#hell my mother is sick and I’m supposed to be watching her but she’s the one who wrestled me last night to get some sugar on my gums as I

[that-dreaded-wolf]

.

[bel1ewrites]

Could you do a Samantha Carpenter x female Reader where Sam is Ghostface and she goes to kill reader, but she thinks they're too pretty to kill? Thank you, I loved your last fic!!

Such a Waste (GF!Samantha Carpenter x Fem!Reader)

Description: After Sam hits her breaking point, she leaves a trail of death in her wake. What will she do when she meets her match?

WC: 2.5k

Warnings: themes of murder, a little fluff, smut, praise kink, top!Sam, bottom!reader, fingering, mentions of alcohol, slight over-stimulation, etc. 

“Mom, I swear I’m fine! The murders are happening on the other side of town,” you sighed into your phone, swirling the ice around in your whiskey. Emptiness filled your loft as you sat in the dark on the only chair available. 

“The other side of town? Honey, the last one was ten minutes away from you,” your mother stressed from the other line. It was fascinating how far up your ass she remained, even from six hundred miles away.  “Just… lock your doors for me, okay? I’m your mother. It’s my job to worry about you.”

The two of you said your goodbyes for the night before you knocked back the rest of your drink. You winced as the burn traveled through you, settling deep within your stomach. The sound of the city pushed its way through your closed windows. It was well past midnight, but the thought of sleeping through the noise made you pour yourself another drink. 

Moving to New York was supposed to change everything. Your first taste of freedom was supposed to exhilarate you; leave you inspired or whatever. Instead, you were just bored out of your mind and lonely. 

—------------

Sam left her apartment that night with an untameable fury inside of her. She could feel it in her bones, spreading throughout every cell in her body. As usual, there was no source for her anger. She had nothing to blame but her own sick mind. 

She didn’t remember how she’d gone so far west. Her feet carried her to some unknown destiny without the consent of her conscience. The street lights flickered with each quiet footstep. Not many people were out at three AM. 

The black cloak she wore rustled gently, her mask grasped in her hands. 

For some reason, her movements faltered as she came across a run down brick building. It seemed to be a living space of some sort, the address plastered on the door. 

Looking around, Sam tentatively reached towards the doorknob. Her lithe fingers wrapped around it and twisted softly. To her surprise, the door opened with the first small push. 

Upon her first glimpse of the living space, she’d assumed it was empty. Darkness blanketed the area, the only source of light being the flickering street lamps that shone through the windows. It smelt faintly of lavender and… whiskey? 

Her eyes caught on an empty glass laying on the floor, trailing slowly to the sole loveseat pushed against the farthest wall. Two bare legs, thighs spread slightly. One baggy t-shirt covering upper thighs, torso, and a steadily rising and falling chest. She shut the door quietly and walked towards you.

When she saw your face, she choked on her breath. 

Your brows were pinched together as if your dream was hard to wrap your head around. Breathing lightly through your nose, you made little noises that had Sam’s heart beating rapidly. She was so caught up in the perfect imperfections that you possessed, that she didn’t realize her grip loosening around her mask. 

When it hit the floor, your head shot up. She was mortified as she watched your eyes slowly blink open, adjusting to the darkness. You caught sight of the figure standing in front of you and alarms sounded throughout your head. It was clad in all black, save for its naked face.

Sam reached for her knife as you sat there and stared at her. She wasn’t quite sure what to do in this situation. You weren’t screaming and you weren’t attacking her. Hell, you weren’t even running. Wide eyes stared into hers, then flicked down to her knife. All you could think about was the fact that your mom was right. 

“Are you uh… gonna kill me?” You asked, voice wavering in your throat. 

It was at this point that Sam realized just how deep the metaphorical pile of shit she was standing in was. You’d seen her face. She had to kill you. She had to. 

“I don’t know.”

Her voice was even. The slight rasp that wrapped around each word made you wish she’d said more. It was a sick thing to think about a murderer. A twisted shudder ran through your body as the whiskey threatened to make its way back up. 

Silence filled the space between the both of you. She was standing three feet, at most,  away from where you sat in nothing but a big t-shirt and your underwear. The thought mortified you. 

She stepped towards you, and you panicked. “Can I put pants on first?” 

At this, she faltered. Her head tilted to the left inquisitively. As you looked up at her, half naked and probably taking your last few breaths, she shook her head. 

You nodded in resignation, closing your eyes as a tear fell. You couldn’t open them again. You didn’t want her to see the fear in them when she took your life. 

Your entire body tensed when you felt a cold hand rest against your jaw, thumb swiping out to wipe away the salty drop. 

“Look at me,” she ordered softly; almost a whisper. You did. “Don’t cry.”

Those two words only made more tears fall. Panic shone in her eyes when she realized, brown irises shrinking as her pupils dilated. She dropped her knife and held up her hands. The black sleeves of her robes fell, exposing the flex of her forearms. Your watery eyes tracked the movement. 

“You’re not going to kill me?” You looked her in the eye, lip quivering slightly. The way she looked down on you with her jaw tensed, hands up, would’ve been attractive under other circumstances. 

“No,” she shook her head, “that would be such a waste, wouldn't it?” she questioned, dropping her hands to her sides and stepping so close to you that her knees brushed yours. Even in the dim lighting you could see every detail of her face as she looked down on you. In fact, you swore you saw her eyes get darker. 

The room spun when she reached a hand forward and cupped the back of your neck. Her fingers tangled in the hair at your nape, firm and steady. When she tugged on it, your eyes fluttered shut and your head tilted up. She eyed the skin of your exposed neck. 

“What’s your name?” she questioned, a serious curiosity laced through her words. 

When you answered her, voice low and sleepy, she hummed. Then she repeated it, testing out the way that the singular word rolled off of her tongue. Coming from her, your name sounded like a prayer. Like the last drop of water in a dying desert.

“What’s yours?” you asked back, eyes fluttering open as you looked up at her from under your lashes. Her hand at your nape tensed while her eyes drank in the sight. 

“Sam… Samantha.” She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, watching your eyes drop to her mouth drunkenly. 

When you looked back up at her eyes, you found them running along the skin of your exposed thighs. Warmth blossomed in the pit of your stomach involuntarily. 

“Are you going to leave? Since you aren’t gonna… y’know,” you trailed off, letting the silence fill the space instead of the end of your sentence. 

“Do you want me to leave, sweet girl?” She pouted. 

For some reason, unknown to you or any higher power, you shook your head. You didn’t want her to go. You wanted to see where this was going. What would this serial killer do if she stayed? 

With this answer, Sam pulled you up to stand in front of her by the nape of your neck. Your nose almost brushed her chin as you looked up at the slightly taller woman. Without warning, she turned the both of you around and sat on the loveseat. 

You now stood in front of her, between her parted thighs. Her hands rested either side of your hips, fingers squeezing lightly. 

“Take a seat,” she ordered, pulling you forward. You hesitated for a moment before climbing into her lap, legs spread and straddling her hips. Her hands shifted to the small of your back, rubbing slightly to sooth you. Your own hands rested limply on her shoulders. 

Exhaling sharply through her nose, Sam brought her hands to the apex of your thighs and trailed them down slowly. “So soft,” she sighed as her hands moved back up, “So pretty.”

She pushed your shirt up around the small of your waist, eyes falling to the lace that covered the most sensitive part of you. 

“Take the shirt off,” she practically begged with a shaky voice. The anticipation had her grasping your waist with an almost painful force. 

You did as you were told, ever the people pleaser, arms crossing and hands gripping the material. You tugged it over your head and the cold air hit your exposed nipples. 

Sam immediately leaned forward and took one into her mouth without warning. The warmth of the press of her tongue had your head lolling back. She grunted and hummed around the bud, sending vibrations through you. When she sucked with force you had to bite your lip to keep from screaming. 

When her attention shifted to your other nipple, your hands found her hair and held her to you. “Just like that, Sam,” you sighed needily; hips shifting slightly against nothing. 

