#for someone who doesn’t really watch period pieces

[yearning-butch]

[cameronspecial]

Could you write a Rafe Cameron x curvy/chubby middle class reader fanfic where reader starts receiving love letters and gifts from a secret admirer called your mr right or something cheesy like that and she requests help from the pogues help in finding this secret admirer. Later she finds out that her secret admirer is none other than Rafe Cameron (her “handsome enemy”) after him interrupting her and a guy because (he’s super jealous). She confronts him on it(thinking it is some cruel joke of his; trying to get the chubby/curvy pogue princess to sleep with him and talk bad about her afterwards to his friends. Rafe has been in love with reader since the day he met her and flirts with her which always leads to bickering mainly reader being sassy and sarcastic with him and him just eating it up with a smirk. This confrontation leads to love confessions, breeding and praise kink/smut

Mr.Right

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: SMUT

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.6K

Masterlist

Y/N never thought Mr. Right would be none other than Rafe Cameron. It doesn’t make sense. After years of the two of them being in opposition, she can’t believe he is the one who has been sending her love letters for just as long. She remembers the excitement of finding the first letter. 

She had been living in the Outer Banks for three weeks and she couldn’t believe someone was interested in her, especially because no one had shown any desire for her in thirteen years of living. Most of the boys she has met didn’t like that she was sassy and sarcastic. They preferred girls who would go along with their every word. Sure, her friends, her fellow pogues, weren’t like everyone else, but she knew they all had a crush on Kiara, which was understandable to her because JJ, John B and Pope had known her forever. So, when she found the messily written letter signed by Mr.Right saying that she had a fiery personality and was the most beautiful woman Anonymous had seen, she couldn’t help the butterflies that erupted in her stomach. It was the first time someone had considered her a woman, even though she had her first period two years ago. As the years went on, more and more letters came in, sometimes with gifts, and her self-confidence grew. She would use the letters as a reminder of who she really was whenever the dick boys at school would mock her because of her weight. 

That is why when she pieces together the identity of Mr. Right, her mind reels at the thought of Rafe being the one to help boost her confidence. It can’t be him, not when he has been the one to poke at every button she owns. Nevertheless, it can’t be more clear to her as she processes the words he says. “Don’t touch Fireball again,” Rafe threatens the man who she was dancing with. The nickname is one only used by one person in her life and it can’t be a coincidence that Rafe used it too. Suddenly, the butterflies plummet to their death into her stomach acid. Of course, Mr.Right is him because the letters aren’t genuine love letters. They can’t be. Instead, she is sure that he is using them as a cruel way to mock her and she can imagine the years he has spent laughing over her naivety. He has probably hidden from the sight of her mailbox to watch her happily open the letters. He must have loved it whenever she would do one of her dorky dances in excitement. 

Fury forms in the pit of her stomach and she goes to the one mode she is used to when it comes to Rafe. Confrontation. 

Rafe watches the loser walk away from Y/N with his head hung low. Rafe’s satisfaction is short-lived as she grabs his shoulder to spin him to look at her. “You are a cruel man to play that sick joke for six years,” she yells in his face. His eyebrows meet and his head tilts, “What are you talking about?” She laughs with a shake of her head. “Don’t play dumb with me, Mr.Right.” She punctuates the alias with bunny ears. The pseudonym illuminates the reason for her anger and he is quick to understand that she thinks his letters were a joke. “They aren’t a joke, Fireball. Every word I said is true.” He doesn’t see a reason to lie. He has been found out. She scoffs, “Why would I believe you? All we’ve ever done is be at each other’s throat and you would take any chance to blow my fuse.” He steps forward so that she can feel his breath fan on her face. The mintiness of his breath mint hits her. “Because every single fibre of my body yearns for you and it is impossible for me to hide it. That’s why I had to write to you,” he growls at her, not in anger but in passion. His words cause a wetness to form between her thighs. She is definitely going to feel it when she walks away, her thighs rubbing against each other will cause it to spread. She doesn’t back down, “Like I can believe you can feel anything other than anger. I bet most of the girls you have slept with faked an orgasm because they couldn’t take how furious you look while fucking them.”

“So you have thought about what I looked like while having sex?”

“Ha, yeah, totally. Just about as much as you think about me.��� 

His eyes darken and his mouth dips so it presses against the shell of her ear, “Then you must see me every time you are in bed with someone because you are the only person I imagine when I’m cumming. And I’m willing to prove it.”

His hand wraps around her wrist and she doesn’t protest as he leads her through the busy party to an unoccupied bathroom. He slams the door, locking it before pushing her forward so her clothed breasts press against the counter. His hard-on digs into her bum. He unbuttons her shirt so she can see his toned abs through the mirror. She says nothing whilst he grabs the bottom of her dress and pulls it off. The bulge of her stomach that is revealed makes her want to shy away from him. She has seen the other girls he has slept with before and she doesn’t have anything in common with them. He tsks, “Don’t do that, Fireball. I want you to see every sexy part of yourself while I fuck you dumb.” Her hair is in his grasp and he yanks her head back so it is beside his. He kisses the spot below her left ear. She gasps when his other hand goes down to her thong and he rips it off. Out of the corner of her eyes, she spots him shoving the used item into his back pocket. His thumb finds her clit and he begins to rub it clockwise. Their eyes meet in the mirror. “See this. This is what I imagine every single time I come,” he mumbles, speeding up the pace of his finger until she cries out that she is coming.

He watches her with pride as she recuperates from her high. She decides to provoke him, “I don’t believe you.” His nostrils flare and he tugs on her hair a little hard so his mouth can drop to her neck. He begins to nibble on her skin. “You want to play, then I’ll play.” He uses one hand to remove his jeans and his boxers, gripping his large length. She watches with hooded eyes as he pumps cock. He gathers some of her cum between her legs and smears it across his dick. She bites her bottom lip in desire. She catches his smirk from the side of her eye. 

He steps forward and the tip of his penis flicks against her entrance. He teases her for a bit, chuckling when she whines at him to do something. He obeys her command and slams into her at full speed. His thrusts are fast and harsh, hitting every spot inside of her that she needs. She lets out tiny squeals at every jerk forward. “I don’t know why you can’t believe that I think about you. I mean look at you,” he orders. His chin motions to the mirror and she observes her reflection. “Every single part of you is a work of art and I’ll be damned that you can’t see it.” She can’t form any words, too focused on the pleasure he is providing her. His hand goes back to her bud and he rubs it in synch with the movement of his hips. Her toes curl in her heels. God, she hates and loves that he knows what he is doing. “Aww. Is my dick so good that you can’t think of anything to say? It’s okay, I’ll fuck a baby into you. Maybe then you’ll be able to recognize your beauty. I’ll have to admit it once you see how adorable our kids are,” he teases. Her walls clenches around him and he takes notice. “Hmm. You like that idea, don’t you? It’s okay, Fireball. I always knew you were a beautiful slut inside.” She reaches back and shoves her fingers in his mouth, “Shut up would you, I’m trying to imagine Zac Efron.”

Rafe lets out a breathy laugh and grabs her left ankle to place it on the counter, allowing him to be deeper inside of her. Her breasts bounce in a way that hurts a little as he brings her closer to the edge. “He won’t ever get to see you like this, Fireball. This is my privilege and if I have to fuck a cuteass baby into you so that gets the message across, then I will.” He accentuates his next sentences with a thrust each. “Only I get to have my head between these thick thighs.” Thrusts. “Only I get to grip these soft hips.” Thrust. “Only I get to call your stunning self mine.” She moans at his words, feeling herself tighten with each promise. “Repeat what I said,” he commands and she does. Her release is brought during her repetition and she collapses against the smooth counter. 

She pants with her cheek stuck against the marble. His dick spasms inside of her and his cum stains her gummy walls. He leans down so his chest is pressed against her back. “So, who am I to you?” he questions in a pant. She gives him a tired smile, “Mr.Right.” 

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

[gogobootz1]

The Mentor pt.4

Finnick Odair x Reader

Summary: Back at home in your district, you debate the merits of calling the phone number you've been given

part three | part five

You stare at the phone. You’ve been on the floor next to your bed, staring at the phone on your nightstand for an extended period of time. 

A crumpled piece of paper seems to taunt you as you clutch it in a tense fist. It has his number on it. Not that you needed to write it down, but you practically ran to the nearest pad of paper when you boarded the train yesterday. 

You sat in this same spot last night, as well, for probably an hour. Ultimately, though, you decided calling the same day would come off as desperate or uncool. 

Although Finnick has thoroughly demystified and made himself available for you, you can’t help but want to make a good impression. The two baby breakdowns you’ve had in his presence probably haven’t helped. Really, to retain your reputation, you should simply not call. But that’d be mean. Would that be mean? But that’s beside the point. You want to call, you do. But you don’t know what exactly he gave you this number for. Talking specifically about your unfortunate shared trade? Trauma dumping? Breakdown hotline? 

Currently, you're handling things as best you can before Snow throws you back in the deep end. Rehashing everything would probably be more damaging. 

You want to call, but would he want to have a normal conversation? Are you capable of having normal, authentic conversations with people at this point? 

Besides, you don’t even know if this is his District Four number or the number to his Capitol residence. Really, you might not reach him at all. 

“What are you doing?” Darla’s voice causes you to jump four feet in the air. Your head snaps quickly over your shoulder to glare at her. Darla had been watching trashy Capitol TV at your house since the train brought you back. She said she didn’t want to be alone.

“What the fuck, D? You can’t just sneak up on a person like that!” You insist. 

She makes a face at you, “It’s not my fault you’re having a staring contest with the phone.”

“Did you want something?” You ask, jaw clenched. 

“Yeah,” she shrugs casually, “someone’s at the door.” Now that surprises you. You jump up, leaving the worn-thin paper beside the phone. 

“And you just left them there?” You breeze past where she stands in the doorway to your enormous bedroom. 

Tramping confusedly down the stairs, you pad barefoot across your wooden floors, through the hallway, and up to the thick oak door separating you from the elements. 

Swinging the front door open, you momentarily regret not grabbing a robe to cover your old pajamas. There’s no one there to witness your fashion faux pas, however, and your nose scrunches in confusion. You lean your torso out of the doorway and into the crisp night air- thankfully warmer than the Capitol. Shaking your head, you seal the door back up and flick the deadbolt. 

“Did they leave a name?” You shout up to where you’d last seen Darla. She doesn’t reply, but as you start walking back to your room you swear you hear her faint voice. 

Suddenly, it clicks. You really should have learned not to underestimate her by now. “Darla!” You break into a sprint across your house. 

“She’s been staring at the phone alllll night,” you hear as you make it to the second floor. 

You know who she’s talking to. And you just know he’s wearing a smirk. You don’t even have to hear the pleased “Really?” that comes through the phone.

Bursting into your room, you tackle her away from the phone. “I’m gonna kill you!” You growl as she starts fighting back. Darla didn’t win her games through pure luck, after all. The phone sits a foot or two away, unattended on the ground, as the two of you wrestle. 

Finnick hears the fight over the phone and listens with a concerned smile. He won’t deny that it’s entertaining. 

Finally, Darla elbows you in the nose and uses the chance to escape. “Sorry! Don’t hang up!” She calls out as she flees your wrath. 

Your shoulders drop in annoyance, and you wipe your upper lip to see she knocked you hard enough to make you bleed. “Bitch!” You call half-heartedly after her. 

Grabbing some tissues, you turn to where she left the phone on the ground. You cautiously make your way over and pick it up with a grimace. “Hello?” 

“Hi,” Finnick’s smart reply rings in your ear, “good wrestling session?” 

“She gave me a bloody nose,” you bemoan. 

“Poor baby,” he taunts, and you scoff. 

“Shut up!” 

“You know, I was told you’ve been staring at the phone for forever,” Finnick ventures, and you can practically see his grin. 

“It wasn’t that long,” you correct, quietly. 

He sighs, “Why didn’t you just call?” 

“I just- I didn’t know if you’d want to talk to me,” you say defensively. 

“I gave you my number,” his confusion is audible. 

With some hesitant, you huff, “Yes.”

“And you called it,” you can hear his smirk through the phone. 

“Not quite,” you snap. 

“That’s ok, you’ll call without youth assistance soon enough,” he says confidently. 

“Are you calling me old?” 

“Never, darling,” he replies lazily. “So… why’d you want to call?” This is the part you were dreading. 

“I don’t know,” you snap defensively. After a moment of silence, you take a breath. Reluctantly, you say, “Aren’t we- friends now?” 

“Wow, a lot of confidence in that statement,” he teases. You glare at the phone. 

“Fuck off,” you say, only half joking. 

“Okay! Friends,” he concedes. More silence. 

“I’m just bad at this, okay?” You admit, feeling awkward. “I haven’t really had a friend in years.” 

To your luck, he takes the information in stride rather than replying with pity. “You mean falling in cow shit didn’t endear you to people?” 

He earns a small grin from you, “You’d be surprised, actually. The family who owns the corner store ate for a week on the money my nana gave them for soap. They loved me.” 

He chuckles thoroughly at that, “Look at you, stimulating the local economy.” 

“Oh yeah,” you laugh too, “you know, that’s happened a few times, actually! Once-“ you cut yourself off. 

“Why’d you stop?” Finnick asks, after a second of silence.  

“You know a lot more about me than I know about you,” you reply cooly. “You don’t get another of my hilarious and charming childhood tales.” 

“Booo,” he complains. 

“Nope,” you stand firm. “That’s how it works. You’re missing out on some good ones, too.” 

“Fine, would one of my childhod stories mske you feel better?” He asks.

“Yes, actually,” you nod. 

“Okay, when I was twelve, there was a district-wide competition and whoever had the biggest catch won. I helped my father pull in the winning fish,” Finnick offers. 

Your face falls flat, and you don’t reply for a few seconds. He calls your name, thinking you might’ve lost connection. “You totally missed the point of this,” you tell him. 

“Excuse me?” He asks defensively.

“Has the great Finnick Odair never had anything embarrassing happen to him in his life?!” You ask, almost frustrated. "Falling in shit is very different than being a champion fisherman,” you say. 

You can almost see him rolling his eyes. “Fine,” he gives in and you grin, “that same day, I kept refusing to wear sunscreen. So by the time we docked with our catch, I’d spent about eight hours in the sun. Well, I didn’t feel it until the next day, but I was so burnt I got incredibly sick.” 

Your shoulders drop, “Finnick, this was supposed to be funny, not sad.” 

“I was wearing sunglasses on the boat all day. When I finally went back to school, all the kids called me ‘goggles' because of my tan line,” he grumbles. You break into a laugh, and he smiles. He likes the sound even more than he did yesterday. 

“Sorry,” you apologize for laughing. 

“No, no, you asked for it,” he shakes his head. “Was that good enough?”

“Definitely,” you nod. 

“So, do I get to hear the story you were about to tell me, then?” He asks expectantly. 

“If you insist,” you tell him. “This was before the poop incident, by the way,” you preface. 

“Naturally,” he nods. 

Smirking, you start, “So, I was sort of a ringleader when I was really young, and one day, I led a group of local kids on a forest adventure.” 

“This can't be good,” he says, and you shake your head. 

“While we were in the woods, we came across some sort of nest.”

“No.” 

“Yes,” you nod, continuing, “So I poked around a bit, and I saw some babies, when suddenly, the animal it belonged to showed up.”

“Of course,” he said. 

“It was unhappy, and started hissing at us. So everyone wanted to run, and I reluctantly agreed, but not before it sprayed us.” 

“Don’t tell me it was-“ 

“A skunk? Yeah,” you confirm, “I was single-handedly responsible for about seven tomato soup baths across town.” 

He laughs, “So whoever made tomato soup was grateful to you too?” 

“Well, the family that sold the tomatoes was, but everyone who had to make the soup was really unhappy with me.” He laughs even harder at that, and you smile at the sound. 

“You know, I doubted you, but I’m starting to think your childhood stories are all charming and hilarious,” he admits. 

“Thank you!” Before you can say anything else, Darla shouts up from downstairs. 

“Your TV is broken!” 

“Hold on a sec,” you tell Finnick, then try to muffle the receiver. It hardly helps, he can hear your whole conversation. 

“So what?!” 

“Come fix it!” 

“Do it yourself!” 

“Hang up on your boyfriend and help me!” 

“No!” 

“Then come spend time with me!” You pause at that one. “Please?!” 

You bring the phone back to your ear and sigh, “I have to go, Darla needs me to fix the TV.” 

“Oh, so you’re a tech wiz too?” He teases you. 

“No, but I might be a babysitter,” you reply.

“You love her,” he corrects. 

You huff, "I do."

"Tell the kid I say hi," you smile at that.

“Will do,” you nod and go to put the phone down. The sound of your name stops you. 

“You know I’m gonna call you now, right?” He asks, and you grin a little. 

“Good.” 

“Good?” 

“Good,” you confirm, “I’ll be around.” 

“Not staring at the phone I hope,” he says. 

“No, I might be too busy tending to the diva,” you shrug. Darla validifies your statement when she shouts out asking you to make hot chocolate. 

“Good luck,” he offers, "I’ll let you leave before she gives you another bloody nose.” 

You chuckle, shaking your head, “Bye, Finnick.” He wishes you the same before you hang up. You sit there a moment longer. 

“Are you staring at the phone again?” Darla shouts. You roll your eyes, and start heading her way. 

“Just for that you’re not getting hot chocolate,” you taunt, and she complains. 

It’s nice to have friends. 

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

taglist: @emerald-09 @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @daixylie @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @fandomhopped @axelinchen

It is getting progressively harder to find good pictures to use for these.

Anyway, I didn't really edit this, but I hope you all enjoyed <3 also I might write something for Johanna soon because I love women - if you have any requests let me know ig?

[sweetlittlefawntears]

soft puppy ♱

au : sent to me by a lovely request ,, basically ellie is oblivious to ur crush on her so she flirts w other ppl cuz she doesn’t think u like her n then … u get the gist but read n find out hehe …

cw : fem reader x ellie williams , ellie is a smoker , fingering , reader is described as having long hair , international lowercase ! there is smut in this one !! smut w a plot ! also pet names ! not proofread sorry forgive me .

wc : 2.7k ♡

౨ৎ you worked at a small local coffee shop, with around three other workers who you periodically saw throughout the week. you didn’t care much for working, but you did like the pay. you were also grateful that since it was a small local shop, you didn’t have a uniform.

