mutant revolutionary, ever since Shaw rescued him from human experimentation when he was a boy. He is reluctantly enlisted to assist in Shaw’s newest scheme: seducing the wealthy and enigmatic Lord Xavier and claiming his vast fortune. With Shaw posing as Xavier’s doctor, Erik goes undercover as Xavier’s personal manservant to convince him to fall in love with Shaw.

But Xavier has secrets of his own, and it isn’t long before Erik starts having second thoughts about the whole thing…

(the handmaiden inspired au - no canon knowledge required

part one now on ao3!)

Warnings for this part: Child abuse, corporal punishment, sexual exploitation of children Rating: M Word count: 2159

The mansion in Westchester is huge. Father had told him that he had lived there when he was a baby, but Charles had been too young to remember any of it. Now, peering out of the automobile as they roll up the driveway, craning his head back and back and back to see the full height of the mansion, Charles doesn’t know how he could have forgotten it.

His rooms are huge too, nothing like the dormitory he had shared with five other boys back in the boarding school in Britain. Everyone is so nice to him when they help him get settled in. Charles knows they feel sorry for him. Poor thing, they repeat, over and over again. Losing his father so young, and now his mother too! He’s only six, isn’t he? A shame, a shame… Poor thing, he’s holding up so well, what a dear!

Charles feels awful. He knows he should be crying because Mother had just died and now both of his parents are gone, but no matter how hard he tries, the tears just won’t come. He doesn’t so much as sniffle. The staff think it’s because he’s a brave lad.

The truth is, he just hadn’t known Mother at all. He misses his friends and instructors at boarding school more than he misses her, and isn’t that just an absolutely wretched way to feel? He’s an awful son.

The wretched feeling stays for the next few days. Everyone is nice to him, but nobody knows what to do with him. He doesn’t have a nanny or a governess or a tutor and he’s bored.

“Do you know when I’ll be meeting my uncle?”

The servant bringing him breakfast looks uncomfortable. “No, sir. But Mr. Marko is a busy man, I expect he’ll call for you when he’s ready.”

The call doesn’t come until another few days later, and by then Charles had absolutely had enough and had snuck out to explore the grounds. He’s messy and mud-splattered when the servants find him and march him to Uncle’s study, and Charles gulps. He’s in big trouble.

It’s the first time he’s met Uncle even though Uncle is his “legal guardian” now (whatever that means), and despite the nervous butterflies tumbling around in his stomach Charles can’t resist a curious peek at his uncle. He’s a tall, broad man with dark hair and a coarse beard to match, dressed very respectably. He seems angry, but also…satisfied? Charles fidgets before he remembers his manners and gives a proper apology.

Surprisingly, Uncle doesn’t give him a thrashing, verbal or otherwise. He only looks stern. “We’ll have to find some way to keep you occupied so you don’t get into more trouble,”

“Yes, Uncle.”

“Call me ‘sir’.”

“Yes, sir.”

***

It’s just not right for that Marko to take control of the estate – he’s not even a proper noble, is he?

And what is he thinking, dragging poor Young Master Charles all the way back from England? No, it’s not right at all.

Shh, back to work, don’t let him hear you. Haven’t you heard what he did to that kitchen boy?

***

Two days later, Charles decides Uncle is a big liar. He promised to give something for Charles to do, but there’s nothing, just Charles idly lying on top of the rug and counting – for the fifth time – how many threads are woven into the faded golden tassels. He gets all the way up to three hundred and a bit this time and he’s proud of his focus.

Grumpily, he pulls himself up to his feet. His nails are chipped from picking at the walls and floorboards, and his eyes feel dry and itchy. He couldn’t stop himself from crying earlier, hating how it feels like he’s been put into time-out forever for no reason. He misses school. He misses having things to do.

Charles scrubs at his eyes. He knows he shouldn’t, but there’s nobody here to stop him, so there.

And if there’s nobody to stop him…

There’s a huge tree right on the edge of the estate, with the widest, thickest trunk Charles had ever seen. He sneaks there now, entertaining himself by trying to scramble up the rough bark and the thick and gnarling branches. If he climbs up high enough, could he see all the way back to Britain?

