#cheers to everyone who's called Clarice

[hauntedandmurdered]

— Hannibal Lecter is a master of confessing his love without using those three magic little words.

Frankly, there's no need to in his case. What he says instead is equal.

A hundred ways to replace 'I love you' by psychiatrist Dr Lecter'

[saintsenara]

subluxation - a snippet

rodolphus lestrange/percy weasley mature | major character death

and a little snippet from chapter four of subluxation, which will be up tonight...

this chapter is a big one. it's the day of lord voldemort's coup and - therefore - the very first day percy and rodolphus meet. it is not love at first sight.

Audrey’s gripping his hand.

Her palm is slick, clammy. His isn’t much better.

She was called back from her day off an hour ago - called back from zen tranquility in the Muggle world to pandemonium in the magical one. The Minister’s full junior staff is assembled in a row against the wall in Meeting Room J. Biagio is crying. Clarice looks like she’s about to be sick.

Augustus Rookwood - Mr Rookwood, they have to call him now - is slithering up and down the line, snapping at anyone with wonky knots in their ties or lint on their robes.

The hum of chatter rolls in from the Atrium. It sounds warm, the ordinary murmur of people catching up with old friends and bantering with old Quidditch rivals. The canteen staff - all identically uniformed in starched black - are roving around with platters of canapes and trays of champagne. Percy thinks - absurdly - that, if he can find a silver lining in this miserable day, then it’s the fact that the Death Eaters have considerably upped the usual standards of refreshments at Ministry events.

But perhaps that’s a given if you’re trying to pull off a coup. He wouldn’t know.

Hands are being shaken, and partners and children are being asked after, and holiday plans are being discussed, and nobody - absolutely nobody; not a single solitary member of the great and the good of wizarding Britain - seems shocked that the entire world has been upended in a matter of hours, on one completely ordinary afternoon.

And that’s what’s so terrifying. That Scrimgeour apparently didn’t see any of this coming, but everyone else did.

Seraphina Holliday, who presents the six o’clock news on the WWN, kisses Mr Yaxley on both cheeks and asks if he and his wife are still coming over on Sunday.

Mr Selwyn laughs uproariously at a joke told by one of the Wizengamot’s most distinguished members as he shows him to his seat.

Half of the Hogwarts governors are milling around the place, making cheerful conversation with mass-murderers. There are representatives present from Gringotts and St Mungo’s and the Diagon Alley Shopkeepers Guild. The Prophet’s chief political correspondent drains his glass as he gabs away to Travers - Mr Travers, they have to call him now - like he’s an old friend.

Percy realises that he probably is.

The Unspeakables have slithered out of their domain to greet Mr Rookwood like some conquering hero, miraculously returned from a mission all thought doomed. And, out of all the mundane horrors which have greeted him since lunch, it is the sight of Mr Croaker - who sends his father a card every Christmas and complimented his mother on her hat at the last staff party - thumping Rookwood on the back and saying ‘bloody wonderful to see you, Gus’, and Rookwood replying ‘likewise, Saul’, and Croaker grinning and saying ‘this is quite the soirée, isn’t it? I hope the gaffer’s paying you overtime’, and Rookwood winking at him and saying ‘I shall pretend I didn’t hear you say that’, and both of them collapsing into laughter which makes tears start to slide down Percy’s face.

Rookwood clicks his fingers at him.

‘Pull yourself together, Weasley,’ he hisses. ‘The Minister’s starting his speech in five minutes and we don’t want you dragging the Ministry into the gutter by blubbering like a schoolgirl while he’s addressing the nation.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Rookwood leans close, whispers so that only Percy can hear him. ‘You remember what you were told earlier, I hope?’

‘Yes, sir.’

And so Percy has to swallow down his panic, swallow down his tears. Because Rookwood claps his hands at them and tells them to line up on the dais which has been erected in the Atrium. And there’s no time to escape, to run, because a hundred camera bulbs are flashing, light ricocheting off his glasses until he’s staggering forward half-blind, still holding Audrey’s hand.

Banners are draped everywhere, and while they show the Ministry’s insignia and not the Dark Mark, the fact that so many people are walking around with rolled-up sleeves makes clear that these two symbols are now one and the same.

The only comfort Percy can find - the only comfort - is that, as he looks out at the sea of chairs and scans the signs affixed to them (Avery - McNair - Mulciber - Carrow - written in an elegant handwriting he recognises as Mafalda’s) he doesn’t see one labelled The Dark Lord.

A hush falls over the room as Mr Thicknesse, in magnificent emerald-green robes, his hair slicked back to display his high forehead, steps onto the dais and places a series of notecards on the lectern. The senior under-secretaries line up behind him. Dolores Umbridge is directly in front of Percy, standing to attention, positively vibrating with excitement. A bejewelled snake has been clipped to the velvet bow she wears in her hair.

It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Percy wonders if the hammering of his heart is echoing in the room.

[ghoulish-fiction]

It's a bit late, but here's a little Christmas themed drabble featuring Mountain and my beloved OC, Brother Terran.

Fluff with a brief suggestive moment. Cut for length. Enjoy! 🖤🎄

NOTE: Ghoul children are called "kids" not kits. Ya know, like goats lol. And human children are children.

------

Mountain was cleaning up the kitchen after he and Terran's early supper when he received a text from his husband that read "Come to the front hall asap please. Need your help. Time sensitive."

It was odd for Terran to text while he is working, but this was obviously not an emergency so he doesn't panic, but Mountain does swiftly make his way to the front hall. When he arrives he finds Terran on his tiptoes on a ladder struggling to reach the top of the Christmas tree while being watched by a gaggle of children and kids.

Terran spots Mountain standing on the stairs, smiling warmly at him.

"Oh good you're here! Would you do the honors?"

The kids look hopefully up at Mountain. He takes the topper from Terran to see that it is a homemade Baphemet doll with a wire cone attached to its back. He examines it carefully and looks back to Terran and says, "No. I shouldn't."

The children and kids gasp. The littlest ghoul starts to tear up. Mountain turns to them all and asks, "Who made this?"

The little ones go wide eyed. One squeaks in fear. They think they've upset him.

"Wisp made it." Terran said.

The little ones eyes snap to Terran, the shock and feeling of betrayal obvious on their faces. It takes all of Terran's willpower not to laugh at the poor little ones.

"Which of you is Wisp?" Mountain asks.

Their eyes snap back to Mountain. Nobody moves. They know the rules. Snitches get stitches. But after a long moment a tall, thin fire ghoulette steps forward.

"Me, Mr. Mountain, sir."

Mountain kneels down to her and hands her the little Baphemet saying, "Beautiful work. You should have the honor. May I help you?"

Whisp's eyes light up and she nods up at Mountain. He steps around her and picks her up from under her arms to hold her up to the top of the messy, but charmingly, decorated tree. As she carefully places the topper her friends cheer.

When Mountain sets her down she hugs his leg and says, "Thank you, Mr. Mountain!"

Mountain gently pats her head. Terran nearly tears up, but he doesn't. Instead he steps forward and starts gathering empty ornament and light boxes.

"Okay everyone, put the boxes away, I will take your photo. Go on. Hey! River and Stream! You're not getting out of cleaning! Get back here!"

Mountain comes up behind Terran to wrap his arms around him.

"Oh! Thank you Mounty." Terran purrs.

"No problem. Glad you texted me."

"I think you made Whip's night."

"Good. She made mine."

"The rumors about you are true. You are just a gentle giant."

"Oh yeah? Who said that?"

"Clarice. The oldest child. She told them that Spark, the oldest ghoul, is lying. He says you're quiet because you don't want anyone to be close to you so they don't find out how many children you've eaten."

"Not children," Mountain whispers in Terran's ear, "Just... kitties." He starts to wrap his tail around Terran's thigh as best he can considering that Terran is wearing his robes.

"Don't tell Ophelia that." Terran laughs as he swats Mountain away and continues to add boxes to his stack.

"Will you take a photo with us?" Terran asks.

"Of course."

"Help put the boxes on the top shelf, too?"

Mountain laughs boldly.

"Yes my love."

"Thank you Mounty."

"Of course love."

The two men stare fondly at each other. Mountain leans down to kiss Terran. Their lips brush against each other when,

"EW! THEY'RE KISSING!"

Suddenly all eyes were on them, and then chaos broke out. Boxes flew as the shouting grew louder.

"GROSS!" "EW!" "Not ew! My mommies do that too!" "Brother Terran, he's gonna eat you!" "No he's not! They're married!" "Ew they're married? I'm never getting married." "Terran isn't big enough to be married!" "Mountain is TOO big to be married!" "Icky!" "I'd kiss him..." "OOOHHH!!" "YOU'D WHAT?!" "Nobody would kiss you!" "HEY!"

Terran's face goes cold and Mountain bites back a laugh.

"Okay, okay!" Terran shouts over the commotion the little ones were making, "That's enough! Go clean up! Where did River and Stream go? I'm gonna leash those twins..."

"Maybe I should go." Mountain says softly.

"No, no. I need you now. Help them carry the boxes while I find the twins and meet me back here?"

"Okay. See you soon?"

"I sure hope so. I swear if they are in the fountain again I'm-"

"They are!" One child interrupts.

"Satan help me." Terran said before he ran out the heavy front doors.

Mountain looked down at the many little faces staring up at him.

"Wanna prank Brother Terran?" He asks.

The children and kids shout their approval, but Mountain is quick to shush them and whisk them away. Mountain may have an angry husband on his hands later, but what's Christmas without a little harmless mischief?

[littleturtle95]

Happy Pride Month everyone! This is the first part of my series, that features my oc couples assigned to a colour of the pride flag and its meaning.

Red, life, has been assigned to Sigga and Clarice.

Life

Couple chosen:

Sigga and Clarice

Reason why the couple was chosen:

Clarice is doomed to die because she broke a promise she made to the Oracle, and she faces the goddess of love as a last option to save herself. The goddess tells her there is only one way to be safe: sacrifice Sigga and give a life for a life. Clarice has then to choose between dying and killing the person she loves.

Character personalities and sexualities:

Sigga, the main character of the story, is a witty energetic girl who is always in search of adventure. She always sneaks herself in trouble and has no sense of danger. She's an aroace.

Clarice is a funny and caring girl who has been in love with Sigga for years. She always knows how to cheer up the mood, she is extroverted and likes to make friends. She hates risk, is very careful and does not like going out of her comfort zone. She's pansexual.

The two are in a queerplatonic relationship.

Snippet:

Clarice saw the blinding flash of the lighting and flinched. After a long moment the earth shook and the sound of thunder came. She held her breath, frightened, but no one surrounding her seemed to notice.

“Clarice,” the thunder called. “Clarice, my child, you broke your oath.”

The moment later she wasn’t on the streets anymore. She was in the woods, alone, and it was dark. She knew what was happening, so she wasn’t afraid anymore.

“Yes, my lady,” she murmured, bowing her head in respect. “I broke my oath. I did it because I thought I was going to die, I did it for love. I am contrite for disappointing you, but I couldn’t but act the way I did and I do not regret it.”

“You did not disappoint me, child. I always appreciate a good old sacrifice for love. You know, every sacrifice in the name of love is a sacrifice in my name,” the thunder boomed. “But your friends want to save you. They want to go against the oath you made to me, and to make it null it you have to sacrifice something even bigger than that. A life for a life.”

“Tell me what I have to do. Tell me what I have to do to save myself, and Sigga won’t hate me. She will forgive me, perhaps, everything will get back to how it used to be. I’ll have more time. Tell me, please.”

“As I said, child, it’s very simple. You can choose, if you want it above all else you can have your life saved. But you’ll have to pay a price.”

“I will. I’ll do anything I… don’t want to die.”

“If you’ll say yes, if you’ll choose to live, it will be her to die. She’ll take your place and she will fade. The person you love the most.”

Clarice looked up to the sky in shock. She couldn’t see the goddess, no mortal could, but she wished to look at her to see her face, understand if she was serious or it was just a joke.

“No,” she said, her voice low. “It can’t be true. You can’t really ask me to do that.”

“There is no other way. A life for a life.”

It was then that Clarice hesitated. She didn’t want to die, she wanted to live. And what did she owe Sigga, who did not want her, not the way Clarice wanted her? Nothing. No one would have blamed her if she had accepted the goddess’ offer. No one. Why was she supposed to die for someone who was pissed at her, someone that had never looked at her the way she wanted to be looked at? Someone who had never loved her back the way she should have?

She could choose to live, and Sigga would have died. She was going to be upset at first, guilty, maybe even broken, but she would have got over it, eventually. Sigga wasn’t her world.

Although…

Although Sigga was a part of her. Her closest friend, her mate, her partner, a piece of her heart. Sigga was witty, smart, brave, kind. She did not deserve to die. Her death would have broken her heart. Because she loved her, with every part of her, and because she cared about her.

She couldn’t let her die, to save herself no less. Sigga had ambitions, she had dreams, dreams that she was going to make true. She was going to travel, she was going to see the world. Clarice was no one to take it from her.

She was Sigga, the most lively person she knew, an energy bomb, an irresistible joy. She could not die.

“I refuse your offer,” she said, her heart on her throat. “I can’t accept, I can’t.”

“Are you sure, child? If you really refuse it, in the span of a few months you’ll die.”

“I am sure. I refuse your offer.”

“So be it,” the wind murmured, then everything went black.

[thelittlesttimelord]

The Littlest Timelord: The Fall of the Eleventh Chapter 32

TITLE: The Littlest Timelord: The Fall of the Eleventh Chapter 32 PAIRING: No Pairing RATING: T CHAPTER: 32/? SUMMARY: Elise Smith is now a teenaged Timelord. In addition to losing the Ponds, the fields of Trenzalore are calling. But first they have to figure out exactly who Clara Oswald is.

[A/N - For being patient with me, you’ll be getting two chapters this weekend. One today and one tomorrow.]

The Doctor woke up to voices whispering. He pulled himself from under the wreckage of the TARDIS and approached the three men.

“It's rude to whisper. Hi. I'm the Doctor. And you are…?” He examined the names on the men’s jackets. “Er, Van Baalen and Van Baalen. Van Baalen and Van Baalen. That's going to get confusing later.”

“We found you drifting,” Van Baalen said.