A deep and guttural sound left the back of her throat, hands falling to where the waistband of your final piece of clothing sat. Her thumbs dipped under the material and rubbed the skin beneath it. With a final nip to the flesh of your tit, she trailed her lips up until she reached your clavicle. 

“What do you want, baby? Hm? Just tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you right now,” she breathed against your skin. When you didn’t answer, she bit your neck in warning and listened as you moaned. “Tell me and I’ll do it. Let me hear your pretty little voice, come on.”

“Take them off.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, her hands went to the side of your lower hip and ripped the material there before moving to the other side. Within seconds she had you completely naked, mouth and eyes wide as you processed her show of strength. When she didn’t immediately touch you, a desperate sound left you as your head fell to the crook of her neck. 

“Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it,” she begged you, rubbing her hands up and down your back as you breathed heavily. 

“Just fucking touch me, Sam. Please,” you whined into her neck. 

“I am touching you. Where do you need me? Don’t be stubborn, baby.”

“Rub my clit,” you said in a small voice, finally relenting. With no further protest, her hands left your back. One settled at the crease of your bent knee, the other running through your soaked cunt. The pads of her fingers found your clit quickly, rubbing gentle circles on it like she knew exactly what you needed. 

The moan you let out went right into her ear, filling her with the need to see you fall apart in her hands. You were making the neediest little sounds; all for her. Everything was for her.

She pressed her fingers against your clit and stilled them, making you twitch involuntarily. “You’re so pretty,” she said in disbelief, eyes boring into your face. “Look at me,” her free hand gripped your neck and pulled your head forward. “Come on. Look at me with those pretty little eyes and I’ll fuck you until you can’t breathe.”

Your eyes popped open, brows pinched together and lip quivering. It was all too intense. The coil forming inside of you, her animalistic stare, her hand on your neck, her eyes on yours. Her fingers started moving again, tight circles driving you insane. 

“Tell me how it feels,” her hand tightened around your neck. 

“So good. Making me feel s-so good, Sam,” you slurred. 

When her pace picked up, fingers pressing into you with painful pressure, you knew it wouldn’t be long until you broke. 

“Just like that- oh fuck just-” your head fell back, throat stretching in her hand. She tightened her grip until you had trouble breathing.

“Let me hear you. Come on, cum on my fingers like a good girl,” she said darkly, watching as you choked and shuddered. Your hips grinded against her hand as you chased your release.

When it hit you, the world went dark. The only thing keeping you grounded as you twitched and shuddered was her hand around your neck. The muscles in your stomach tightened urgently. Your needy cunt clenched around nothing as her fingers continued to circle your clit and help you ride out the waves crashing through you. 

Just as you were about to come down, she shoved two fingers into your dripping hole with all of her force. The shock of it all pushed a deep moan out of you as your cunt gripped her fingers. She dropped her hand from your neck and wrapped her arm around you, supporting you when you fell further into her. 

“That’s it baby, one more. You’re so good, taking it all just like you should,” she cooed into your ear. 

Incoherent sounds left your mouth, each pump of her fingers forced her palm to brush against your overly sensitive clit. It was too much to take, but you took it with gratitude. As you rode her hand, all you could focus on was making her proud. She asked for one more, and all you could do was be her good girl and give it to her. 

She noticed your breathing pick up, moans getting higher and higher. Your heart pounded so heavily in your chest that she could feel it reverberating through her. 

“Fuck you’re so perfect. Let it hit you, it’s okay,” she promised you before pressing hard into that spongy spot inside of you. 

The pressure in your stomach was unbearable as it reached its peak. You practically melted into her when you fell apart. She was drunk on you; on your moans, on your body, on the way you squeezed her fingers. She hummed soothingly when tears fell on her neck, your body shaking and cunt dripping desperately. 

When you came to, the room was quiet and her arms were wrapped around you. Your head was still resting against her shoulder, face buried in her neck and breathing her in. It was the most peaceful moment of your life. The sound of her quiet breaths, the warmth of her figure beneath you.

“Can you stay?” you mumbled sleepily. 

Her hands rubbed your back gently as she nodded.

Pt. 2

[mayflora-18]

Incorrect CoD Quotes #7

Sherlock, in response to being asked to sneak into Valeria’s house: Okay. Don’t worry, guys. I got your back!

*She steps behind Ghost*

Sherlock: From right here.

———

Laswell: Hey did you call General Shepherd a bitch?

Price: Yeaaahh! He changed the Wi-Fi password!

Laswell: You can’t be-

Nikolai: THAT BITCH CHANGED THE WI-FI PASSWORD!!!!

———

*Something bad and unexpected happens on a mission*

Nikolai: Why didn’t you tell me?!

Sherlock: Well, because I wanted us to fail.

Nikolai: 😑

Sherlock: OBVIOUSLY I DIDN’T KNOW!!!!

———

Graves: Hey, I always get the vibe that you, like, hate me or something.

Ghost: What?! Me, hate you?!

Ghost: …You’re right.

———

Soap: If I punch myself in the face and it hurts, am I strong or weak?

Ghost: Strong.

Gaz: Weak.

Price: A dumbass is what you are.

———

Alejandro: When I first met you, I thought you were weird and annoying.

Graves: …

Graves: And?

Alejandro: And you are.

———

Hadir: Sorry I’m late, I was… doing things.

*pounding footsteps can be heard from behind the door*

Alex, bursting through the door: HE PUSHED ME DOWN THE FUCKING STAIRS!

Hadir: Push is such a strong word. I prefer calling it … giving you a little nudge.

Alex: Oh I’ll give you a nudge when I shove mY FOOT UP YOUR ASS!

Price, covering Farah’s ears: Hey! Watch your fucking language in front of the president!

———

Graves: Yo, what’s that song that goes like, “Despacito”?

Alejandro: Despacito?

Graves: Yeah. What’s the name?

Alejandro: DESPACITO

Graves: …Yeah. What’s the name?

Alejandro, pissed: Dios mío, you’re an idiot!

Graves: Thank you! Alexa, play “Dios mío, you’re an idiot!”

Echo Dot Alexa: Ok *starts playing Despacito*

Alejandro: 😦

Graves 😎

———

Ghost: What happens to the car if you press the break and the accelerator at the same time? Does it take a screenshot?

Price:

Soap:

Gaz:

Roach, wanting to be a little shit: Ye-

Sherlock being done with life: No. That’s it, I’m driving.

———

Soap: Go to bed! It’s 3am. If you don’t you’re going to hate yourself in the morning!

Roach: Jokes on you, I’m gonna hate myself in the morning ✨REGARDLESS✨

———

Sherlock: I don’t want to be a person anymore.

Ghost: … What?

Sherlock: I’m tired of it.

Soap: 😥 Maybe we should talk about this-

Sherlock: I just wanna be a dinosaur.

Ghost:

Soap:

Roach: Me too!

———

*Sherlock walks into the rec room and drops her bag on the floor*

Sherlock: tEll mE wHy tHerE arE 7 BiLlioN peOplE On tHiS DAmN PlaNEt ANd NoT 1 pErsOn hAs A CrUsH On mE!? WhAt ThE HelL UNiveRsE?!!

Gaz, whose been pining for her since the day he met her: what about me 🥺

———

Roach, sleep deprived: All I want-

Soap: Oh no

Roach: -is for for someone to walk up to me-

Ghost: What’s going on now?

Roach: -look me in the eyes, put their hands on my face, and very passionately-

Gaz: Kiss you?

Roach: -twist as hard as they can and put me out of my fucking misery!

Price: Roach no

Roach: Roach yes

———

Laswell: John, aren’t you supposed to be on a Zoom call right now?

Price: I got kicked off already.

Laswell: Why! What did you do?!

Price: Well she said, “DoN’t GeT sMaRt WiTh Me!” and I said, “Then what are we paying you for?” and she did not like that!

Laswell: John that’s rude.

Price: …But I’m right on this.

———

Roach: Remember when you guys told me to go to the pharmacy?

Sherlock: *looks at Gaz before looking at Roach* Yess

Roach: Mmm they’re out of my ADHD medication for five days.

Sherlock: Oh my god-

Roach: It’s gonna be a fun week!