౨ৎ you never took much mind about your coworkers, they were a distraction, and besides, you were too busy with your mind on school and other silly things. that was, until you saw her.

౨ৎ she had short auburn hair, that she ruffled out of the way of her face as she used her slender fingers to tie half of it up into a ponytail. she had a slender but muscular figure, and lots and lots of tattoos. did i mention the most dreamy emerald eyes ever? you were totally, unbelievably in love with this woman.

౨ৎ when she came over to you and told you she’d be working in the coffee shop, you almost passed out. you were so happy that you could barely mutter an “okay” before you turned around and busied yourself with making a coffee for some woman at the front.

౨ৎ during your break, you went into the bathroom to look in the mirror and fix your hair. you started at your cute striped blue and white sweater and denim shorts, both of which you had thrifted and were actually quite proud of. the coffee shop got super cold really easily, so you were still a bit chilly as you turned the shiny tap on the sink to wash your hands.

౨ৎ you looked down at your shoes and socks. some old white shoes with white frilly socks. you looked back up at the mirror before applying some chapstick, and then someone walked in. it was her! the girl from before.

౨ৎ “hey, sorry. don’t mean to interrupt.” she says as she washes her hands in the sink. “uh. no problem.” you say, as you grab your bag and walk out of the restroom.

౨ৎ a few weeks had passed since that moment. you always watched ellie from afar, but whenever she came close it was like you were a babbling incoherent ball of nerves. it was so horrible, because you had never felt this way with a crush you had ever had before her.

౨ৎ you tried your best to stay calm, but unfortunately for you, you couldn’t talk to the girl without blushing profusely at her stupid three word sentences. you knew it was dumb, really, how childish you were acting. “god, why am i being so crazy? just talk to her!” you told yourself mentally.

౨ৎ you looked around for ellie, who you unfortunately spotted right next to a who you recognized. she was an extremely attractive girl named dina who you had worked with for a few months before ellie showed up. ellie was clearly having a very in depth conversation with her , as she was chatting animatedly to dina. you saw them and it made your heart ache, as you wished you could talk that easily to ellie.

౨ৎ ellie leaned in towards dina to tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear, and you felt your heart sink even more. “seriously, her?” you thought to yourself. sure, dina was pretty, but she could also be bitchy at point. you should know , you worked with her for almost a year. you tried to brush it off, but no matter how much you wanted, whenever ellie and dina talked it made you angry beyond belief. it was like nails on a chalkboard every time you overheard them talking.

౨ৎ you decide that it’s time to start getting close to ellie. you don’t want her to go off to some other girl without you ever even getting to meet her or see what goes on in that inevitably beautiful little mind of hers.

౨ৎ one night, after you and ellie are giving the task of closing up, you decide to make your move. you approach ellie as you and her walk out, and mutter a small “so, we haven’t really talked much even though we’ve been working together pretty long… seems about time we get to know each other, right?” you were so surprised how easily the words came off your tongue after about a month of just stuttering at her. you hear the words roll off your tongue like a stranger.

౨ৎ “hey, yeah. i’d love that.” ellie says as she pulls out a cigarette and a lighter. she lights the cigarette and puts it up to her mouth, taking a long inhale and exhaling the smoke, which floats away all pretty and swirly in the breeze. “sorry, did you want some?” ellie says , looking at you with that piercing gaze.

౨ৎ “oh, um, sure.” you weren’t a smoker by any means, but you weren’t exactly thinking in the situation. you inhaled the cigarette before exhaling and then coughing a bit. “god, that is nasty. how do you smoke that crap?” you say aloud before realizing . “haha, you know, i’m not sure. i just kinda… like it i guess.” she says as she exhales more gray whirls of smoke.

౨ৎ you couldn’t believe it. here you were, having an actual fucking conversation with this girl ellie .ellie williams. ellie sofuckinghot williams. you looked up at her . “so…i know we don’t know each other that well, but would you like to maybe go out sometime?” you say, smiling. again was that sensation that it wasn’t you talking. who was this new personality that inhabited your soul?

౨ৎ “oh, yeah! sure.” ellie says. she starts to walk to her car. “as friends, right? see you!” she says before hopping into her car, slamming the door and driving off. you stand there, mouth agape. what the fuck? that could not have been clearer that was a date. you stand there in disbelief before walking to your car and getting in. you mentally hit yourself in the head over and over. “cmon , seriously ellie? is she slow or something?” you think to yourself maybe she already has a girlfriend, but something told you she did not.

౨ৎ meanwhile, ellie mulls over the conversation in her bedroom, while polishing her guitar. “she didn’t mean like, a date right? no way. she couldn’t have…” she thinks to herself. “it’s better this way, that way i don’t actually think she likes me and make a fool out of myself. seriously…there’s no way that was a date right? i mean…just as friends…” she talks aloud to herself as her voice trails off. she sighs and rubs the bridge of her nose. “fuck…” she says aloud.

౨ৎ that night, for both of you, is filled with sighs from ellie and sobs from you into your pillow. goddamnit, if only the two of you could see!

౨ৎ the next day at work was a friday, and you decided to come in late. when you walk in, you see ellie. “fuck me.” you think to yourself. “of course she’s fucking here.” you work around her all day, not wanting to say another word to her.

౨ৎ ellie is completely oblivious to your upset feelings, and still thinks that there was no way a girl like you could want to ask a girl like her out on a date. there was just no way. she told herself that over and over throughout the entire day.

౨ৎ friday evening, you approach ellie, ready to give her a piece of your mind. “ellie, be truthful with me here. i don’t want to go out as just friends, so if that’s what you want, tell me. because i’m not looking at you as just a friend material.” ellie is shocked, in disbelief. “fuck, it was a date ?” she thinks to herself. “i- i just- it’s complicated a bit-” she stutters to you. “fine, ellie. i don’t have it in me to be rejected by you tonight. see you monday, i guess .” you start to walk away before you hear her voice call “wait!” you turn around as she says “come back, please..” you oblige, wanting to see what this will turn into.

౨ৎ she looks down at her beaten up converse. “how was i supposed to know that you like me…?” she says, still not able to meet your eyes. she wanted to blame you for this, because if she admitted to not knowing, it made her look like an idiot. “excuse me?” you say. “it was completely and blatantly obvious i had a crush on you. are you kidding me?” you say back. “okay, okay, listen. im sorry. just…can you please forgive me? i do like you. i want to get to know you better.” you blush as you look down at your hands . “yeah…i can.” you say. “let me take you home, please?” ellie says as she gestures to her car. this isn’t exactly how you’d imagined or even planned getting with ellie, but you wanted to see where this would go.

౨ৎ she holds the door open to the passenger seat for you and then gets in to drive you home. except, she definitely does not have any plan to take you back to your house. instead, she takes you back to her apartment. “do you maybe wanna… come in and hang out?” she rubs the back of her neck nervously. “yes…i do.” you say.

౨ৎ once you two are in her apartment, you look around at how she decorated the place. it’s very cozy, with posters and pictures all over the walls. it’s a new place, which looks very modern and nice. you feel safe there.

౨ৎ ellie puts a hand on the back of your neck before placing another one on the small of your back. “cmere, lemme kiss you?” before you could even respond, you find yourself in a passionate kiss as you grab the back of ellie’s neck, pulling her closer towards you. “needy already? alright, i can work with that.” she says, smiling at you.

౨ৎ soon you find yourself and ellie on the couch, with her on top of you, hands by each side of your head. ellie starts to slowly unbutton your shorts as you cup the side of her face, still leaning in towards the kiss. ellie slowly pulls the zipper from your shorts down. she looks at your underwear, white with hearts. if you had known that you would be doing this tonight, you would’ve worn something better. “cute…” she smiles to herself as she mutters under her breath. she slides your shorts down, still pursuing your lips in the steamy kiss.

౨ৎ her hands stroke down your abdomen as they end up at the waist of your underwear. “can i?” ellie asks, looking at you. “yes, please, do.” you say as you exhale heavily. ellie pulls your underwear and shorts down, tossing them to the side to worry about later. she looks down at you. “you’re really pretty, bun. you know that?” she says as she pulls you up a bit, changing positions so you are laying with your back to her chest as she places one firm hand on your waist.

౨ৎ her hand trails down, finding it’s way in between your legs. you feel her finger slide along your slick, before finding its way to the small bundle of nerves. she would never neglect your pearl. she traces small circles along the sensitive bud as she whispers into your ear . “shh, i got you. just relax.” she moves her finger slowly, and gently, which drives you insane. you let out small whimpers as she continues.

౨ৎ you softly grab her forearm as she moves her fingers further down. she quickly moves a finger inside you, feeling your gummy walls tighten beneath her. “ellieeee…” you moan out. “it’s okay, just tell me if it’s too much and i’ll stop.” she whispers into your ear. She moves her finger, hitting that spot in the back of you that made you moan out. without any warning she slides another finger inside you. she softly moves her fingers in and out, giving you just enough pressure and friction to feel amazing.

౨ৎ you whine softly as she continues to pound into you, going faster and rougher. she wanted to hear you beg and scream for it, but she didn’t know how much you could take . “cmon bun, lemme hear you.” she says as she moves her fingers outside of you again to tease your puffy clit. “ellie…please don’t stop.” you whimper, unable to say more. “that the best you got?” she says as she keeps trailing circles around your small bud. “thought i told you i wanted to hear you beg for it” you mutter something along the lines of begging, and that seemed to be good enough for ellie.

౨ৎ she moves her two fingers back inside you. she moves them into you for a few minutes while softly muttering praises into your ear . “you can cum whenever you want, pup .” she says, reaching up under your shirt to palm at your tit. you didn’t need her to say that twice, as it took only a few more seconds for you to finish all over her fingers.

౨ৎ she moves her fingers slowly as you cover her hand in milky white, she doesn’t waste a second bringing her fingers up to her mouth so she can taste you. she whispers in your ear. “you were so good for me…” she grabs your own panties from the couch and slides them back on you, muttering apologies as you winced from still being sensitive. “do you want to spend the night here?” she whispers softly to you. “yes…” you trail off.

౨ৎ she helps you get into bed, bringing you some water and then giving you one of her band tees to sleep in. You feel her come up behind you in her bed, wrapping her arms around your waist. she kisses the back of your neck before saying, “i hope we can do this again.” you mutter something like a goodnight to her, and then you’re out. It had been such a long day that you didn’t have any energy left in you.

౨ৎ the next day you wake up to ellie still sleeping next to you. “so, what are we gonna do today?” you ask her. “she gets up and smiles at you. “whatever you want, pretty girl.”

♡ OKAYYY that’s it for this fic i’m sorry it was better in my head n tbh like … this fic is lowkey really fucking bad um ,, i feel like i didn’t do as good of a job writing the smut as i wanted hopefully u guys like it ahahahahshsh ,,, i have some more ideas i think u guys will like better but i’m rushed to put out smut on this account to keep it growing ,, okay that’s it i love you all ! ♡

[justaz]

merlin who stands against the wall while uther reprimands arthur, who stands behind arthur at dinners where uther’s disapproval and disappointment is apparent, who has been there when arthur is quiet and despondent after private meetings with his father, who has watched for years the sting of uther’s words and sometimes hands against his own son, who has bit his tongue and followed arthur with gentle hands and softer words as he puts the pieces back together of the man he knows and loves.

merlin watching uther lose his temper over arthur going against him for their people and watching arthur crawl into himself and shove his feelings down to be the emotionless prince his father expects of him. once uther’s rage has quelled somewhat, he dismisses arthur without another look and arthur leaves, his back ramrod straight and his chin held high despite the glazed look in his eyes, his last shot at keeping his composure. and merlin breaks, he glares at uther and waits until the doors shut to speak, in case arthur was close enough to hear.

merlin rants and raves at uther, calls him out on his bs, and tells him to be there for his son. ofc uther isn’t having any of it and yells back at merlin but merlin isn’t deterred and keeps going on and on about how much of a disappointment uther is as a father and how much better arthur deserves. uther steps in close and raises his hand as if to backhand merlin but he doesn’t. the two stare at each other, heated glare meeting heated glare, and finally uther mutters that he should have merlin flogged for speaking like that to him. merlin doesn’t waver as he welcomes uther too but he couldn’t just stand by and watch uther tear arthur apart anymore.

uther slowly lowers his hand and turns his back on merlin but he hasn’t given in to merlin’s argument so he switches tactics. he asks how uther expects arthur to be the sure, determined, and just king he is meant to be if uther won’t let him grow into his power and autonomy, let him learn his lessons and apply them as king. uther finally lowers his shoulders at merlin’s argument which just irks him more as uther clearly cares more for arthur as a future king rather than a son but he doesn’t point that out.

uther turns to stare at merlin and asks if he really just disrespected the king so horribly just for arthur, merlin nods once without hesitation and echoes “for arthur”. uther’s lips twitch despite himself and he nods and says how he is glad arthur has someone like merlin looking out for him. merlin tests his luck once more and responds that arthur could have more than just him, he could have a dad, not just a father.

merlin watches as arthur reports back to his father the next week about an expedition they had gone on to protect one of camelot’s outlying villages from raiders and uther grins wide and pulls arthur into an awkward side hug that’s more a complicated pat on his shoulder but at least it’s something. uther says openly how he’s proud and that camelot should feel lucky to have a prince who is looking out for her.

arthur is stunned and manages a slight bow to his father as he leaves (merlin and uther exchanging a glance and nod as he passes). merlin watches arthur as the room empties and a wide, proud smile stretches across his face. merlin feels warm and fuzzy at the sight and chuckles as arthur spins and pulls merlin into a similar side hug while laughing loudly. the two of them have the most fun that day, spending the rest of the daylight goofing off and running around with no particular goal in mind other than enjoying the day. it’s the happiest merlin has seen arthur be for such a long period of time.

[skipppppy]

CARMEN SANDIEGO CHARACTERS + MOVIES

Boo I felt like making headcanons again bc I spend more time wondering what these assholes do in their free time than I do on my job

CARMEN

Didn’t have access to movies growing up so Player, Zack, and Ivy have been catching her up on the most popular ones

HORRIBLE to watch with. Doesn’t really understand “suspension of disbelief” as a concept and will ask stupid questions the whole time. Player almost ended their friendship because she nitpicked Lord of the Rings for being “unrealistic”

Enjoys low stakes 2000s girl chick flicks like mean girls and legally blonde. She has enough stress in her life man she just wants to relax

HATES heist movies because of how innacurate they are. Team Red has taken to watching them JUST to hear her pick them apart

PLAYER

Sci-fi/fantasy junkie. Anything and everything that has aliens/magic and shitty practical effects from the 80’s/90’s he is all over

Has never said a single kind thing about the Star Wars franchise in his life. They are his favourite movies of all time

ADORES Edgar Wright and has slowly been converting Team Red to his movies. Zack loved Baby Driver. Ivy loved Shaun of the Dead. Shadowsan loved Hot Fuzz. He considers Scott Pilgrim the pinnacle of Canadian cinema

Cannot STAND the amount of remakes happening in Hollywood recently

ZACK

Canon enjoyer of blockbuster action movies. Everyone dreads the nights when he gets to choose a film bc his taste is so generic

Does not know what the Snyder cut is. Thank god

His only redeeming quality is a love of early dreamworks. Will not stop quoting Madnagascar

Has seen every Marvel movie and thinks all of them are good. Player has BEGGED him to watch better movies but he won’t. He’s the type to rag on Scorsese for being “boring”

Has seen Kevin Feige’s extended filmography. Does not know who that man is

IVY

Horror fanatic

Banned from choosing movies for film night after convincing them to watch her “favourite lesbian romcom” with her. That lesbian romcom was Saw

Ellen Ripley was not only her personal hero but also her gay awakening. The Xenomorph queen was her second gay awakening

Also loves period dramas. Enjoys the tiddies and knows she would look SO good in those fancy waistcoats the men wear

Watches old slashers with Carmen and laugh whenever someone dies in a stupid way

SHADOWSAN

Faculty considered movies “low brow” entertainment so he hasn’t seen a movie made before the year 2000

Loves a good mob flick. Got into Scorsese specifically because Zack hated him. Goodfellas is his favourite

Everyone assumes he enjoys samurai movies but he actually HATES them. Hideo would ramble about historical inaccuracies the whole way through and he’s still bored just thinking about it

Used to love Yakuza films back in the day but they were soured for him after actually living as one

Loved Knives Out, found Daniel Craig VERY attractive, and has since fallen down the James Bond rabbit hole

CHASE

The most pretentious film hack you’ve ever met in your life. He is taking you to a back alley screening of some arthouse eastern european gay porn on a first date and it will be the most profound thing you’ve ever seen in your life

Detective noir movies and cheesy black and white romances are his favourites. He likes falling asleep to them

He and Player both appreciate animation as a form of cinema, but while Player is referring to like. the Mario movie, Chase is talking about some 3 minute Russian stopmotion surrealist piece from 1951. He attends Annecy every year and has been banned from the Oscars due to threats of violence

He likes Poirot tho. Transmasc king

JULIA

If she has a few hours to herself she’d rather watch a documentary than go to a movie theatre, but she loves historical dramas

Enjoys biopics but thinks it’s stupid to make them for people who are alive

Likes watching movies for the sake of trash talking them, so she is the only person who can tolerate sitting through one with Carmen

LOVES Wes Anderson though. Chase got her into his stuff and the symmetry scratches an itch in her brain. But don’t tell him that

Also enjoys period dramas for the tiddies

CHIEF

Shitty cop movie enjoyer. The kind of person who insists that Die Hard is her favourite christmas movie

LOVES heist movies because of how inaccurate they are. Will mentally nitpick whatever secret service is going after them and be like “ACME wouldn’t do that lol”

She’s semi aware that she’s the antoagonist in Carmen’s own heist narrative so she’s started having fun with it

Closet lover of b-tier comedy movies. Like the ones with Adam Sandler and Kevin Hart on the cover

Does not enjoy watching movies socially. That is quality time for her and her cat. She does not have to shush Commander

[bballlvr8]

Geno Media Availability Summary

- Paige and the spotlight: There has been a lot of attention since highschool, she tries her best to not let it be as much of a burden as it can be. Willigness to accept the responsibility. She more concerned about what she has to do for our team and how she can help our team reach their goals. Going to get both Positive and Negative spotlight.

- Says that they are going to be asking alot of her because the team is so young, says that because they are playing with a lot of young players paige wants to be on the court at all times. Geno said he cant afford to have her on the court at all times lmao.