“Yeah, your ship was junked up pretty bad,” the other Van Baalen said.

“What broke my ship was a Magno-Grab. Found this remote in your pocket.” The Doctor held up the remote. “Eh? What are the chances? Outlawed in most galaxies, this little beastie can disable whole vessels unless you have shield oscillators, which I turned off so that Clara could fly. Dammit.”

He paused for a moment, realizing Clara was with him. “Clara. Where is she? Girl, about so high. Feisty. She's still on board. Along with Elise!”

Elise hadn’t been the control room with them, so there was no telling where she was in the ship.

The Doctor ran towards the TARDIS, but the third man grabbed his arm.

“No, wait. Your pod is leaking fuel. If they’re still in here, they’re dead.” By the way he spoke, it was obvious he was an android.

The Doctor looked around and saw respirators. “Ah, respirators.” He ran over them.

“We can open the doors for a split second, reach in and grab her,” Van Baalen said.

“Trust me, we can't. Now please, help me get them out.”

“I'm telling you, she fried…” the android said.

“Shut it, tin mouth,” Van Baalen snapped, “What sort of fee are we talking?”

“If you help me get her out, you get the machine, all the scrap, eh?” the Doctor suggested.

“It's not worth the risk. Four feet of metal? Nah,” the other Van Baalen said.

“What if I can guarantee you the best haul you've ever had?”

“Bram, open the bay doors,” Van Baalen told him.

“No, no. Please, stop. Listen, listen. Right behind those doors is the salvage of a lifetime.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elise woke up on the floor of her room. She was lying in her bed when there was a loud bang. Her room was bathed in red light and the cloister bell was ringing.

“Well this is not good.”

She picked herself up off the floor and left her room. Elise gasped when she saw the condition the TARDIS was in.

Cables hung from the ceiling and wreckage was scattered along the floor. Her poor blue box.

Elise snapped out of it. She needed to focus if she was going to find Clara and her father. She couldn’t afford to be scared at a time like this. She needed to be brave. Elise walked towards a bulkhead door.

A red light was flashing above the door.

“Okay, not going that way.” She knew better than to try and open that door.

The TARDIS just wanted to protect her inhabitants.

Elise turned around and started walking back down the corridor. “Clara! Dad!”

Long scratch marks covered the walls. What the hell was going on?

Elise heard a loud growl and carefully turned around, seeing a burnt creature. She screamed and started running.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Hey, are we really going to risk it?” Bram asked, “That thing is spewing poison. We should blow it back into space.”

“Get your gear,” Van Baalen told him.

“Hey, I don't take orders from my kid brother.”

“Don't try and form sentences, all right? Stick to what you do best.”

“Tell me, since when does an android need a blast suit and a respirator?” the Doctor asked, watching the android put gloves on.

“Flesh coating, same as us. He'd burn up,” Bram explained.

“No fear, no hate, no pain,” the android said.

The Doctor put on his respirator and walked over to the TARDIS, unlocking it.

“Salvage of a lifetime?” Van Baalen asked.

“I feel pretty confident I can deliver on that. Here we go.”

The doors opened and smoke poured out.

They entered the TARDIS.

“I don't get it. I thought she was lying on her side,” Van Baalen said.

“The TARDIS is special. She has her own gravity. I'd explain if I had some charts and a board pen,” the Doctor told him.

“It's…it's…it's bigger…”

“On the inside. Do you know, I get that a lot.”

“Whoa. Awesome,” the android said in awe.

“Well put. Whoa and awesome.” He turned a dial and the smoke disappeared. “Safe to breathe.”

They removed their respirators and the Doctor scanned the area with the sonic screwdriver. “Okay, now, the last thing I remember, you were right there. Come on, Clara, talk to me.”

“How big is this baby?” Bram asked.

“Picture the biggest ship you've ever seen. Are you picturing it?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Now forget it, because this ship is infinite.”

“It could take you hours to find your crew,” Van Baalen said.

“Days. Plus this whole place is toxic. Clara could be dead by the time I reach her. As for Elise, she’s already died once under my watch and I’m not about to let that happen again. So, here's the mission. We're going to find them in one hour.”

“We?”

“You're my guys for this.”

“That wasn't the deal.”

“'Tis now.”

“What makes you think we'll help?” Bram asked.

The Doctor threw two levers and a countdown appeared on the monitor. “I just activated the TARDIS self-destruct system. One hour until this ship blows.”

Bram ran for the door, only to have it slam shut in his face.

“Don't try to leave. The TARDIS is in lockdown. I'll open those doors when Clara and Elise are by my side.”

“You crazy lunatic!” Bram yelled.

“My ship, my rules!”

“You'll kill us all. And the girls,” Van Baalen told him.

“They’re going to die if you don't help me. Don't get into a spaceship with a madman. Didn't anyone ever teach you that? Okay, a little gently persuasion. Say thirty minutes.” The Doctor pressed a button and it jumped down to thirty minutes.

“She'll die even quicker now!” Bram yelled.

“We all perform better under pressure. Anybody want to go for fifteen minutes?”

His finger hovered above the button and everyone protested. “It's your own time you're wasting. Salvage of a lifetime. You meant the ship. I meant Clara and Elise. Oh and should I mention, Elise also happens to be my daughter? Never underestimate the lengths I would go to to keep her safe. There is nothing more dangerous than a protective father.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Clara ran into a room. She was shocked to find it was a child’s nursery.

There were toys scattered along the floor. Was this Elise’s old room?

A row of bookshelves sat along the wall. She walked over to them and picked up a book.

“To: Clarice. Love: The Doctor.”

Clarice? Who was Clarice?

Clara turned around and there were two beds and a cradle.

The beds had circular writing on the foot of them, much like the symbols in the control room. On the cradle, the writing was on the side.

A picture sat on the bedside table of one of the beds. Clara picked it up and saw a family.

The father was tall, dark, and handsome with dark hair and blue eyes. The woman, with brown hair and hazel eyes, stood beaming with a baby in her arms. It was a boy by the looks of it, with green eyes and dark brown hair. He kinda looked like what Clara would imagine the Doctor looked like as a child. Standing in front of the man and woman were two girls. One had brown hair and blue eyes, while the other one had black hair and violet eyes.

Who was this family? And why did they have a room on the TARDIS?

Something in the room growled and Clara ran out. As she was running, she collided with Elise. “Elise! Oh my god!” Clara threw her arms around the Timelord.

“Clara? What happened?” Elise asked her.

Clara explained while they explored the TARDIS.

Elise rolled her eyes. “Of course that would happen.”

They eventually came to the control room.

“Oh, thank you. Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Clara cheered. She ran to the console and placed a kiss on it.

“Um, Clara,” Elise said.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think this is the control room.”

“Why?”

Elise pointed at the wall. “No door. This must be a copy room.”

“No. You can't do this!”

“Obviously the TARDIS showed us this room because it’s important. Despite what you might think Clara, the TARDIS just wants her inhabitants to be safe.”

“No, I’m going to find a way out.” Clara turned to leave.

“Clara! Wait!” Elise ran after her, only for the TARDIS to show them the same control room.

“Oh, why are you doing this?” Clara whined.

“Because we need to be here! She’s trying to keep us safe!”

The two girls screamed when a piece of metal appeared in the control room.

“What’s happening?” Clara asked.

“Just stay calm, Clara. He’ll find us and save us. He always does.”

Clara ran over to a door and pressed the button.

The burnt creature was standing there.

She screamed and ran back to the console.

The girls ran around the console, avoiding the creature.

“Who are you?” Clara asked.

“Why does it matter! It wants to kill us!” Elise yelled at her.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tricky and the Doctor ran into a control room. “Back where we started,” Tricky said.

The Doctor ran to the console. “No, it's an echo. The console room is the safest place on the ship. It can replicate itself any number of times. It's trying to protect us,” the Doctor told him.

“Because I tried to give back the circuit?”

“Team TARDIS.” The Doctor rummaged around and a piece of metal fell.

Only it didn’t hit the floor. It completely disappeared.

“Where did…where did that go?” Tricky asked.

“There's more than one echo room. Hey, look, look.” Two shadows appeared on the console. “The TARDIS has got Clara and Elise safe. That was them. That was them there.” The Doctor kissed his hands and pressed them to the rotor. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” This Elise would not die on his watch.

“But why…why can’t we see her?” Tricky asked.

“It's like a light switch. Two positions, flickering at super-infinite speeds. We're only together for a brief second. Shush.”

They could hear Clara panting and Elise trying to reassure her.

“I can hear them.”

They heard Elise and Clara scream and a loud growl.

“She's let it in. She's let it in!” Tricky yelled.

“If I can just isolate their position, I can nudge the alternation, reach in and grab them.”

“Console room, echo imprint of the original,” they heard.

“You're coming with me. I need you to get me out of here,” Gregor said, grabbing Tricky.

The Doctor soniced Gregor’s computer.

“Scanning for female human. Scanning for female descendant. Scanning for female human. Scanning for female descendant. Unidentified human.”

They moved closer to the doors.

“It doesn't know Lancashire and of course it won’t recognize Elise.”

“What?” Gregor asked.

“It doesn't know sass. Yes! It's found Clara and Elise. It's found them. They’re right there.”

Clara and Elise partially appeared. The Doctor grabbed them and pulled them through. The Doctor hugged Clara. “It's all right. Clara, I'm so, so sorry. Sorry. Please, please forgive me, Clara.”

Clara hit him on the arm.

“Ow! Okay, so we're not doing hugging. I get that now.”

Elise, however, threw her arms around his neck.

“It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re safe.” He kissed her head, thanking whatever gods existed that she was okay.

[jbuffyangel]

The Weekly Rundown (10/07/18-10/13/18)

Sorry so late! I’m getting caught up on articles. Almost there :) Time to rundown what I’m watching, loving, hating and everything in between! Spoilers ahead!

God Friended Me (”The Good Samaritan”)

Confession time: I didn’t pay very close attention to this week’s episode, but Miles and Cara continue to be adorable. Pretty sure I ship it.

Manifest (”Turbulence”)

I’m not really feeling the chemistry between Josh Dallas and Athena Karkanis. However, the chemistry between  Melissa Roxburgh and JR Ramirez is smoldering.

Josh Dallas is my blue eye baby who makes me feel all the things. He conveyed so many emotions without saying a word in the scene where Ben and Grace discussed the man in her life. WOW!    

I want to believe Grace is in love with Ben and not Danny (because it's Josh Dallas and that's all the reason she needs), but I'm not buying it... yet

The whole twins being different ages is a never ending mind bender.

Seriously though what did Ben do for a living?

The Gifted (“coMplications”)

All I want is for Marcos to hold Dawn forever and snuggle with Lorna. Why can’t I have the things that I want?

But seriously though these Marcos and baby scenes are killing me.

Marcos fighting the Frost sister’s mind control was amazing. He was ready to tear everything apart to get his Lorna and his baby. SO HOT.

Andy, buddy what are you doing? Sure, they gave you a better hair cut and cool clothes, but Reeva is crazy. Tell me you know that boy!

I’m having trouble understanding why Reed didn’t want to tell his wife and daughter his powers were coming back. He has two mutant children! They tried to equate Lauren’s fear of “coming out” to Reed’s but it’s just not the same. He was her parent and he hunted mutants. She legitimately feared her father’s rejection. Reed isn’t in the same situation at all and I see no reason to for him to be lying to everyone for months.

Kate hugs Reed once he tells her the truth, which is nice, but were we really expecting her to reject him? Did the writers forget they have two mutant children?

The Gifted blew past all the build up to Clarice and John’s relationship and now they’ve sewn the seeds for the break up - in the third episode. This whole “Clarice is a spy for the Erg and lies to John about it” storyline is only going one place. John is doing his fair share of lying and pushing Clarice away. Needless to say I am unhappy with how this relationship is being handled.

F.B.I. (“Green Birds” and  “Prey”)

Finally got caught up on F.B.I. I thought “Prey” was a much stronger episode than “Green Birds.” 

I am so glad they cast Sela Ward! I love her. Her character is much more likable as Maggie and Omar’s boss.

I’m here for Omar doing hot things because Omar is hot. I feel warm every time he talks about his military experience. 

Still a little iffy about this show, but I’ll stick with it for now.

This Is Us (Katie Girls)

The depth of my hate for Jack's father knows no bounds.

"Or you can stay and I'll kill him." Honestly, I was okay with that option too Jack.

Randall is a mess watching his brother's movie and I stan this bromance so hard.

I am really freaking glad Randall is taking Kate on because I AM SO MAD AT HER.

Well that conversation swerved quickly. Stay on point Randall.

Okay well now we're off on a whole other thing and Kate is crying. Good grief children.

Not sure how Randall & Kate's discussion became a fight about adoption. The point was to discuss Kate's insensitivity regarding her remark about being the only person able to pass on Jack's genes. How did she turn it into Randall's insensitivity about her miscarriage?

Beth, Miguel and Toby having a group text to discuss their messed up in laws is AMAZING.

Randall is terrible at apologizing but also WHY IS HE APOLOGIZING?

I'm trying to hang with my girl Kate here. I've had a miscarriage and it's devastating, but your personal pain is not an excuse to be hurtful to others. Understanding where Randall was coming from was not a long bridge to cross.

I am so relating to Kevin putting the pieces together regarding Jack's service.

Beth got fired? NOOOOOO. My Beth!  

Toby's reaction to Randall showing up was gold.

KATE AND JACK ARE DREAM SEQUENCING AND I AM NOT OKAY. Btw Jack could you advise Kate to stop being such a jackass to Randall? Thanks bro.

Awkward Rebecca and Jack is the worst. You are soul mates kids. Get it together.  

Jack wants to marry you Rebecca and have lots and lots of babies. You are his dream.

I hope Randall and Beth have 9 months of savings. Suze Orman says you need 9 months of savings.

Marriage is never 50/50. But I think Beth and Randall have been going 90/10 for awhile and it's time for that ratio to shift.

I love how the writers find commonality in their characters in ways you never thought of before. Randall and Toby sharing their struggles with depression and anxiety was such a beautiful way to bond these characters

Kate wanted to marry Mark Paul Gosselar. Same girl.