It’s almost sunset by the time anyone comes. Charles gives his best smile to the harried maid that had come to collect him, and some of the annoyance radiating off her fades.

“Oh, look at you,” she fusses at the dirt and bark gathered under his nails and the soil smudged all over him. “Come along, Mr. Marko wants to see you right away.”

“Is he mad?”

The maid looks at him as if to say When is he not mad? “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Young Master. Come on, now! Oh, it’s a shame I don’t have time to get you cleaned up some…”

Uncle is waiting for him in his room. After the maid leaves, Uncle has him strip off his shoes and socks, his pants and underwear. Charles bites his lip as Uncle bends him over the bed, a slender switch in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. He’s always been a good boy, not the sort to get the switch despite the occasional bit of schoolyard mischief.

The switch comes down with a loud crack.

For a moment, there’s nothing – then Charles wails as heat and pain flare to life against his bare buttocks. Uncle doesn’t say a word, just brings the switch down again and again, until Charles is cringing and sobbing and scrambling onto the bed, trying to escape.

It hurts. It burns.

Uncle follows him. This time the switch lands across his bare feet, and when Charles kicks, Uncle only pins him down.

It goes on and on until Charles can only lie there and cry. His face is hot with pain and humiliation. When Uncle finally lets him go, he curls up into a tight ball, head swimming. He wants to go home. He wants to be in class again, wants to be with the other boys even though they’re all older than he is since Mother had him shipped off to boarding school early. He wants to go home.

“Stop that,” Uncle says severely, and Charles flinches. Shaking, he rubs at his face, telling himself to be brave. He sits up, but it hurts so much that he just crumples down to lie on his side again, his eyes still hot and sticky.

“Better,” Uncle says. He sets the switch on the bedside table where Charles can see. “I’m making arrangements for you to have a private tutor. My late sister – your mother – had said you’re a bright boy, so I only want the best for you. In the meantime your aunt has kindly volunteered to help you keep up with your reading. Now, what do you say?”

“Thank you, sir,” Charles whispers, making sure his enunciation is perfect despite the way his voice wobbles.

Uncle nods. “We’ll begin tomorrow.”

***

He hurts all over the next morning. There are raised red marks on his foot, and he’s sure his buttocks look just as bad. The maid clucks as she helps him dress. “No more sneaking off from now on, Young Master, or you’ll get it even worse next time.”

“Okay.”

Every step hurts as the maid brings him to the other side of the mansion. They don’t go to Uncle’s study or Aunt’s rooms; instead, the maid takes him to a performance hall of some sort. There is a circular stage in the middle of the room that is slightly raised off the floor, and surrounding it is a ring of benches. The place is small and intimate.

Uncle is on one of the benches, and Aunt is waiting for him on the dais. It’s the first time Charles had ever seen her. She’s a small woman, pale and fashionable, seated gracefully on a cushion on the floor. In front of her is a reading lectern placed low, close to the ground.

“Go sit by your aunt, Charles.”

Charles obeys. It’s a relief to get off his feet. His aunt doesn’t give him so much as a glance as he settles down next to her, and he shrinks away slightly, thinking of Mother.

“Eyes on the book.”

There’s a book on the lectern. It’s a picture book, the sort they use to teach kids their basic words. It’s opened to show a picture of a man and a woman, with the corresponding words written next to the picture in beautiful calligraphy.

“Excuse me, sir,” Charles says politely, “but I know these words already.”

“Read them.”

“Man. Woman.” His aunt turns to the next page, and Charles frowns when he sees the words are incredibly simple again, the sort he learnt years ago. “Hair, eye, ear, nose, mouth.”

“No,” Uncle’s voice cracks down like the switch. “Slower, boy. Listen to how your aunt does it.”

Aunt flicks back to the first page, never once glancing at Charles. “Man. Woman.” It’s the first time Charles had ever heard her speak. Her accent is much more like Charles’ British accent than Uncle’s American one, and even though she’s only saying two simple words, she reads them like they’re art, her enunciation perfect, a precise and deliberate pause in between the words. Even the expression on her face changes, growing warmer and more alive.