Gaz, already leaving the room: I’m going to my mother’s-

Sherlock, pissed that she would have to watch Roach by herself: What happened to “in sickness and in health”, motherfucker!?

———

Sherlock: I’m sorry guys… there’s nothing else we can do. Graves is dying, we’re gonna have to pull the plug.

Gen. Herschel Shepherd: Oh my god… Oh my god…

Soap: Can I do it?

Gen. Herschel Shepherd: What?

Soap: Can I pull the plug?

Gaz: Hey no! I wanna pull the plug!

Ghost: No fuck you! I get to do it!

Soap: This is bullshit! I wanna do it!

Price: NO! I-I’m the oldest, I should be the one to do it!

Ghost: I’ll thumb wrestle you for it.

Price: Fine, let’s go BITCHHH

Price & Ghost, hands together for thumb wrestling: 1, 2, 3, 4, I declare a thumb war!

Gen. Herschel Shepherd: Are you two serious?!

Price: YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE A CHANCE

Ghost: OH, YOU’RE GOING DOWN

Price: NOOO, NO, NO, NOO

Ghost: OHHHHHHHHHH

*Ghost wins*

Ghost: Yess

Price: NO

Ghost: yEsSSSSS

Price: DAMN IT

Ghost: Alright, where’s that plug?!

Soap: Where’s that plug?

Ghost: Where’s that mother fucking plug?!

Sherlock: Do you have ANY respecT?!

Ghost: No, I have 0 respect!

Soap: We have 0.

Price: We have 0 respect.

Gaz: I have nothing!

Gen. Herschel Shepherd: I can’t even believe this!

Sherlock: Yeah, me too. Alright let’s get this show on the road! I got some leftover lasagna at home, and it’s got my name on it!

———

Ghost: Good morning, everyone. God has let me live another day. And I’m about to make it EVERYONE’S problem.

Soap: Good morning to you too.

Price: 🤦‍♂️ I give up.

———

Alex: What do we do when we’re feeling sad?

Farah: Watch a murder documentary and plan out how to do it without getting caught?

Hadir’s soul in Hell: *scared shitless despite already being dead*

Alex: Jesus fuck, NO!

———

Soap: You guys won’t believe what just happened!

Ghost: What happened?

Soap: Some guy from Shadow Company wouldn’t leave Sherlock alone-

Nikolai, maternal uncle instincts kicking in: Excuse me!

Soap: -but she took care of it!

Price, to Sherlock: How’d you take care of it?

Sherlock: Simple. *clears throat* 🎶Row row row your boat, The fuck away from me, Felony felony just tried to test me, And I’m a cause a scene🎶

Nikolai, laughing: That’s my girl!

[teecupangel]

Rather specific and weird but, how do you think Altaïr, Ezio, Ratonhnhaké:ton, and Desmond would react to having chronic migraines? Totally not asking because my chronic migraines are kicking my ass right now. Totally.

I hope you feel better, nonny, and I’m sorry this is so late TTATT

Altaïr:

Altaïr had been living with the pain in his head that comes and goes regularly since he was a child.

He knows how to hide it and he has no plans to tell anyone about it.

Al Mualim knows of it and has told him repeatedly how important it was for nobody else to know.

It was a weakness that Altaïr cannot show to others.

So he pretends he’s fine.

Everything was fine.

He’s fine.

He must be fine.

Ezio:

Ezio’s sickness in the mind as the dottore would call it always worried his family. He tried to hide it at times, especially when he knows that Petruccio needed more care and attention that him. He was the older brother. The least he could do was make sure his youngest sibling would be cared for. He can endure the pain.

“You’re an idiot.” Claudia would always say as she drags Ezio to his room and force him to lay on his bed.

“I’m fine, Claudia.”

“I know. You’re helping me practice.”

Ezio had hated this ‘practice’ when he was a child. A practice to when I have my own child, Claudia would say.

It was embarrassing.

But hearing Claudia read out loud a book for children…

Feeling the warmth of his blanket…

The relaxing scent of tea that Claudia would sip from time to time…

The pain in his head was still prominent but… Ezio couldn’t help but relax nonetheless.

“Thank you, Claudia.”

“Shush, babies don’t talk.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton:

Everyone in the village knew that Ratonhnhaké:ton would have this ‘episodes’ every so often. They always seemed to realize it even when Ratonhnhaké:ton is trying to hide it and tell him to go home and rest or, if Ratonhnhaké:ton is being a bit too stubborn, they’ll let him do something for the village that he could do at his own pace. Nothing dangerous. They’d always check up on him every so often and Ratonhnhaké:ton would try to finish it. But his mother would always come to him before he could and they would go home. His mother would tuck him after they ate and hum some kind of song as she held her son.

When he became an Assassin, he tried to hide it. It was easy to hide it among the people who didn’t know him.

But Achilles always knew.

“You’ll only be a danger to everyone and yourself. Rest and return when you’re better.”

Achilles tried to keep his distance.

But Ratonhnhaké:ton still heard the concern in his tone.

He always watched as Achilles walked away after saying his peace even though the sound of his cane tapping against the wooden floor made the pain in his head hurt a little bit more.

Rest.

Yes.

Ratonhnhaké:ton supposed he should take a rest.

He didn’t want Achilles to come back and hit him on the head with his cane later after all.

Not that it ever happened.

It was an empty threat and they both knew it.

Desmond:

Desmond is slave to capitalism. He has no choice but to keep on working even though he has a migraine. It’s absolute hell but Desmond has grown used to this.

Even back on the Farm, he would still continue to train when he was having a migraine. Nothing has truly changed.

Hell, this is an improvement.

The worst he could do was drop some kind of glass or bottle instead of falling or getting hurt himself.

It’ll be fine.

He’ll be fine.

(He does not realize that the lighting and the music of his job is worsening his migraines, he just thinks he need to power through it)

He would probably check online for medicines that can help make his migraines ‘easier’ or remember the medicine his parents used to give him (and yeah, if it needs a prescription, Desmond’s gonna steal it)

[sogoodtoheritsvicious]

it’s tiiiiimeee

i haven’t watched this show in full in five years 😵‍💫but it’s october and i was gonna watch thee byeler episode aka 2x02 on halloween anyway so i thought i might as well rewatch the entire show and make it everyone’s problem

forgot about the jumpscare being right at the beginning

baby will <3

they were all BABIES and now they’re all grown and the damn final season still hasn’t premiered lmao

dustin was so adorable

“it was a seven.” “huh?” “the roll, it was a seven. the demogorgon, it got me.” the way will was incapable of lying to mike, GOD, i feel sick

fun fact: will’s adorable little “see you tomorrow!” is immediately what made him my favorite

“kiss your mom ‘night for me!” lmfao

forgot how damn good the jumpscares are

gonna need mike to see will with a gun at least once before this show is over

“damn,you look like hell, chief!” “oh, yeah? well, i looked better than your wife when i left her this morning.” HELP

“lonnie used to call him queer.” “is he?” FUCKING HELL, HOPPER 😭 i completely forgot about that scene lmfao

EL, MY BABY

benny was such a good man :( he didn’t deserve to die

that poor dog was so hated irl 😭

“you think we got a problem here?” my brother in christ, a boy is missing

“i’m the only one that cares about will!” mike loves will so much, i’m gonna cry

i completely forgot about hop’s daughter

mike sneaking out while steve’s sneaking in 😭 this show is also a comedy

winona ryder the actress that you are

chapter 2

maybe i’m going to find out in this ep i can’t remember if they ever investigate benny’s death or link it to everything else that was going on

“stop it, you’re freaking her out!” “she’s freaking ME out!” lucas was the only real one in the beginning

poor baby. el didn’t even know what privacy was before this moment.