- How do the players benefit from having Paige? By having a safety net, (team had a scrimmage amongst themselves and they scored five or six buckets and paige didn’t score any. Geno said that was a really good sign) said the team needs to stop looking at her to always “score”, but down the stretch thats what it will probably come too

- Hoping they start to find their identity by the end of november. Said that the freshman class was really good, not as good as aaliyah and paige were in april. Will be a different team out on the floor, because they have different pieces to work with.

- Geno on Sarah Strong: Off the court very intorverted and shy, very studios. Started out in Sept/early october the same way on the court but the last two weeks there has been a more Sarah basletball player that got her all those awards. Probably as impressive as any freshman they’ve had. Surprises him everyday. Role is everytime she gets the ball she needs to make a play. Lot to put on a freshman, but they put that responsibility on Paige, so its something they’ve done before. Said that when recruiting sarah he felt that if they got her, she would change the trajectory of their program. Four year being able to close the gap for four years in a row.

- Paige can do so much for a team, having her on your team automatically makes you a contender. Paige is someone everyone wants to watch. Wished she had an older more experienced group to play with.

- Right now doesn’t have everyone back, azzi not full time, caroline nor aubrey is back. Yanna is on hold. Have 9 players who can all contribute, they have to find out how to contribute when paige is not on the floor. Feels like KK and Kaitlyn can help with that. Said that its really important they get Azzi back because azzi can take on that role when paige is not on the floor. Said Azzi was unbeliveably dominant (before being injured) when paige got hurt then vice versa. Wants to see if they can do it together (thinks they will) but its a comfort level that they could remove one and production level not dip.

- Paige feels a sense of urgency, doing things in practice that hasn’t happened in the three years shes played. As the weeks go on the younger players will catch up to that level of urgency which will either scare them or motivate them. Confidence with having someone like Paige on the floor.

- Loves Kaitlyn, shes an unbelievable competitor, tough physically and mentally. Has an aggressive mentality, use to winning. She’s in a transition period right now.. coming from princeton but shes more open now than she has been and you can see the difference in the team. She doesn’t mind being coached, takes full responsibility, does everything at game pace.

- KK is KK, injury is not going to be long. Yanna slammed her shoulder into someone else.

[five-rivers]

Cracked Clay Cup Chapter 4

Phic Phight Phic! @greatbigolhampuckjustforme

“Ughh,” said Danny, falling onto Clockwork’s couch.  

Yes.  Danny.  Despite Jazz lying to him a lot, the name had grown on him.  She wasn’t bad.  Just.  Bad at lying.  And sort of… constantly suspicious.  And definitely not his mother.  He was pretty sure she cared about him.  No one who didn’t care about him would push schoolwork that hard.  

Unless she’d been trying to harvest his brain.  

Yeah, he’d sort of decided that wasn’t what was going on by the end of the second day.  It was still kind of fun to say.  Jazz’s face had made some very funny movements when he brought it up.  It was kind of… endearing.  Yeah.  

“Hello, Daniel,” said Clockwork.  “I take it you had a good time with Miss Jasmine.”

“It was… A time.  I think she did know me before.  She had a lot of funny stories from when I was a kid.  And she had a really nice bedroom for me.  They do their own decorating, right?”

“They acquired and furnished the homes you will be staying in from their own resources, but they may have hired decorators.”

“Okay.  She had very strong opinions about schoolwork.”

“You will find that many of your potential guardians have strong feelings regarding your education.”

“Great,” said Danny.  He rubbed his face.  “Now what?  Do I just jump right into the next one, or do I get, like, a grace period or something?”

“You can take as long to recover from your experience as you’d like.”  He sounded amused.  “You don’t need to push yourself.”

“Mhm,” said Danny.  He stared up at the ceiling.  “Can I see the list again?”

Clockwork set the folder gently down on his lap.  

“Thanks,” said Danny, opening the folder.  “I was thinking about going to the other extreme this time around.  The oldest.  Which page are they?”

“Green,” said Clockwork.  

Danny looked up.  Clockwork’s tone had seemed… off.  But his expression wasn’t any different.  What Danny could see of it, anyway.  He’d turned slightly away, so he only saw the edge of his face.  

He looked back at the manilla folder and the green piece of paper.  

“So,” he said, “ do you know this… Oculus and Orbis?  Those are kind of weird names.  Maybe not too weird for ghosts, though.  Oculus and Orbis.  Eye… and also eye.  Wow.  Wonder if I’m going from someone who wants to steal my brains to someone who wants to steal my eyes.”

“They won’t try to steal your eyes.”

That sounded unconvincing in the extreme.  

“Are you sure?”

“Relatively so.”  That actually sounded rather threatening.  Danny gave him another look, but, again, he seemed fine.  Mostly fine.  

“So…  Married couple.  That’s different.  Maybe they’ll be more like grandparents?  Interests… Coloring.  I guess they mean, like, adult coloring books?  That’s pretty cool, I didn’t mind drawing at Jazz’s.  Watching…  I think they must have left something off here, it just says watching.  Watching… Sunsets?  TV?  Movies?”

“You will have to wait and see,” said Clockwork as he adjusted a painting on the wall.  It was of something generic and pastoral, but it was nice.  

“And… ew.  Astrology.  Do they really like astrology?”

“I can only refer you back to the information sheet.”

“Okay,” said Danny.  “Fortune telling isn’t real, right?”

“It depends on your point of view.”

“You can time travel, right?”

“That is within my powerset, yes.”

“Huh,” said Danny.  “So, you could see the future.”

“I could,” said Clockwork.  “To some degree.”

“So, you already know who I will pick.”

“Not exactly,” said Clockwork.  “Time follows a somewhat more complicated path than that of an arrow.”

“An arrow’s path doesn’t have to be simple, anyway.  It bends, because of gravity.  Unless you’re in space.”

“Indeed.  Have you eaten dinner?”

“Not yet,” said Danny.  “But shouldn’t you already know that?”

“It is polite to ask.”

.

Danny laid awake in bed.  He missed the stars in the bedroom he had at Jazz’s.  The blankets were comfier here, though.  And there were more pillows.  Tradeoffs.  He still hadn’t asked Clockwork if he’d done his own decorating.  

Yeah.  It wasn’t at all bad here.  But he wondered if he had, maybe, acted too quickly with leaving Jazz.  

It was a little too late to doubt his decision, though.  He couldn't undo it.  Not without Clockwork cooperating.  He didn't really want to undo it, anyway.  There were all the other people to visit and figure out and whatever.  

Hopefully, by the end, he'd be able to figure out enough to understand himself. 

He held his hand up over his head, fingers splayed, and tried to reach for the spark of transformation that Jazz swore up and down existed.  Nothing happened.

He sighed and rolled over in bed.  He'd think about it in the morning.  Or never.  Never sounded good. 

.

Danny bounced down the stairs two at a time.  “Breakfast?” he asked, hopefully.  

“Potatoes o'brien with gravy and eggs,” said Clockwork.  “I must confess, I’m surprised you aren’t flying down the stairs.”

“Haven’t really figured it out properly yet,” said Danny, throwing himself into a chair.  “I kept trying at Jazz’s, but I kept running into the walls and ceiling and stuff.  And where would I fly to, anyway?”

“I see,” said Clockwork, sounding vaguely amused.  

“Not what you expected of me, huh?”

“Not particularly.”

“Well, that’s just what happens when you erase someone’s memory and throw them into weird situations with redheads that are a little too obsessed with brain surgery.”

Clockwork’s answering hum was definitely amused.

“Would you like juice with your breakfast?”

“Do you have hot chocolate?” asked Danny.  “With whipped cream?”

“I do,” said Clockwork.  “Would you like some?”

“Please.”

Clockwork pulled an enameled teakettle from one of the cabinets and set it on the stovetop.  The enamel was purple, of course.  

“Are you still set on visiting Oculus and Orbis next?”

“I mean, I’d have to visit them eventually, anyway, right?  That’s the rule, isn’t it?”

“Technically speaking, no.  If you feel a strong enough connection with one of the candidates, you can forgo meeting the rest of them.”

“Wow,” said Danny.  “You really don’t like them.”

“I do not want my feelings to influence you.”

“That’s not a denial.”

Clockwork set the plate down in front of Danny.  “I do not want my feelings to influence you, negative or positive.”

“Sure,” said Danny.  He started to shove food in his mouth.  “So, Jazz told me something weird when I was over there.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.  Something about me being half ghost.”

“Ah, yes.”

“Yes?  Yes?  You mean that’s a real thing?”

“To some degree, yes,” said Clockwork.

“What does that mean?”

“You have a variety of extremely rare abilities,” said Clockwork.  “Whether those are the results of being half ghost, part human, a superb but singular transformation ability, or something else… That is a matter for debate.”

“Okay, so, transformation.  How?”

“Alas, for all that I can see, I cannot see into your mind.  I do not know how your transformations felt to you, nor how you accomplished them.”

“Oh,” said Danny, pushing around a stray piece of egg on his plate.  That was unhelpful, but he supposed it made sense.  “There’s not anything going on like, um, you’re keeping me from transforming on purpose?  Like how you said you’ve changed my appearance.”

“No,” said Clockwork.  

“Okay,” said Danny.  He scraped together the last of the potatoes.  “I’m going to go get ready before I go.  I’m still going to Oculus and Orbis.”

“Mm,” said Clockwork.  

Yeah, Danny could definitely tell Clockwork didn’t like those two.  This would probably be short, compared to his stay with Jazz.  He went upstairs and brushed his teeth before changing.  Jazz had gotten on his case about that more than once.  

What to wear today… hm…  He flipped through his closet.  Hm.  How about the skirt…  It was a nice silvery green.  And what to go on top?  That jacket was about the same length as the shirt.  And, hm, he didn’t feel like going pants-less… Or stockings.  Maybe capris?  He could do capris.  Those were cool.  Then he could show off the socks Jazz had given him.  

Were those here?  He looked through the sock drawer.  They were.  Huh.  

He really wished Jazz had been honest with him.  He really did.  And maybe a little bit less crazy about school.  Because he was absolutely sure that what she’d had him doing was over and above what schools would do.  

He pulled on his solar system socks.  

Okay.  He was ready.  

He went downstairs.  “I’m ready.”

“I see that,” said Clockwork.  “Your socks are very nice.”

“Oh, thanks!”  

Clockwork tilted his staff to the side and a portal formed.  “As before, press the button when you are ready to return.”

Danny nodded and stepped through.  Once the blue rush of the portal cleared from his ears and eyes, he found himself in a massive marble foyer.  Circular decorations in black and gold were inset in the stone.  Waiting in the center, holding on to each other’s elbows, were the strangest couple Danny had ever seen.  

Well, they were the only couple Danny had ever seen.  They were tall, robed in rich fabrics trimmed in gold and black.  Their skin was a textured, vivid green, and they were totally bald.  Well.  They were wearing wigs, but they were very obviously wigs.  One wig was blonde and long, the other was silver and short.  Both of them covered their eyes.  One was also wearing a long skirt and delicate jewelry.  The other wore bulky jewelry, gloves, and some sort of black sheath over its tail.  

“Phantom,” they said, simultaneously, spreading their arms wide. 

“My dear,” said the one in the skirt in a surprisingly high-pitched voice, “it is so good to see you again.”

“You haven’t had any problems with the riff-raff harassing us with this ludicrous custody dispute, have you, son?” asked the other, in a surprisingly low-pitched voice.  

“No?” said Danny, dodging a hug.  “I haven’t had any trouble.”

“Excellent news!  But now you’re back with us,” said the deep-voiced and vaguely masculine one.  “So you don’t need to worry about it anymore.  All our worries are over.  From now on, we have all our days ahead of us, full of joy and light!”

Danny… was pretty sure that last sentence didn’t make sense.  

“Yes, yes,” said the higher-pitched one.  “We will care for you now and forever.  Your days will be filled with the luxury you so richly deserve.”

“Luxury, huh?”

“Of course, love,” said the high-pitched one.  “Luxury, beyond the dreams of the masses.  Not your dreams, of course.”

“Um,” said Danny.  

“The best foods, the best clothes, the best games–  Everything those other fools would deny you!”

Danny had the distinct sense he was being bribed.  

“Okay,” he said, “but, um, what are your names?”

They looked at each other.  “I am Oculus,” said the low-pitched one.  

“I am Orbis,” said the high-pitched one.  

“Right,” said Danny.  “And who is Phantom?  Is that some kind of ghost pet name?”

“It is your name,” said Orbis.  

“Oh,” said Danny.

“Did Clockwork not tell you?”

“He told me my name is Daniel.”

“Hm,” said Orbis.  

“Hm,” said Oculus.  “Be that as it may, your name is most certainly Phantom.  You have no other.”

Yeah.  Danny wasn’t buying that.  

“Okay,” he said, out loud.  “So, um, how do I know you guys?”

“Well,” said Orbis, sniffing slightly, “we rescued you from those awful ghost hunters, didn’t we?  They treated you so terribly, we couldn’t help but intervene, and then, well, we fell in love with you.  Who couldn’t?”  They started laughing.  The laughter went on for… a while.  

Danny smiled tightly and nodded.  

“But enough of that!” said Oculus.  “We must give you the grand tour!  Show you all the things that are now, and will forever be, yours!”

What followed was a lengthy hike through an absolutely enormous, almost castle-like mansion.  There was so much stuff.  So many things.  Toys, furniture, games, computers, decorations, flowers, perfumes, food.  It was dizzying.  

“And,” said Oculus, gesturing grandly at a set of rooms larger than Jazz’s entire place, “these are your rooms!  There’s an ensuite - with a pool of course - and your favorite video games, and we can’t forget your mini-kitchen, completely stocked–”

Danny sort of tuned them out as they went down the list of things in the rooms, eyes sliding over various accouterments and accommodations.  It was all very nice.  But it was also, somehow, empty.  

Well, the stuff was cool.  He didn’t understand what was going on with the people, but… He could stay here a few days.  

.

Danny wandered the frankly enormous house, looking for his supposed guardians.  He was pretty sure it was in the middle of afternoon, and he had yet to see them.  This, he thought, was not conducive to actually getting to know them.  

So, he was searching as methodically as he could, given the nonsensical layout.  There was a swimming pool in the middle of a ring of kitchens, for goodness sake.  There was a library in the basement.  

But finally, he did it.  

“Uh,” said Danny.  He was pretty sure this one was Orbis.  Long haired wig, light jewelry.  Yep.  “Orbis?”

They didn’t turn around.  

“Orbis?” he repeated.  He came close me.  “Excuse me?  Orbis?”  He tapped their shoulder.  They jumped about a foot.  

“Goodness, child!  Why didn’t you say something if you wanted my attention.”

“I… did,” said Danny.  “Are you not Orbis?”

“I,” said the ghost.  “Yes.”

The other ghost glided into the room.  “Did I hear someone calling me?” they asked.  They were dressed identically to the first.  

Danny looked between the two of them as they started gesturing emphatically at each other.  He knew that ghosts could be weird, and there were a number of different lifestyles that could result in… whatever this was… but he sort of didn’t think that was what was going on.  Actually, he didn’t–  Were these ghosts shorter than they were yesterday?  He hadn’t been paying all that much attention to their dimensions…

The gesture battle they were having, as if they thought he couldn’t see them, was definitely suspicious.  Was there a ghost version of sign language?

Yeah, this was escalating.  He edged closer to the arguing ghosts.  He was about to do something that could be considered socially crass, but…

His hand flashed out and grabbed the wig of the nearest ghost.  He pulled it loose.

Without the wig, the ghost was completely bald.  They were also obviously one-eyed.  They turned to stare at him, that one, huge, eye wide and alarmed.  

Now, Danny didn’t remember all that much, but he knew who the Observants were.  

“Yeah,” he said, grabbing the pocketwatch.  “I’m out.”

[persephone11110]

Red Wave

Jake Seresin x Reader

Warnings: periods, blood—period accidents, past abusive relationship—asshole ex byf, relationship fluff, soft jake seresin,cuddling, hurt/comfort,curse words

Summary: Your period would come the night you spend the night at your boyfriend Jake’s house.

AN: random fic, the result of me enduring period pain. this fic was created a month ago— my coming back fic Enjoy❤️

—

It wasn’t uncommon for you to ignore the pain that settled at the bottom of your stomach. Unfortunately you’ve gotten accustomed to the pain—the way it rattles through your stomach, reminding you it still there. Had you banged in sick today you wouldn’t been at work today much less Jake’s apartment.

Not because you don’t want the share the same space as him but because what if he’s digusted by you?

What if Jake decides he doesn’t want you sleeping in the same bed as him and makes you pick between the cold floor or your car?— Patrick made you do that every single month.

—

Not many people think a big muscular man with asshole tendencies like Jake would enjoy spooning in bed. Only person who got the courtesy to enjoy was you— the only other person who had the right to see Jake Seresin and not the brash Hangman.

You.

His face is pushed against your back, his warm hands roaming around your cold stomach. Jake can’t and will never get used to this. The emotional feeling of having someone love him even when he still thinks he’s unworthy of love, the physical feeling of her touch.

At first his eyes are too busy roaming your sleeping body. The way your feet curl up because your too stubborn to admit the fact that you indeed are cold blooded. “Ice Queen”.

Jake’s pulling the blanket up when something wets touches his hand. He can’t just roll over and ignore it, he lets go of you and reaches for his phone.

The bright light shines onto the silk sheet it revealing a dark red stain.

Oh.

This isn’t rocket science, Jake Seresin has been with plenty of women—and he’s spent the last two years with you.

“Doll wake up”. Jake whispers, gently rubbing his fingers onto your back-attempting to wake you up. Jake smiles when he sees your eyebrows perk up— in dissatisfaction.“C’mon Y/n, all I need is a couple of minutes”. He fingers gently graze ovee your face— moving pieces of hair outta of your eyes.

Jake watches as your eyes finally open.You caught the time of the clock 0200— Why Is Jake up so early?, Is there an emergency?

“Jake?”, your voice is filled with worry-“Whats wrong?”.

“Nothing serious honey”Jake’s quick to reassure you.

If its nothing serious then why did he—

Thats when you feel it— and you easily identify the wetness that currently in between your legs.

Shit.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry Jake” you sniffed—you jumped out of bed—grabbing the already bloody sheet and wrapping it around you. Out of the corner of your blurry eyes, you notice how badly you bled all over the sheets.