"You came across the country to say you are sorry. That's the most Dad move ever." HELLO KATE. NICE TO SEE YOU AGAIN. You could have added that he didn't need to apologize and you are the one who is sorry but I don't want to editorialize too much. Carry on.)

Rebecca pulled a Jack Pearson on Jack Pearson. EPIC.

Marry you the man who does dishes. 

A Million Little Things (”Save The Date”)

HOLY. FREAKING. CRAP. THEY. ALL. FOUND. OUT. That was fast y’all! Wow!

If we’re blowing past the big affair secret does that mean we’ll find out the reason John killed himself? It’s an annoying mystery. Cough up the answers, show.

All the awards to Grace Park. She’s been sadly under utilized on this show until now and boy did she come out swinging. The scenes where she confronts Eddie and Delilah were amazing. 

I cheered when Grace slapped Eddie. I have no sympathy for him. He’s cheating because his wife is gone at work all the time? It’s called a mortgage jackass. Guitar lessons aren’t going to get it done. 

It irritates me when people act like they have no choice in who they sleep with. Eddie is walking around like falling in love with Delilah was an accident. Listen pal you are a grown ass man. You made choices. Own it. Cheating is such a mean thing to do.  Nobody is forcing anyone to stay in these marriages. Get a divorce before you go hopping into bed with someone else.

I’m only slightly less angry with Delilah but that’s only because her husband jumped off a building. Her scene where she screams to friends to ask if she was the reason John killed himself was gutting. Guit is a bitch.

By the way, even if Jon made his peace with the affair it doesn’t make the affair okay. Also, nobody asked for Katherine’s opinon. Pretty sure she’d tell everyone where to stick if if they’d did though.

I feel like Gary is representing the audience in this episode, i.e. me. I don’t think the writers needed to muddy the water with Gary’s issues with marriage, his parents divorce and his birthday. I understand Jon and Delilah were his shining example of marriage bliss, but we didn’t need to make this about his childhood trauma. His anger was warranted by itself. Delilah and Eddie did an awful thing.

We need to move it along with Maggie’s storyline. She’s the friends-with-benefit-rando-friend-everyone-just-met-but-pretend-like-they’ve-known-her-since-always. Her impermanence in all of these people’s lives makes the level she’s included in things... odd. Let’s get the cancer out in the open and solidify her relationships - particularly with Gary. 

Blindspot (“Hella Duplicitous”)

Jane's hair is long. That's how ya know she's evil again

Seriously how do they not know Remi is back? She's so cranky. Jane is much more cheerful. Also, I feel like her voice is three octaves lower.

Remi can fight with samurai swords. Who knew? A list of all of her skills would be great.

Do I call her Remi or Jane y'all? I'm going with Remi for now.

Remi's impression of Jane being worried about Kurt was pretty spot on. Well played evil one.

Anyone else enjoying Remi looking all murdery every time anyone mentions Roman is dead? Same girl. Except I'm sad Luke Mitchell isn't on the show anymore not murdery because that'd be weird.

Jane's dying except she's Remi so like that's a double dose of suck.

Oh score. Cure. This is like Elena being vampire. They'll fix it. I ain't worried. Imma gonna get Jeller babies. Or should I say PLEEEEEEEEEASE give me Jeller babies.

OH MY GOD SHE'S HALLUCINATING ROMAN. Luke Mitchell IS BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am so here for Roman being the crazy voice in Jane/Remi's head.

Sorry Remi. Your super evil terrorist group is canceled. Sorry not sorry girl. Watch Season 1-Season 3 and catch up girl.

Two Sandstorm operatives is more like a club than a terrorist group, but okay Remi. Gotta start somewhere I guess.

It's weird that the cure is re-erasing Remi's memories but also let's re-erase Remi's memories. I ain't a fan.

Damn. Blake is dead? That... was unexpected. Okay so now I'm imagining that Blake and Roman are happy in heaven together. Leave me to my dream.

Kurt is scared... I love you my cupcake.

Wiping her memory and meeting Kurt Weller was the best thing that ever happened to Remi because she's not nice and Jane is awesome. Kudos to Blindspot for reinforcing their central love story while also wreaking absolute havoc on it.

Is Zapata evil now? Is everybody evil now?

Weitz is director. Ugh.

"You can't keep watching me all the time." Girl, he does that when you are totally healthy. Kurt Weller giving Jane fuzzy bunny stares is the show. Seriously, someone show Remi S1-S3.

Haha. She squeezed Kurt too hard to hurt him. What a bitch. Also awesome.

Zapata's smile when she sees Reade on TV. Girl go home.

Rich and Patterson are gonna cure Jane using Santa magic and it's gonna be friggin awesome.

Reciting the wedding video is creepy Remi.

Noooo.... don't break out Mama Shepherd. She be crazier than you Remi and at this point that's saying A LOT. 

[severide-kelly]

The Info Sheet: A Little Taste (S1,E14)

Kelly goes through some tests to see if he's okay to go back to Squad. He has a scar showing on the back of his neck.

Kelly gets back home where Shay is with Clarice and he tells her he's back on full duty from next shift. The three of them seem to be living together very well and considering he hasn't known Clarice that long, Kelly kisses her on the head and rubs her baby bump as well.

Shay lets Kelly know that Eric Whaley's still there. Kelly says he has no problem with him.

Shay says to Gaby that Kelly's been 'totally cool' since Clarice moved in.

Severide returns to the firehouse and gets cheers, applause and hugs from the crew. He's introduced to Pouch and told that Otis is transferring to Morningside.

Boden doesn't know that Eric and Kelly know one another and he tells him (and everyone else that came to welcome him back) that he was engaged to Eric's sister. Mouch states 'The original Renee'.

The crew tackles a fire at a bar, which will turn in to Molly's eventually.

Kelly apologises to Eric for what happened and points out they used to be friends once but Eric isn't interested.

When they get back from the call, which is Kelly's first back, Boden asks about his neck and he says it's 100%. Boden asks if he'd tell him if it wasn't and Kelly states he wouldn't be there if it wasn't. Boden walks away and quietly mutters a 'Yeah, right' to himself.

Boden talks to Otis and Casey about Otis' request for a transfer. Casey says about how the joke around but Otis says he has a higher chance to get off elevator and he can drive there. Boden says they'll be lucky to have him.

Eric asks who the new Renee is and Kelly says he apologised and tried to put it past them, but Eric wanted to keep things frosty and Kelly can do that too.

Eric questions if he's apologising for dumping her 2 days before the wedding or what happened after. Kelly says he doesn't know all the facts, but when pushed, he won't elaborate. Eric calls him a coward and Kelly gets in his face. Kelly tells Eric to walk away. The confrontation is interrupted by Casey's mum.

Shay asks why Kelly doesn't tell Eric the truth but Kelly says he doesn't care to revisit any of it and Eric can say what he wants.

Kelly comes across Otis and mentions him moving to Morningside. Otis saves he can save the speech as he's heard it all and Kelly plays dumb to it and says he doesn't have any speeches for him, he made $100 from it. When Otis questions it, Kelly says they had a bet about if Otis could cut it at 51. He asks who else bet but Kelly says it was a confidential pool. He gives Otis credit for making it 4 years. Otis says it's clearly a reverse psychology thing to make him stay, but instead of answering, Kelly just waves a $100 note about and walks away. This is the fun and sneaky side of Kelly that doesn't get enough storyline time.

Otis tells the group that he's withdrawn his transfer request and when he mentions all the people that bet against him being able to make it there, no one knows what he's talking about and Herrmann says no one was betting against him. Duped! This is one of those little things Kelly does that flies under the radar for everyone else.

During Herrmann's meeting to find inverstor's in the bar, they hear shouting and find Kelly and Eric shouting at one another about what happened between Kelly and Renee.

Kelly tells Eric he should move on with his life, like Kelly himself has. Eric asks how he can move on from seeing his sisters car wrapped around a telegraph pole.

Eric says after Kelly dumped Renee she went out drinking and ended up in a coma for three months.

Eric asks where Kelly was, but Kelly doesn't defend himself so Shay steps in and says that Renee hooked up with an ex-boyfriend and that was why Kelly dumped her. And he never said anything because her family was all at the hospital and he didn't want to dump more grief on them. She tells Eric to lay off.

Boden comes in and tells Shay Clarice's water just broke.

Boden says he's been on vacation for a couple of weeks, so it seems that he was out pretty much the whole time Kelly was also recovering from surgery as the last episode was when Boden left.

Boden asks Eric if he can make it through three more shifts, and he says he can. Boden asks Kelly if he has an issue with it, and he says he doesn't.

Eric confesses to Kelly that Renee doesn't really talk to the family any more.

Kelly goes to the hospital and while he's there, he scrolls through his contacts to Renee's name. Vargas is also saved in his phone as well as Shay. He calls the number but it's no longer in service.

Shay tells Kelly it's a boy and she gets him to come and meet him. She also apologises for what happened at the firehouse.

Daniel, Clarice's ex and father of the baby, serves Clarice and Shay. It's a petition for full custody.

[screamingatanemptyroom]

The Hero Trap

The following is a short story I wrote in response to a prompt idea sent to me by @sockknitteranon regarding twisting the typical “choose between the your girlfriend and random innocent civilian” scenario in super hero stories. Thank you for the suggestion! I really really hope you like what I wrote for it! 

The plan was perfect.

One of the most well-known, feared super villains in the city waited patiently for his adversary to arrive. Every piece of his elaborate trap was in place. All that was left was for the hero to show up.

“Why did you lure me here, fiend? I will protect the city from your evil plots!” The Hero’s voice was proud and sure, carrying well across the large trap chamber. 

The Villain smiled. Now he had the Hero right where he wanted him. He cracked his knuckles and stretched, chuckling grimly to himself. This was his favorite part. 

“Now.”

Quiet, barely over a whisper, the Villain’s voice somehow seemed louder than the Hero’s brazen shout.  At his command the barred door slammed shut, sealing the Hero in the trap chamber, and with a reluctant flicker, floodlights turned on, revealing the true nature of the Hero’s predicament.

“You see, Hero, I’ve been expecting you.” The Villain gestured grandly to the center of the large room where two struggling figures hung suspended in metal cages. Below the cages sat a vat of toxic sludge, its luminescent green contents slowly melting the solid iron container that held it. Even from the distance he stood it was hard to look at, but it fulfilled its role of appearing sinister, as well as a credible threat to the lives of the people hanging above it.

“You claim to have such wonderful morals, but forgive me sir, if I feel the need to put them to the test.” The Villain mocked his adversary with a sarcastic bow, before turning back to look at the cages above.

“In cage number one we have the beautiful love of your life, Ms Clarice Whitling. A renowned scientist with a heart of gold and the looks of a supermodel.” The woman in question struggled against the bonds holding her hands and feet, and tried to shout something past the gag bound across her mouth. “Now, now, patience Ms. Whitling. You will get your turn to talk… depending on lover boy’s decision.”

“YOU HEARTLESS SCOUNDREL!” The Hero’s face was red with anger, “SHE BELONGS TO ME!”

The Villain raised an eyebrow at the choice of words and smiled as he heard a dissatisfied jumble of noises from the first cage. “I’ll let you work out your relationship issues with your partner in your own time, Hero. I still have to tell you about cage #2!”

The figure in the second cage was quiet, although she still tugged against her bonds like the first captive. Her eyes though told a different story. A piercing gaze, struck him, and for a brief moment he felt a pang of regret before continuing the introduction.

“Our second contestant is an innocent civilian, Ms…” He checked the card his henchman had handed him, “Erica Slade. She’s a plucky young woman who devotes her time to charity, helps the homeless and the elderly, and works as a kindergarten school teacher.” He winced, feeling slightly remorseful at her capture.

“And that is where the true dilemma comes in, Hero. You can only save one. The woman you love, but keep in mind that she’s the one who chose to enter into a relationship with you knowing you were a hero, knowing that it put her at risk for attacks like this.”

“BAST…”  

“Or…” The Villain interrupted the Hero mid-profanity, “You can save this stranger, a young, innocent woman who has nothing to do with all of this. She is the very representation of what you swore to protect.” The Villain walked closer, now only a few feet away. “What will you do, Hero? Will you be selfish and protect your own interests? Will you throw away the woman you love to uphold your ideals?” He pressed a button, and both cages moved slowly down towards the glowing green vat.

The Villain studied his opponent’s face carefully. Now was the crucial moment of the plan. He had to convince the Hero that both women were in mortal danger, thus pushing the love vs duty choice upon him.  In reality, cages were wired to drop just to the side of the vat at the last moment, neither would be harmed, but by then hopefully the damage would be done. The Hero would be trapped in a mental and moral puzzle of his own making, unable to save either. He would be destroyed as a hero.

The Hero stared blankly at the moving cages, his face strangely blank of emotion. The Villain was glad that he was the one in control, if it were him standing there, having to choose between two innocent peoples lives… well it was impossible, it made him grateful that he was the villain in the room.

“Let the freak die.” 

The flat, short statement sounded wrong, it took the Villain a moment to register the words. He paused the cages descent,  staring at the Hero in confusion.

“What did you say?”

“I said let that cripple die.” He pointed up at the second cage impatiently. The Villain followed the direction he indicated, studying his captive more carefully. Her hands were bound, but the rope was tied around her thighs, instead of her ankles. When he looked closer he noted it was because her left leg ended just above the knee. She leaned against the wall for support, uncomfortable. Two metal structures leaned against the side of the cage. Forearm crutches. He noted with a sigh.

The Hero wasn’t done talking. “People like that are just a drain on resources anyways. They are worthless, taking handouts from healthy people and not contributing anything to society.” His voice was dismissive, he looked up at the woman like she was something less than human. “Better off dead, if you ask me. So return my beautiful girlfriend, kill the trash and I’ll be on my way.”

The Villain looked up at Ms. Slade again, his ears ringing strangely and his vision blurry. He could still make out her face, at the last thing he remembered before everything went dark was the expression there, clear despite the gag covering her mouth: It wasn’t anger at the Hero’s betrayal, or fear for her own death. It was a tired resignation. It was the look of a woman who had expected to be told she was worthless.