Charles likes it. It feels like a performance. He sits straighter (wincing a little), watching her as she recites the next words, so different from his rushed and bored reading: “Hair. Eye. Ear. Nose. Mouth.” Her voice dips up and down, melodious.

“Try again,” Uncle tells him. Charles copies his aunt as well as he can, and even though he knows he sounds boyish and unpractised next to her, it’s enough for Uncle to nod. Charles beams.

They move on. Charles ends up learning a few new words, nape, shoulderblades, pelvis…

And then –

“P-penis,” he stutters, face bright red. He knows it’s not the sort of word you’re supposed to say out loud even though it had always seemed a bit silly to him. “Va…ah, um.”

“Vagina,” Aunt says.

“Vagina,” Charles squeaks, still red. Aunt turns to the next page, but the illustrations remain the same, beautifully detailed brushstrokes in coloured ink showing Charles more than he had ever seen before. His cheeks feel like they’re burning, the heat spreading all the way up his ears and through the rest of his body.

“They’re, um, the same pictures? As before?”

Uncle interrupts. “We can have different words for the same things, don’t we? Have you heard of the word ‘synonym’ before?” He nods to Aunt. “Continue.”

“Member. Cock.” Aunt’s red lips purse around the word, a perfect round shape. “Prick.” One elegantly manicured fingernail traces along the illustration. “Glans. Shaft. Scrotum.”

Uncle looks at him expectantly. Charles tries to swallow down the squirmy feeling that makes him want to fidget and look away from the book. He’s always been a good boy – sweet boy, people had said, eager to please, so he begins: “Member…”

***

How can I do this? He’s only a boy.

How can I do anything else? If I leave him, if he casts me out, I have nowhere to go…

It’s only words. It’s not so bad.

Better than being on the street.

He’s only six.

***

Things improve. He reads a lot, always with his aunt and uncle, and he’s learning plenty of new words even though the squirmy feeling never goes away completely. He knows vaguely that there is something not-right, but how does he even talk about what’s happening? Who would he even tell?

Only words, he thinks to himself, staring at the golden tassels of the rug. It’s not so bad. Stop being a baby.

Uncle gets him the tutor he had promised and Charles throws himself into his studies happily. For the first time since coming to the mansion, he wakes up each day with something to look forward to.

“How have you been settling in, Charles?” Uncle asks him one day.

Charles looks at his hands. There’s a bit of ink smudged there, from where he’s been practicing his letters earlier. There are books scattered all around the room, with more arriving by the week since he’s going through them so fast and Uncle had generously agreed to buy whatever books he needed. Outside, it’s bright and sunny, and his tutor had promised they could study outside later.

Everything’s good. It’s nice and wonderful and all those other synonyms for good.

“Are you happy here, Charles?” Uncle prompts him. The switch is still on his bedside table. In another wing of the mansion, his aunt waits.

“Yes, sir, thank you for asking.”

***

help me help me help us help me

(next part)

[thehyperkraken]

EDIT: yall idk why the actual fic isnt showing up in the tags but this shit is, bc thats literally the opposite of what i wanted, but for the love of god read the fic first and/or instead, that’s the thing i spent more than 20 minutes on: [link]

Hey random idea dump for that one fic i done did yeehaw... it’s almost longer than the fic itself but jesus christ i need to get these ideas out of my head and throw them into the internet ether, seriously don’t read this its a goddamn mess

So ghjkdf the actual plotty part of that fic came from that one b99 bit... the Bone one.....u kno

Arthur: Come on, Dutch. The O'Driscolls thing isn't the problem. You're in a bad mood because you've been so busy planning this heist that it's keeping you and Hosea apart. You two just need to bone. John: Oh no... Dutch: ...What did you say? John: Don't say it again! Arthur: I said you two need to bone. John: Oh my god... Dutch: (with barely contained fury) Hhhhhow Dare you Arthur Morgan, I am thIS GANG'S LEADER!!! You have NO RIGHT to comment on my sex life— (5 minutes later) Dutch, standing on top of a table screaming: BONE?!?!?! (10 minutes later) Dutch: What happens in my bedroom, son, is NONE of your business— (20 minutes later) Dutch, jumping up and down on the table: BOOOOOOONE!!!!!!!!! (40 minutes later) Dutch: And don't EVER speak to me like that AGAIN! (storms off) John, sunken down in his chair in horror: Why the hell did you do that? Arthur: (shrugs) They need to bone. John: Gross, Arthur! That's our dads!