“I-I’m sorry Patrick I-I didn’t mean to at all, you have to believe me”, your lips quivered with fear. you remember what happened last time, and the time before that.

“What the fuck is wrong with you Y/n!” Patrick angered stance reminded you of an angry animated character. Fumes running out of his ears and nose—face beat red.

All you can remember is him gripping your wrist. Next thing you knew your were on the ground holding your left cheek.

“You never fucking learn Y/n“Patricks right… you never really did learn.

You can’t count how many times you’ve stood against the shower wall staring at your own blood swirling into the drain.

“Y/n?” your vision is still to blurry to see who’s infront of you. Someones hands are gently tugging at you,“C’mere darling”.

His slips in behind you ignoring the high pressured water. He could care less about his damp clothes, Jake only cared about you.

“I’m so sorry—I’m so sorry” you kept muttering over and over again as you buried your face into Jake’s chest. “Please dont”.

Jake hates how small your voice sounds—he hates how much fear is rolling off of you.

“its okay…its okay” Jake kept whispering into your ear. “Sweetheart I’m not going to hurt you, you know that right?”, he slowly adds—Jakes unsure of how to begin.

How many times did Patrick say that to you?—how many times did he really mean it?

Jakes not Patrick.

“Yeah”, you whispered into his chest. A brief silence is followed before you break it again.“I’ll clean it up you know”.

“Doll”, hes paused his kissing,“If blood scared me I would’ve never joined any sport teams, much less became an aviator”. He presses a kiss into your shoulder—, his voice is so firm and confident.

“Thank you Jake” tears drip down your face.

“Y/n theres no reason for you to be thanking me for the bare minimum”. Water splashes as he moves around to get to your face.“Doll you need them its no different from when I buy you black coffee or how I make you eggs bloody with ketchup”

Tears started to well in your eyes“Awe, Jake thats so sweet”, your hormones are all over the place—“I love being in love with the sweetest man on earth”.

You don’t have to open your eyes to see how red your boyfriend face is–you chuckled lightly at his appearance.

“Whats so funny Doll?” He’s smiling into your head.

“Nothing, i love you”. You insisted cheekily as giggles leave your mouth. “So much”.

[xxxninjaxxx23]

You brought the light I needed in my life

Part 3

Sam is struggling with her inner demons and tries to fight what she feels for Y/N. After an heated moment at the gym, Tara must step in and clean up her mess of a sister.

(Later that week)

(Tara’s pov) Well my hopes of getting Sam to talk to me about that night just went out the window. Almost a week has passed and I haven’t seen or heard from Y/N ever since that day I met them. When I asked Sam about it, she always said “It’s fine Tara, you have nothing to worry about.” Or “I’m ok Tara, I just needed some time to think.” She doesn’t even talk about Y/N period. Whenever we go eat with the others,she’d shoot a glare at us if we try to bring it up.

Anyways I got fed up and didn’t want to be around Sam today so I left and went to meet Anika in film class. When I got there and we shared a hug, we talked about our subjects and daily life issues, mine regarding Sam

“And she seems to be getting worse by the minute. Keeping herself locked in her room and won’t even say what’s going on with her or Y/N.” Anika took a sip of her drink

“Look, I get you’re trying to help and all but Tara, do you think you should be sticking your nose into someone else’s business even if they don’t want to talk about it? That’s so not cool.”

I rolled my eyes “Oh sure genius, I would leave her alone if she wasn’t keeping me up the last few nights with her crying. God she sounds like a humpback whale when she cries.” Anika nearly choked on her drink when she heard that. I patted her back as she started snickering

“That is so mean and funny at the same time. Tara carpenter, the all time savage when she needs to be.”

I shook my head “I don’t know what to do Ani. I can’t just leave her like this, even if it’s not my concern.” Anika nodded “Maybe just maybe. Sam will come around when she’s ready to talk, as for your ears. I have professional grade earplugs if you need them.”

I pull out my phone and check for texts “Ok, I might have to take those by tonight.” I said.

Meanwhile Samantha laid on her bed, hand clutched to her stomach as a result from the constant drinking.

(Sam’s pov) So I got a call from my boss saying that a new employee was currently in training and needed to be put on my shift for today but I will still be compensated for my hard work and able to go back tomorrow (hence why I love this job) only problem is, my stomachs been angry with me lately. What with all the drinking and the stress of avoiding Y/N, also Tara who won’t shut up about it.

I managed to climb out of bed and take a ginger ale candy before sitting on the couch watching a movie that Tara left on stream. ‘Sigh’ “And she used my credit card to buy the ultra high definition! Figures.” I wrote the amount on a piece of paper to tab that out of Tara’s pay later on.

While watching the movie, I got a few texts from Tara and….Y/N which I picked up and just sent a small text

“I’m fine, just watching a little tv.”

“ ‘Sigh’ no point in sitting here all day” I said, going to make breakfast before I hit the gym today. ‘Pretty much all I do, well before Y/N tried to crawl their way into my fucked up life. Honestly I’m doing them a favor no matter how I really feel.

(After breakfast)

After I ate, I sat down for about an hour, watching another one of Tara’s shows. I tripped over one of her shoes the last time Y/N was here. At first they thought I had a kid or another little baby sibling with me.

When I told them no and asked why, they said it was because of the “kids” size shoe I tripped over. I had a field day with that, telling them that it’s just Tara’s shoe and to never say that around her. It didn’t end well for me when I did that, she’s got teeth as sharp as a piranha.

(One hour later)

“Ok…I guess it’s time to hit the gym.” I put on my jacket and head out. The gym is one building away from my place and I could use the walk. I spoke too soon when an empty cup got thrown at me by a passing car halfway there.

“Yup like I said, I’m doing Y/N a favor.” I shook my head and kept my pace, going to the gym.

I set my bag and towel in my assigned locker then went to go for a run on the treadmill. I looked around the place a bit as I ran in place ‘good thing the gym isn’t too packed today’ I put my AirPods in my ears.

(Later)

After my run, I move over to the dumbbells and began lifting my usual weights (readers choice lol) I did a good amount of reps before moving onto the bench press. I decide to kick it up a notch and upgrade to the heavier weights than my usual.

I took the barbell off its stand and started my reps. I got off to a good start, what with the headphones blocking out small sounds or any creep trying to hit on me. I made it very clear that I’m uninterested in their company or conversations.

As I was in the zone, I spotted a familiar figure to my left, lifting dumbbells ‘no…no, it can’t be! Is that?’ I didn’t get a clear look as I lost my concentration, dropping the barbell on my chest “OW! Fuck!!!”

The figure, dropped their weights and went over to get the barbell of my chest “You ok Ma’am?” I nod and look up only to see they recognized me “Sam?! Omg this is a pleasant surprise.” I smiled sheepishly “heh heh. Yeah it sure is.”

After Y/N helped me, I decided to take a break and have a snack. Unfortunately they sat down next to me ‘Jesus Y/N. Why can’t you leave me alone?’ But I put on a smile and offered a protein bar and water for them. “So….fancy seeing you here” Y/N said. I scoffed a bit “I always come to this gym. What’s it to you?”

Y/N playfully put their hands up in surrender “Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it. Im just surprised I came to your rescue.”

“I could have gotten that off myself. I didn’t need your help.”

Y/N was a bit taken back by my blunt words “Sorry. I’ll um….stand back and let you do it next time?”

I felt my heart beat at a quick pace when that warm feeling came back to me. But before I could process my feelings to Y/N, I saw my father sitting beside them, grinning and making a knife gesture “Christ almighty why can’t you leave me the fuck alone!”

(Y/n’s pov) if I thought the last words were harsh, I’m surely mistaken. “Sam please-“ then she went off again “Everywhere I go, you’re there just watching me! Trying to hover over me when I don’t want you to!” I was a bit confused “Sam what? You were the one who approached-“

“Shut up just shut the hell up for one fucking second! I….can’t even live a good life with you always there in my shadow just breathing In my damn presence, wasting my own breath and energy talking to you!” I felt my heart tear up a bit but before I could speak again, Sam went for the kill

“You….useless….sack of SHIT! You and your little legacy, everything! I hate it all I just can’t…..I hate you. I HATE YOU!!!!! If you’re done sitting there you can “kindly” get out of my sight, get out of my life completely, before I do something I won’t regret!” My heart was now shattered into pieces completely and Sam just tossed the remains in the trash can.

I felt a bit of anger rise up in me. Nodding “I get it Sam. I get the message loud and clear that I’m not wanted anymore. Thank you so much for yelling at me just to drive home the point!” I got up and tossed my snack in the trash can “Well fuck you then! Have a nice life Sam.” I stormed out of the break room, slamming the door.

(Sam’s pov) I flinched. In all my yelling at Billy, I completely forgot Y/N was still sitting there in the crossfire. I quickly got up and bolted for the door “Y/N wait!” As I was running I felt my ankle catch on one of the bleachers legs, spraining it.

Shaking the pain off, I limped towards the door “Y/N wait! Hold on!! As I opened the door, I saw them already walking out the front entrance. “Y/N! P-please.” They turned around to look at me one last time but I couldn’t bring myself to speak which they sighed and closed the door.

I dropped to my knees, staring at the wall ‘What have I done….’

(Outside)

I needed my place of comfort right now. I promised Tara I wouldn’t do it again but I’m really desperate at this point. I put on my jacket and helmet, then started up my motorcycle. Tara gave me a speaker for my birthday and attached it to the motorcycle. Might as well put it to some use. I hit shuffle and let it play from there as I tore down the road.

(Later that night)

(Tara’s pov) “Damn it no! How did you get past me!” I gripped the switch controller a bit. Chad chuckled, taking a sip of water “Sorry guys, I don’t know why I’m so good at this game.”

“Mario kart 8 is fun but it hurts my fingers” Anika said. “Um babe you know there’s an auto drive setting you can set up.” Mindy said.

I shook my head “And where’s the fun in that? I think the regular mode is good on your fingers. Makes it feel like your pressing down on the gas pedal in real life.”

Anika started selecting another level “Hey maybe that’s how Chad beat you T. As far as I can see, his thumbs aren’t red like yours. Ouch.”

Tara grumbled, fishing money out of her wallet to give to Chad for winning. “Wow you’re betting money from your girlfriend on Mario kart? That’s low, even for you peabrain.” Mindy said.

Chad whipped around, slightly embarrassed “Hey we both agreed on it right Tara!” I nodded “See? Plus I promised her I’d be a good boy in-“

“OK we don’t need to know that!” Mindy said throwing a chip at Chad which he surprisingly caught in his mouth. “Too slow.” He said which Mindy threw the finger before turning toward her girlfriend“Just start the game my love.”

‘Sigh’ Of course. Out of all the races, Anika had to go and pick rainbow road. No phobic of corse but this stage is so unbelievably hard, especially when my controller is stuck in “motion” control just because the sticks are broken.

While starting the course, I’m already in 11th place because pretty boy had to go and knock me off the course by “accident” when we started. Halfway through the race, I got a bit used to the controls but I’m still dreading on my wallet being eaten up again by Chad.

Luckily I was saved when my phone rang “Guys pause it please.” to which they did “Hello?”

“Yes is this Tara Carpenter?” The voice said ‘Oh great, I already know who this is.’

I clear my throat “Yes Stan it’s me. What’s wrong you seem upset.” Stan laughed a little “Upset. You’re goddamn right I am!! ‘Sigh’ Look, can you please come down here and get your sister? She’s already at it again, causing another scene in my bar and lashing out at my customers. I’m already 5 seconds away from calling the cops!

I pinched the bridge of my nose scoffing in disgust “Ok just hang tight, I’ll be right over.” Before hanging up.

‘Damn it Sam can I have one day, just ONE day of not taking care of you?!’ I shook my head, grabbing my jacket from Chad’s room. “Guys, I gotta head out. As munch as I want to keep playing, I have to go get Sam…..again.”

They nodded their heads, understanding what I meant “Alright love, do you want me to give you a ride there and back?” Chad asked. I shook my head “Thanks for the offer babe but I have a feeling Sam drove her motorcycle there. No way I’m letting her drive that deathtrap home by herself.”

“T do you even know how to ride a motorcycle?” Mindy said, giggling. I folded my arms “I do too, know how to operate a motorcycle Minds! Quinn and I used to sneak it out a couple of times when Sam was asleep” though she did most of the driving.

Chad smiled and gave me a peck before leaving “Be careful out there. Call me when you get back.”

I nod “Will do, love you Chad.”

(Later)

(Sam’s pov) “Had enough drinking your sorrows and throwing a tantrum for one day?” He said, sitting next to me “Not until you’re finally cleared of my conscience forever, maybe then I’ll be at peace.”

He “rubbed” my back “Well somebody’s got to. Otherwise you’d be just like your mother going down her path instead of facing your problems head on.”

I picked my head up and threw a glass at him, which passed and hit the wall. “You ever start to think that YOU’RE the reason I can’t have a relationship or any friends?! Another person down the drain because you had to show up and ruin it!”

He laughed a bit “Sweetie I was only trying to warn you to be careful. You didn’t have to go screaming at the both of us.” God, why do I even bother with him. Then a bunch of cameras flashed me in the face

“Samantha carpenter? Gale weathers here questioning your take on the latest murders in woodboro. Do you think Ghostface will follow you to the big apple or have you become-?”

I spit on her “Your about to see another Ghostface if you don’t get the hell out my face!!” I shoved the cameraman towards her. She scoffed and walked away, good riddance.

I angrily stumbled over to the table and slumped on it once again, closing my eyes for a bit and ready to knock out the next person that bothers me. I was having a good slumber until I felt a hand on my shoulder “Sam.”

(Tara’s pov) The next thing I knew I saw a fist fly right at my face, hitting me in the jaw. ”Ow! What the fuck Sam?!” Then she fell to the floor “Shit! I’m sorry, I’m very sorry Tara. I didn’t know that was y-you.” I held my slightly bruised jaw

“Just get the fuck up, right now!” Sam “quickly” picked herself off the floor throwing her arms around me, crying down my shoulder. “Please, forgive me….I’m sorry Tara I’m so sorry that I’m such a fuck up and a sorry excuse of a sister!”

Oh good god she reeks of alcohol! “Sam. Would you PLEASE get off of me! I’m not mad just….fuck! I can’t even talk to you right now or breathe!” I pushed Sam off for relief “I want you to go outside and wait by the bike, I’m driving us home.”

Sam tearfully nodded, handing me the keys. “I’ll meet you out there in a few minutes.” I said before she stumbled out the front door.

Stan was sweeping up the floors before giving me a look “I’m gonna permanently ban her if she can’t control her temper in here. That’s the third time this week. You better see to it that you have a LONG talk with her!”

I rolled my eyes “You want a tip? Keep your nose out of other people’s business and stop giving them more than they already had!” before leaving to meet Sam outside.

As I found the bike with the key, I see Sam throwing up her drinks behind it “You done sis?” I said patting her back.

“Mhm….mmm so tired.”

I got on the motorcycle and turned the key “Come on then. I’ll put a movie on at home and you can go to sleep.” Sam coughed a bit before handing me her helmet “Here….put this on. I don’t have a spare but I always put your safety over mine.” I sighed a bit before feeling her arms wrap around my waist

“Are you sure you know ‘hic’ how to drive this t-thing?” I scoffed “Yes. I do actually. I um, looked up a video before coming here. Let’s just go home sis, you’re already wearing me out.”

Sam nuzzled her face into the back of my neck as I took off.

(One motorcycle ride later)

(Sam’s pov) I can’t say how impressed I am with Tara’s motorcycle skill. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was sneaking it out from the garage every night, that girl always likes to get into trouble.

As I got off the bike, I waked a few steps before suddenly falling to the ground. Looks like my ankle is more swollen from putting too much pressure on it earlier. I tried looking for something to help me walk but I found nothing.

Seeing no other option I carefully pick myself up and kept my balance leaning on the railings before it ran out. “Sam! You ok?” Tara said, noticing that I wasn’t making any progress.

“I’m fine sis. I’ll catch up.”

Tara shook her head and walked over to me, turning around and cupping her hands “Hop on, I’ll get us up there.”

“Tara no. I’m too-“

“Will you just get on my back?!”

I smiled a bit “Well….alright then.” As I gently got on Tara’s back, she hoisted me up quicker and held onto my legs.

I got worried when Tara had to lean forward a lot just to keep her balance, I felt terrible that she has to do this. “Tara please just let me-“

“Sam would you stop being so stubborn and let me take the wheel in our relationship? You always put yourself before others but never let them return the favor, just let me as your sister help you just this once.” Tara said as she headed for the stairs since the elevator is broken.

‘Sigh’ “Just tell me if you getting tired.”

Tara nodded as she prepared to climb up 7 flights of stairs….with me on her back!

(7 flights later)

(Tara’s pov) Not a lot of people know this, but I got a really strong back. So strong that I actually won an award for being able to carry so many items on my back as I walked without any aches. Unfortunately I got the nickname “Pack mule” from the other students for the rest of my high school life, but I proudly carry that title with pride and dignity to this day.

As I dropped Sam on the couch, I sat down next to her and peeled off my shoes and socks, sighing in relief from the soft carpet. I wasn’t expecting to carry Sam up seven flights of stairs, my poor legs and feet.

“All I know is, you owe me another foot massage, a really good one too. Oh my poor aching toes, having to carry such a heavy load.” Sam threw a grape at me “Hey, you wanted to carry me the whole way here, ask Chad to massage your gnome feet.” She said, smirking.

I threw Sam the finger before gesturing her to lay her head on my lap. “Come on. It’s time to tell the doctor what’s wrong.”

Sam crossed her arms, sitting up “Very funny sis. I already told you everything’s-“ I slapped my hand over her mouth

“BEFORE you finish that sentence, let me remind you that this is the THIRD time I had to drop everything and get you home. Even after you promised me that you wouldn’t be drinking your pain away again! You either tell me what’s going on or I’ll go throw myself onto an oncoming train tomorrow.

Sam glared at me “You wouldn’t fucking dare! You know I won’t be the same without you.”

I smirked “Think I’m bluffing? Just try me!”

Sam punched the table “Fine….Fine! You really want to know what’s going on in my fucked up life, Y/N?!” She took a breather “You really think you can help me, can you?”

I looked at Sam in offense “I’m your sister. Siblings are supposed to help each other out, even if it’s problems like this.”