He was ten, living at an underfunded orphanage for cast offs like him. The other kids beat up on Jack, his friend, because he has trouble saying words clearly. They ignore the girl who looks different than them; steal things from the child that walks with a cane. They laugh and make faces at the little boy who shares his room, who couldn’t see. All of this was done under the watchful and approving eyes of the adults, as they snickered behind their hands and pretended there was nothing they could do. The powerful grew more powerful and the weak and different shrunk and became resigned. That was when he learned the only lesson they bothered to teach at this facility:

Never trust the authorities.

He was a foolish man, an evil man sometimes. He made no excuses for his behavior, he knew what he was. But the ones who pretended to be heroes, the ones who said they cared about everyone when all they saw were people who looked and spoke like them… they were even more horrible in his eyes.

The Villain came to, realizing that he had jumped on top of the Hero, punching him repeatedly in the face. There was anger and frustration behind each attack, adding weight to his fist. But there was something else, some dark hidden sadness bubbling behind the fiery anger. Tears streamed down his face as he slowly got up, leaving the hero broken and bloody on the floor.

“The only trash I see here is you.” He took his remote out, pushing several buttons, which lowered the cages to the ground. His minions got to work releasing Ms. Whitling, while he quickly moved forward to cut the ropes holding Ms. Slade hostage. He freed her, and handed her crutches to her silently.

“I’m sorry.” 

SLAP! Her hand cracked across his face with a loud noise. She sighed loudly, glaring up at him.

“That’s for kidnapping me and threatening to drop me in toxic waste, idiot!”

The Villain nodded slowly, he supposed he deserved that much.  To his surprise she leaned forward gave him a quick kiss on the cheek she just slapped. “And that’s for beating the crap out of that jerk over there.”

She moved passed him, leaving him staring off silently at the now empty cage, shocked.

“Clarice!” The hero’s voice sounded odd with his bloody nose and broken jaw, but he called out to his girlfriend as clearly as he could. The woman in question quickly walked up, her red heels clicking on the floor beneath her.

STOMP! The Hero screeched at clutched at his crotch, where Ms. Whitling had just ground the heel of her shoe into.

“We’re breaking up, you worthless scum.” She glared at him for a few extra moments, before marching towards her fellow captive. “Erica, was it? So sorry that he spoke to you like that, please ignore him.”

Ms. Slade smiled and waved an arm. “ Oh believe me, he’s ignored.”

“Great! Let’s go get coffee.” They moved together towards the door, and once they reached the locked metal gate turned to face me.

“Unless you want to continue to detain us?” The Villain shuddered at Ms. Whitling’s cheerful voice, wincing at the thought of facing any more of either woman’s wrath. He pressed the button, which opened the gate.

“I thought so.” They started to leave.

“Wait…” he called out without thinking. With both of them staring again he started to stutter. “I mean… I’m sorry I kidnapped you two… um… if you guys ever need any help, just let me know.”

Ms. Slade laughed. “You want to join us for coffee?”

He stared at her in shock. “Really?! Can I ? I...I would be honored.”

With that the three of them headed out to drink coffee. The Villain wasn’t sure what to expect from here on out, but no matter what, it was sure to be interesting.

[quintessentiallygifted]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Gifted (TV 2017) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: John Proudstar/Clarice Fong, Marcos Diaz/Lorna Dane Characters: Clarice Fong, John Proudstar, Lorna Dane, Marcos Diaz Series: Part 11 of 12 days of X-mas oneshots; Underground Edition Summary:

caspian and his little cohorts convince Clarice to help them with their gingerbread train for the competition

Clarice shouldn’t have been surprised when a little hand knocked on the doorjamb. Today is the start of Caitlin’s Christmas project for the kids; a gingerbread competition for the children currently at the underground.

“Yeah?” She calls to her guest. Caspian pulls back the curtain and jumped on the bed with her. Clarice shut the book she’d previously been reading and sat up in bed.

“Can you help us please?”Cas asks holding up a gingerbread train kit. Clarice looks at the box dubiously then to the smile on the boys face.

“No, it’s too hard.” She bemoans, before pausing. “Wait, who’s us?”

"You can come in now.” He giggles as his small companions peak through the doorway.

Clarice looks between Caspian’s friends, smiling as she motions them into the room. Cas grins and pulls a handful of small candy canes out of his pocket.

“I smell a trap.” The woman says eying the children cautiously.

Dominique, the young girl smiles as she whispers softly. “Cas said you like candy canes.”

Caspian tugged his friends to join them on the bed. "We agreed you can have the candy canes and any lollies we don’t use if you help us.”

With the incentives laid out and three little face peering eagerly at her, she agrees.

“Can we build it in your room?” Sam asks from where he’s half hidden behind Caspian.

"Ah, sure. But why?” Clarice asks snagging a candy cane from the pile and unwrapping it.

“It’s a contest! No one’s supposed to see it until it’s done.” Caspian tells her, excitement lighting up his face.

"Okay sure. When’s the judging?”

“It’s on Christmas Eve!” The three children chorus before excitedly jinxing each other.

Clarice smiles as she watches them. For a while she was concerned about Caspian, it took him awhile to fit in, so she’s relieved to see him having fun with his friends.

“Three days, okay. We can do that.” The children nod happily as they begin chattering amongst themselves and making plans for how awesome it will be.

“So what candy do we need to hoard before they’re all gone?” Clarice interjects her amusement lighting her face, as the kids attempt to speak over each other.

“Gumdrops, pepper mints, M&M’s, and kisses.” Caspian lists off his fingers, checking with the other two.

As they all nod in agreement, Clarice pushes everyone off the bed, lightly stretching. ”Okay kiddos, let’s go.“

Caspian puts the train kit on her nightstand. "We need a plate to build it on too.” He says as an afterthought.

They convene in her doorway, the two kids sticking tightly to Caspian’s side.

“I’ll take care of that, don’t worry. I’ll also get the kisses.” Clarice says.

“We will get the M&M’s, peppermints, and gumdrops.”

“I know where gumdrops are!” Dominique pipes up.

“Okay, meet back here in half an hour.”

“Half an hour.” The golden eyed boy responds putting his hand out. The kids pile theirs on top, so Clarice puts hers in too. They all chorus a cheer.

“Thirty minutes on the dot.” She repeats. Then they depart her room each heading in different directions to fulfill their individual tasks.

Clarice goes to the kitchen area, having seen Marcos and John stash bags of kisses in the top cupboards in an attempt to hide them from a heavily pregnant Lorna. She creates a portal, because the cupboard is way above her head, and sticks her arm through. She grins as the flesh of her palm touches the plastic of the bag and with a tug she starts to pull it through the sphere she currently held open one handed.

“What’re you doing?” She whirls and, in shock, nearly shuts the portal on her arm. John’s hand darts forward, clamping on her upper arm, and drags it through the portal before it disappears. The bag of Hershey’s kisses in her hand tells him exactly what she was doing.

“Did Lorna ask you to get those?”

“Nope.” She mutters not so slyly hiding the bag behind her back. He reaches around her body and easily plucks the bag from her grasp.

“What are these for?” He asks holding the bag aloft between them.

“They-” Clarice grabs for the bag, John evades her hands holding the bag above her head, “are-”, she jumps for it and misses, “-for Cas’ groups gingerbread train.” She huffs exasperatedly.

John looks amused. “You do know the gingerbread contest was exclusively for the children, correct?”

“They bribed me into helping them.” She sighs.  

“Lemme guess, candy canes?” He asks pointedly.

“He knows my weakness.” She groans.

“Everyone knows your weakness.” John laughs. “This does explain why they asked me for candy canes a couple of minutes ago.”

“Enabler!” Clarice hisses accusatorially, wrestling the bag from him and dodging his hands as he attempts to get it back.

“Clarice.” John scolds, using his dad voice.

“You’re not getting this back, so quit while you’re behind.” The purple haired woman states.

John sighs heavily. “Just don’t let Lorna see them, don’t tell her about them, and, most importantly, don’t eat them all.” He turned and starts walking away.

“Are you alright?” She calls, quickly grabbing a metal platter from under the counter, following after him concerned.

John pauses, turning slightly to face her, catching Clarice off guard as she crashes into him. John reaches out to steady her, moving them to the side out of the way for a passerby.

“I’m fine.” He says releasing his grasp on her arm.

“Really? Cuz you look terrible.”

“Excuse me?” John chuckles.

“Your basically a zombie,” she says, cupping his cheek, lightly tracing the dark circles under his left eye, “you don’t sleep and when you do, it’s one of those rare moments your not running around.”

“I’ve got things to do, responsibilities to fulfill-”

“You don’t have to do that all by yourself, though. You have Marcos, Shatter, Lorna, Trader, Sage and me, delegate it’s what we’re here for.” She butts in, cutting him off.

“You’re helping the kids.” John points out.

“Yeah and before that I was sitting on my bed for hours on end reading a book. You could’ve asked me to do something, anything. I was available all day.”

“I promise I will sleep soon, okay?” He presses a quick kiss to her forehead before continuing down the hallway.

The Korean woman rolls her eyes, muttering under her breath. “Right. Of course you will.” Before going back to her room, having gathered her supplies.

The kids were sitting on her bed when she arrived, a small selection of candy in a pile between them.

“So, are you all ready to make the yummiest gingerbread train you can imagine?”

"Yeah!” They all cheer.

"Have you got the rest of our stuff?” Caspian asks.

"Yes sir, I do.” She replies.

“We’re gonna win the competition. It’s going to be the best gingerbread train ever!” Sam giggles.

The next three days pass by in a blur of gingerbread cut outs, piped icing and an assortment of candies. Clarice awoke on Christmas Eve to the smell of gingerbread, that train permeated her entire room, and Caspian snuggling into her side.

Carefully she extracts herself from bed and, after checking that the train is still stable, goes to the bathroom. On her way back she pauses by the office, looking inside her heart races as she sees John lying on the floor. Clarice pushes the door open running and dropping to his side. Her hands search frantically for his pulse, finding it she heaves a sigh of relief.

He was passed out on the floor of the office, having collapsed from, presumably, overworking himself. Clarice portals to her room to find Caspian waking up in her bed.

“What happened?” He asks yawning.

“You fell asleep here last night once everyone else left.” She tells him gathering up her pillow and blanket.

“You didn’t kick me out?”

“I don’t mind Cas, besides you’re warm.” She replies. “I’ll be back in a minute.” With her bedding under her arm she opens a portal back to John and jumps through.

Back in the office Clarice decides that she couldn’t even begin to move him to the couch. Instead she lifts his head up, high enough to slide her pillow under it. John leans into her touch and sighs when she comfortingly runs her fingers through his hair. Pulling back she tosses the blanket over him and pulls it up under his chin. Fully satisfied that John isn’t entirely uncomfortable she leaves the office, going back to her room.

On the way down she sees Shatter, who she knows is one of the judges. Clarice jogs to him. “Hey Shatter,” she calls out, he paused mid-step and waits until she is by his side.

“Morning Clarice, how can I help you?” He asks with an easy smile on his face.

“What time does the judging for the gingerbread contest start?”

“You’re helpin’ Caspians’ team, right?” Shatter questions as he escorts her to her room.

“Yeah. They bribed me.” Clarice responds.

"Candy canes?” He questions. Clarice nods affirmatively, laughing.

“The judging is at 2pm.“ Shatter tells her smiling as he leaves her at her bedroom door.

When she pushes back the curtain she sees Caspian roll over pulling his blanket fully around him. Clarice grins and jumps on the bed pulling him into her arms and tickling him awake.

"Come on kiddo, time to get up.”

“Why?” He pouts throwing his blanket over her head engulfing them in their own world.

“Judging starts at 2-”

“We’re done. We finished yesterday, I wanna stay asleep.” He proposes.

“We need to eat breakfast and I’ve gotta see if Lorna has anything that she needs me to do.”

“I don’t have anything to do, I can sleep.” He compromises.

“You should go find Sam and Dominique. I’m sure they are excited for this afternoon.” Clarice tempts, knowing his soft spot for his newfound friends.

Caspian smiles, "Yeah, alright.” He yawns, scrambling up from the bed. He turns to look at her, insecurity flooding his face as he looks at his feet whispering. "I haven’t shown them what I can do yet. I’m scared they won’t like me or will be scared of me if I shift.”

"Hey,” she coos gently, making him look at her. “I’m pretty sure both Dominique and Sam will love it if you shift. Give them a chance, they know what it’s like not being normal. If it helps, I love that your not normal and what you can do.”

Caspian lifts his fingers and strokes the violet mark under her right eye. "I love that you’re different too.” He whispers, his insecurities fading as he asks her to portal him to the common area so he can find his friends.

Grinning Clarice creates the portal, watching as he exuberantly bounces through.

When he leaves Clarice changes her clothes before joining Marcos and Lorna to hand out breakfast rations.

Clarice checks the time, realises it’s 10 minutes before the contest so begins searching for Caspian. Despite not seeing him all day, she’s heard from a couple of people that there’s quite the spectacle outside as children play with the kid who can become different animals. She doesn’t get far before she hears his voice calling to her.

“Come on, come on Clarice!“ He runs up to her, tugging on her clothes. “We have to go!”

“I know. Stop tugging.” The green eyed woman remarks untangling his grip from her shirt, then she opens a portal to her room and Caspian hops through. He steadily lifts the platter and walks back through the still open portal.

Once he is back by her side she takes the platter from him and he guides her to the Christmas tree where his friends are waiting for the judging to take place.

A table was set up displaying all the gingerbread creations the children had put together and decorated. Lorna walks by as Clarice sets their train down by a house with pink icing.

“Where’d you find Hershey’s kisses?” The green haired woman asks plucking one from their display and eating it.

“Uh-,” Clarice quickly clasps her hand around Caspian’s mouth as it opens.

“Clarice,” John calls at that moment sparing her from having to answer. Instead both women turn towards him. John sees the wrapper in Lorna’s hand and the miffed look on her face then promptly changed direction. Lorna took off waddling after him.

“She took our decoration.” CD pouts.

“It’s okay, I have another one I was saving,” she responds as she quickly replaces the missing kiss.

“Are you three okay to take it from here?”

As they all nod, she reminds them to get a number before walking away to let them do their own thing.

John smiles as she approaches, passing the kids on her way to him. "Have a nice nap?” She asks as she came to stand beside him. John rolled his eyes in response.