And then like a day later gfdhkg

John: Oh hey Dutch! I know you don't want to talk about Hosea, BUT, I had an idea— Dutch: No need, John, it's all good. John: So... your fight with Hosea is over? Dutch: Yep. John: Because you finally figured out a plan for the heist...? Dutch: Nope! Arthur, excitedly: Because you guys—? Dutch: Yyyyep! Arthur, looking smug: Knew it. John: Ugh... Arthur: (leans down close to him) See, what happened is, our dads had sex— John: UGH, SHUT UP!

Another inspiration I had was John Mulaney’s bit about zoning out for John with adhd,,,,, the part where he’s like “the doctor was reading me the results of a blood test, it was IMPORTANT that I LISTENED, but NO, I zoned out, I was like, I’m just gonna stare at the wall and think m’thoughts” that’s why I wrote the part where John was like “ehhh attention deficient something something disease” bc it made me laugh gjhggdjh

Dutch: so the doctor says you have ADHD John: (thinking about minecraft) what?

Also unrelated but blease consider Arthur teaching John to drive like

Arthur: are you watching the road? John: ........I am looking through the windshield Arthur: John: .......and I’m not gonna hit anyone...... Arthur: John: ....but no. I’m thinkin’ about minecraft

(Also I don’t know anything about ssb I’ve played it once and hated it, minecraft is my og video game love, but Abigail beating John at ssb is funnier, I’m a fake gamer boy :^( rip)

ONE MORE INSPIRATION THAT ONE VINE ITS MY FAVORITE VINE

Arthur: are you drinking coke for breakfast? John: yeah, what did you have for breakfast? Arthur: ........nothing John: (sipping his drink) I’m doing better than you, then

Anyway onto ACTUAL IDEA STUFF HOORAY

So when Dutch and Hosea decided to adopt, they agreed they wanted to take in kids who needed good homes the most, so they were specifically looking for older kids who would probably age out of the system and wind up on the streets

They met Arthur who was a clearly depressed and gender non conforming thirteen year old who hated everyone and everything and wasn’t getting the Love he Deserved, and Dutch was like “I want THAT ONE, with the SAD EYES”

Arthur tried to push them away at first, cuz he absolutely didn’t trust anyone, and some part of him believed they’d just give him right back up for adoption if he disappointed them in any way. But he eventually learned that they were good guys who really just wanted to help him, and they weren’t gonna abandon him if he wasn’t the perfect kid they always wanted

(he probably told them about this fear eventually and Hosea just snorted and was like “if we wanted a perfect kid we woulda got a cabbage patch doll. something that wouldn’t scream or make a mess” and Dutch was like “yeah! or like a 27 year old with a job and their own house and kids of their own. pre-made grandkids” and Hosea was like “or a cat” and Arthur was like “...okay”)

Anyway it took a loooong time but Arthur eventually trusted them enough to come out to them as trans, without really knowing the proper words for everything, just knowing that He Is A Boy And That’s That. As much as Hosea is the one the lads go to to talk about stuff and get comfort and Wise Dad Advice, he probably told Dutch first bc he was more uncertain how he’d respond and he wanted to get it over with in the worst way possible.... like, if they were gonna react badly, heap all the bullshit on in one fell swoop

I imagine he did it off the cuff too, in response to something Dutch said, like Dutch was like “u get back here right now young lady” and Arthur was like “first of all I’m not a lady, I’m a BOY, and second of all FUCK you, I do what I WANT” and Dutch was like “groovy. you’re grounded.” Arthur was like (offended) “don’t say groovy... don’t try to be hip” and Dutch was like “no it’s totally tubular that ur a boy. It’s absolutely funky. You’re fucking grounded though”