Sam gave me a small hug before placing her head into my lap “Ok, listen….about Y/N”

[lol-jackles]

Since you’re in casting, I’d love to pick your brain a little about selecting actors. I love that Jared is a constantly rising star, but in the most loving way possible, he really isn’t the best actor. 80% of the time when I’m watching him, it feels like I’m watching someone acting. He’s not the most natural Versus someone whose performance I get lost in. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to watch everything he does, and it kind of seems standard for cable network TV (for example, I feel the same ways about Nathan Fillion, David Boreanaz, Matthew Daddario - but it doesn’t make me like them any less). Honestly, the only network TV show they didn’t make me feel that was is Hannibal, and even that was only the leading actors.

I would have assumed that acting ability would be the most important part, but your page has made me realize it’s more than that, and let’s be honest, Vampire Diaries wouldn’t haven’t gotten that far if acting was the most important skill set needed. I’m guessing for the Jared’s and David’s their entire history counts most, but what about for someone just getting hired - the Jared getting the Gilmore Girl’s role or the David getting the Angel role. If they’re acting seems…stiff (wrong word?) what makes a casting director say, ‘you know what, let’s give it to them anyway.’

It’s just such a hard world to break into and I’m guessing there are auditions from people with a little more natural talent, so what makes that final decision?

(Asking as someone who is about to start the audition process)

I think what Jared (and Nathan, David, etc) has doing for him is he acts from his authentic truth. I'll expand on it later in this post. With that said, Jared is a character actor trapped in a leading man role, it's why he's not the "best actor" because people tend to believe that good character actors disappear into their roles by diminishing their screen presence, which you can't do when you're a leading man. You may be picking up on this conflicting issue. Think of Brad Pitt who works best as a supporting actor (X), and struggles a bit as a leading man so he has to throw out nuances and reply more on his raw charisma.

I haven't seen Gilmore Girls but I read Jared was the 2nd or 3rd Dean. Dean was recast because the OG Deans' chemistry with Rory wasn't up to snuff. So that answer your "final decision" question, which is chemistry. David Boreanaz had good chemistry with Sarah Michelle Geller. His chemistry Emily Deschanel in Bones was fine, bordering on good, but it was more fun/odd couple vibe whereas his interaction with Michelle had depth. Whenever Jared and Jensen tell their chemistry audition story in front of the producers, I'm pretty sure they're leaving out that Jared likely had chemistry auditions with other various Dean actors.

My advice on auditions is walk into that room like you’re going to solve their problem. 

Most casting directors talk about wanting auditioning actors to "make bold choices" because they believe it will get in touch with their authentic self and therefore, make them a captivating performer. My advice is adjust the text to your authentic emotion so that you're reacting to the events of the story from your internal truth. It doesn’t matter if the story is a sci-fi, comedy, or a period piece drama: if we don’t believe the actors, we won’t care what happens to them in the story. The audience is an incredible lie-detector: the average person has, for their entire life, been storing countless passive data on how normal people react to various situations, so you can’t fool them.  

My CD used to say that it's easier to tell the truth on camera than it is to lie because once you believe in yourself, then you're not acting anymore. I don't 100% agree with her but that seems to be what most CDs think.

The more confidently you use yourself as a canvas and let the context of the scene speak through your own emotional repertoire and point of view, the more compelling and interesting you are to watch. The most interesting or captivating actor is the one whose next movement, facial expression, or line reading is unpredictable. That's the difference between Jeff Bridges (unpredictable) and Beu Bridges (reliable).

[ilguna]

☼ lovable friend (Finnick Odair) ☼

summary; you thought you and Finnick were nothing but friends, while he was developing feelings for you the entire time.

warnings; swearing, high school au, emotional cheating.

wc; 2.4k

–

The only reason why you refuse to let your English teacher move you from the back of the class anymore, is solely because she placed Finnick Odair in front of you. If it weren’t for him, you would’ve begged to be moved closer to the window by now. 

There’s something about him that makes the class go by faster. There’s never been a day that you don’t look forward to coming in. He’s always the first person to greet you with a smile when you walk in. And his attention doesn’t leave you, because he’ll turn around in his seat just to ask you how your day’s been so far.

In a way, you’d consider him to be one of your closest friends, despite never hanging out with each other outside of the classroom. You’ll see him in passing periods, at lunch you’ll spot him across the room, and you share a few mutual friends like Johanna and Peeta. Still, you’re never at the same place at the same time, except for here.

And today, he’s nowhere to be seen.

Which is fine, of course. You’ve missed a few days of school yourself. However, each time, you managed to find yourself feeling a little absent because you missed your piece of sunshine for the day. A bright smile, the crinkle at the corners of his eyes, his contagious laugh.

You push yourself to the end of the day to see him, because he can make your day better than anyone else you know. You wonder if he feels the same way that you do, sitting on the edge of his seat, waiting for you to round the corner. While you brace yourself to hear his shout.

You’ll survive without staring at his bronze hair for the entirety of class, dodging his head to see the board for even a second. Maybe you’ll finally understand a lesson enough to not have to ask for his notes, teasing him about the fact that the two of you should switch seats.

You sigh, doodling a flower in the corner of your paper. It’s going to be a long hour.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Cashmere asks. You assume she’s talking to someone else, probably Enobaria. Her newest boyfriend is a weightlifter. You’re not sure how she finds him attractive. “Hey, I’m talking to you.”

You’re in the middle of drawing another flower, this one intertwined with the first, when the side of your desk is kicked by a white tennis shoe. You pause what you’re doing, taking in a breath through your nose, before turning to look at Cashmere. Not only is she looking at you, but so is Enobaria and Gloss.

These three are the reason why you would’ve moved closer to the window a long time ago. They’re loud and annoying. You’re not sure who decided they should be the popular and well-known friend group of your grade for all these years, but they chose the worst. Out of all the people you’ve tried to make friends out of, they were the first you got rid of.

Which is a shame, because you like having friends in all corners of the school, in case you need to pull a favor out of thin air. It’s worked, the yearbook team has already agreed that you’ll be nominated for the ‘lovable friend’ title, which is something you’ve been gunning for since your freshman year.

Cashmere, Gloss, and Enobaria are just plain mean, though. There’s no point caring about their opinions, because you already know how everyone else feels about you, and that’s all that matters. They must’ve figured this out, though. It’s why they try to get under your skin at every chance they’re given.

“Where’s yours?” You shoot back, watching Cashmere’s nose crinkle.

Enobaria looks you up and down, “Maybe he finally got tired of you.”

“Not as tired as I am of hearing your nasally voice.” You roll your eyes.

“Ouch, that one really hurt.” Cashmere mocks, flickering her curls over her shoulder. 

They don’t say anything else, so you go back to your flowers, trying to make this one more detailed. It doesn’t work, it looks like the other flower, which loosely resembles a daisy. You try to draw a tulip, or a rose, and they all fall flat, so you settle on erasing it all, leaving a dark smudge on the corner of your paper.

“Johanna, I told you to drop it.” A familiar voice snaps.

Your eyes dart up, you straighten up at your desk at the sight of Finnick, who’s clearly agitated by his best friend. Johanna’s a hard person to make a friend out of. She’s like Cashmere in a way, but less bitchy and more straight-forward. While Cashmere has a tendency to be mean behind people’s backs, Johanna has no problem airing her issues to your face.

“It’s kinda hard to drop it when Annie’s been hounding me for the past two weeks.” She snarls. Following Finnick up the aisle. He briefly locks eyes with you, and immediately his face twists at the sight of you.

You sit back in your seat, crossing your arms.

“I don’t know what she wants from me. I broke up with her.” He drops his bag on the floor carelessly, the strap whips your ankle, you let out a hiss. In return, both Johanna and Finnick glare at you. 

There’s an uneasy feeling rising in your stomach, so you avert your eyes and try to rub at your ankle without drawing too much attention to yourself. It stings for a few seconds. When you’re done, you pull out your phone to scroll through tweets while they argue. You know, to give them the false idea of privacy. 

“She wants a reason, Finnick.”

“I don’t have to give her a reason.” Finnick shakes his head. “I like someone else, it’s as plain as that.”

“Except, you’ve been dating her for three and a half years!” Johanna suddenly bursts, slapping her hands onto his desk. A few students around her quiet briefly, before trying to resume their conversation. You wince at her tone, partially wishing you could disappear into thin air when she sends you another look. “And now you have a crush on miss—!”

Finnick stands up from his seat, getting within inches of Johanna’s face. You can’t stare at your phone, gritting your teeth, slightly afraid for her. You’ve only seen this side of Finnick when he gets competitive. It’s almost like he becomes a completely new person.

“Don’t.” The word is firm.

The bell rings. Your teacher normally sits next door until the bell rings, so it’s only a matter of time before she comes into the classroom. Despite this, neither of them move, and it’s arguably the longest thirty seconds of your life. It looks like they’re playing a game of chicken, as if Johanna’s trying to see if Finnick’s bluffing, but he holds his position.

It’s only when the sound of heels on tile is heard, does she finally move. “You don’t even know her, Finnick.” She shakes her head, and then heads to her seat. She used to sit to his left, but got moved up front when her grade dropped. She pays more attention to her phone than she does the class.

“Go ahead and take her side, Johanna. It shows what kind of friend you are.” He says back.

She sends him a look over her shoulder.

Finnick makes sure she doesn’t turn around to retaliate, before he bothers to sit in his seat again, back facing you. You were halfway expecting him to finally say something to you, but that fight obviously has something to do with you. JOhanna blatantly glared, and she’s right, it’s not like Finnick to break up with Annie. He gushes about her too often for that. And yet…

You bounce between staring out the window and writing down what little notes you can see on the board. You can’t focus on what she’s trying to teach, so you hope that you’ll be able to make out the notes later on. If Johanna was implying that FInnick likes you… You try to keep track of time, counting down the minutes until your escape. You think it’ll be faster if you go around the back of the classroom instead of the front. Even if that means you run into Cashmere and Enobaria.

The worst part about this, is that you really don’t want to get caught up in whatever’s happening in their friend group. You know Annie, and Blight for that matter too. They are a tight-knit group. When they get in fights with each other, it’s usually a big blowout, because they don’t fight often. 

Annie and Finnick have been together since freshman year. They’ve been elected homecoming king and queen of your class every year so far. The yearbook group was talking about putting them on the ‘perfect couple’ page. If they’ve actually broken up, it’s going to be the most talked about subject of the school. 

And if Finnick did it for you—not saying that he did, but you have a strong feeling that it’s the case—then you can kiss that yearbook title goodbye, as well as most of your friends. The last thing you want to be is on everyone’s shit list because Finnick developed feelings for you. You never thought that you’d care about status this much, but it’s the only thing you have going for her.

Besides, the idea of the Finnick Odair having a crush on you is a joke of itself. He’s gorgeous, and funny, and a complete dreamboat of a boyfriend. He’s the epitome of popularity, everyone knows his name. You can ask anyone how they feel about him, and all good things would come out of them. If you asked who his soulmate is, they’d all say Annie.

You let out a quiet laugh to yourself, hiding your face in your hands. 

You need to stop thinking about this before you get your feelings hurt. Finnick doesn’t like you. He’s just a friend. There’s probably another girl that he’s got his eyes on, and Johanna was just mad because you were clearly eavesdropping. Although, maybe she should consider lowering her voice next time if she doesn’t want you listening in.

As soon as the bell rings, signaling the end of class, you shoot to your feet. Your bag’s swung over your shoulder, and you’re turning to leave, when a hand grips onto your wrist like an iron lock. You don’t move from where you stand, staring at the bookcase in front of you, before closing your eyes.

“(Y/n), can we talk?” Finnick asks, fingers loosening.

You take in a shaky breath, forcing a smile while you turn around. You don’t look at him first, though. You find Johanna, nose flaring, face turning a shade of red at the sight of the two of you. When she meets her eyes, she shakes her head at you, telling you not to do it.

“Don’t look at her.” Finnick murmurs. You find a small smile on his face, and he’s doing the thing where he looks through his lashes.

You swallow thickly, wondering if you can smother the butterflies that are swarming in your stomach. “Um—only for a minute, I’ve got something planned with Katniss and Peeta.”

“Unbelievable.” Johanna sighs, stomping out of the room.

Finnick lets go of your wrist, which feels bare without the warmth of his palm. Your teacher looks up at the clock, before clearing her throat. “I’m going to the teacher’s lounge for a minute, Finnick. When your club gets here, can you let them know?”

“Of course.” Finnick smiles, “Can you shut the door? I need to talk about a student council surprise with (Y/n), and I can’t have anyone listening in.” 

“Not for long.” She gives him a pointed look. “Five minutes at most.”

“Five minutes.” He agrees. 

On her way out the door, she sweeps up the door stopper. You and Finnick watch in silence as the door shuts tightly, sealing the two of you in here together. Five minutes begins.

You take in a breath first, “Please tell me that argument with Johanna had nothing to do with me.”

Finnick makes a face, tilting his head. “I really wish she hadn’t said that.”

“Well, you two were looking at me between sentences. It wasn’t subtle.” You murmur, rubbing your wrist.

He lets out a sigh, “Listen, I wanted to do it a different way, but Johanna has a way with ruining stuff when a situation doesn’t go the way she wants it.” Finnick gives you a smile, “I like you, a lot.”

You stare at him, waiting for him to laugh, a part of you hoping that this is some sort of cruel joke. There’s no way that he would throw away a three year relationship because of you. You almost never talk to him outside of this classroom, so what does he really know about liking you? He doesn’t even know you. Johanna’s right.

“Are you sure?” You ask, watching as he jerks back in shock. You keep your voice steady, “Because right now, it feels like you’re confessing on a whim. It’s been two weeks. I’m a rebound.”

“I’ve liked you for months.” He tells you, “I broke up with Annie because I want to be with you.”

You raise your eyebrows, staring at him wordlessly. This really has to be a prank.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why?”

“How could you like me, when the only time we talk in the day is this class?” You shake your head, “You see how you sound ridiculous?”

“(Y/n), you have listened to me more than Annie has in our whole relationship.” He sits up, “You’ll bring up stuff that I wouldn’t expect you to remember. You’re kind, and passionate, and beautiful—on the inside and out.”

You don’t know how he wants you to react. This is so surreal.

“Fine, don’t believe me.” He stands up, and your gaze directs up to continue to watch his eyes. “I’ll give you time, I’ll wait, because I have no issue doing that. Please, just think about it.”

There’s pounding at the classroom door, drawing the two of you out of the conversation. Finnick turns slightly, and you peer around him to see the faces of his friends, pressed against the glass. He lets out a sigh before turning back to you.

“Promise me that you’ll text me later.” He grabs your hands. They’re warm.

“I promise.” You whisper, “But this feels wrong, Finnick.”

“It doesn’t have to feel that way.” 

[mdhwrites]

I was thinking your takes of how TOH fails at making a bigotry allegory with the witches that I can’t help be reminded of this post regarding Netflix’s The Dragon Prince (I’m not sure if you watched the show): https://www.tumblr.com/chronicallylatetotheparty/757857588414152704/i-think-western-media-has-relied-on-non-human

The writers of both TOH and TDP have far more interest on [insert magical creature]. They’re unintentionally bias that narrative reflects on it.

They make humans look worse than [insert magical creature] for reason that justified (in TDP villagers attacked a dragon who was harassing them for days and TOH have witches eat babies in the 1690s while they have a main villain be against witches and was probably in the same time period). They ignore certain details that make [insert magical creature] look bad and result in messy world building and messages (in TDP there was a reference to the Trail of Tears that the humans have to endure from the elves and dragons and in TOH witches sees humans as inferior).

Amphibia actually doesn’t ignore that the fantasy creatures can be messy. In fact they have Anne deal with being treated like a freak because the frogs never met a human.

They have Andrias and the Core be the bad guys who attempted to take over Earth. They considered humans as lesser beings because they have knowledge, power, and technology humans don’t have.

Amphibia is by far the only recent fantasy story that is willing to let the magical creatures be flawed and their society changed.

So I think you and the blog you cite are actually two very different points. The blog you linked is about lazy recycling of tropes from better media to the point where we have stopped considering what made those tropes powerful and those stories impactful. Anime is also facing a problem of this but when you try to apply it to more allegorical elements, like trying to use non-humans as an oppressed underclass (something even most classic fantasy fucks up in a number of ways) you get some really abhorrent, accidental undertones.

Your complaint on the other hand is... A little hard to tell if I'm being honest, especially since the TOH stuff (I haven't watched TDP) appears to either be VERY arguable (the Isles does not give a flying fuck about humans, positive or negative) or seems to be taking words that I assume either were said as a joke or by Belos, the bigot, about witch behavior in the past. "They eat our babies" is just about as stereotypical of bigot speech from someone who's a moron as you can get.

And I keep trying to find something to grab onto with your point and I'm just struggling. Honestly, it just sounds like the general complaint of 'smart' stories actually being dumb as rocks. The stories that can actually tell a complicated narrative that portrays every side properly in a conflict is extremely rare. This is how you get TOH being so pro-self expression that acknowledging ANY societal requirements, or any amount of engagement with 'the system' is portrayed as negative when like... Luz assaults people in the first five minutes as part of her 'self expression'.

It is preachy and lazy and leaves these cultures with no actual culture because they are there to make a statement. A lot of sci-fi struggle with this because of The World of Hats problem where they want to comment on one type of person so an entire race is just that type of person, like the ever present Warrior Race in all speculative media. It is the storytelling equivalent of writing an analytical piece with the conclusion set in stone. Your ability to make the piece properly will inherently be tainted.

I haven't watched TDP but for TOH, this is how you get Belos' death as it is in the show. Belos claims that humanity has mercy. Has sympathy. That a human is moral enough that if they see someone in agony, they will be compelled to save them, unlike these witches. However, the thesis behind TOH is that witches are good and people like Belos are pure evil. As such, he is written lazily and so are the witches. Belos' speech is 100% just recycled from elsewhere. A final plea to a hero to be saved, with the witch response being a badass one liner or meant to be one that makes them look cool and superior. It plays to the thesis and 'theme' of TOH... Without examining the details for even half a second because if you do, yeah, they're rancid. This race accused of not caring for other people or their lives just agrees with the villain before proving him right by stomping him to death. This isn't saying that Belos should have lived, absolutely fucking not, but that someone who was worried more about their point, who was being careful about their allegories, might have made it so that instead of glee, literally one of them calls murder 'satisfying' which... Dear god why? They might have made it horror, or hesitation or a dozen other emotions that do have this race thought to be monstrous consider reaching out to this man who has hurt them so much. That in his final moments, Belos would be proven wrong because while they hurt him and so they could never forget, they at least provide him with mercy. Genuine empathy that he never gave them despite everything he's done because, you know... They're good people and not what he thinks they are.