“No need to gloat, but yes. Thanks for your pillow and blanket. I’ve already returned it to your room.” He didn’t tell her how he enjoyed her scent surrounding him when he awoke.

“You need to take better care of yourself,” her voice falls as emotion steals clogs her throat, “when I saw you on the floor I thought….” she trails off looking away.

"Hey,” John steps closer, blocking her view of the room. “I’m sorry I scared you.” He says lightly his hands coming up to grip her waist. John leans in closer so his lips brush her ear. "I promise to not push myself that hard again.” He whispers.

Clarice leans into him reassured, he feels safe. She’s about to respond, when she sees Lorna, very much pregnant and very much annoyed shuffling towards them.

“Lorna’s coming, you better go less you face her wrath,” she teased.

John groaned. "I will see you after the judging.” He remarks before striding purposefully in the opposite direction of oncoming Lorna.

Smiling, Clarice makes her way to the small group of spectators watching the judgement of the gingerbread. There’s trains, trees, houses and sleighs and the candy is an assortment of whatever they had been able to find.

Clarice nods encouragingly as Caspian’s group give a small introduction for the train. She claps as the kids finish.

She leans back into John as he joins her, having escaped Lorna a second time, whilst the judges determine the winner. Clarice leans back into his chest as his arms curl around her waist and his chin rests on her shoulder.

When the judges announce that the winner is Team Four Clarice groans. John sighs as the kids faces fall when they realize they’ve lost. They both smile however as Team Six, Clarice’s team, goes to congratulate the winners.

All the spectators laugh as the kids break their hard work, sharing pieces of their gingerbread creations with the other children and adults. Caspian, Dominique and Sam run up to the pair with bits of gingerbread for them to eat.

John grins releasing Clarice and accepting an proffered piece from Sam. “I’m sorry you didn’t win. I thought your train was pretty amazing.”

“That’s okay. We had lots of fun making it.” The little boy smiles.

“Thank you for helping us.” Caspian mumbles as he gives Clarice a hug. He grins when his friend join in, two more pairs of little arms twining themselves around her waist.

Clarice and John watch as the kids run off to play with the others, the three staying close to each other as they play.

John looks back at her smiling, “I think you made two new little friends.”

Clarice smiled as she watched the kids play. "Yeah, they were pretty awesome.”

Together they left the kids playing, Clarice creating a portal outside. The couple strolled hand in hand, avoiding anywhere that may result in Lorna finding them.

[imagining-supernatural]

The Other Side of the Bar

Summary: Bartender!Dean AU where he has a bet with you each night to see who can keep a straight face the longest. In Sam’s words, “This was the weirdest damn flirting he’d ever seen.”

Word Count: 2351

Warnings: Fluff!

A/N: I have this headcanon that if it wasn’t for Azazel and the hunting life, Dean would be the happiest guy out there. He would just be loving life and laughing around and basically be a force of nature that always gets what he wants. He would be unstoppable and would be so damn happy. So that’s the version of Dean that I imagined for this AU.

Version en Español: El Otro Lado de la Barro

“Sam, my man!” Terrance bellowed when Sam walked into the bar. Upon seeing his old friend, Sam broke into a smile and gripped his hand, pulling him in for hug. “Our boy Dean didn’t tell me you were in town.”

“Well, finals are finally over and Dean’s been after me about checking out his new bar since he opened it.” Sam glanced around the dimly lit room and couldn’t help but feel impressed. “So I thought I’d surprise him.”

For someone who hadn’t set foot in a college classroom, Dean was actually a pretty good businessman. This was the third bar that he’d opened in Eastern Kansas, and every bar that he owned was doing ridiculously well. When Dean asked Sam to take a look at his finances and make sure that everything looked good, Sam started rethinking his own life plan. If Dean was making that much per bar, then what in the world was Sam thinking, digging himself deeper into debt to get a law degree?

Speaking of Dean, Sam glanced around the packed room in search of his sandy-haired brother. As usual, he was behind the bar talking to a chick. But he wasn’t smiling or joking around like he usually did in the company of any living, breathing female.

“What the hell?” Sam asked, drawing Terrance’s attention. “He’s having an actual conversation with her instead of just flirting?”

Terrance followed Sam’s gaze and laughed. He clapped Sam on the shoulder and leaned closer. “Dude, he is flirting with her. Hard. They do this every night.”

“This? What is this?”

With a secretive smile, Terrance pulled Sam closer to the counter. “He won’t even know you’re here. Until this bet of theirs ends every night, neither of them are aware of anything around them.”

Sam and Terrance stopped a few feet shy of the two who appeared to be engaged in a very serious conversation. But it was close enough for Sam to hear what was being said.

“Then the squirrel ran up her skirt and she started screaming and jumping around,” the girl was saying in a flat voice, eyes never wavering from Dean’s.

Sam caught the gleam in Dean’s eye that was the complete opposite of the serious expression on his brother’s face. This was the weirdest damn flirting he’d ever seen.

“That squirrel couldn’t get away fast enough. After everyone calmed down from laughing so hard while Clarice yelled at us, Jimmy piped up and said Guess that squirrel didn’t find the nuts he was looking for.”

A second passed where Dean struggled to control his face. The muscles in his cheeks and around his mouth clenched, but there was a split second where the corner of his lips twitched upwards and the chick let out a victory yell, raising her arms in the air.

“What? No!” Dean protested. “That doesn’t count!”

“It totally does, baby.” Her smile was the brightest thing in this bar, and Sam could see that even with her gloating, Dean still couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Suddenly Sam was even more interested in who this woman was than before. “Face it, Dean. You lost tonight.”

“Did not! It wasn’t a full smile. Right?” He cast his eyes around for anyone to back him up, pausing when he saw Sam right there. Surprise flickered across his face, but Dean didn’t seem to dwell on that. Instead, this bet with the mystery woman was more important than a surprise visit from his little brother. “Sammy! Tell Y/N that that was not a smile. I did not lose!”

“Sammy?” Y/N spun around on her barstool and eyed him. Feeling her gaze on him made him slightly on edge. She was looking at him like she knew more about him than he wanted. “You’re Sam? The Sam who believed in Easter Bunny until you were twelve?”

Sam huffed and glared at Dean. “Yeah. That’s me.”

“Then you know Dean pretty well. Tell me, Sam. That was a smile, right? That totally counts?”

“I, uh, kinda?”

“Kinda doesn’t count!” Dean insisted. “And since that one doesn’t count, that means that you smiled first, so you lost. Pay up, sweetheart.”

Y/N huffed and turned back around to face Dean. “You, Dean Winchester, are a cheater.”

“Whatever gets me that kiss,” he grinned, leaning on his elbows over the counter.

With a delicate eye-roll, Y/N stood up and went up on tip-toes to meet Dean halfway, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Dean wins, he gets a kiss. Y/N wins, she gets free drinks for the night,” Terrance explained to Sam.

After a few more seconds, Y/N pulled away and shook her head fondly at Dean. “You are such a cheater. I totally won.”

“Tell you what, sweetheart. Since Sam’s here, we’ll celebrate. You know what that means?”

A mischievous gleam sparked behind her eyes. “I sure do.” As she turned around to face the rest of the room, she tossed Sam a wink. Hopping up onto the counter, she cupped her hands around her mouth to broadcast her words and yelled, “In honor of the owner’s brother visiting, the next round in on the house!”

A cheer rose up from everyone in the room and Y/N proudly jumped off the counter and smirked at Dean. “Two can play at that game, Dean.”

“Joke’s on you,” he scoffed, clearly trying to cover up. “I was planning on doing that anyway.”

“Sure you were, babe. Sure you were.” She motioned to the shelves of liquor behind Dean. “Now get me that free drink, then I’ll take Terry-Berry out on the dance floor and give you and your dreamy little bro some family time.”

“Terry-Berry?” Sam perked up at this new nickname. Terrance made his ban on cutesy nicknames very clear growing up.

Terrance pointed a finger at Sam warningly. “Don’t. Only Y/N gets to call me that.”

Sam took this new information into account and knew that he would have to keep an eye on Y/N for the rest of his visit. There must be something special about her if Dean was so star struck, and Terrance was getting lax on his rules.

“Enjoy.” Dean winked at the woman he’d just placed a drink in front of and walked back to where Sam and Terrance were seated at the bar, arguing over some nerdy book they both liked. For the fiftieth time in the last ten minutes, Dean cast his eyes around the bar, but he couldn’t see her anywhere.

“Dude, calm down. I’m sure she’ll be here,” Terrance rolled his eyes at his friend’s obvious obsession.

It wasn’t even worth it to pretend like Dean had no idea what he was talking about. “Usually she’s here by now. You sure she didn’t have a date or something?”

“Positive. I live with her, man. If she had plans, she would have called me into her room to play the girlfriend role of helping her pick out what to wear all while she told me all about her date and where they were going and what they were like. She probably just got hung up at work or something.”

Dean huffed and took stock of the bar patrons again. When he first heard that Sam’s old friend was in town, he’d suggested that he come by the bar for free drinks. Sammy might have some weird friends, but Terrance was one that Dean actually liked.

And when Terrance brought his roommate along, well, Dean really didn’t mind at all. Someone’s offhanded comment that Dean and Y/N smiled more than any other person they’d ever met had sparked the competition and now it was a tradition. Every night when they were both at the bar, they tried their damnedest to get the other to smile first, just to prove who could keep a straight face the longest.

It was the best part of Dean’s day.

“You could text her,” Dean mentioned to Terrance. “Just to make sure she’s okay, you know. Good roommate stuff.”

“Why don’t you just text her, Dean?” Sam asked.

Dean made the mistake of not thinking about his answer. He opened himself up to all sorts of teasing from Sam, but he wasn’t too focused on his brother at the moment. “Don’t have her number.”

“Wait. Seriously? You’ve been hardcore flirting with her for weeks and you still don’t have her number?”

Dean shook himself out of his pining for Y/N and narrowed his eyes at his brother. “So what? She doesn’t have my number either.”

Holding his hands up in surrender, Sam shook his head. “Man, I do not understand you two.”

“No one does,” Terrance piped in. “You just learn to let them be.”

The front door opened and, just like magnets, Dean instantly was drawn to the woman walking in. Seeing her made all of his worries seem minimal. Her gaze locked with his from across the room and Dean watched as she started pushing her way through the crowd.

That’s when Dean started to panic. He didn’t have any funny story planned for tonight. How was he gonna make her smile and get that kiss? It had been a long day, meeting with potential investors for a new bar across the state line, and he’d been looking forward to that kiss all day. Sure, the kisses lasted only a few seconds, and sure, there was nothing more than two lips touching, they made every night so much better than he could imagine.

“Hey, Y/N,” Sam greeted when she was within hearing distance.

Looking very much like she was on a mission, she just nodded at him before hopping up on the counter. Dean watched in confusion as she swung her legs over and misjudged how far the counter on the other side extended. Her foot caught a glass, sending it shattering on the floor.

Barely sparing it a glance, she mumbled, “I’ll get that later,” before jumping to the floor on the other side of the bar, just in front of Dean.

This was definitely off-script. Other than the few times Y/N had talked Dean into playing pool with her, the bar always stayed between the two of them. But now she was right in front of him looking up at him determinedly.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean said slowly, glancing around as he tried to figure out what was going on.

Then her hands were on his face and she pulled his head down until her lips pressed against his. For a moment, Dean didn’t know what to do. Then she moved closer, her body brushed against his, and reality came crashing down onto Dean. Y/N was right there, kissing him like he’d dreamed of for weeks and there wasn’t a pesky counter in the way.

Dean curled his fingers into her waist and pulled her closer, relishing the way her soft curves pressed into his body while his other hand found its way to the back of her head, weaving into her hair. Y/N parted her lips and traced her tongue along the seam of Dean’s lips. Instantly he let her in, giving into his instincts and kissed her like his entire future depended on it.

When she broke the kiss, breathing heavily, Dean didn’t open his eyes for a moment, nor did he let her go. And based on the way her hand was gripping the back of his neck and pressing her forehead to his shoulder, she didn’t mind one bit.

“What was that for? Not that I’m complaining,” Dean rushed to clarify.

Y/N eased her head back enough to look up at him with sparkling eyes. “That was a thank you.”

“For what?”

She chuckled and glanced away for a brief moment. “For your stupid monkey story. I had lunch with my ex today and he’s this manipulative asshole. I don’t know why I said yes in the first place. But every time he tried to give me some backhanded compliment, all I could think about was how you told me that the monkey would have liked my hair.”

“Would’ve liked to poop in it,” Dean finished, remembering that night three weeks ago. 

He’d told her about the time he went to the zoo and a monkey tried throwing poop at him. She hadn’t cracked a smile, so he knew that he would have to shock a smile out of her. He lured her in with a compliment—That monkey would have loved your hair—then switched the script—Loved to rub poop in it, that is. The unexpected twist coaxed a surprised laugh out of her, and he’d gotten a kiss that night.

“Yeah. That one. Every time he insulted me then softened the blow with a compliment, I just thought about that monkey story and suddenly every word out of his mouth was just as stupid as a monkey wanting to rub poop in my hair.” Y/N laughed softly and shook her head before looking back up at Dean with soft eyes. “He just wanted to get in my head and lower my confidence. But you just wanted to make me laugh. So thank you.”

Dean grinned, a bright bubble expanding in his chest. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a girl thank me for telling her that a monkey would love to rub poop in her hair.”

“First time for everything,” Y/N said, popping up on her toes to press another quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “And you smiled first tonight, so I get free drinks.”

“After you clean up that glass you broke,” Dean said pointedly, still refusing to let her go. After that kiss, he would agree to anything she said, even if it meant losing the bet for one night. Though, he supposed, he’d gotten a much better kiss than any other night that he had won the bet, so it wasn’t like he lost anyway.

She pushed away, and he felt cold without her body against his. After finding a rag, she turned back to him and smiled. “By the way, I’m so gonna win tomorrow too.”

“Lookin’ forward to it, sweetheart.”

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[zephfair]

DVD ficlet meme fill Leo/Riario

For @idriseleven There is no way I can apologize for taking so long to fill the meme prompt you gave me back in October. I am ashamed.