Then he went and told Hosea like “congrats! it’s a boy” and they helped him transition and they didn’t tolerate a single person misgendering him the whole time. Like before he’s even begun transitioning, they’re literally at the doctors office to discuss it w/ their doc for the first time, and a nurse is like “ms. morgan?” And Dutch is like “INCORRECT” and the doctor is like “what seems to be the problem (deadname)?” and Dutch is like “FOOL! THIS CHILD WAS LABELED INACCURATELY, WE REQUIRE A GENDER RETRACTION” and Hosea’s like “please stop yelling”

Anyway probably about a year later they got John when he was ten and Arthur was fifteen. Arthur was a little bit jealous like, wow, am I not enough kid for u, but Dutch and Hosea always planned on getting at least two bc they wanted them to have siblings, and they know John came from a pretty abusive situation, so Arthur can’t be too mad at him. At least until he met John and realized what a fucking brat he is

Since John was younger and way more desperate for affection, he immediately loved Dutch and Hosea just bc they were nice to him, he was ready to call them his dads within the month but he was nervous that it was too soon and they’d be weirded out. But I imagine he got triggered by something and had a meltdown and they got to see just a glimpse of what he’d been through, and Dutch and Hosea were falling over themselves trying to comfort him and tell him they love him and now I’m making myself cry :’^(

Anyway... from that point on John was like “these are the only dads I’ve ever had and I would kill a man for them.” He gets in trouble quite a bit bc he’s Naughty, but Dutch and Hosea always make sure to punish him fairly and never yell or be physically intimidating with him or permanently take away his stuff, like they make him do chores to earn back the right to use the xbox or something. And they always explain to him exactly what he did wrong and why he’s being punished and talk to him about how he can make it better or what he can do next time, or if there’s a root problem, like he’s acting out bc he’s overwhelmed with school work or smthn, how they can help him. Especially after he gets diagnosed with ADHD

And of course they do all this with Arthur too, but they make a special concerted effort with John bc he’s The Baby :^) and Dutch somehow maintains an attitude of “idk what ur talking about, John has never done anything wrong ever in his life” every time he gets in trouble meanwhile Hosea is like “what do you MEAN, he’s a GREMLIN” fjfjfhhf

Arthur was probably diagnosed with depression and anxiety at some point... it was probably a long process to get him to even admit he had a problem bc he didnt wanna bother anyone... Arthur also probably came from an abusive situation from the way canon Arthur talks about his dad, but Arthur is much more the type to be like “i’m gonna keep all my feelings inside, and then one day, i’ll die” whereas John is like “i will SCREAM if i get a papercut”

[EDIT: i woke up in a cold sweat at 4 AM with this in my head so now i’m putting it here

Charles: So, Arthur... Do you wanna talk about your feelings? Arthur: No. John: I do! :) Charles: ...I know, John. John: I’m sad! :) Charles: I know, John.

i’m sure it’s been done before but it’s so good. ok now back to our regularly scheduled programming]

In regards to Arthur being trans, John doesn’t really Get It, Arthur tried to explain it to him once and John couldn’t care less, all he knows is Arthur used to be a girl or something, there’s tea involved probably, and John is thinking about minecraft again... he has 2 am thoughts about it sometimes and comes to Arthur like “what IS gender” and Arthur’s just like “hm. big mood”

Dutch is “Dad” and Hosea is “Papa” or “Pa” or “Pops” or “Dad, No Not You, The Other One” or “Other Dad.” Hosea really doesn’t mind at all, he wouldn’t care if the kids called him Hosea or mom or anything else, it truly isnt important to him. But Dutch Loves being Dad. Every time they call Dutch Dad he grows three times stronger and 10 years are added to his lifespan. Dutch is an Alpha Parent, he 100% goes to every parent teacher conference and bake sale, he’d go to every game and concert too if either of his kids had a single athletic or musical bone in their dumb little bodies. I guess the school probably hosts art galleries sometimes to display art the kids make, Arthur always has a drawing in one of those, and Dutch will absolutely go just to brag about his cool son.

Dutch is the Fun Energetic Dad who embarrasses the boys in front of their friends but can always be talked into taking them out to get ice cream. Hosea is the more quietly anxious dad, he makes sure they do their homework and keep their rooms clean and shit, and he's the one the kids always go to talk to when they’re having problems... like Arthur will rant for an hour and a half about high school drama and Hosea will patiently listen to all of it and when he's done he’ll offer to kick the other kids’ asses for him, and Arthur’s like lmao but Hosea Means It.