But if you are certain about your message, entirely unquestioning... Why would you do that? Not when you can do the 'subversive' thing despite the fact that these tropes exist for a reason and subverting them might not happen a lot for a reason. That some plot beats are just mandatory for the sake of making your point function. It is being a confident dumbass about your story because you're never going to blink as far as questions on how well you did go.

But do you know what happens when you don't blink? Irritation, which sure seems to be how people feel about these mixed messages. See you next tale.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[heliads]

i've got my money on things going badly

Lance Stroll should be delighted to watch his sister get married, but the only heart he's thinking about is his own. The one Fernando Alonso broke.

masterlist

To Lance, weddings are a kind of performance art. He’s gotten somewhat good at them ever since he was younger, when the Strolls were invited to everything. His father would get caught up in knots of expensive men wearing expensive suits, lost in business talks for hours, but Lance could slip away the second someone blinked, go find his sister disguised in a coat closet somewhere and talk about Pokémon or cable TV or something little kids like best. 

Now his sister is the one getting married, and, enfolded into someone else’s party of groomsmen, Lance has absolutely no chance of hiding, excessively large coat closets of the elite be damned. He likes Scotty, really he does, even went to the trouble of presenting him to Chloe as a potential husband in the first place, but ceremonies are always long and Lance, as per usual, is tired of it.

He should be good. He should like this. Weddings are wonderful ceremonies. You can appreciate them for the expensive decorations and myriad artistic decisions that go into them, if not the fact that they’re basically just one extended celebration dedicated to the love of your close friends and family. 

Lance is here for his sister and her future happiness with her recently declared husband. This should be an excellent day, and it has been, along with the rest of the wedding festivities that have been going on for ages, but now that the sun has set and he’s still here, starch-stiff in his dress suit, wishing he could go but knowing he can’t.

It’s not even the wedding’s fault, really, it’s just that Lance can’t stand spending so long thinking about the bliss of someone else’s love when he’s just lost one of his own. His sister is twirling in a white dress, a woman who hasn’t stopped smiling in hours, and Lance is standing in the shadows of this rosy glory with just one name on his mind.

Fernando Alonso.

It’s foolish, what this has done to him. Lance waved goodbye to Seb last year and told himself that he could look forward to another good relationship with another world championship teammate. Fernando would be challenging but rewarding as another Aston Martin driver, or so the motorsport gossip pages had told him.

What no one counted on was just how Fernando would make Lance feel. Not even Lance can do a good job of that, not really. There are no words in English or Spanish or even half-and-half lighthearted Spanglish that can sum up how Lance’s ribs ache like they’ve been bruised from sentences alone. 

He had not meant to love Fernando; hell, he wasn’t even sure he did until the abrupt ending, but now Lance is choking on the words he never got to say and wondering how he’s meant to pick up the pieces of a heart that was only ever Fernando’s to break. Lance was supposed to stay professional, and he didn’t, and now he’s the one suffering for it. So it goes.

It didn’t take much, actually. Four months to fall. One month to break. Now he’s standing alone in the corner of his sister’s wedding, hoping for an escape that doesn’t seem willing to come his way. He’d been stupid, thought he could take too much, but is that really his fault for trying? All his life, he’s been told that he could be anything, do anything, have anything, and now he’s found that limit and it hurts like hell.

It’s not like anyone told him that the meter on Stroll luck and expectation would fall short when it came to one Spanish two time world championship winner. Well, that’s not true. Esteban had tried. Lance had not listened. He cannot even say for sure that he should have, because Lance had been very happy up until the point when he wasn’t.

It almost makes sense that the whole affair was conducted over such a short period of time. Lance is impatient, he likes doing things fast. It’s why he was able to become a Formula One driver. It’s why he set his sights on the man most likely to break his heart and cut the brakes before either of them could back out of it.

And it was just. Fuck. Hands on shoulders on the backs of necks on waists. How Fernando kept whispering in his ear, so close he could feel the other man’s breath hot on his neck, even though/just because it made Lance h— they were on camera the whole time. It didn’t matter. They wanted what they wanted and they got it, too. 

Or, Lance had thought they had got what they wanted, and then he had dared to ask for a label for the unspoken thing he was sure both of them felt, and everything was lost for good. It was the end of the Miami race weekend, and Fernando was drunk on the glory of another podium, happy enough that Lance felt certain that he could have the conversation he wanted without it going sour.

They had been hanging around one of their driver’s rooms– which one, Lance can never tell, they kept swapping door to door until even the labeled placards felt like a joke of hospitality’s courtesy. Sprawled out on a couch, so close that Lance couldn’t stop staring at how their legs kept touching whenever he breathed too hard, he’d felt absolutely crazy with the knowledge that this was his.

Too much of a good thing can make you foolish, convince you that things will be that good forever. Lance had laughed to himself, then turned to Fernando with a grin. “We’ll still be like this next season, right?”

Fernando had given him this look as if he were being intentionally difficult. “Yes, Lance. My contract will not expire for another season. I will be on the grid.”

Lance had shaken his head. “No, duh, I mean like, hanging out like we are now. You know, like us.” 

Lance doubts he could have packed more meaning into that one syllable if he tried. He’s heard Fernando refer to the unbreakable us before too many times to count, like when they’re coming back from a bar late and Fernando, eyes dark and heavy, promised him they’d have fun like that again, just us. Or, scoffing at the other driver lineups– they’re not us, you know. They don’t get along as well. One hand on Lance’s shoulder, fingers digging into muscle, the others could never get along as well.

Fernando had cocked his head to the side, curious. “What do you mean? We’re teammates.”

Lance had rolled his eyes. “Yeah, obviously, but like, there’s more. You know that.”

The space between them went silent. He should have taken that as his first warning sign if nothing else. Fernando had cleared his throat carefully and said, “What else would there be?”

Lance can still imagine the cold feeling that had descended upon him, spreading from the back of his throat like ink. What else would there be? It was impossible that he could have misread every single signal, every touch, every unspoken word. Unless, of course, the hidden meaning he dedicated so much time to channeling had never been there at all.

Lance had waved his hand vaguely. “But we were– you know, we did. Things.”

Fernando’s expression was impossible to read. “Did we?”

It was condescending and pitying and Lance hated it, all of it. He felt like a boy again, small enough to watch his voice disappear into the stillness of an uncaring room. He’d shot up from the couch, pushing out the door and away before anything else could happen. If anything had happened at all, or if it would, that is. Apparently, Lance has made a habit of picturing things that didn’t fucking exist.

Now he’s left spiraling like he survived a bad breakup, but you can’t have a breakup if there was never so much as a spark in the first place. It’s impossible that Fernando could have missed it all. Impossible, that Lance could have simply invented it. He knows what he felt, he knows what Fernando did, but none of it was worthy of a single word of acknowledgement from the other half of two seemingly perfect parts.

He wants to scream and throw up and put his phone down for longer than ten minutes at a time. There are many, many things that Lance had wanted to tell Fernando, and it’s only now starting to occur to him that he’ll never get the chance. I wanted to transform. For you. I wanted to be good. You made me want to be better. 

It’s foolish for him to be thinking of things like this. Lance is a young man. He’s got time for his heart to grow up and even out. Maybe in a decade or less, he’ll meet some perfectly nice young woman, someone his father would approve of, someone with country club connections that won’t rival his own (who can) but could at least keep up with the game. They’d have a manicured front lawn and two docile children, including a son to keep up the Stroll legacy. It would be normal, it would not break his heart like this. It would be very dependable.

Lance doesn’t want dependable, though, he knows it as he thinks it. He wants wild, unpredictable, insane things like falling in love with your teammate and letting him convince you that he’d settle down for you. Lance wants to be the reason someone so used to choosing themselves chooses you instead. He wants Fernando, and he wants no one else.

This is a difficult thing to think about at a wedding. Across the crowded event hall, he can see his sister, happy and secure in the knowledge that her husband is hers, legally and emotionally. There are scores of couples smiling up at each other, content that their love is theirs and no one else’s. 

Lance stands alone, tapping his foot to the beat so he doesn’t look like a complete loser. Every time someone looks over at him, he wants to shout that he’s fine, actually, this is fine, he doesn’t need someone the way that everyone else seems to, but they glance away again before he can properly vocalize this.

The DJ spins another song, the beat drops and the dance floor shakes appropriately from a hundred stomping feet, and just when Lance is certain that he wants to give up and really tries in earnest to look for somewhere to go, the crowd parts and Lance sees him.

Fernando. Here. Impossible. Yet that’s still a glint of hickory eyes he’d know anywhere, even distorted by swimming shades of party lights. Lance feels physically immobile as the man who cannot possibly be his teammate skirts couples and friend groups, and then they’re standing in front of each other and even though this cannot be, it is, and this is the first time Lance has seen him since the argument.

Lance stares at Fernando, jaw dropped comically. He has the harebrained thought that he’s glad the only camera nearby is the one in the hands of Chloe’s Vogue-ordered photographer; if this was the paddock, he’d probably end up as yet another stupid reaction image, giffed into oblivion until not even Lance can recognize his face when he sees it again.

If this was the paddock, seeing Fernando wouldn’t be such a surprise. If this was the paddock, Lance would not feel the absurd urge to run, because Fernando would already be gone, separated by an impenetrable wall of PR officers and personal trainers and anyone else he could shove in between the two of them.

Instead, they’re in one of the rare quiet patches in the wedding reception hall, and Lance is watching Fernando watch him, and slowly, deliberately, Lance forces his mouth to shut enough to ask, “How did you get in here?”

Fernando chuckles, teeth flashing in the uneven lighting of the dark hall. Lance has taken to ranking his teammate’s grins on a sliding scale from closed lips to a shark’s predatory display. This one is somewhere in the middle, hovering between quiet and pleased. Maybe even real. 

“I bribed Daniel to get me past the door,” he says.

Lance casts an outraged look across the dancefloor until he catches the Australian attempting to foxtrot with Scotty. They should both be at least passable at it, but both men keep trying to lead, then follow, then lead again, endless cycles of not-quite-right. 

Daniel somehow feels Lance looking– twitchy, isn’t he, has been all day– catches sight of Fernando standing in front of him, and grins apologetically. Bastard. If Lance gets him for grid Secret Santa, if Daniel manages to make it back onto the grid before December, he’ll have to actually try this time. Lance might owe him big for this.

The DJ starts a new number, cueing flashing lights that cascade from the blinding storm on the dance floor to faint rays out here where the two of them linger in the shadows, occasional flashlight beams sent out to catch them.

Lance swallows hard, watches the LEDs dye Fernando’s hair with undertones of Renault yellow, Ferrari red, Aston Martin green. If he were in the mood to be honest, Lance would admit that he’s been looking at Fernando for a while, actually. Not just since Fernando joined his team, before that, too. Long before they were teammates, when Lance first started racing in Formula One and he was eighteen and Fernando was thirty-five, a fact that makes him shiver down to his toes every time he thinks of it, which is– more often than it should be, for certain.

Now that the issue has been solved of how Fernando managed to get past the security guards Chloe swore were unnecessary and Lawrence swore he wouldn’t hire, plus the overeager wedding planners and racing fans stuck outside the gates with iPhone cameras, Lance pivots to a new question, one far more important.

“Why are you here?” Lance asks cautiously. 

He knows what he wants to hear, of course, but he can’t let himself get his hopes up just for them to be dashed yet again. This is not his wedding, of course. Fernando could be here to corner some Aston Martin engineers or strategists if they won’t return his midnight calls. He could even be here for Danny, which would explain why the Australian went to the trouble of letting him in, and he’s just stopping by Lance because he got caught while trying to get drinks. 

That thought makes Lance’s stomach twist in angry knots, and he’s only calmed from saying or doing something rash by Fernando’s following words, quiet in the dark but full of a lasting power.

“For you, Lance,” he says, “I came for you.”

God. Lance has spent the whole day witnessing lavish displays of affection, but for some reason it is seven simple words that makes him come undone. He stands there, stock still, and Fernando asks hesitantly, “Is that okay?”

It reminds Lance of how it had been before everything went south, when they were both dancing around a truth both ugly and glorious, that teammates do not stare like they did, that coworkers should not use getting drunk at an Aston Martin post-race celebration party as an excuse to keep their hands on each other, that Fernando didn’t keep interrupting Lance’s interviews to place his hands on Lance’s shoulders and whisper in his ear that he was Fernando’s hero just to get Lance to react like he always did. Not something he was supposed to do on camera, but neither of them could stop.

It is like the very beginning. Fernando, infiltrating Lance’s garage to lean down over the edge of the halo of Lance’s test drive and grip his gloved hands. How’s the car? Fernando, stopping by Lance’s driver’s room to hug him around the shoulders, cold and damp from the champagne that was still soaked through his race suit. I saw you out there. It was good, no? We are good? Fernando, with his hand on Lance’s leg when they’re supposed to be paying attention in a dry and stilted meeting with no one’s eyes on them for once. Can I? Is it alright? 

Lance never said no. Even when his breath caught in his throat. Even when he knew he was just sinking further into a pit he would never be able to escape. The falling was the best part, anyway.

“Fine,” he says at last, “Dance with me, then. If you want to talk, we dance. I’m sick of being a wallflower anyway.”

He raises an eyebrow impetuously, daring Fernando to make the next move. If Fernando’s actually serious about being here for Lance, he won’t mind this. He won’t mind the chance that someone could see them together and start to speculate. If Lance is anything other than a backroom missed connection, they should be able to dance without worrying.

Fernando nods once, accepting his challenge. He places one hand on Lance’s waist, the other on his waiting hand. His grip is strong, but not agonizing. Just a reminder that Lance will not be able to leave easily, not unless Fernando is satisfied that the situation has been handled as he planned.

Here, locked in the vise of another man’s arms, Lance thinks about how deeply he’s let himself get enthralled in Fernando’s way of doing things. He likes pretending that he’s the one in control, that Fernando is here to win him over, but the second Fernando’s hands are on him, Lance cedes that last bit of power over to him. Fernando does it easily, like a habit. It probably is.

Esteban warned him about this, after all, how easy it is to get sucked in. Lance, however, does not mind Fernando’s trap in the slightest. The rabbit must learn to love the snare. The bird likes its cage when the gilded bars keep it safe. 

“I was thinking,” Fernando begins.

“Always a good start,” Lance quips.

The hand on Lance’s waist tightens momentarily, a warning. Lance kind of wants to mouth off some more to see what the resulting action would be.

“I was thinking,” Fernando repeats, “that I may have gotten something wrong. I did not want to rush you, Lance. We have a lot of time. Being hasty can cost you.”

Unwillingly, Lance’s mind flashes to driver’s meetings, planning sessions with his engineer. Being a driver is knowing the difference between when to push and when to plan. Fernando  may have spent a lot of time guarding his pace, but Lance gets the feeling he’s finally ready to go for the trophy, the fastest lap. To sprint and never look back.

“I don’t want you as just a teammate,” Fernando continues. “I had not realized you thought we were past that. It would have sped things along, I think, if I had.”

“I thought we had plenty of time,” Lance comments.

“We do,” Fernando says smoothly. “But that does not mean I want to push this off any more if I don’t have to.”

“This?” Lance asks, feeling like he’s parodying that fateful conversation from so long ago, “And what’s this?”

Fernando meets his gaze coolly, calmly, and then he smiles and changes everything. Night brown eyes go caramel. “We have something better than anyone else, Lance. I do not want to lose it.”

There’s a sharp, triumphant streak in those words. Fernando Alonso has always been on a different level from everyone else. Hearing that he considers Lance on that distinct pedestal as well– it makes Lance lean into his touch a little more, and the last of his guard drops away.

“Why’d you tell me differently earlier, then?” He can’t help but ask. “You could have said you wanted me then.”

Fernando sighs, looks away. “I didn’t know I wanted it then. I didn’t count on how it would feel to lose you. I know now. I don’t want to feel it again.”

Across the room, they’re starting to cheer and shout from the center of the dance floor. It takes Lance a few moments to realize that the applause isn’t for the two of them but for the newlyweds, Chloe and Scotty, who are leading the group in an exuberant rendition of I Wanna Dance with Somebody. Lance thinks that it wouldn’t be entirely unfounded for the cheering to be for him, though. He feels like celebrating now.

And, when he looks back, Fernando’s lips are on his. Lance stumbles a little, and Fernando’s hand slides up his spine to catch him before he loses balance. It’s easy. It’s victorious. Lance never wants to let him go.

Fernando’s breath is hot against his throat, sending Lance into a feverish spiral. “I’ll see you in Monaco,” he whispers, and then he’s pulling away.

Lance watches him leave, but for once, it’s not a sad feeling. Instead, the emotion currently crashing through Lance’s bones is more one of anticipation. This is not the end, just the beginning. Fernando turns once, smiling at him before disappearing in a crush of people. Lance’s chest feels cold where Fernando’s hands had once been, but his heart’s racing enough to make up for the lost heat.

A voice by his shoulder; his sister, who has somehow fought her way through the crowd of well-wishers to find him. “Was that your teammate?” She asks, frowning.

Lance gazes softly at the place that had once been his. “Yeah, it was.”

Chloe tilts her head to the side with a frown, considering this. “Is something going on there?”

“Yes,” Lance answers her. Chloe looks like she wants far more of a response than just that, but Lance just laughs and helps her back to the dance floor. He will have plenty more days to explain it to her. After all, Fernando was right. They do have plenty of time.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy, @juphey

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[vids-rdr2-artblog]

Saving Mary-Beth

I wanted to write a little fic where Kieran shows off that he’s not really a coward and saves Mary-Beth after she’s been kidnapped. I might write a second part that’s just pure fluff. 

Pairing: Kieran and Mary-Beth

Trigger Warnings: Violence against women, Murder, Abuse, Time period sexism. 

(Please do not read if you are sensitive on these topics!)

7,203 words

Thank you @glenechoslasher for beta reading for me <3

Read it on AO3

***

Mary-Beth ventured into Rhodes with Mr. Pearson, having volunteered for the task for many different reasons—she loved to check and see if there were new books or authors listed in the newspaper and to simply get away from Miss Grimshaw. There was this relief that prickled the back of her neck when she knew that the woman wasn’t right there, breathing down her neck in the back of the wagon, and there was a sense of freedom seeing the open roads rather than their crowded camp. 