And on top of that, I changed up the prompt--I AM A HORRIBLE FRIEND AND I AM VERY SORRY! Please punish me however you see fit! <3

@idriseleven​ asked for: Oh please oh please do one of your crack/fluff fics of DVD as the high school popular kid and nerd. Anybody you want. I'm interested in which of those nerds you imagine was the popular kid!

*The answer is: THEY'RE ALL NERDS

Originally, I envisioned Riario as the religious geek with Zita, Leo as the art geek, Zo as the kid who smokes and hustles, Nico as the under-underclassman who follows Leo around, Vanessa as the theater geek, Lorenzo and Giuliano as the athletic jocks, Lucrezia the cheerleader, Clarice the valedictorian.

But then I got a crazy idea for a Footloose parody and my TiVo actually recorded it the other week and let's just say I took it as a sign from the universe that a DVD/Footloose fusion should exist. I’m sorry; blame the TiVo.

If you’ve never seen that movie, it is still fun! And full of fun 1980s pop songs!

Leo slammed down the tray on the cafeteria table and nudged close to Zo’s chair. “So when are we leaving?”

“Leaving?” Zo said through a mouthful of unidentifiable chicken product.

“I told you, we’re going dancing tonight in—”

“Keep your voice down,” Zo hissed and cuffed the back of Leo’s head. “Do you want to get us both in trouble?”

“This place is bullshit. This entire school is bullshit. This insufferable county is bullshit. All of it—”

“Is bullshit,” Zo agreed. “But it doesn’t change the fact that we can get suspended and punished if you keep talking about partaking in illegal activities.”

“I still cannot believe that dancing and music is outlawed in this ridiculous fucking county.”

“Well, as long as our ‘leader,’” Zo made the air quotes, “is that prick Sixtus, and he runs the church and the town council and owns the sheriff’s department and county judges, well, we’re all fucked.”

Leo scrubbed at his face with impatient hands. “I’ll never forgive my father for making us move to this shithole full of closed-minded assholes.”

Zo mock-toasted him with a can of soda. “Cheers, mate.”

“Not you, Zo, you’re one of the few in this place who can see the real world and who wants to escape. And believe me, Zo, as soon as we graduate, we are out of here so fast, we’ll leave scorch marks.” Zo laughed bitterly but Leo went on, “If there were only something we could do to make it more tolerable for now. If there was some way to stick it to that sick fuck Sixtus.”

Then Leo’s gaze fell on his answer. He asked Zo slowly, “Can you introduce me to Girolamo Riario?”

Zo almost choked on the soda. “Oh no. No. No, no, no. First of all, I cannot introduce you because Riario fucking hates me. You fill his car with cow shit one time, and he threatens to kill you. And holds a grudge. And second, I would not introduce you even if he didn’t have a restraining order against me because you meeting him would be like,” Zo’s arms flailed wildly, “throwing a cigarette into gasoline. Boom!”

“Actually,” Leo said distractedly, still watching the young man across the room, “there is a very good chance that the cigarette would not, in fact, ignite the gasoline because it’s the fumes that typically—”

“Don’t get all technical with me,” Zo snapped. “You know exactly what I’m trying to say. Mixing you and Riario is just asking for certain doom. You’d lose your temper, he’d threaten you, and next thing you know, you’re in jail and he’s still Sixtus’ favorite little nephew, lording it over us all.”

“Yes, but if, if he doesn’t, well, then, maybe he’s the one who could change it all.”

Zo groaned and let his head fall onto the table. “We just have to make it through two more months. Two months! Can’t you wait that long?!”

“No,” Leo said briskly. “Now, help me come up with a plan to run into Riario.”

********

Zo found, to his horror, that Leo meant that quite literally and backed his decrepit VW Beetle directly into the passenger side of Riario’s sleek black Mustang.

Leo jumped out, hands spread apologetically, and went into a prepared speech about how he hadn’t seen the car and he’d happily pay for the damages. Riario stood there, trademark sunglasses on, clearly disbelieving every word.

“Aren’t you the one who transferred in halfway through our senior year?” he said finally, stopping Leo’s fulsome apologies.

“Yeah, I’m Leo.”

“I doubt you even have enough money to cover the cost of repairs,” Riario said bluntly. “Just forget it.”

Zo instinctively ducked, even from the safety of the passenger’s seat of Leo’s Bug. He saw Leo grit his teeth and try to be charming. For once.

“No, no this was totally my fault, and the very least I can do is to take care of it. And I’d love to do something extra, for you. How about I take you to dinner tonight?”

Riario bit off a little smile but only inclined his head. “There is no need. And no, I have plans.”

“Some other time, then?” Leo called after him, but Riario got back into his car and took off with a rev of the engine.

“What the fuck are you trying to do?” Zo asked when Leo got back into the Bug.

“I’m going to turn him to our side. And then maybe he can influence his uncle to change some of the rules around here.”

“This is only going to go one way—badly,” Zo told him, but Leo grinned as they took off, the Bug’s loose back bumper casting sparks as it dragged along the road.

*******

Leo began a campaign to “just happen” to be everywhere Riario might be at the same time. He bumped into him between classes. He couldn’t manhandle a lunch seat at the “popular table,” as Zo called it, but he did bribe an underclassmen to let him squeeze into a seat behind Riario, where he could still occasionally drop things and initiate conversation.

Zo watched Leo pursue Riario after school, but the Mustang left them in the dust on winding country roads when the Beetle couldn’t keep up. And Leo claimed that his stakeouts of the house showed Riario often didn’t come home until late, sometimes right at the town’s curfew.

Leo even cleaned up and attended church like the rest of the county who at least turned out to present themselves to Sixtus. Zo gave up trying to elbow him awake about five minutes into the sermon and enjoyed a nap himself.

But Riario stood firm against Leo’s advances. Zo was only surprised that he hadn’t taken legal action to stop Leo.

******

It all changed the evening Leo was sitting outside the drive-in diner and Riario pulled up. Normally, he was surrounded by a collection of various teens important to the local community—the Medici brothers who were venerated as jocks and whose family was in local government; Clarice who was dating a Medici but better known as the class valedictorian; Alfonso who was a dumb jock but an even bigger asshole bully than the Medicis; and Lucrezia, a relative of Riario’s who had a certain reputation. Leo had first thought about using her to get close to Riario, and she had shown some interest in him, but he recognized the haunted look in her eyes. She had been used and used every wile at her disposal to make it so far, and Leo was positive that she would be joining him and Zo in the mass exodus out of town as soon as she was able. He didn’t want to add to her nightmares.

So when Riario ordered food to-go, all alone, Leo followed him without a second thought. There was no way that Riario didn’t notice the VW’s lights, but Leo tried to hang back enough so it wasn’t completely noticeable. He missed him once, when Riario took a turn that Leo didn’t see until he was past, but he backed up and followed, heart beating quickly, wondering if Riario was leading him into a trap.

He pulled up to an abandoned rail car, gravel crunching under the tires, and parked next to Riario’s empty Mustang. Leo was wary of walking into the rail car, wondering if he were being set-up for something, but he finally did and found Riario sitting on the floor alone.

“You’ve found me,” Riario said.

“You haven’t made it easy,” Leo said, remaining standing.

Riario didn’t seem to care about the posturing. “I thought I would make it easier and get this confrontation over with. What do you want from me?”

“What makes you think I want anything?” Leo retorted automatically.

Riario sighed. “Because every single person who approaches me wants something. Whether it’s a favor from my uncle, a good word put in, or just the prestige of claiming to have me as a friend, everyone wants something.”

“That’s incredibly cynical of you,” Leo said, finally sitting down next to him. “But also remarkably perceptive.”

Riario smiled his mirthless little smile. “So what is it that you want from me?”

“I wanted a way to get at your uncle and somehow make him relax some of the ridiculous rules that surround this town,” Leo admitted to the quirk of Riario’s lips again. “I wanted freedom of speech and the freedom to listen to whatever music we want, and I even wanted to advocate for a prom. With dancing.”

Riario bent his head back and laughed.

“But now,” Leo went on and leaned closer, “there is something I want much more than that.”

“And what, exactly, would that be?” Riario’s quiet voice was a whisper across Leo’s lips.

“I just want you,” Leo said, closing the distance and kissing him.

*****

Leo didn’t know what to expect: maybe Riario’s friends bursting into the rail car and beating the shit out of him, maybe Riario pulling away then beating the shit out of him, maybe Zo slapping him awake in the middle of another interminable church service.

But he never would have expected Riario to open his mouth to him, to reach up and pull him closer, to card his fingers through Leo’s short hair and wrap a strong arm around his back. Leo melted into him, and when Riario tugged him to crawl over him, Leo went willingly.

******

“So,” Leo said sometime later while he smoked one of his forbidden cigarettes, “it looks like we have way bigger issues than getting your uncle to agree to a prom dance. I’m sure that premarital sex—especially between two males—will upset him even more.”

Riario paused in buttoning his shirt. “Actually, haven’t you heard the old school joke?” When Leo shook his head, Riario said, “Do you know why premarital sex is banned in the school? Because it might lead to dancing.”

“Oh that’s bad,” Leo said, but he chuckled anyway.

“Why do you want to hold a traditional prom? You don’t seem like the type who would even want to attend one.”

Leo shrugged. “Normally, no. But here, in this hellhole, it seemed like the best way to make your uncle rage out. While some of the students might actually enjoy it. Imagine what a romantic time: their first night listening to rock’n’roll and slow dancing in the gym. What’s not to love?”

“You have a strange definition of romance.”

“It’s a rite of passage for high school students. And since you deprived children have never had the privilege, I feel it is very important for me to spearhead this effort and make sure that we have the best, most stereotypical prom of any high school ever. And afterward,” Leo waggled his eyebrows at Riario, “there is the traditional deflowering.”

Riario rolled his eyes then leaned up to bite Leo’s bottom lip. “I believe we already took care of that.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure there’s more … gardening that can be done,” Leo said lamely as Riario kissed him firmly.

“And you want me to help you do this all behind the backs of my uncle, the school and the other leaders in town?”

“Yeah.”

Riario pulled away for a moment and looked into Leo’s eyes. “Fine. We’ll try. But only if you repay me in various sinful, immoral and totally inappropriate ways,” he said, running his hand up the inseam of Leo’s jeans.

“I can totally do that,” and Leo tackled him.

*******

After many devious schemes and near-misses and nail-biting tension, the outcasts like Zo and Leo banded together with the Medicis and other popular students to provide a prom like the world had never seen.

And Leo and Riario were voted prom kings and got to slow-dance in the spotlight in their matching rented tuxes with purple cummerbunds. Leo still had some of the pollen in his hair from where Riario had beaten him about the head with the orchid corsage Leo had tried to slip onto his wrist. Riario made it up to him by kissing him and groping his ass right in front of the entire senior class, and the town council assured each other that Sixtus was only spending the night in the hospital as a precaution because what were the chances he’d had a heart attack at exactly that moment.

And all the kids who wanted to leave town did and lived mostly happily ever after playing any music and dancing all they wanted.

[english2121]

Discussion Leader 12/5

Karina

Quote #1: “So don’t expect stars in what’s coming: nothing will twinkle, this is opaque material and by its very nature despised by everyone. That’s because this story lacks a cantabile melody. Its rhythm is sometimes discordant. And it has facts. I suddenly fell for facts without literature--facts are hard stones and action is now more interesting to me than thinking, you can’t get away from facts” (Lispector pg. 8).

Question #1: Based on our previous discussion in class how is this quote representative of postmodern literature?

Quote #2: I do not intend for what I’m about to write to be complex, though I’ll have to use the words that sustain you. The story--I determine with false free will--will have around seven characters and I’m obviously one of the more important. I, Rodrigo S.M. An old tale, this, since I don’t want to be all modern and invent trendy words to make myself look original. So that’s why I’ll try contrary to my normal habits to write a story with a beginning, middle and “grand finale” followed by silence and falling rain” (pg. 5).

Question #2: In this quote the narrator, as a writer, shows consciousness of readers and seems to address them directly. In what tone does he seem to address the readers and their needs? Does this quote seem like a criticism of writing and books? If so in what way?

Quote #3: “Now I want to speak of the northeastern girl. This is what I mean: she like a stray dog was guided exclusively by herself.I too, from one failure to the next have reduced myself to myself by at least I want to encounter the world and it’s God. I’d like to add by the way of information about the young girl and myself, that we live exclusively in the present because it is always eternally today and tomorrow will be a today, eternity is a state of things at this very moment” (pg. 10).

Questions #3: Given our discussion of identity in the postmodern period how does the narrator touch upon this topic in this quote? How does he touch upon collective vs. individual relationship? What may he mean when he says “eternity is a state of things at this very moment”.

Quote #4: “I’m sure of one thing: this narrative will deal with something delicate: the creation of a whole person who surely is as alive as I am. Take care of her because all I can do is show her so you can recognize her on the street, walking lightly because of her quivering thinness. And what if my narrative is sad? Afterwards I’ll surely write something cheerful, though why cheerful? Because I too am a man of hosannas and someday, perhaps, I’ll sing praises instead of the difficulties of the northeastern girl” (pg. 11).

Question #4: What parallels do you think the narrator is trying to draw between himself and “the northeastern girl”? What if any do you think he might be hoping the readers draw between themselves and the character? For what purpose?

Quote #5: “Nothing in her was iridescent, though the parts of her skin between the blotches had a slight opal glow. Not that it mattered. Nobody looked at her on the street , she was like cold coffee. And that’s how time passed for the girl. She blew her nose on the hem of her underwear. She didn’t have that delicate thing called charm. I’m the only one who finds her charming. Only I, her author lover her. I suffer for her. And I’m the only one who can say this: ‘what do you ask of me weeping that I wouldn’t give you singing? That girl didn’t know she was what she was, just as a dog doesn’t know it’s a dog. So she didn’t feel unhappy. The only thing she wanted was to live. She didn’t know for what, she didn’t ask questions. Maybe she thought there was a little bitty glory in living. She thought people had to be happy. So she was. Before her birth was she an idea? Before her birth was she dead? And after her birth she would die?” (pg.19)

Question #5: How have the narrator’s sentiments towards his character changed in comparison to earlier in the book? Can the narrator’s conflicting sentiments towards his character shed light on the postmodern perspective? How so?