“oh, you can speak!” she gets that a lot 😭

mike and el had so much potential as friends, FUCK the duffers for ruining them by making it romantic. now they don’t even seem like they like each other

i hope s5 focuses on more on will and lucas’ friendship

jonathan was such a good brother

brenner. always at the scene of the fucking crime.

mike naming his dino ‘rory’ because he roars 🥹

FUCK BRENNER ALL MY HOMIES HATE BRENNER

karen was such a good mom in the beginning

i hate lonnie with a passion, he’s an abusive piece of shit who should’ve been killed off

i don’t blame lucas at all for the way he was acting with el at first

“one kid goes missing, the other one runs wild? some real fine parenting right there.”

they kept pointing out so many similarities between will and el, i can’t believe they didn’t go anywhere with it

“can’t ask a corpse a question.” die. just die.

nancy: *losing her virginity*

barb: *losing her life*

chapter 3

“no one breaks in here.” yeah, they just break out

love jonathan but steve wasn’t exactly wrong about the pictures

joyce byers the mother that you are

mike wanted nothing to do with el once they found will’s “body” but we’re supposed to believe that he loved her the second he saw her in the woods.

chapter 4

i can’t believe they showed that mike has all of the drawings will has created and expected us to be normal about it

“screw his funeral!” “what?!” TEARS

jonathan loves joyce and will so much 🥺

steve was such an unbearable asshole

can we PLEASE talk about charlie being able to hold his own with winona in that scene about will’s body? we already know winona’s gonna blow it out of the water but he did just as well

completely forgot about mike doing el’s makeup this episode dkfkgjd

“where are you from, exactly?” “bad place.” 😭

that troy scene still sends

“the kid is dead. end of story.”

they put too much pressure on el. i hope when all this shit is over she’s able to just be a normal kid.

this show used to be so fucking good

i love how hop tries lying to the state trooper and when that doesn’t work he just knocks him the fuck out 😭

I FUCKING HATE LONNIE

i’m so glad they had jonathan realize that joyce was telling the truth about everything that was going on instead of just dragging it all out.

chapter 5

hate lonnie for taking advantage of joyce when she’s clearly in a vulnerable position

“wait until we tell will that jennifer hayes was crying at his funeral” lmao

all this season is showing me is how severely they’ve robbed us of joyce and will scenes in future episodes

“man, these aren’t real nilla wafers.” mr. clark must think they’re horrible friends, i’m crying. dustin is right, though, fake nilla wafers suck.

“it might even swallow us whole.” and that’s exactly what’s happening by the end of s4

“he’s wanted to go to nyu since he was six. years. old!” she should’ve killed lonnie right then & there

can’t prove it but jonathan fell in love with nancy the second she shot that can on her first try

jonathan clocked nancy’s ass BAD in the woods

forgot just how much lucas hated el this season

byeler and jancy have paralleled each other too many times for it to just mean nothing in the end.

chapter 6

the jumpscares in this show are top tier

what i love about this show is how it still has me holding my breath even though i already know what’s going to happen

“i don’t wanna be alone. do you?” “no.” i was gonna say he wouldn’t be alone cause joyce is there but i remembered he doesn’t wanna tell her til it’s all over

early jancy were so awkward, i love them <3

“i could have been killed!” “which is exactly why we need her. she’s a weapon!” but mike loves her at this point, right?

lucas loves will so much, it’s a shame we haven’t seen much more of their friendship

“you’re my best friend, too.” “okay :D” dustin looked so happy 😭

“what’s the weirdest part? me or the bear trap?” “you, definitely you.” pls

jonathan beating the shit out of steve was so satisfying

“only love makes you that crazy, sweetheart.” i’m not even gonna say anything. you all know.

we don’t give mike enough appreciation for being such a selfless person. he did everything he could to find will, he almost killed himself to protect dustin, he let el live in his basement without even knowing her, etc.

“she’s our friend and she’s crazy!” i love dustin with my whole heart

BABIES 🫶🏼

chapter 7

“if anyone asks where i am, i’ve left the country.” this season is really reminding me why mike was my favorite in the beginning

i wanna hug el so bad

“our son with a girl?” ted, to mike:

“a psychotic child broke his arm!” “a little girl, chief. a little one.” “that tone! do you hear that tone?” “honestly, i’m just trying to state a fact. it was a little girl.” this entire exchange is sending me so bad

“you couldn’t take jonathan byers.” get his ass!

it was such a great choice to have joyce be the first one to ever give el comfort because she’s such a soft, comforting person and i can’t think of anyone better

chapter 8

made it to the finale! gonna be honest, i didn’t think i’d get here in only two days but this show sucked me in the exact way it did the first time

“go to hell.” joyce is everything

waiting til this episode to give flashbacks on hop’s daughter was an excellent choice

steve just wanted to apologize to jonathan and now he’s an exasperated mother of seven. life comes at ya quick!!

choosing not to acknowledge that scene beyond this for the sake of my mental health

el is a badass but she shouldn’t have to be

brenner should’ve never made it to season 4

these kids acted their ASSES off in this show

GOD THIS JOYCE, HOPPER AND WILL SCENE

you’d think everything that went down would make nancy and karen care more about mike and pay attention to him but it doesn’t. mike deserves so much better.

will is in a hospital bed worrying about jonathan’s hand. I LOVE THIS KID.

byeler hug <3

they all really wanted to tell will about jennifer hayes crying 😭

“her name’s eleven.” “like the number?” he sounded baffled lmaooo

getting will back must’ve been so bittersweet for nancy

hop keeps throwing away lit cigarettes and all i keep thinking is that he’s gonna start a wildfire eventually

mike’s soft ‘see you, will’ 🥹

the camera!!

“your wife doesn’t have time to cook for me.” pls

the byers family 🫶🏼

my love for this show has officially been revived. rewatching this reminded me why i loved this show so much in the first place. the acting is amazing, especially from the kids, the writing was great, and the fucking jumpscares were incredible. i’m so excited to start season 2!!

[colectingstrz]

THE RECEPTIONIST ☏

➤ (📞) GENRE: fluff, strangers to lovers | PAIRING: jay x fem reader | WC : 1.9k | SUMMARY: When you find your self crushing hard and constantly go to your local hospital just so you could see the cute receptionist again or in which the cute receptionist is amused by your antics and secretly anticipates your return.

SOO’S SMOL NOETY 📝:

𖤐 lowkey off topic but I’m quite embarrassed to say I’ve never seen these pictures of jay before... (＃＞＜) Like ive been stanning enha sine iland as well I don’t get it.. I came across this and was so shocked cuz how come I’ve NEVER SEEN THESE JAY PICS!!?? it’s just added an extra 5 years onto my lifespan (thank you to my man!! 🥰) + this is 80% proof read see a weird word? Erase it from your memory ❤️

YOUR MOTHER WAS DRAMATIC. Everything little thing that happened, she would inflate out of proportion, just like today. When you called her and told her you had some odd rashes, she freaked out and arrived to your university accommodation within 10 minutes. You tried to reassure her that it wasn't deep, but she didn't want to hear it. Assuming the worst, she literally dragged you by your ear to her car and drove you to the hospital.

The whole thing was humiliating as your friends and anyone who lived in your section watched the whole interaction form their windows. You understand your mother wanted to make sure you were alright. Especially as you were the youngest sibling she always was extra mindful of you. But she was doing way to much for your liking. You just wanted to get this over with and go home.

Once you arrived you and your mother approached the counter and rang the bell so that a receptionists could be alerted. Soon a tall male appeared “ I apologise for the wait I had an important call.. what can I do for you miss?” You shot your head up once you heard the voice stepping closer and locking eyes with him .

For you, it was love at first sight. He was cute, he was handsome, and all of the above. You had never seen anyone as attractive as him in your 20 years of living. Who is this angel from above his jawline? I need him to cut me in ha- " y/n sweetie, why don't you explain your problem to the gentleman?"

Oh yeah..my rashes

“uh... I have some rashes uh... that are uh... spreading all over umm..my back” you internally slapped yourself for speaking like that and stuttering it's bad enough you showed up with your mum at your big age and now this..what was he supposed to think of you. It was difficult to concentrate on your words as his deep brown eyes were fixed on you.

He hummed as he scribbled something on his notes, “ladies please sit over there on the red chairs and make yourself comfortable I'll set you up with one of our doctors in a minute ” oh I'll make myself comfortable alright “pardon? ” You covered your mouth with your hands as you gasped, realising you had spoken out loud. Here I am again, embarrassing myself in front of him .