Hosea is also the one the kids go to for help on their homework because Hosea and Dutch have five brain cells between them, and four of them belong to Hosea. Dutch is like “suddenly I don’t remember basic math, time to make shit up” and Hosea is like “I must become an expert on 1820s Chinese history in two days for my beautiful sons”

I have NO idea what either of their jobs are, I wanna say Hosea is a lawyer or smthn but idk, Dutch is probably like......................a used car salesman LMAO...... they clearly make a lot of money (or maybe STOLE SOME) bc I gave them a huge house w/ a pool gjhkdhg

Anyway more about THE KIDS

They go to a school that is a combination middle school and high school, bc that’s what my school was like

Mrs. Grimshaw is the strict and irritable principal with a secret soft spot for kids, Mr. Pearson is the cafeteria cook, Strauss works in the office, I wanna say Rev. Swanson is a weird but friendly janitor or something lmao. Uncle is Dutch & Hosea’s annoying forever-drunk neighbor who everyone barely tolerates fjfjhfh

Micah is The School Bully but like bc this is a cutesy high school au and I can do what I want, he’s not actually like a violent racist or anything he’s just a bad mad sad kid who is a huge dick

Bill is Micah’s Bully Henchman, he’s generally not as much of a dick as Micah is, but he punches whoever Micah asks him to bc they are the closest thing to friends that either of them have

Trelawny is a new student who just moved from another school and he’s that fucking Weird Magician Kid who can’t hold a conversation longer than five seconds without saying “wanna see a magic trick,” tried to do some unimpressive card tricks for the school talent show, unironically wears a cape, etc.... Arthur stood up for him when he was getting pushed around by Micah and Bill so now Arthur has +1 more weird friend

Karen is the Popular Girl who somehow knows everyone, is probably a cheerleader, everyone is either extremely intimidated by her or thinks she’s gonna be a stuck up bitch, but she’s actually just super fucking chill and nice, WILL stab a man for her friends, she won’t hesitate bitch

Tilly is Karen’s bff who was getting bullied by *shakes fist* those dang foreman brothers.... Karen stood up for her and Tilly was like “no don’t u will get hurt!!” and Karen was like “ha... fool... cheerleaders cannot die” and whooped ass with her gymnastics skills and somehow got the foreman brothers expelled. So now Tilly is like “I owe u one (1) Life Debt” but Karen is like “nah it’s chill just come to target w/ me & we’ll call it even.” Tilly is just tryna get shit done and do her damn homework but everybody else is going on adventures and being nuisances so of course Tilly has to go too bc come on....... who do you take her for, some kinda two-bit GEEK? NO WAY

Mary Beth is a quiet nerdy girl who’s always reading or writing and never talks in class or anything. Karen and Tilly became her friends thru sheer brute force, Karen just sat by her one day n was like “sup” and Mary Beth was too shy to ask her to leave. They were surprised to discover Mary Beth is actually pretty nice and funny when you get to know her and also the Biggest Lesbian Alive

Sadie is a BAD BITCH... NOBODY fucks with Sadie, not even Micah, Sadie is the girl who when some dipshit boy spreads a rumor that he had sex with her, she agrees and tells everyone she pegged him and he cried after, she hasn’t given a fuck since 2007. she climbs on the roof to get lost frisbees. one time she got the gym coach to agree to give her an automatic A in the class if she did 100 push ups in 5 minutes. Then she Did That. She might have pulled several muscles in both of her arms but She Did That. Karen, Tilly, and Mary Beth (but mostly Karen) approached her like “damn that was sick” and Sadie was like “yea i know” and then they were friends

I literally don’t know anything about Sean I’m sorry...... maybe he’s a transfer student who becomes friends with John, they play Minecraft together and Sean boobytraps the houses John builds. Sean is the only living human being who understands how redstone works and he uses his powers for evil