Argument:  The book The Hour of the Star contains many of the same questions and uncertainty that plague postmodernism. It is a book that contains more questions than answers. Through the perspective of the narrator we are made to question what writing is? What life is? Is it possible to truly separate the self from what is written? The narrator claims to love the character he is creating and yet at the same time he speaks of her with much disdain, criticizing and belittling her existence, one which he is creating. The complex relationship between narrator and character seem like an introspective examination of life and an active effort to reconcile the parts of oneself that one loves and hates in order to make sense of it all.

Crystal Williams

Quote #1: “If this story doesn’t exist now, it will. Thinking is an act. Feeling is a fact. Put the two together-I am the one writing what I am writing. God is the world. Truth is always an interior and inexplicable contact. My truest life is unrecognizable, extremely interior and there is not a single word that defines it” (Lispector, 1).

Question #1: What is the connection between the truest-self and God as alluded to by Lispector? How does this relate to the genre of Post Modernism? Consider (if you are aware of Winnicott’s concepts) the notion of the true self and the false self. How does that relate to the act of writing and thinking as described by Lispector?

Quote #2: “How do I know everything that’s about to come and that I myself still don’t know, since I have never lived it? Because on a street in Rio de Janeiro I glimpsed in the air the feeling of perdition on the face of a northeastern girl. Not to mention that I as a boy grew up in the northeast. I also know things about things because I am alive. Everyone alive knows, even if they don’t know they know. So you gentlemen know more than you think and are just pretending not to” (Lispector, 2).

Question #2: What does Lispector allude to the duality of humanity and inherent intelligence and knowledge? Are both men and women endowed with the same intelligence, or is there a common truth, or knowledge that transcends gender?

Quote #3:”Could it really be that the action is beyond the word? But when I write-let things be known by their real names. Each thing is a word and when there is no word it is invented. This is your God who commanded us to invent” (Lispector, 8)”

Question #3: Who or what is God as described by Lispector? What is her connection to God? Would you consider her writing, or writing in general to be a divine act?

Consider: John 1:1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

Quote #4: “The fact is I hold a destiny in my hands yet don’t feel powerful enough to invent freely: I follow a hidden, fatal line” (Lispector, 12).

Question#4: What is the fatal line that Lispector speaks on? How is it possible for her to feel powerless in a world that she created? Could this apply to us in our daily lives?

Quote #5: In her little superstitious imaginings, she thought that if by any chance she ever got a nice good taste of living- she’d suddenly cease to be the princess she was and be transformed into vermin. Because, no matter how bad her situation, she didn’t want to be deprived of herself, she wanted to be herself. She thought she’d incur serious punishment and even risk dying if she took out too much pleasure in life. So she protected herself from death by living less, consuming so little of her life that she’d never run out. This savings gave her a little security since you can’t fall farther than the ground” (Lispector, 24).

“Clarice Lispector was a great artist; she was also a middle-class wife and mother. If the portrait of the extraordinary artist is fascinating, so is the portrait of the ordinary housewife, whose life is the subject of her stories. As the artist matures, the housewife, too, grows older. When Lispector is a defiant adolescent filled with a sense of her own potential—artistic, intellectual, sexual—so are the girls in her stories. When, in her own life, marriage and motherhood take the place of precocious childhood, her characters grow up, too. When her marriage fails, when her children leave, these departures appear in her stories. When the author, once so gloriously beautiful, sees her body blemished by wrinkles and fat, her characters see the same decline in theirs; and when she confronts the final unravelling of age and sickness and death, they appear in her fiction as well” (The New Yorker, Web).

“Escaping the Jewish pogroms that were part of life in Ukraine and other parts of the Russian Empire in the late 19th–early 20th century, Lispector at age five immigrated with her parents and two older sisters to Brazil. There her mother died some four years later of syphilis, contracted from a group of Russian soldiers who had raped her” (Britannica, Web).

Question #5: With her life experiences in mind, do you feel that the northeastern girl described in the text is a facet of Lispector’s being? Why or why not? How would her experiences with the war, death and poverty shape her work and her views of the world?

Argument: Lispector argues that knowledge and experience are intricately linked to humanity and not gender. She as an author, transcends the trap of being pigeon-holed into a female narrative. Lispector is an unbiased omnipresent force who paints The Hour of The Star in trials, meaning she is writing, living and experiencing the story at the same time through different planes of existence. It is within these realms that Lispector explores the ideas of Winnicott and Freud, illuminating the theories of the true-self and false self, day-dreaming and the act of play.

Argument: Lispector in her writing uses the spark of The All (the ever creating entity, otherwise known as “God”) to conduct interrupted play that allows her to know who or what she is. Her form of play, seamless bouncing from introspective interpretations of both male and female further gives support to the notion of Lispector’s “God-self” in her writing. Writing is considered an act of creation, and this act gives her power and agency in the world of The Hour Of The Star.

[shadesmaclean]

Tradewinds 21 CH 15

Of course, the kids all came back a couple hours after the deputy shooed them away, drifting back to the scene in ones and twos. And, of course, Travis Tully returned, as well, having just as much luck convincing them to leave as the last time. “They’re probably all dead by now,” Travis taunted them. “My old man says nobody comes back from that house! You should… just… give…” He faltered as the entire mansion rocked on its foundations. Windows cracked and shattered. Doors and shutters banged and flapped. Several shingles popped off the roof, spinning away in all directions, and the front doors flew wide open. An unseen force pushed everyone back a couple steps with all the strength of a hard gust of wind. In that moment, both the children and Travis stood there in awe-struck silence as the whole place fell still and quiet. None of them were sure quite how long they stood like that, waiting for something, anything, to happen in that eerie calm. Then, just as they were starting to pull themselves back together, Shades stepped out of the looming darkness of that doorway, Melissa in tow. The other kids gave such a might cheer, that if Travis had anything to say about this most recent upset, no one heard a word of it. For good measure, Melissa held the ball over her head in triumph, sticking her tongue out at the bully who dared her to go fetch it in the first place. “But… how?” Travis stammered. “No one’s… ever…” “I thought I told you to take a hike.” “I thought you said ‘get lost’.” “Same diff.” Shades shrugged. “Trust me, in those Woods, all you have to do to get lost is take a hike.” “Now, now… I didn’t make anybody go in there…” Travis backpedalled physically, as well as rhetorically. “You went in there all by yourself…” Melissa glared at him. “While you stood and watched,” Shades reminded him. “But… but… no one…” “Oh, it’s certainly a spooky old building,” Shades assured him, “but it’s not the first haunted place I’ve walked back out of.” He grinned at Travis. “Care to take a look for yourself?” “Uh…” If Travis had a watch, Shades figured he’d probably be glancing at it about then. “I, uh, think I’ll be going now…” “By the way,” Shades inquired, “what happened to your face?” Just something about that bruise, since he first laid eyes on it. Had an ugly guess about it, but was quickly proven wrong. “None of your business—” Travis started. “That’s from when Max beat him up!” one boy declared, the others backing him up. “Shut up, you little brat!” “Max went in there?” Shades froze for a moment at that possibility. “Justin, too?” “Yeah!” the other kids confirmed. “Ha! They’re all dead!” Travis sneered, all the while continuing to back away from them. “Go on, then! They’re both gonna die if they haven’t already! Guess I’ll have the last laugh, tough guy!” “Nah.” Shades relaxed. After the black cat thing ran off earlier, an intangible wind blew through the whole place, rippling, shimmering, an invisible wave leaving the entire mansion aged and dilapidated beyond its years, seeming withered in its wake. Even that creepy door in the hall no longer held any sense of menace, so they took their chances, finding it led to servant stairs, taking them straight down to the ground floor. Moved as quickly as Melissa was able, as he could already feel whatever power he had drawn upon up there slipping away, as well, right along with whatever malevolent force permeated the place up until now. “If I could handle it, Max should be just fine. And Justin did survive the Harken Building, and that haunted island…” Somehow he knew, just knew, his friends were still alive, and he suspected he owed them for doing something, whatever it was that bailed him out there at the end of that grim confrontation, just when it looked as if all was lost. And that was about when another figure stepped out the front door. “Well, speak of the devil…” Shades remarked as Justin emerged from the depths of Vineholdt. Hardly anyone would’ve noticed Travis bugging out at this point, if Melissa hadn’t chosen that moment to call out after him. “Off with you! Ya big fart-bag!” As the other kids laughed, Shades smiled, harboring the sneaking suspicion that nickname was going to haunt Travis for a long time to come. Then he laughed out-loud as he observed Justin struggling under an armload of Castle swag. Even the kids’ laughter trailed off in wide-eyed wonder at the jingling mass of jewelry he carried, and Shades sighed at how he always managed to find stuff like this. Now that he no longer needed to keep an eye on Travis, he just couldn’t help cracking up at seeing his friend loaded down with more bling than Mr T. “Where the hell did you find all that?” “In the basement,” Justin answered. “But wait! There’s more!” After draping some gold chains on his arm to free up one hand, he reached into his pocket and produced a jade disc. Shades’ breath caught in his throat, turning his laugh into a cough. “That was in there?” “What is that?” one girl asked. “Bad news,” Shades told them. The only good thing he could see about this was that removing it from wherever Justin found it seemed to confirm that the Evil in this place was down for good, not just for the count. “I’m pretty sure that’s what caused this whole mess in the first place, Woods and all.”. At that last, the kids all backed off as if he just announced that it was radioactive. “What happened to Max?” Shades brought up, recalling the kids saying that he and Justin came to the house together. “We got separated…” Justin blurted, his treasure momentarily forgotten as he remembered what he was doing before his run-in with Phantom Eleanor and her ghastly grandmother. “There was this painting, of Eleanor… and Max said something about a cat…” “We’d better go look for him,” Shades recommended, already bracing for Justin’s inevitable objections, surprised to see none. “Go and find your friend,” Melissa piped up. “You’ve already saved me.” The other kids added their own encouragement. “Very well. Maybe it’s not such a good idea to tell your parents about this little adventure,” Shades suggested with a wink. “Save it for your grandkids.” “What’s this all about now?” Sheriff Duhan demanded as he came upon the scene, a young woman in tow. After hearing something about some deputy running off some kids hanging around the Castle, without checking on things properly, especially after hearing a couple of those newcomers figured into it, he dropped everything to go investigate this personally. “So much for that idea…” Shades muttered, noting that Justin managed to shove the amulet in his pocket before they got close enough to see it. “Well, you see…” he began, drawing the sheriff’s attention even as he tried to figure out exactly where he should begin. And the kids immediately launched into a loud, overlapping complaint about Travis Tully, with Melissa holding up the ball again as Exhibit A, as Shades accepted that there would be no withholding anyone’s involvement in this matter anyway. As if we weren’t already the talk of the town… “You went in there?” the woman, who could only have been this Sister Clarice they’d heard about, gasped. Dressed in dark grey robes and a powder blue shawl, she still looked a bit under the weather, so it was hard to tell how much of her pallor to attribute to it. Despite that, she still came out here when she heard that both children, as well as those mysterious strangers who somehow survived the Woods, were involved in this. “Sister Clarice, I presume.” Shades noted her violet eyes, the mark of Cyexian lineage, but decided not to make a big deal out of it, given its total lack of relevance to the matters at hand. “Please, just Clarice… Are you… a Seer?” Clarice tilted her head, as if trying to measure him up in some way. “Just an educated guess,” Shades told her, not sure how to explain that he recognized her from that haunting vision in the great hall earlier. “I figured you would come, once you heard…” “I have bad memories of that house,” she explained, appearing visibly ill-at-ease just standing at its front gate. “Sister Leta, right?” Clarice blinked at him. “That house has some bad memories, too,” Shades informed her, “and it likes to share.” Max and Justin nodded in somber confirmation of that. “Where did you get all that?” Sheriff Duhan’s attention, meanwhile, had shifted to Justin and his stockpile of jewels. “Well, they were in the basement…” Justin struggled not to squirm under the lawman’s scrutiny. “Given that I believe he just lifted the curse on this place,” Shades interceded, “I daresay he’s earned it, hasn’t he?” “Lifted the curse?” Clarice’s eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion. “What do you mean?” Before either of them could elaborate, Max came strolling out the front door, holding a fluffy black cat in his arms, and they all jumped in spite of themselves. Shades stepped back for a moment at the sight of that cat, instinctively positioning himself between her and Melissa. Then he noticed that the cat was just resting, curled up in Max’s arms, purring even, merely gazing out at all these strangers with idle feline curiosity. No trace of the malevolence she exuded only a short while ago, a completely different kitty. “Lydia?” Justin gasped, trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was seeing Eleanor’s kitten, Poe’s, twin sister in the flesh, all grown up. “But where?…” “It’s a long story,” Max replied. One he was not too keen on telling most of. He looked at all of his friend’s loot and found the perfect cue to lighten up. “I found her wandering around the house a few minutes ago, after whatever happened… well, happened.” “But where do you know that name?” Clarice asked Justin. In her time in Pickford, she had taken it upon herself to learn as much as possible about the Rigbys, even after their failed bid to cleanse the house, and there were few left who were privy to that particular name. “I think I met Eleanor on a ship years ago,” Justin answered, “and Poe, too, and she told me about his sister, Lydia. Liddy-Kitty.” Lydia perked up at that name, as well as Eleanor’s, glancing about with a look of anticipation, as if she expected her kittenhood companion among those gathered here. Giving way to dismay and confusion after a long moment, for she found she recognized no one. “Kitty!” one of the other kids chimed in, and they all circled around Max, wanting to pet the cat. Melissa looked concerned at first, but could see no recognition in the cat’s eyes. Just another friendly stranger who wasn’t Eleanor. “Oh, that’s definitely Lydia, no mistake,” a gruff voice declared from behind them, Jarvis Tully having materialized while everyone was paying attention to the cat. Though his eyes also kept drifting to the gold and jewels Justin had found. “I never thought I’d see the day…” Having had an eyeful of both, he turned and strode toward the house. “Have a care, Jarvis,” Clarice cautioned him. “I know what I’m about,” Jarvis muttered as he entered. “Where is that no-good layabout when there’s work to be done?…” “Tully—” Duhan began, but the caretaker completely ignored him. “Let him be,” Shades suggested, figuring Justin already set the precedent in that matter. “After all, he lost his wife in there, and his son was the one who set all of this in motion in the first place. Besides, I think we’ve seen the last of Veronica Rigby.” “I almost forgot…” Max mumbled, reaching into his pocket. He fished out a grimy, crusty-looking sheriff’s badge, handing it to Duhan. “I think you might want to see this, Sheriff.” “Taggart…” Duhan breathed, even making out his predecessor’s name engraved beneath the Pickford town seal, even under all of the grime. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he really want to know, then came out with it. “We searched all over… Where did you find this?” “In the fountain,” Max replied, “around that side of the house, where I was attacked by… something.” “You too?” Justin gasped. “Guess that makes three of us.” It was only now that Shades noticed the faint bruising around Max’s neck, vaguely shaped like a pair of hands wrapped around as if someone tried to throttle him, and concluded that perhaps avoiding the fountain was one of the best ideas he had all day. “That thing did a real number on you…” You don’t know the half of it… Max kept to himself, then said, “Then it just fell apart…” “Just about when you…” Shades was about to say took the amulet, but decided to keep a lid on it as long as Justin chose to. “Did whatever you did down there…” “Down where?” Duhan’s eyes narrowed. “There’s a secret door in that big staircase,” Justin explained, handing the sheriff the silver skeleton key he had reclaimed on his way back up. “There’s a bunch of skeletons and jewels down there, and this big circle with three more skeletons in the middle…” “You broke the ritual circle…” Clarice concluded. “That’s how you severed her power…” “I suppose I’ll have to… investigate…” Sheriff Duhan swallowed hard as he approached the house, key in hand. Neither Shades nor his friends could help but wonder just what he ran into in there back then. “Goddess, give me strength…” Clarice prayed as she steeled herself. To gaze upon this place, even in its diminished state, the form of all of her nightmares. “Let’s get this over with.” In spite of her words, though, the house was already starting to feel less ominous by the minute. The whole structure seemed to sag in on itself, deflated, as if some cosmic poison was draining out of it. Though Shades suspected the estate and grounds would always carry some lingering trace of it,, much like that haunted island after Justin carried a very similar amulet out of another entity’s reach, and he wondered if that thing still posed any threat to passing travelers anymore. All that emanated from the mansion now was a just a malevolent, but largely impotent, presence, glaring out at them from every window, silent, powerless. “Well, I doubt anyone’s gonna be moving in any time soon,” he commented. “What?” Max turned to him. “Nothing,” Shades mumbled. “Now what say we get the hell outta Dodge?” “If it means leaving this creepy place,” Justin replied, “then what you said.” That resolved, they turned and left the kids to their new feline companion, figuring they’d be safe enough now until Clarice and Duhan returned, all of them apparently wanting to hear all about Melissa’s adventures in Vineholdt. Along the way, they showed Max the other amulet, and he was also alarmed to find such a thing at the heart of all this horror. The one thing they could all agree on was that none of them felt like keeping it in their possession for long, not even Justin. Shades and Max were both in favor of dumping it way out at sea, in the hope that it might never be found again, but Justin continued to hold out, despite having seen the local marketplace, and what little it had to offer. There really was no one around here who could afford market value for such a thing, and no one who would want it, if they had even the slightest inkling where it came from, or what it had been used for, but then he recalled one place that might. “Ya know,” Justin told them, and Max seemed to remember now, as well, perking up as he said it, “I think I might just know a place where we can sell this thing.”