The male chuckled to himself before heading off down the hall.

Later that week more like 2 days after you found yourself at the hospital again Why? Because you were sick sick. Suffering from what? A bad case of I’m attracted to my hospitals receptionist syndrome and you needed an antidote quickly.So What perfect way to curs yourself by seeing the cause instead.

Plus you couldn’t focus at uni he lived in your head rent free and you didn’t even know his name. You wanted to talk to him again to hear his deep voice. Maybe you were obsessed ? Crazy? But you were crazy in love and needed to see him. So during your free you took the train and made your way to the hospital.

As you approached the counter you were met with an unfamiliar pair of eyes it was another receptionist. Where’s the sexy jawline dude who the hell is this old woman? “ umm excuse me ? Where’s the hot receptionist” the lady looked up from her paper and raised a brow eyeing you up and down “ if your a fan girl please excuse yourself out the hospital if your not actually sick “ tch she has an attitude “ uhh..im actually his girlfriend im here to drop somthing off ! I’ll be quick” you forced a smile as she squinted her eyes once more giving you a look as if searching for you obvious lie but she seemed to buy it “ I’ll call him for you stay here ” she disappears into the back and eventually your “boyfriend” comes out.

“ boyfriend ? “ he raised a brow with an amused smile on his face. You will be soon you just don’t know it yet “ i..uhh I only said that so you could come out please don’t misunderstand anything ” he nodded sitting down on the chair “ well then since you requested me what do you need ? ” you didn’t actually come there with a plan. Not having enough time to think of some fake diagnosis to give yourself you chose to be honest.

A sudden wave of confidence washes over you “ I need you ” he raised a brow “pardon ?” You nodd “ you heard me” the male chuckles to himself “you came all the way just to say this.. I’ll applaud you for your determination but im not interested ” im going to throw my self of a building “ don’t speak so soon.. once you get to know me your going to become interested” he hummed “ sure sure” you crossed your arms “ well if your going to reject me can I at least know the name of the guy I’ve been dreaming about ” he smirks “ you’ve been dreaming about me? Your very honest I like that.. and the names jay “ even his name is sexy

“ I’m honest and a lot more things you will like if your willing to find out jay..” you graced your fingers over his lightly before turning off to leave. With a proud smile on your face

Jay didn’t really understand what just happed but he found you amusing. It’s not like he hadn’t had girls come here and put it on him but something about the way you carried yourself and acted was different. He wouldn’t admit it but he hoped to see you some time soon.

As quick as the next day you showed up. You approach the counter to be met with the same old annoying lady “ here to see your boyfriend? I’ll get him ” maybe she’s not so annoying anymore you smiled to yourself as your little lie seemed to be doing you wonders

“ good afternoon jay how’ve you been did you miss me” he rolled his eyes while flicking though some documents “ you’ve been gone for 21 hours.. there’s nothing to miss it hasn’t even been a full day” he was counting..? “ you counted how many hours soooo…you did miss me didn’t you ?” you spoke with a slight blush on your cheeks at the thought that he actually missed you to some extent. Jay noticed this he thought it was cute how easily flustered you got “ your cute when you blush ” hearing him say that you made your legs melt like jelly almost losing balance to the point jay even stood up reaching out for your arm in concern

“ y/n.. are you alright ?” You nodd slowly “ you know my name..” you speak in a dazed tone to which jay smiles “ of course your not someone to forget.. so are you actually sick or.. you came here to see me” what do you think “ no this time I’m actually a little under the weather do you want to know why jay ” he nodded getting out his notepad

“ I’m stuffing from unrequited love.. the guy I like doesn’t feel the same way.. and I think I might die from a broken heart ” you spoke dramatically with a small pout flashing jay your doe eyes hoping he would be tranced by your attempt to be cute and fall in love with you. To your shock he flicked your forehead “ ouch! Why would you do that ! ” he now moved closer to you placing his hands on the counter staring at you deeply

“ it seems your suffering form something else too.. stupidity ” huh? What is that supposed to mean “ what.. please elaborate I’m unaware of this symptom” you speak deeply confused so you move closer to jay urging him for an answer. Almost closing the distance between the two of you. You action caught jay of guard causing him to move back and hide his deep blush with a cough “ that’s a conversation for another time “ you raise a brow “ another time? So you intend to see me again when’s the date ” he laughs “ I never said I was taking you out on a date ” you pout again

“ fine then.. I guess I’ll just go to another hospital form now on..” you turn to leave wishing he would follow you but the more you headed to the entrance you realised he wasn’t. You sighed maybe this is a sign I should move on.

Though just as you stepped foot out the entrance you felt a force pull you to an outside wall pushing you against it. You were shocked to see jay. “ are you that dense y/n” what what what “Huh..? I don’t I.. I don’t understand ” his eyes flicked from your eyes to your lips he seemed as if he heisted at the thought of kissing you

“ on second thought.. I-I don’t need to understand if your going to kiss me just do it ” he chuckled lightly placing his finger on your lips “ I want to make that move in a better and more appropriate setting if you get what I mean” he still wants to kiss me so a win is a win.

you couldn’t belive that this whole time jay liked you back you mentally facepalm yourself for being so dense how did you not notice sooner? A regular person would have shooed you away yet he entertained it all. It was so obvious I’m an idiot

He pulls away from you slightly now resting on the wall next to you

“ wait so you really did miss me? ” he nodded but you didn’t fail to miss the small tint of red that was evident on his ears as he attempted to turn away “ yeah.. I actually gave you my number but I guess you didn’t notice “ you raise a brow number HE GAVE ME HIS NUMBER AND I DIDINT NOTICE !?

“ wait wait wait when? “ he shrugged “ on the first day I wrote it on a sheet of paper and when I escorted you and your mom to the doctor I slipped it into your bag since you left it open Damm it this was the 3rd mental facepalming you had revived for your actions, as you do in fact remember seeing a scrunched up ball of paper but assumed it was rubbish and threw it in the trash.

“ I threw that in the bin thinking it was rubbish oh my gosh Jay why didn’t you just straight up say it to me my memory is impeccable!” he smiles “ I wanted to tease you a little bit longer I like seeing you all cute and flustered ” now it was your turn away and hide the blush on your face.

You had so much more you wanted to say to him but the interaction was cut short by that annoying old lady. Yes after what interrupting your lil moment with jay she became annoying again

“ Jay.. stop sucking your girlfriends face off and answer to some customers I’m on my break !” She yells as you could hear her approaching. You turn to jay with a frown. Though Shocking both you and him Jay unknowingly places a quick kiss on your cheek mouthing a small “I’ll see you later” before running back into the hospital.

You sigh as you lean on the wall placing your hand on your cheek as you relived the moment on reply. Again and again and again and again- “ y/n!” you hear jay call out for you. He approached you quickly placing a folded paper in your Palm “ my number.. please don’t throw it away again and call me”

And he sped off again

You smiled to yourself as you held the paper firmly in your hand not wanting to let go. You never knew in your life that you would be thanking your mother for being so dramatic.

@COPYRIGHTS SOOTREEPEAR 2023

𖤐 steal my work and I’ll come to your house and suck your blood 🧛‍♀️

𖤐 This story is very personal to me not that I’ve done this before 💀 but like it’s so real to me cuz this is exactly what i would do if In some other universe jay was a receptionist at my local hospital tho the difference is I’ll just admire him from after 😔 Aniiii ways I hope you liked it !!

- peace and love ♡︎

𖤐 link to my other works

[flutteringphalanges]

Reaching for the Stars

Adam Warlock x Star Lord!Sister Reader

Prompt:  When your infant daughter starts to exhibit signs of inheriting her father’s powers, you and Adam find yourselves in quite a predicament. Not to mention when your brother, Peter, finds himself caught up in it. 

Word Count: 1,509

A/N: So I decided to write another one shot involving the reader and Adam Warlock having a child together. It is the same baby mentioned in my first one shot Aydith. The baby’s name is a combination of Meredith Quill and Ayesha (Adam’s mother). Also I couldn’t decide if the reader is married to Adam or dating, so I just said “partner”. You can decide! I might do another part to this one but I am not sure. I am open to requests! I hope you enjoy!