Pearson talked the entire way, so Mary-Beth didn’t bring a book, as much as she’d rather drown herself in words rather than his nonsense. This man probably had his lungs stored in his stomach or had a second pair because Mary swore she never saw him take a breath between his sentences. But she listened to him anyway, glad the trip between Rhodes and Clemens Points wasn’t long. 

“I’m glad you like to listen to me, Miss Mary!” Pearson said, sounding genuinely excited, which did make her feel good in some way, “Sometimes the others don’t like to listen to my stories, but you’re a good girl, Mary-Beth. When people say someone doesn’t have a mean bone in their body, you’re who I think of. I should take you on trips more often!” He laughed.

Mary-Beth became flustered and nodded, not wanting to say anything to bring down the mood of the jovial man, “Of course, Pearson. I think I read something in a book once about a brave navy man who sorta reminds me of you.”

Pearson perked up. “Oh? What book?”

Mary-Beth thought of a quick lie, a finger to her chin, “I don’t remember because it was so long ago, but if I find or remember it, I’ll tell you immediately!”

“Thanks, Mary. I’m not sure if I’d read it or not, but it’s great to see when great men are recognized.”

Pearson’s smile grew as he flicked the reins of the horse a bit more vigorously, and eventually, they reached Rhodes. It was sometime around 1pm, not too early and not too late into the afternoon. Thanks to Arthur being deputized here in Rhodes, she didn’t fear the lawmen as much as she did in Valentine and didn’t worry that they would be watching her every move. The folks here were a lot calmer and some of the women actually waved to her as she passed by. Welcoming, really. But man did she hope that the people of Rhodes didn’t think that she and Pearson were man and wife. A feller could get the wrong idea seeing them arriving on the cart together. She supposed however that if they had to hide their identities that way, then she would have to go through it even if she didn’t like it. Though her inner reader was curious and she had wondered how a romance between a couple with the likeness of them would interact. The girl did have a wild imagination, after all. 

Pearson parked the wagon next to the general store and the two climbed down, meeting at the back of the wagon. It seemed that they came at the right time because the train had just reached the station, its whistle blowing in the air. The man put his hands on his back and stretched his body, Mary hearing a few pops as she did so. He whistled at the store, “I’d love to have one of these puppies sometime. I think it would be exciting to run a shop like this!” he said excitedly before turning toward their empty wagon. He took out pieces of parchment from his pocket and handed one to her but kept the other for himself. “Alright then, I’ll have you get the stuff that we need from the general store and then I’ll go over to the butcher for some real meat. Arthur’s been good at gettin’ money for us, but he ruins a lot of the meat he brings to us, skinnin’ them himself…Plus I want something other than venison once in a while…” He grumbled mostly to himself then resumed, “You got all that?”

Mary-Beth nodded excitedly and held the note to her chest, “I got it, Pearson. When I’m done, I’m going to go find the newspaper boy, OK? I want to see if there’s been any new releases or authors.”

“Sure, sure.” Pearson nodded then took money from his pocket, “Here’s the money from the box. Buy ONLY what’s on the list or else Dutch will have our heads. You shouldn’t have to pay the men to put everything in the wagon, so let me know if they try to trick you.” He pointed a finger. “I’ll meet you back in an hour, Mary-Beth. An hour.”

“An hour, yes. Will do, Pearson.” Mary-Beth smiled and glanced over the list. Most of what he had put was canned vegetables and fruits, bread, and luxuries such as tea, cigarettes, and chewing tobacco. She was surprised to not see ammo on the list but some of the other gang members probably took care of that separately from a simple grocery trip. 

Taking the list to the man behind the counter, “Hello, I have a pretty big order to put in, can I get some men to help load some crates and put them on my wagon?” “Sure can.” The clerk pushed the catalog to her and she pointed out everything she needed and read off the number that was on the list. Reading it to him also gave her the comfort that she wouldn’t be scammed because she was a woman. Most men assumed that women couldn’t read, so she made sure to show that she could. “When do you think you could take it out to the wagon?”

The man answered as he rang her up on the cash register, “Oh, you’ll be able to load it immediately. We’re actually well-staffed, and my young men will be able to help ya. Maybe about fifteen minutes.” He smiled and told her the amount she needed to pay. 

Mary counted the bills and handed them to the man. She double checked the change before pocketing it. There would always be a side of her that believed anyone was capable of scamming her only because she was the type of person to do the scamming herself. She leaned against the counter with her hands, “It’s the wagon parked out next to the store. My companion is over at the butcher’s and he might come back in time to help out too. Do you need me to wait here, or could I go on another quick errand?”

“My boys will start putting your order together now and start loading on yer wagon. They’re fine boys too, I ain’t never had to swat them once. So you can stay and watch or come back when we’re done.”

Mary-Beth smiled and nodded, pushing off the counter, “Thanks sir, I won’t be too long. I just want to grab a newspaper. Do you know where it’s at?”

“Oh, the boy likes to move around town, but I think I spotted him toward the saloon, if you know where that is.”

“Uh huh, I do sir. Thank you!” Mary-Beth pocketed everything and left the general store. After taking a quick glance over to the butcher’s and seeing that Pearson was still busy haggling with the butcher, Mary-Beth headed toward the saloon with a chipper smile on her face, comfortable walking around the town by herself since it didn’t feel dangerous at all. 

As she headed up the road and toward the saloon, she kept her ears open for a newspaper boy, announcing the next paper but heard nothing. Maybe he sold out that day…Damn…Maybe the saloon had a copy that she could borrow for a couple of minutes.

Mary-Beth placed her hand on the door to the building but it didn’t budge. Damnit. Locked. Were they closed or was she just at the wrong entrance?

Making her way along the side of the saloon, she kept her eyes on the windows, trying to spot anyone inside. There wasn’t, and from the little that she saw of the bar, she noticed that even the bartender was out. It was strange to see the saloon closed at such a weird hour of the day, but maybe all towns acted differently than each other, and maybe not everyone here was a stupid drunk. 

Mary-Beth came around the back end of the saloon and just as she did, she heard voices. She instantly hid along the edge of the house. Two Irish-speaking men had a man wearing an apron held against the wall, a gun at his abdomen. Down at their feet was the body of a younger man. Dead. Mary-Beth looked behind her and realized that she had been so busy looking into the windows that she hadn’t noticed the blood trail right under her shoes. She had walked into a murder scene in the making. 

Mary-Beth’s instincts told her to flee. Just seconds after she saw the scene, she turned to leave, her jaw clenched shut. But someone was there now. She met the stale breath and before her stood a man. Then, there was a blinding pain above her left eye, right on her temple, his arm casting a shadow over her. Blood poured out from the gash on her head immediately. She hadn’t been knocked out immediately, but she fell back enough that the men behind the saloon noticed and dropped the man in the apron. She tried to crawl away but there was pressure in her lower back as her attacker pressed his heel and spur there. “What do we have here?” The one who had held a gun to the man in the apron approached, using the butt of his gun to lift Mary-Beth’s chin, causing a searing pain slice through her forehead. He swatted her hand away when she instinctively went to touch it. She could barely think of words to say.

“A witness. I saw her peeking around the corner at the two of you.”

“Tsk. Tsk. I hate to kill such a pretty thing, but I did tell the dead feller over there that there would be no witnesses. I’d be a bad man if I didn’t keep my promises.”

Mary-Beth flinched when his thumb pulled back the hammer of his cattleman, cocking it. 

The third man pulled his shoulder back enough that he stopped the man from shooting Mary-Beth. It took the woman a few seconds to realize that her brains hadn’t been splattered along the ground and that she was alive. 

“Wait a second there, I think I recognized her. I think I saw this woman in that livestock town with that shitty Arthur Morgan once. She might be a part of the Van Der Linde gang.”

Mary-Beth’s blood ran cold. Were these Irishmen O’Driscolls? She was in trouble…

The man with a gun whistled and looked down at Mary-Beth with hungry eyes. “Well, will ya lookie here. A simple armed robbery is turning into a gang heist. I won’t even ask you if you’re a part of the gang. If you are, then they’ll come save you. If you aren’t or if they’re dumb enough to save such an insignificant whore like yourself, then we’ll just kill ya. We won’t be wasting any of our supplies because we won’t feed ya. How does that sound, bitch?” He didn’t wait for an answer, not that she would have answered him in the first place, “Tie her up.”

“No—!” But before Mary-Beth could scream, her attacker kneeled right on her back where her lungs were, knocking the air from them. He shoved a nasty-tasting cloth in her mouth before tying her up with a lasso, pulling her arms behind her back. 

The O’Driscoll, with the gun, holstered it before he kneeled in front of her, sticking his finger into her blood, making the pain in her head significantly worse. She didn’t know what he was using her blood for but he kept pressing his thumb in the same spot before he finished whatever he was doing. “Take her to the horses, use the train to not be seen. And you…” He turned to the man with the apron, pointing his gun at him now, “Not another word of what happened here, yeah? We know where you work and where you live, so even if you blab about what happened here after we’ve left, we’ll come back and kill your family then force feed you their guts. Got that?” 

The man in the apron nodded, quickly disappearing inside, glad that his life had been spared, even if it cost this woman he didn’t know.

The last thing Mary-Beth remembered was being carried by the two men, one at her legs and one at her shoulders. With the throbbing headache she had, she was hardly able to squirm, and unable to scream. They carried her across the train and to their horses hidden on the other side. 

Who would save Mary-Beth?

Pearson returned the wagon and didn’t find Mary-Beth there. It wasn’t strange, considering she said he was going to track down the paperboy. Plus, it hadn’t been an hour exactly. So, he placed the carefully packaged meats and placed them on a crate that had already been loaded by the shop. He saw the boys bringing out a few more crates. 

One greeted him with a smile, “There’s just four more inside, sir.”

“Bring 'em’ out here and leave them on the stairs. I can get the rest of it from here.” Pearson took out two dollars from his own pocket and gave them each one for their hard work. They thanked him before bringing the rest of the gang’s provisions out and setting them at the top of the chairs. Pearson expected Mary-Beth to be back by the time he loaded up the last of the crates and strapped them down, but she wasn’t. 

She’s probably just talking to a local. She’s a good, chatty girl. We can’t go anywhere with the train being there anyway.

And so Pearson waited. And waited. The longer he waited, however, the worse he began to feel, especially when he heard the whistle of the train before it slowly left the station. There wasn’t quite anything right about this. Mary-Beth wouldn’t have told him one thing and then done another. Something must be wrong. 

“Mary-Beth?” he asked and looked down the alleyways around the general store and even the buildings surrounding it. Nothing. Wait, she did talk to the general store man, maybe he knows something. So, Pearson stepped into the building and walked straight up to the man, “Excuse me sir, my womanly…companion came up to you earlier to pay for the stuff that’s in the wagon next to your store. I can’t seem to find her though, did you happen to see where she went?”

The clerk cocked his head. “Oh yes, I did. She was looking for the newspaper, so I pointed her in the direction of the saloon.”

“Okay, thanks, sir.”

“No problem, thank you for your purchase, and have a good day.”

“You too.”

If Mary-Beth went to the saloon for a drink then it would make sense as to why she hadn’t returned yet. If she were a man. Mary-Beth was so…feminine and it didn’t seem to be like her to wander off for a beer or two. If it had been Karen with him instead, then there would be no doubt about it that she went out for drinks, but Mary-Beth didn’t do that sort of thing. Not to his knowledge, at least. 

Pearson made a quick trip to the saloon. He wasn’t sure if it had been busy beforehand but there were a couple men who looked more sober than the bartender themselves, so they must have just gotten there. 

“S’cuse me, you see a woman around here?” Pearson approached the bar and tried to ignore the hungry look in the men’s eyes when he said the word woman. 

The bartender looked drunk and dissociated from his job as he cleaned an already cleaned glass, only smudging it more. There was a nasty bruise on his eye, leading down to his jaw. Pearson wondered what happened to him. He probably shouldn’t have asked in the first place and just searched around the place himself. He only didn’t want to seem like a creep or worse, a thief. 

“Nope. Not around here.” 

“Alright, thank you kindly,” Pearson said without revealing much more to the conversation so the men who were drinking didn’t get any funny ideas. 

Pearson snuck around the side of the saloon before his stomach dropped. There on the ground was a drop of blood, leading to around the back of the saloon, accompanied by larger dried splotches of blood. His immediate thought was of Mary-Beth. Oh god, she’s dead! Mary-Beth is dead and I let her die! However, when he looked closer at the blood, he noticed that it wasn’t fresh and more dried up. He wasn’t an expert at human blood, but after skinning dead animals for as long as he had…He could tell when blood was new and old. It couldn’t have been more than an hour. This wasn’t Mary-Beth’s blood. However, it didn’t mean that there couldn’t be anything waiting for him around the corner. 

Following the blood, he stepped around the corner and found a mutilated body. 

There was a young man. Probably late teens or early twenties. Probably around the same age of the men who helped load his cart. His eyes were gone and lacerations around his body explained the blood that soaked the ground. It already had a decomposing smell of it, tangling with the smell of vomit and alcohol. While he didn’t like murder like this—it was overkill—he was secretly glad that he didn’t encounter the body of Mary-Beth torn to shreds. 

Pearson stepped closer and noticed a piece of wood with a knife in it laid out on the palm of the dead man’s hand. The closer he got, the more he realized that there was blood on the wood too, but it was fresher, drawn out methodically on the wood. He had to kneel to read the blood writings, which sent a chill down his spine. 

AM

DVL

3 DAY

COLM

And then there was a drawn picture of a location with a noose on it. 

There, lying next to the dead man’s hand was a cut lock of Mary-Beth’s hair and a torn piece of cloth that matched the same color and texture of the dress she had been wearing. The blood on the board was Mary-Beth’s. It was fresher compared to the dead male’s, making the man want to vomit.

Pearson’s mouth dried when he concluded what had happened. The O’Driscolls had kidnapped Mary-Beth and left a message for Dutch and Arthur about where to meet them. The O’Drisicolls had them by the balls and were steering them in the direction that they wanted them to go. 

Pearson tore the knife from the board and hid it on his belt, unsure if it was what ended this man’s life or was just left to accentuate their message. After hiding the lock of hair and cloth that would link Mary to this man, he grabbed the wood and rushed away from the scene as fast as possible, not wanting to be caught. Good thing the time meant that most men were working, though he wondered if they had gone at a different time if this would have even happened at all. Mary-Beth would be back at camp with her nose buried in one of her books. 

As much as he wanted to go to the sheriff, he knew he couldn’t. It involved his gang and the O’Driscolls! That wasn’t a good combination. 

Getting back to his wagon as fast as he could, Pearson raced back to his camp, constantly looking over his shoulder, not wanting to be ambushed on the way back, or followed back to camp. At some point along the ride, he considered abandoning the wagon and riding the horse back to camp, but he would still risk being followed and at the additional loss of money and supplies. 

“Who’s there?” Came John’s rough voice when he came close enough.

“It’s Pearson!” Pearson raced on by, doing his best to not tip the wagon by how fast he was rolling into camp. The horses whined the whole way, having been spent racing back to the camp, sweating and desperate for water. When they came to a halt, the young O’Driscoll approached to untether them. Seeing Kieran made Pearson’s blood boil and face turn red, but it hadn’t been Kieran’s fault this happened, just the gang he used to run with so he did his best to not direct his anger toward him.

Pearson rushed directly toward Dutch’s tent, catching everyone’s attention from the fast pace he clearly wasn’t used to doing. Dutch sat in the chair outside his tent, a book in one hand and a cigar in the other. Arthur was thankfully in camp, just in his own tent.

“Dutch! Arthur! We have a BIG issue right now!” 

Arthur perked up upon hearing his name and slowly sauntered his way over to Pearson and Dutch, his hands on his belt, “Oh yeah? What’s that? You eat all our groceries on the way back from Rhodes?”

“Now is not the time for jokes Arthur.” Pearson took the wood out, some of the blood smeared on his fingers but thankfully not enough to make the writing illegible. He also took the knife from his belt loop. Dutch and Arthur stared at the knife, intrigued, Arthur, stood up a bit straighter when he saw how serious Pearson was acting. It was unusual for him. 

“Well, then spit it out already!” Arthur tore the cigarette from his mouth and threw it to the ground. “What the hell happened?”

Since he had stopped running, there was an unsettled feeling in Pearson’s stomach. He felt like he was about to throw up. 

“Dutch…Arthur…Mary-Beth was taken by the O’Driscolls… They left us this note with her blood.” 

The moment O’Driscolls was brought up, Dutch’s face became red. “WHAT?! What did you see, Pearson?!”

“NUTHIN!” Pearson gasped, “She wandered off when I was at the butcher’s and they kidnapped her when she was behind the saloon. There was also a dead body behind there. The bartender had this ugly bruise on his face, so I have a feeling he saw something, but if we try to talk to him, it might link the gang to the O’Driscolls,” he explained, the words flying out of his mouth, “They left this with Colom’s name and a lock of Mary-Beth’s hair. They’ve got her fer sure now….” He handed the wood over. Arthur leaned over Dutch’s shoulder to read what the blood was, his eyebrows furrowing. 

By then the rest of the gang were gathering around, particularly the girls. Tilly held a hand over her mouth, “Mary-Beth…She was taken? Oh, Pearson…” Tears were in her eyes. 

Pearson could hardly look at them all, all their faces that of a grieving person in mourning. He felt a lot of shame for letting this happen to such a vulnerable woman. But Mary-Beth wasn’t dead, or at least he hoped that she wasn’t. He couldn’t live with the thought of getting an innocent woman killed. 

Kieran found himself on the edge of the conversation, but not close enough to hear the conversation. He had been so busy taking the horses off the wagon that he nearly missed it entirely. He brought each horse to the water trough, which they drank greedily before he joined the congregating crowd. What’s going on here? He wanted to ask but kept his mouth shut when the eyes of this gang had fallen on him. Had he done something wrong?

Well, if they were staring at him, then it had something to do with the…

“O’Driscoll, what did you do?!” Karen abruptly snapped at Kieran. Everyone seemed shocked at her outburst, seeing how kindly she treated Kieran at camp. There weren’t any tears in her eyes, but her face was worse than a raging bull’s. 