[severide-kelly]

The Info Sheet: One Minute (S1,E4)

Vargas catches Kelly in the locker room in pain and questions if he got injured on a job. Kelly pretty much tells him to mind his own business.

Kelly attends to an elderly lady whose garage caught fire. She claims it was an accident, but he recognises her fire-damaged car from a previous call a week ago and becomes suspicious she's being targeted.

Kelly returns to Mrs Grady with the police to try and get her some help but she doesn't want to say anything, claiming they were accidents.

Nicki asks Shay if she can have her keys so she can prepare a surprise for him at the apartment. She turns her down.

Kelly makes a point of helping out Elise when she turns up with some food at the firehouse.

Leslie tells Kelly all about Clarice and her new life. It's clear when Dawson is talking about Clarice at the firehouse that they all know who she is (Otis, Herrmann, Casey & Cruz as well as Dawson) but when she's talking to Kelly about her, it seems like it's the first time she's talking to him about it.

Shay says she was with Clarice for three years and they lived together (we learn later on that when Shay arrives at 51, Severde's already there and when she overhears Kelly say he needs a roommate, she says she needs a place to stay). So there's a little inconsistency here with everyone else knowing Clarice, but not Kelly who is being used as the exposition guy so we the audience can learn about her. Perhaps Shay's supposed to be so drunk and upset she's just telling him things he already knows and because he can tell she's upset, he just lets her (Dawson also later relates to having to help Shay get over Clarice the first time).

Nicki arrives and Shay's upset when Kelly goes upstairs with her. However, when he's with Nicki, he tells her he was engaged once too and we next see Nicki leaving, upset.

Squad is playing cards (poker) and using sweets/candy to bet with.

A call comes in for Mrs Grady's house again. She's suffering from smoke inhalation. Kelly asks her to talk to him and he promises he won't go to the police.

Kelly finds out Mrs Grady called the police about drug dealers on her block. He pays a visit to them and tells them she's his Aunt and if there are any more fires near her place he'll come back and break their kneecaps and take them to the police station himself. He also says he'll plant drugs on them if he has to and that he'll be believed over them as he's a firefighter.

Boden announces Nicki has quit and called off her engagement.

Kelly and Shay go out together but Shay is still upset about Clarice, saying she always thought she was the one. Kelly decides to take her to a strip club to cheer her up.

[quintessentiallygifted]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Gifted (TV 2017) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Clarice Fong/John Proudstar, Lorna Dane/Marcos Diaz Characters: Clarice Fong, John Proudstar, Marcos Diaz, Lorna Dane Additional Tags: Christmas Tree, Glitter Series: Part 9 of 12 days of X-mas oneshots; Underground Edition Summary:

When John agrees to watch Aurora, he’s unaware of just how messy decoration makinging truly is

John was transfixed watching her laugh at something Marcos said, it was breath taking the way her eyes crinkled slightly as a smile lit up her face. He couldn’t stop his own lips from twitching in response. There were so many things he should be doing, Christmas in the underground was always hectic. Between trying to create a sense of normality for the children, dealing with the drop in temperature and the never ending threats he had plenty of jobs to complete. However watching the children decorate the place, seeing the bleak outlook replaced by a sense of festive spirit was enlightening. The fact that he was sorely missing the Christmas spirit was irrelevant.

He was on his way to the study when he stopped and turned as he heard Lorna call him, carrying Aurora in her arms. The not so little baby gurgled, reaching for him. He smiled, easily supporting her as Lorna gratefully handed her over. “Thank god, I need a break” she huffed, examining the stain on her jumper. “Could you watch Aurora while I clean up and de-stress?”

John shifted Aurora, pulling back from the little hands which were reaching for his hair. “Of course. Take as much time as you need. We will start planning a supply run.“ He commented gently rocking Aurora as she kicked her legs.

Lorna smirked “Thanks, and good luck with that. She doesn’t like staying still.”

John chuckled. “Maybe we will go check out the Christmas tree instead.”

“Okay.” Lorna nodded. “I won’t be long.” She replied before rushing off. John watched Lorna leave before returning his attention to the little girl in his arms.

“C'mon Rory, lets go see how the Christmas decorating is going.” Lorna despised the nickname, often complaining she hadn’t had a boy specifically to avoid the name, but it had caught on fast with the younger kids until it was the norm. It was common knowledge to avoid using it when Lorna was around.

The underground was on its way to being decked out for Christmas. An assortment of decorations both scavenged and created were being put up.

Taking Aurora, he sat beside the tree Marcos had found, handing her a soft gingerbread ornament. It was one of the decorations Caitlin had taught the children to make.

Aurora gurgled as she waved it around, her hands flailing for anything within reach. One of her hands successfully latched onto the tree, John juggled her, gently trying to detach her hand. "Aurora,” he chided gently, “your going to bring the whole tree down.”

The girls got grip, and he has to be so gentle, her bones were fragile. Well everything was fragile to John and just as the tree starts to list, he senses someone appearing at his side, distracting Aurora and she lets go of the tree, instead reaching for a new object.

“I figured you could use some help” Clarice murmurs from beside him, a piece of tinsel in her hand which has enamored the infant.

“Thanks, she has Lorna’s stubbornness” he commented wryly as he turned to face her. Clarice hands Aurora the tinsel, the shiny object now the child’s entire focus.

"I can see that. She’s also as finicky as her mother. Hopefully she develops her father’s temperament.”

Their idle chatter is interrupted as Aurora started gurgling and kicking her feet. Caitlin walks by with some of the teenagers and younger children heading towards the crafts table that’s set up to create decorations and ornaments. Some of the younger children were singing Christmas carols whilst the teens talked amongst themselves.

The noise settles slightly as the group gets into their crafts, though Auroras happiness shifts, frustration settling on the small girls face as her eyes crinkle. Clarice looks at the child warily, attempting to settle her with tinsel again. It fails.

“Maybe we should see how the decoration making is going?” She sing-songed, trying to use a overly cheerful voice to calm Aurora.

John huffs our a sigh, shaking his head at how this little monster wraps everyone around her little hand. “She’s definitely her mother’s daughter.“ He mumbles before standing and walking to the table with Clarice.  

They sit at one end of the table, some of the older teens around them threading strings of popcorn for the tree, whilst the younger kids decorate some old light bulbs with markers, paint, glitter and glue.

Being closer to the action works for a moment. Though Aurora’s frustration rises further as she tries to grab anything within reach, letting out a shrill cry as she becomes more agitated upon failing.

“Here you go Rory.” One of the teenagers says offering the small girl a piece of popcorn.

Her ire forgotten, she gurgles happily as she plays with the popcorn.  

Clarice grins at the teenager. “Thank you, you stopped Chernobyl.” She turns to playfully glare at John. “Where were you?” She teases.

“She’s a little monster.” He defends, shaking his head ruefully.

They settle in at the table, Clarice helping one of the teens next to her with their string of popcorn. John sits back, taking in the festivities. His productive day has gone up in smoke, but he can’t say he minds too much.

Feeling a gentle tug on his shirt, John turns, to find a small boy clutching a craft project.

“Excuse me, can you help me?” His face is tilted down, but John can make out the faint marks decorating his face. It reminds him of someone else he knows, and he suppresses the seed of anger that blossoms in his chest for the mutants who feel they need to hide, especially here.

“Of course” he scoots closer to Clarice, gestures for the boy to sit by him. Clarice turns to look at him for a second, having noticed him encroaching upon her personal space, when she sees the child climb into John’s previous spot she turns back to her popcorn string.

The boy places a small pile of green and brown popsicle sticks on the table the start of, what looks to be, a tree, though John checks with the boy to be sure.

He makes sure Auroras still content before helping the child create his ornament. His entire focus is on helping the little boy create the tree, adding some glitter for tinsel, in those moments he completely forgets Aurora.

It’s not until he hears a soft cry of alarm that he realizes his charge has been silent; too silent.

There’s no time to stop it, John can only watch in horror as the uncovered tub of glue spills onto his, and Auroras, lap the baby kicking her feet happily in the mess.

As they get covered in glue, John pushes their chair back, trying to prevent any more catastrophes.

"Watch out!” Clarice gasps as Aurora’s feet kick out sending the glue flying ever which way, landing on everyone in the immediate vicinity.

Aurora grabs for the table noticing the distance increasing. She catches a bottle of glitter and throws the container back, showering them.

Dumbfounded at how such a small child could create such mess, it takes him a second before Aurora releases an earsplitting shriek, John winces, his acute senses overloaded.  The wailing infant latches on to him, smearing the glitterglue concoction against his skin.

Everyone’s silent, then the teenagers, the children and finally Clarice burst out in laughter.

John looks on unamused as Clarice tries to speak through her tears. “You-“ she gasps "should have seen” Clarice cackles, “your face. It looks-”  she barely managed to choke out, “like you swam-” she huffs “in glitter.”

Lorna burst in to the room followed by Marcos, the screech of their daughter having reverberated through the HQ.

They take in the situation, Lorna’s eyes narrowing as she catches sight of John and Aurora. "What happened here?” She asks, glaring at John.

John tries to shrug innocently, the effect ruined by the cloud of glitter that flies off him as he shifts. The shower of glitter has Clarice in hysterics.  

"Rory wanted to join in the Christmas arts too.” The little boy John had previously been helping with the tree ornament pipes up.

John withholds his groan, seeing Marcos gesturing wildly before turning away to cough into his fist as Lorna whirls on him.

“Rory?” She whispers deceptively calm, glaring daggers at Marcos.

“Babe, the younger kids have a hard time with her name. I swear I didn’t suggest it.” He defends raising his arms in surrender.

“I’ll deal with you later.“ She bites out before walking to John, giving the boy a smile so he wouldnt think she was mad at him. She reaches gingerly for Aurora, smiling gently as the baby gurgles at her before promptly taking her from the room.

“I think the glitters meant to go on the decorations, or were you trying for the unicorn look?” Marcos teases before following his irate girlfriend.

John groans, reaching to push his hair back from his face, pausing as he feels the glue. He glances up as Clarice hands him a wet towel, a smirk on her face.

"I’m not sure how much it will help. I can blink you to the bathroom if you want, so you don’t track glitter through the building.”

Frowning he nods, wincing as he stands, the sticky mess worsening as it shifts.

Clarice steps back from the group. It takes three tries for her to create the portal, each failure frustrating him more as she burst into laughter. It would be amusing if she wasn’t laughing AT him because he definitely wasn’t laughing.

When he finally makes it to the bathroom, he grips the counter, leaving cracks in the surface as he looks at his reflection. It’s worse than he thought. His jeans are soaked,  as is the lower half of his shirt. And he’s covered from head to toe in glitter. Bits of glue and glitter cling to his face and neck.

It takes three long showers before the glue disappears. He avoids Clarice for most of a day, avoids Lorna for a whole day. It takes a week before he stops washing glitter from his hair.