                                 Reaching for the Stars

“Look, I’m no baby expert, but I’m pretty sure this isn’t exactly normal.”

Your heart was pounding too hard to even glare at your brother for his comment as the two of you stared up at the ceiling. You had only turned your head for a minute. A minute! And now your baby had decided that she no longer liked the ground and instead preferred floating several feet in the air where you couldn’t reach her. Thank god you were at least inside!

“Peter, do something!” You cried out, finally looking over at your brother in desperation. Oh, you felt sick. And faint. Christ, where the hell was Adam?! “Help me get her down!”

“What am I supposed to do?!” He gestured, obviously beginning to panic as well. “I’m not Groot! I can’t just extend my arms and grab her!” Peter exhaled and began to look around. “Maybe there is something we can use in here, like a broom?”

Your jaw dropped. “You want to hit my baby with a broom?!”

Peter threw his arms up in the air in frustration. “How the HELL did you come to that conclusion?! Why in all the universes would you assume I’d want to smack my niece out of the air?!”

“I don’t know?!” And your panicking was slowly growing into hysteria. You were just getting accustomed to parenting and now your perfect baby had decided to show off her celestial talents. Dammit, where was Adam?! “Aydith, it’s okay! Mommy is right here! Don’t move!”

Unlike you and her uncle, the infant seemed as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She floated in one place, occasional flipping and offering you a two tooth smile. Her (your eye color) sparkled and she giggled down at the two of you, completely unaware of the terror she was causing you both.

“Y/N?”

Both you and Peter turned to see Adam standing in the doorway. If it hadn’t been for the severity of the situation, the way his expression of confusion switched to one of bewilderment upon seeing his child in the air would’ve been comical. You didn’t have time to enjoy the feeling of relief as you hurried over to his side.

“Our baby is flying!” You pointed as if he couldn’t clearly see the situation before him.

“I didn’t know she could do that.” He replied so innocently. Damn, you loved him so much but sometimes…

“Nor did I!” You sighed deeply, trying to regain some form of composure after losing it with Peter. “But apparently she can and now she is up there and I cannot get her down!”

“Y/N wasn’t open to any of my ideas--” Peter began to argue before you cut him off.

“Because you wanted to knock Aydith out of the air with a broom!” You hissed.

“I was going to try to hook the handle on her overalls and pull her down!” He shot back. “But you didn’t even let me finish my plan!”

You really wanted to point out Peter’s interesting history when it came to planning, but decided against it. Instead, you watched as your daughter peered down at Adam, her chubby, little arms reached out towards him. Effortlessly, your partner rose into the air and gingerly took a hold of her. The moment his feet touched the ground, the wave of relief that hit you almost brought you to your knees.

“Oh, Aydith!” At once, you scooped her from Adam’s embrace and hugged her close. “Don’t you ever do that to me again, okay?!” It was a battle to hold back tears as you held her close.

“So the kid can fly now.” Peter said as he looked at Adam. “And she isn’t even one yet. I’m gonna go out on a limb here and assume you are just as clueless as the rest of us of what else Aydith might be capable of?”

You felt Adam’s hand rest on the small of your back. Even though his eyes weren’t fixed on you, you knew he was trying to offer some comfort. You moved closer, resting your head against him as Aydith fiddled with the collar of your shirt.

“No, I’m sorry.” His eyes met yours, the look on his face hard to read. “Until I learned Y/N was pregnant, I didn’t even think it was possible for us to reproduce.”

Your daughter let out a whine, one that you had come to recognize as her needing a nap. Peter made a goofy face, trying to make her smile. He’d always been so good with her--not that you had ever doubted he wouldn’t be. Aydith looked back at him, one cheek pressed against your chest. She was tired--and if you were quite frank, so were you.

“We need to talk with the others.” Peter stated, looking from you to Adam. “Maybe come up with some sort of game plan to keep Aydith grounded until we fully understand what she is able to do.”

Your eyes flickered down to your daughter who appeared to have finally drifted off. She was so small. So little. How could someone like that do something so extraordinary, yet so terrifying at such a young age? You didn’t fear the possibilities of what she would be like if she had inherited some of her father’s powers. No. No, you worried what would happen if she did. What dangers she would face. That’s what scared you.

  “Okay.” You nodded, shifting her in your arms. You knew the other Guardians would literally drop anything any of them were doing and come to your aid if you asked. That’s what families did after all. There was an old saying you remembered that said it took a village to raise a child--in this case, that village was turning out to be Knowhere. “Let’s do it.”

                                                      XXX

Silence followed you as you and Adam walked to Aydith’s room. Peter was gone and a part of you felt guilty of not apologizing after he left. You made a mental note to do so the next time you saw him. When you reached her crib, you cautiously set her down, doing your best not to wake her. Thankfully you were successful.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” The sound of Adam’s voice pulled you back to reality. “I never even fathomed the idea of Aydith having my abilities. If I had known, or even considered it for that matter…” He shook his head, guilt heavy in his tone as if he blamed himself. “If there hadn’t been a roof…”

The last thing you wanted was for him to feel bad. Adam’s powers, his gifts, they were beautiful. You didn’t dare want him to think otherwise. And certainly you didn’t want him to think that he’d cursed your daughter. Reaching out, you take a hold of his hand, interlocking your fingers. Aydith was safe. That was what was important. She was in her crib before the both of you passed out. Completely and utterly lost to the world.

“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for.” You assured him, reaching up with your other hand to turn his face towards your. “Aydith is a part of you, just as she is me. And I suppose one of those parts of you involves her having some sort of special abilities.” You offered him a small smile. “Even if witnessing my child levitate in the air wasn’t what I had initially ever anticipated her doing.”

Adam squeezed your hand. “No, I cannot say I pictured her doing so either.”

You both watched her quietly, his thumb gently stroking your hand. You were still on edge, though your anxiety had lessened quite a bit since Aydith had been deemed safe. Exhaling, you catch Adam’s gaze in your own.

“We’ve got this.” And you were a little surprised how sure you sounded. “At least, we can’t afford not to be, right? After everything we’ve been through as Guardians, I think we can manage this new milestone…Or whatever you want to call this new development.”  

The corners of Adam’s mouth twitch slightly upwards at your words. “Yes, I agree with you. We haven’t let anything stop us yet.”

He dropped your hand and wound his arm around you to pull you into a kiss. You let your eyes close for a moment, melting in his embrace. It was moments like this that you cherished between the two of you. Especially after Aydith had been born and your intimate times had shifted some depending on her needs. Parenthood had surely become a whirlwind--one that you had welcomed with wide, open arms.

“I love you.” You murmured softly, pulling back just enough so that your eyes met. “Both of you.”

“And I you.” Adam replied, resting his forehead against yours. “In every universe and every dimension.” He turned away for just a second to peer over at your daughter before looking back. “We’ve got this, don’t we?”

This time, the nod you gave him felt much more confident. “Yeah,” you agreed. “We do.”

[sweet-self-indulgence]

You said your open to ideas, does that mean requests as well???? I'd love some Sam or Damien smut one shots

I finally had motivation to write something for you!

Sam gets turned on when Mika gets pissed off. Heated grappling ensues. Please enjoy some Sam smut!

You're Hot When You're Angry

Mika takes a steadying breath before setting out with a determined pace.

This is important. She tells herself.

She could still feel the punishing grip Malix’s had on her hair that night. Her fingers twitch up the touch her scalp at the memory, then curl into fists.

How dare he! Her fingernails dig into the flesh of her palms as her fists tremble.

That bastard broke into MY home! Mika walks faster, practically stomping down the stairs, the echoing sound of her feet on the stone accentuating her mood.

He threatened me! Her heart was pounding, face flushed with ire. If her mother were here, she would chastise Mika for ‘getting so worked up’, but Mika doesn’t give a crap about propriety right now. This is life and death. He threatened MY incubi… I mean the incubi..

Mika’s heart falters at her mistake. Her face flushes further at the implication of her errant thought. Her embarrassment circles around her head, fueling her anger.