Molly is going to a nearby community college and is working at the high school part time as a TA and she is like 19-20 or smthn so the kids all think she’s The Hottest Shit,,,, like they think she’s just the coolest hippest person alive, but also she is Very Attractive so fuckin everybody has a crush on her, most specifically Javier and Mary Beth. She ineptly tries to flirt with Dutch every time he comes to a parent teacher conference bc she’s dummy thicc and thinks it’s friendship goals that Dutch lives with and has adopted children with his Best Bud Hosea

The teacher Molly is TA for is Charles Chatenay, an all-grades art teacher who takes his job WAY too seriously, like dude chill they’re high schoolers. His class is where Arthur met Albert, bc Arthur loves drawing and obviously Albert loves photography. They were both like “wow he’s cute” but were too shy to talk to each other for more than basic pleasantries, until one day Albert’s Big Project was ruined a day or two before he was gonna turn it in, and Arthur helped him fix it.

They’re so sweet on each other it’s unbearable, they’re both Soft Boys so they fuckin blush if they make eye contact...... the most bold either of them get is when Arthur is feeling insecure about his body and Albert gladly tells him how perfect and handsome he is in every way, and he wishes he was half as gorgeous as Arthur is, and Arthur is like (offended) um, excuse me, how dare u insult my beautiful boyfriend in this way?? They both wanna grow beards so while they’re still going thru Changes they excitedly bond over their facial hair......... they run up to each other at school like LOOK AT MY NEW CHIN HAIR and the other one is like WOW!!! GOOD JOB

Javier has a big lovely family who spoil him rotten and tbh love to spoil his friends when they come over too, his parents are in a constant and devastating game of dish-gifting with Dutch & Hosea, Arthur and John have eaten more of Mr. & Mrs. Escuella’s tamales than any other food, neither Dutch nor Hosea are very good cooks but luckily Javier has plenty of aunts and uncles and cousins who are happy to occasionally take one of their unimpressive lasagnas or cakes from a box mix

Lenny’s cool dad in canon is the high school au dad of Charles and Lenny, he and Charles’s mom amicably divorced and he got remarried to Lenny’s mom, who is a Cool Stepmom to Charles. Charles and Lenny go stay with Charles’s mom all the time, in fact she was around so much when they were younger that she practically helped raise them both. maybe she gets a gf and Charles and Lenny have so many moms and are so loved & cherished like they fuCKIN DESERVE

Kieran is the weird horse girl at school, he’s Lenny’s age, they become friends when they’re forced to sit next to each other and they’re both too awkward and shy to say anything until they’re paired up on a project together bc everyone else in the class already paired up and they were the only ones left gjkhfd.... John wants to dislike Kieran bc Lenny is HIS friend now, but Kieran is a sweet lad with a mean dad.... His dad is Colm O’Driscoll, Dutch & Hosea’s other neighbor and Dutch’s sworn enemy

Dutch expects Kieran to be as shitty as his dad, but he is a SWEET BOY, and as soon as they realize his situation, they tell Kieran he can come over whenever he wants and spend the night any time, he doesn’t have to ask or anything, but Kieran is super respectful and always asks permission and always tries to come over when John or Arthur are there so he can go under the pretense of hanging out with them, bc he doesn’t wanna intrude...

Once he came over when Hosea was the only one home and he was like “hi Mr. Matthews are John and Arthur home” and Hosea was like “no sorry they’re out” and Kieran was like “oh... ok sorry I’ll just go then” and Hosea was like “absolutely not” and brought Kieran in and made him snacks and wrapped him in many blankets and watched a kids movie with him until he fell asleep on the couch... when Dutch came home he was like “??? new son ???” and Hosea was like “yea I guess. oops”

When Kieran gets older they help him become an emancipated minor and get a job and his own place (even tho he knows they’d let him stay with them if he wanted) and he changes his last name to his mom’s maiden name Duffy... Colm and Dutch glare at each other over their fences and Colm is like “enjoying stealing my son?” and Dutch is like “my son now” but Colm really doesn’t care bc he’s an asshole... and even tho they don’t legally adopt him, Kieran’s like “I’m more of a Van der Linde than an O’Driscoll” and oops i’m making myself cry again :’)

And yes Abigail does eventually teach John how to play stupid super smash bros. She’s Pro Gamer level of competent at nearly all video games and John has the biggest heart eyes for her, the end thank u for listening