“W-What do you mean?” Kieran asked, stuttering but not showing any lack of confidence. He kept his composure. “I ain’t done nothin’ other than take care of the damn horses lately,” he added defensively. 

“Your O’Driscolls KIDNAPPED MARY-BETH!”

Usually, Kieran would have fought them on this. Would have yelled that he wasn’t an O’Driscoll! But ‘Mary-Beth’ and ‘kidnapped’ mentioned in the same sentence was something he didn’t like to hear. He couldn’t argue with them this time. 

“They took Mary-Beth…?” he gasped and looked over toward Arthur, “We have to go save her! They’ll do awful things to her.”

Arthur squinted his eyes at the man as if observing them for anything suspicious, and Kieran hated the feeling that it left in his stomach. “You mean you had nothing to do with this?”

“Of course not!” Kieran spat out, flaring at Arthur’s accusatory tone, “I like Mary-Beth and I hate the O’Driscolls. You should know that by now 'cause I tell it to you every day!” He hissed. “We can’t spend time here, just wasting, we have to go and track her…Who knows what they will do to her.”

“Leave that to me,” Charles said, ready to jump on his horse that second.

“Wait just a minute!” Arthur said, holding his hand out, stopping everyone from doing anything stupid, “There’s a date written here, and they’re goin’ to expect us to meet them there at that time, or else. Charles, you can go, but you have to be extra careful. One wrong move on ANY of us is goin’ to end Mary-Beth’s life.” He pointed his finger at everyone as he spoke to them.

From the looks of the entire camp right now, everyone was willing to pick up their guns right now and hunt down their sick rivals. Some like Grimshaw and Lenny already had their guns out and ready. 

“And the note was addressed to only Dutch and me. We’ll have to be the ones to go. If they see more than us, it won’t be pretty for us and Mary-Beth.”

“But you’re gonna be outnumbered by those idiots…” Bill argued, his hands clutching at his sides, not because he particularly liked Mary-Beth but because he hated how the O’Driscolls could easily try to blackmail them. “You never know how many people they’re gonna bring, Arthur. You need more than two men…”

“If they lay a hand on Mary-Beth, I’ll fucking tear their balls off…” Sadie gritted her teeth. Not another woman whose life was on the line thanks to this gang…

“If you should take anyone extra, then it should be me,” Kieran volunteered, stepping forward. “I don’t think they would be intimidated if they saw me.”

Bill laughed. “Yeah! Might be able to trade him for the girl. Take him with ya.” He shoved Kieran forward by his shoulder. 

“Not a bad idea.” Arthur rubbed his chin.

If it came to that, then so be it, Kieran thought to himself. Mary-Beth had been the first one in the gang to be kind to him, to show Kieran the proper respect he deserved as a person by giving him that small glass of water. It had meant so much to him. There was no way in hell he would allow people like the O’Driscolls to hurt someone as gentle as her. If it meant that he had to trade his life for her, then maybe he could do something good and prove himself, even if he didn’t make it out alive.

“Oh, Mary-Beth…Please be okay…” Tilly kept a hand to her mouth, then spoke softly to Kieran, “Please get her back for us.”

Kieran spoke softly to her, “I promise that we’ll get her back, Tilly. Arthur and I ain’t gonna let anythin’ happen to her, we promise…”

“You better.”

Mary-Beth tried to imagine herself in a whole new world, completely separate from the reality of hell she was currently facing. She was a princess and her prince charming sat across from her on the blanket, feeding her strawberries and telling her how much he would marry her and care for her. The bitter yet sweet taste in her tongue was imaginary but it was helping her free herself from the flames threatening to engulf her. She dissociated, forgetting anything that the O’Driscoll men did to her the moment they happened. 

She didn’t know when her own gang planned to get her, if they were even coming for her at all. Her hands were tied behind her back, connected to her ankles, making it impossible for her to move unless she twisted her body around, and even then it was far too painful for her to do that. She would be too exhausted before she could break the ropes.

If Mary-Beth had been listening, she would know that she had two days before the O’Driscolls were going to lay her out for bait, two days before she would learn if she lived or died. The gang planned to use her as bait, to lure the two strongest members of the Van Der Linde gang. 

One of the O’Driscolls approached her. She saw his boots right in front of her face and smelled the shit he had stepped in earlier. Her nose wrinkled and she refused to meet his eyes. “Oh, what a squirmin’ bitch ya are,” he laughed and spat on her face, making Mary-Beth flinch and swallowing a whimper climbing its way up her throat. She was surprised that he didn’t kick her before he stormed off, laughing and drinking with his friends—having an early celebration of the fall of the Van Der Linde gang.

Just remember your prince charming. Hell, you’d accept Sean as your prince charming at this point, she spoke mostly to herself, in her head and attempted to put herself back into the world of the last book she had read, imagining herself as the main character and Kieran as her prince charming. 

Wait.

Kieran…?

Why did she think of Kieran?

Sure, the two had been flirty with each other before, but she had never seen him in such a romantic light, or even imagined…kissing him…

But the memory soothed the aching in her heart, so her mind played the same scene over and over again as the days passed.

Kieran and Mary were in the meadows, sitting on a blanket softer than anything she had ever felt before. Wait, was it a cloud? There was a whole buffet of food laid out in front of her, and no matter how many bites she took, it never emptied. Behind them were two horses grazing and snoozing together. And whenever she looked at Kieran���s face, she felt the happiest she had ever been in a long time… 

Sometimes her brain had convinced herself this was reality. She wanted it to be. 

Mary-Beth was half asleep when a man grabbed her arm and cut the bindings, made her legs release, making them cramp, and her muscles scream in pain. Her hands were still tied as he pulled her to her feet, yelling at her as her legs wobbled and she would have buckled had the men not held her up. 

“Where…Where…” she mumbled before she was interrupted. 

“Shut up, you bitch.” 

A cloth was shoved into her mouth, forcing her to be quiet. 

“Put the woman on the back of the horse.”

Mary-Beth’s stomach lurched as she was lifted by her waist. She grunted as she was laid on the back of a chestnut colored horse, her stomach feeling the pressure as she was laid on her stomach. Never in all her life had she been hogtied and put on the back of the horse. She whined but shut up quickly to avoid them yelling at her any further. 

A man climbed on the back of the horse, kicking its sides with sharp spurs that were close to her face. Mary-Beth, with her eyes constantly on the ground, couldn’t tell where they were going. All she could do was count the seconds. It took them approximately seventeen minutes to pull to a full stop, the men whispering around her. 

“Quick, get the girl ready. They could be watching us and pop out at any moment.”

Mary-Beth saw the shoes of one of the O’Driscolls before they lifted her up. Instead of taking her off the horse, they shifted her into the saddle. All she could do was watch in horror as the men threw a rope over the branch of the tree they were under, a noose hanging at the end of it. She began to strain and pull on the restraints on her wrists but someone held her still as another pair of hands grabbed the noose and pulled it over her head. She felt tears as the noose pressed against her throat, tightening enough that it wouldn’t slide off her and only tighten when she fell off the side of the horse. They were going to hang her. Holy shit, they were going to fucking hang her! After that, she fell absolutely still, no matter how badly her body screamed at her to move.

“Two hours…If they’re not here in two hours just slap the horse and let it run.” Mary-Beth couldn’t see them, but an O’Driscoll stood behind her, a hand on the rear of the horse, who luckily remained calm for now. She relied on that calmness. But the woman wondered if the horse would feel her anxiety and become agitated before running off.

“Then leave her body. Maybe they’ll come back later and find her hanging and learn their lesson…We don’t spare the innocent.”

Please, Arthur. Sean. Charles. Kieran. She whispered the names like they were saints, praying they would come to rescue her. 

Time passed, but Mary-Beth wasn’t counting this time. Every second felt like an agonizing hour.

“How long has it been?”

“About an hour…”

And so they waited even longer. Mary-Beth’s thighs were aching from how tight she was squeezing on the horse’s saddle. 

An arrow sliced through the air, hitting the man behind Mary-Beth. The action was so abrupt that there was a moment of stunned silence. The horse shifted but luckily didn’t run off. Mary-Beth looked up, seeing the trees across the horizon, but saw no one in sight. Were her saviors still out there? “They’re he—” Another arrow whizzed through the air, shooting the man in front of her. 

“DAMNIT!” Mary-Beth looked in horror as one of the O’Driscolls raised a gun in the air. No, no, no!  Mary-Beth cried out in her mind, screaming and crying, wishing she could keep the horse in place. 

A gun fired, and then hellfire began. At first, it was arrows, and then it was gunshots.

Mary-Beth stared in terror as the horse’s ears flicked back. It freaked out before running forward, Mary-Beth hardly able to stop the rope from tightening around her neck. Just as the horse ran out from under her legs, arms wrapped around her body, desperately holding her around the waist and legs in a way to keep herself up. 

Even as the gunshots were heavy in the air, Mary-Beth was able to stare down at the person holding her. It was Kieran. KIERAN More tears formed in her eyes as she saw the man struggling to keep her up, to keep her from hanging right there. 

“SHOOT THE ROPE, SHOOT THE ROPE!” Kieran called out. 

Mary-Beth did her best to sit as still as possible, but everything was aching and she could hardly keep herself up as her body was crumbling quickly and she was hardly able to control what limb twitched. A choked cry escaped her throat and tears were impossible to hold back. 

An O’Driscoll stormed up to the two of them, his gun raised, ready to shoot Kieran between the eyes. Right as he pulled the hammer back on his revolver, there was a rifle shot, and blood splattered on Kieran’s face and on Mary-Beth’s dress. Then there was a second shot, and the rope around Mary-Beth’s throat became very loose. Mary-Beth fell on top of Kieran, taking the two of them to the ground. Kieran was on his feet a second later and grabbed Mary-beth by the shoulders. Even though she would have not wanted to be dragged anymore, there was a mutual and silent agreement that safety was more important as Kieran dragged Mary-Beth into the forest and brush, hiding them from the gunfight. Kieran sat back on the ground and pulled Mary-Beth flush against his chest. As quietly as he could, he took the cloth from her mouth and fumbled with his knife, cutting the bindings from her wrists, freeing her completely.

Mary-Beth’s mouth was open, tears in her eyes when she realized it ached more to shut her mouth from how long the cloth was stuck in her mouth. Kieran was about to pull away from the woman, to give her space, but Mary-Beth grabbed his arm and wrapped it around her body—feeling safe and protected like in the dreams she had hidden in the past few days. She closed her eyes and cried silent tears. 

Kieran hesitated but could tell that she just needed to be held for now. He kept her close to his chest as the gunshots thinned and the voices of the small group of O’Driscolls died out completely. They were all dead. But he remained quiet until he knew for sure that it was safe to come out.

“Mary-Beth? Kieran?” Came Arthur’s voice. 

Mary-Beth couldn’t speak. 

“We’re in here—!” Kieran stuttered and pulled himself and Mary-Beth up, taking the two of them out of the brush. 

When Mary-Beth saw Arthur, she practically fell into the arms of the man. “Oh Arthur…! You call came for me!” she sobbed.

Arthur awkwardly wrapped his arms around Mary-Beth. “Course we did. You’re a part of the family. We wouldn’t have left that to ya, all alone.”

“Are they all dead?” she asked, her bottom lip quivering.

Arthur nodded. “Dutch has one of them tied up right now and is talking to them. Otherwise, yeah. They’re all dead. Are you okay?” He asked as he pulled her back, looking her up and down, seeing the bruises and tatters on her. “Oh, Mary-Beth…You need to get back to camp. You think you can take her, Kieran? I’m gonna stay back and help Dutch get information out of this damn maggot.”

“Yes, please, I want to go back now. Is Pearson OK?” Mary-Beth asked.

“Don’t worry, Mary-Beth, he’s alright. Just get her to camp, Kieran.” Arthur walked away.

Kieran nodded and put his hand on Mary-Beth’s elbow, guiding her all the way to Branwen. When they were at the horse, he gently touched her arm. “Mary-Beth, I am SO sorry fer what happened to ya. Are ya okay?”

“I…I think so. I just want to get back to camp.” She approached Branwen from the side and turned her back to the horse, facing Kieran. “Can you help me onto the horse, please?” she asked, her arms slightly raised. “Everything hurts too much.”

“I sure can…” Kieran nodded and put his hands on her waist. He lifted her onto the back of his horse, feeling even more guilty as she winced in pain. The last thing he wanted was to cause her even more pain. After that, he climbed into the saddle in front of her, then raced off back to camp. His heart pounded with the leftover adrenaline from the gunfight, but it soared higher when Mary-Beth wrapped her arms around his waist and she leaned her cheek against his back. She…Wanted comfort from him? Him, of all people? He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but he was glad that she could trust him.

Kieran knew that there would be a group gathering when they returned to camp, so he made sure to approach quietly and calmly, hitching his horse at one of their posts. He got down and held his arms out naturally to take Mary-Beth off the horse. By the time he turned around, he saw the group gathering—just as he thought. 

“Oh, Mary-Beth!” Tilly cried out and ran before anyone else could. She ran to her best friend and hugged her, keeping her close. Mary-Beth broke down into tears as she hugged Tilly back. Kieran backed off and gave the woman some space, his hand on Branwen’s neck. However, he watched from afar. He watched as Mary-Beth was given new clothes, and how John gave her his tent so she could have privacy for a while. Karen, Grimshaw, and Tilly came in and out of the tent often, checking in on Mary-Beth. Sometimes he heard her crying, and it broke his heart. 

Sometime later in the evening, when it was darker than it was light, Kieran approached the flap of the tent and whispered, “Mary-Beth, is it okay if I came in?” he asked and waited for her answer. 

There was a small sniffle. “Oh, yeah, it’s okay…”

Kieran came in, carrying a tin plate of stew. “Have ya ate yet?” he asked. 

Mary-Beth sat on John’s cot, wearing one of her other outfits. The old clothes had been burned as no one, especially her, would want to attempt to stitch such clothing back together.

“Oh, no…I ain’t…I just haven’t had the appetite for it, but I probably should soon.”

“I got something for ya. Eat what you feel like ya can.” Kieran came in and moved across the tent and sat down next to her with the stew, handing it to her. Mary-Beth smiled fondly and sipped some of the broth. At least her stomach could handle that. 

“Mary-Beth…Yer awfully brave. Most don’t have the confidence when in the presence of an O’Driscoll.”

“Oh Kieran…” she whispered, “It was awful. I thought I was going to die…I thought they were gonna hang me. Had you not caught me, who knows whether I would have suffocated or if the rope would have snapped my neck right away. I wasn’t ready to die.”

“I’m glad I was there, Mary-Beth. I don’t know how you survived that…” Kieran’s hand touched hers, but then he hesitated. She noticed and immediately brought his hand back when he tried to take it away. 

“I just…I just imagined myself inside one of my books. I guess escapin’ into my own head was something that helped me…” Mary-Beth admitted Kieran, squeezing his hand. “It kept me alive until you saved me, Kieran. You’re a real hero. Thank you so much…” She wrapped her arms around his neck and held the man, who she sort of related to in some way now. She wasn’t sure if she should tell Kieran that she imagined that he was her imaginary hero. She didn’t have to though—Kieran was her real hero now. 

[snakegorl212006]

Pomefiore Journal Entries

-------------Rook hunt---------------------------------

-We’ve met truly in sam’s shop

-his stocking tendencies are certainly….concerning

-literally he doesn't need to be waiting outside my window 

-this makes me question how long he has been doing this

-the necklace barely tracks him which explains why nothing much happened when i was around

-didn’t even vibrate once 

-unless he’s 1 inch close to touching me

-other then he’s kinda weird, he is really gentleman like

-definitely can be very helpful when it comes to finding things or tracking down grim when he stole something of mine again

-he has this whole things around the pursuing of beauty which it’s cool 

-sometimes there’s a minor language barrier as he likes to switch to french every now and then 

-he likes to compliment people in french often

-based on experience with the others, asking about how he died might be a sensitive subject 

-rook and the others were popular in the 20’s and there deaths were compleat mysteries

-still haven’t yet to ask him

-----------Vil schoenheit-----------------------------

-I thought he’ll be meaner 

-not saying he’s not on the sassy side of things but he’s nice at the same time

-kinda like a nagging mom

-he likes to see if I’m doing well health wise

-if he see me not looking my best when i come in i automatically dragged by vil, epel(my savor) helping me escape the queen's wrath, or rooks huntting me down by vil’s orders 

-”just dress and look nicely, have good manners and posture and you should avoid his wrath”-epel

-well he gives me a reason to use those fancy outfits that i would wear only once 

-but that doesn't stop him for the need to dress me up in his old clothing

-”someone has to put them in good use”-vil 

-possessive and controlling in a understatement for this guy 

-he never likes when i bring people around and more vocal about it then the people in heartslabyul 

-always holds some sort of jealousy with other people of the living

-he has this aura which acts like a narcotic 

-apparently he can activate this toxic air at will 

-i did ask him why he knocked me out before but it turned into a scolding session on my sleep schedule and my overall health 

-Don’t mechonded his rival 

-AT

-ALL

-Neige leblanche is a actor and model who only risen to fame recently and “stole”(vil’s words not mine) the title of “the most beautiful person in the world”

-Rook likes Neige a lot and it pisses Vil a lot to a certain degree  

-he likes to talk about his past accomplishments and sometimes even the true reason why he performed in such ways or why he made that song

-definitely more meaningful than a documentary

-”they only have one part of the main story” he said 

-he sometimes call me sweet potato when he needs something or feeling affectionate

-definitely have to be cautious around

-he’s just as addicting as the poison drugs he makes  

-sweet and dotting as he is, he definitely has some red flags 

-----Epel Felmier------------------------------

-don’t call him cute. Period. Not even as a complement(he wanted me to write this down) -away from vil’s gaze he has a cute cool country accent -he often asked me to help him to tend to the gardens and his apple tree -love to talk about his family and his life before meeting Vil -He can’t stand Vil and 100% blames him for his death -i managed to piece together that some poison was involved by vil himself -i didn't ask any more then that -i understand his rightful anger tho -he teaches me how to handle vil’s poisonous aura by offering me a bottle of apple juice which had herbs that combat the smell -Vil taught him how to make it and instructed him to give me some -when he’s not busy doing whatever task vil needs him to do, he likes to explore the other properties along with me when i do my rounds -other times he likes to watch and play sports -one winter he taught me how to use a sled using whatever animal was around to help us.(it was fun)