“Goddammit!” Mika shrieks as she kicks open the back door.

The five incubus brothers freeze and turn to stare the commotion in unison. They look like someone paused an action movie. James, Damien, and Erik and circled around Sam with wide stances and outstretched arms. Matthew, for his part, has a foot planted in the center of Sam’s chest while his brother holds him aloft with a first-full of his shirt.

Mika’s eyes dart to the trail of dark hair that peaks out from Matthew’s shirt and runs down into his jeans. Her blood pounds harder in her ears as her mind is momentarily derailed imagining the parts of his body obscured by clothes.

Shit I’m staring! Mika shakes herself remembering why she’s here.

“Fuck Malix!”, She shouts. Her voice sounds unfamiliar in her ears.

“Hell yeah!”, Matthew agrees with a grin as he wiggles out of Sam’s grip.

“Uh… yeah?”, Sam looks at Mika like she just said the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. She shoots him glare back, but before she can open her mouth the retort Erik appears in front of her.

His wide-eyed deer-in-the-headlights stare remains, “Princess! Did something happen?”

“I’m sick of waiting for him to jump out of nowhere and attack me. I’m going to kick his ass!”

Damien flinches as the flames surrounding Mika’s aura burn brighter

“Oh, like you kicked his ass after the party?” Sam is still wearing that smug face as he rolls his eyes towards the small-framed woman.

Mika grits her teeth, she knew that Sam was not going to like her idea, but he is being even more of a prick than usual, “That’s why you’re going to train me.”

“There’s no reason the fret, miss” James places a gentle hand on her shoulder, “Your grandfather placed a protection spell on you, and the house.”

Mika lets out a frustrated hiss, “and that didn’t stop him from breaking in and—”

Hot emotion grabs Mika by the throat. She doesn’t have a word for what he did to her. She wasn’t hurt physically, but her safety and sanity felt shattered. The implication that he could do much worse claws at the back of her mind.

James’ eyebrows knit together in concern. As he opens his mouth, Damien pulls him away by the elbow, “Nope. She’s right. This is a problem for Sam.”

“Me?!” “Him?!” Mika and Sam protest in unison.

Mika continues, “I meant to train with all of you”

Matthew peers at something near her- rather that at her- before adding, “Yeah, this is definitely Sam’s expertise.”

Matthew shoos Erik into the house and Damien follows, pulling James with him. Mika and Sam are left alone in the backyard, glaring daggers at each other.

After a long moment of silence Mika explodes, “How am I supposed to defend myself if you won’t fucking teach me!” She kicks a stray rock directly at Sam’s face. He dodges easily and watches as it lands a ways behind him. When he turns back towards Mika his eyes and half lidded, pupils blown wide.

Mika recognizes that look from the moment she first met him. The memory of their kiss stirs that warm feeling in her gut. “This isn’t about your damn energy!” She wishes she could wipe that look off his face but settles for shoving his shoulder.

Suddenly Sam’s index finger is poking her forehead, “Bang, you’re dead.”

Mika swats his arm away and takes a fighting stance.

Fingers at the side of her throat, “Bang, you’re dead.”

She growls and moves to punch at Sam’s chest. Her first whiffs through the air as his longer arms hold her out of range, “You’re tiny, doofus. You’ll never lay a finger on Malix like that!”

Red flickers at the edge of Mika’s vision as she drops under Sam’s arm and kicks his foot out from under him. As Sam falls, she jabs a finger in his gut. “Bang, you’re dead,” she mocks his smug tone.

“…woah” Sam is making that dumb face again. His mouth is open, face slightly flushed, breathing fast as he stares up at her. Mika’s heartrate spikes as something feral in her enjoys looking down at the flustered incubus.

Her moment of glory is short-lived. Sam takes advantage of her distract to aim a sweeping kick at her feet.

Mika lands hard on Sam’s chest. He quickly rolls to pin her on her back. Mika struggles against Sam’s forearms pressing down on her own.

Sam’s chuckle draws her attention to his face, inches from hers. When their eyes meet Mika’s body floods with heat.

The two draw shaky breaths as their faces inch closer. Mika can feel Sam’s hot breath on her face. Her eyes flick to his lips.

Only one movement away. She considers.

When she looks back to his eyes, they’re glowing gold.

She freezes. He could do anything to me and I wouldn’t be able to stop him. Mika’s eyes widen and dart around, looking for an exit.

“Fuck—I’m so fucking sorry! I—” Sam fumbles as he sits up away from Mika.

Seeing an opening, Mika hooks her knee behind Sam’s and pulls it our from under him. She throws her bodyweight on top of him. Her right leg is wrapped around his left as her hips straddle his. Mika pins his wrists on either side of his head with all the force she can muster.

She smirks with satisfaction as Sam’s tentative movements fail to break her hold.

“Hey, I don’t want to hurt you. I—I don’t know how much strength to use…” Sam’s voice is the quietest she’s every heard him.

Sam’s thigh presses between Mika’s in his restrained struggle. She bites back a groan as the brief moment of friction sends delicious tingles up her spine.

The incubus freezes. When their eyes meet again the electric feeling is back, magnified by the growing heat in Mika’s core.

They’re green again. Mika notes Sam’s eyes, wide but devoid of that magical glow. This feeling isn’t his doing.

 The boy underneath her turns his head to the side, face bright red and practically panting. Mika feels something pulse against her hip.

Pride blooms in her chest. Mika experimentally grinds down on Sam’s thigh again, this time letting her breath shudder near Sam’s neck.

He gasps and snaps his gaze back to her own. Mika feels unbearably hot. When his eyes flick down to her lips she answers his silent question with a breathless whisper, “please.”

The tension snaps as their mouths crash together.

The kiss is frantic. Sam’s chapped lips move quickly against her own and Mika pushes back with equal fervor.

As she releases one of his wrists to grasp at the nape of his neck. Sam’s hips thrust against hers as they moan into each other’s mouths.

Sam’s newly freed hand slides over Mika’s backside and gives a sharp squeeze. She gasps and pulls back to give Sam a glare that’s a poignant mix of hate and lust, “What was that?!”

“You’re so hot when you’re angry” he groans unabashedly.

Mika only has time to blush before both of Sam’s hands are on her ass guiding her to fully straddle his lap as he maneuvers a seated position. “But I think we have to stop if you don’t want energy. I mean don’t want me to—I don’t wanna accidentally—”

His rambling is cut off as Mika presses a hot kiss into his lips. When she finally pulls away Sam is beat red and breathing shakily. His eyes flash between green and gold. “And you’re hot when you’re flustered” she says with a wink.

Sam’s eyes settle on gold and Mika dives headfirst into the tingling sensation that washes over her. “Sam..” she whines, a desperate edge to her voice as the heat in her core melts into an ache.

He grabs her hips and pulls her to grind against him. Her clothed sex rubs against the bulge in his jeans.

Mika’s energy swirls around her body, like a drain funneling down between her thighs, demanding to be released with each delicious movement that touches Sam.

Sam moans into the base of her neck. The vibrations make Mika’s bones feel like Jello.

Mika grinds against him in earnest, chasing a tightening feeling in her core and the whisper of his breath hitching against her neck.

Sam’s sucking bruises into her neck. The feeling of his tongue licking the marks has her biting her bottom lip and shivering against him. A sharp suck sends a small jolt of paint down her spine. Mika retaliates by biting Sam’s neck. The taste of the salt of his sweat does something to her insides and she bites down harder.

“Fuck” Sam breaths as a big sip of energy is pulled from Mika’s mouth. Mika’s head spins at the sudden loss.

He presses sloppy kisses from her ear to her collarbone. His hands push the hem of her top up as his fingers explore her stomach. They trace the edge of her bra and Mika shudders.

She slides her hands under Sam’s shirt and appreciatively traces the muscles as she works up to his pecs. She reaches around to his back and pulls him roughly to her, capturing his lips again.

Mika catches Sam’s bottom lip between here teeth as he breaks the kiss. Mika gasps as the sharp pull of energy appears again. “You’re going to pass out if you keep doing that” Sam groans, pressing her body close to his.

“What if I do this?” Mika teases as she grinds her hips down hard.

“This—” Sam thrusts up into her, “I know how to deal with”

“How about this?” Mika asks as her fingers trail around the waistband of Sam’s jeans and toy with the button.

“Yes” He breaths.

Mika pops the button open and slowly unzips the fly. She palms his length through his boxers. Sam groans as he pulls her in for another kiss. His tongue slides against her own.

Mika traces the tip of Sam’s cock with her finger, spreading the precum further down his head. Sam’s hand flies between her legs. Mika can feel the wetness in her panties as she rolls her hips to press her clit into Sam’s palm.

Each movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through her, spiraling down into the bundle of nerves Sam helps her work. His other hand slides over her bra and massages her breast.

Mika makes an involuntary noise and grasps Sam’s cock harder. She pumps up and down his length before reaching down the waistband of his boxers to fully grab him.

Sam bites his lip as he thrusts into her hand. His fingers at her core press up, pushing fabric into Mika’s entrance. Her hips faulter and she whines Sam’s name again.

His fingers deftly unbutton Mika’s jeans and slide into her panties. She shudders violently as he gently traces her clit.

Mika’s thumb rubs over the head of Sam’s member, drawing a shaky breath as his hips twitch forward. Her hand circles the base of his cock and glides to the head, bringing precum down with her during each stroke.

Sam’s fingers circle her entrance. Then he presses one finger agonizingly slowly into Mika. She bucks her hips uncontrollably. Sam slides his finger completely out, then presses back in with two.

Mika’s entire body feels white hot as she rides Sam’s fingers. The only thought in her head is to chase her rapidly approaching peak.

Sam thrusts to meet her strokes and for a few moments the pair are completely adrift in their joint pleasure.

The damn suddenly breaks. Mika is clenching around Sam, her vision glowing white around the edges. The waves of pleasure overwhelm the incubus, and he quickly follows Mika is his own orgasm.

They fall back into the grass. Mika resting on Sam’s chest as they do nothing but shudder and try to catch their breaths for a few minutes.

“You were right to fight in close combat with an opponent with a longer reach…but I think fucking them would take too much time in the middle of a battle” Sam teases.

“That’s fucked up!” Mika slaps Sam’s bicep and doesn’t miss the hungry look in his eyes as her anger briefly spikes.

[romanarose]

If You Wanna Be Wild: Bonus Sick Fic

Santiago Garcia x Javier Pena

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Summary: Part of If You Wanna Be Wild, Santi is sick and Javi comes over to take care of him, both realizing something is brewing.

Warnings and content: PTSD (flashbacks), internalized homophobia but like. Its mild. Flashbacks to that one scene in Glee with Blaine and Tina and the vapo rub lololol

A/N: I know it's been a min since the last chapter and I promise it's coming but I thought I'd giving a lil bonus chapter. Takes place before chapter 3.

A/N 2: for those who aren’t boomers like me, MASH is a show from the 70’s about med soldiers in Korea. It was a comedy but also dealt with super heavy themes and makes me cry

1.8 words

******************

When Javier Peña waltzed into work at 8:23 AM, he was surprised to find Garcia was not at his desk. Santiago was always on time, and usually early, often staying late to make sure his paperwork was just right. Javi had once returned after realizing he forgot his wallet before the weekend only to drag Santi out of the DEA’s office practically pouting at nearly midnight.

So needless to say, Santiago being gone on a Monday morning was certainly enough to make Javier concerned enough to walk back up to the secretary. Maybe he had finally gone out and enjoyed his life a little on the weekend. The kid needed it, he needed to let off some steam, and a guy that looks like him certainly wouldn’t have any trouble finding a nice girl. Well. Javi hoped she was nice. Santiago would get eaten alive.

“Hola Colleen, ¿Has visto Garcia?” He asked, leaning over her desk.

She did not look up at him. “There’s at least 6 Garcia’s in this building.”

Javi cocked his head to the side. “Which Garcia do you think I’m talking about?” A rhetorical question. “He’s late.”

“What’s it to you? You're late every day, your little lap dog probably got stuck rescuing a kitten from a tree or something.”

He would waste time on something like that.

“Colleen”

She rolled her eyes. “He called in sick, Javi, now mind your business.”

“Sick?” How did he possibly get sick, the kid had the best immune system he knew. Didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, ate all his veggie’s off his plate like his mommy was still watching. “How sick.”

“I didn’t press for details. He never uses sick days so if he wants to play hooky for once it’s none of my business.”

“Thank you Colleen.” Javi smacked the desk, not hard at all. “This was very helpful.”

Javi waited until noon to call. 

“Hola?”

“Garcia, where the hell are you?” He didn’t want to make it seem like he’d been asking about him, after all.

“Oh, hey Javi.” He sounded awful. “Lo siento, I thought they would have told you I was out sick.”

“Well, no one tells me shit around here, you know that.”

“Except for prostitutes.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Anyway, I’m going on break, want me to swing by and get you anything? Some food, medicine, blankies.”

“Oh, actually, there’s some paper work in my top drawer-”

“I’m not bringing you work, Pope! Jesus, were you the kid who had friends bring him his homework when he was home sick from school?”

Santiago coughed and his poor throat sounded so horse. “Well, if I had friends and if I took days off, I suppose I would’ve.”

“Jesus, Garcia.”

“I’m JOKING! But yeah it was my sister. Mamí would have my head if I fell behind.”

That kid was never going to be free of his mother. “Other than work, do you need anything?”

“No, I’m alright, thank you.”

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow? 8 O’clock?”

“I’ll see you when you walk in at 8:45”

“Shut the hell up.”

*

Javi was getting ready to leave work when he thought he might call Santi again to see if he needed anything on his way home. They didn’t live far, after all.

He called once, but the boy didn’t answer. He called again, no answer. When there wasn’t an answer a third time, Javier got concerned; he must be too sick to answer. Only stopping briefly at a corner store for some medicine, Javi rushed over to Santiago’s, banging on the door. “Garcia? Garcia!”

After a few minutes, Santi stumbled to open the door, looking groggy and messy and so unlike the boy he knew. Santiago shaved every morning, came to work crisp and put together. Right now, in a rumpled t shirt and shorts and a face that looked like he hadn’t shaved since Friday morning, Santi looked like an adorable disaster. 

“What happened? Are you okay?” He asked, worry in his eyes.

What a guy. “Am I okay? Garcia I called you three times and you didn’t answer, you look like hell.”

“Oh.” Able to relax a bit, Santi’s shoulders slumped and he rubbed his eye as he coughed and looked at the bad in Javi’s hand. “What’s that?”

Javi glanced at the bag before returning his gaze back to the sick man. “I brought you some medicine. Thought you might need something.”

The smile Santi gave him made his heart leap. “Javi, I appreciate you worrying.”

“I wasn’t-”

“But I’ve had three of my tia’s stop by and baby me already.”

“Oh-”

Santi saw Javi’s slightly dejected look, and it made his heart swell just a bit to see that yeah, Javi was an asshole, but he was his asshole and Javi cared about him. Javi wanted to take care of him. “You know how to make soup?”

“I can try.”

“Good, because I’m starving.” Opening the door to let him in, Santi went back to his couch to watch M.A.S.H.

Javi set to work. “Jesus, Garcia, M.A.S.H? Didn’t you get enough of war?”

“They can’t show anything on TV worse than what I’ve actually seen.” He mumbled, cuddling up in a blanket again.

Javier often forgot that Santiago had a whole life before him, a whole life of seeing things Javi couldn’t protect him from. Occasionally, Santi would mention his friends from the Army, his special ops team he was a part of, but not much, and especially nothing with what happened or why he left. There was his best friend who was a pilot and a pair of brothers. The older brother had been honorably discharged recently with “post-vietnam syndrome” although they hadn’t really spent that much time in Vietnam, comparatively. Vietnam was just the thing that got people talking, finally. This only came up in concern for the young brother who without an older brother’s guidance was hard to reel in.

By the time the soup was done, Santi seemed asleep so Javi walked over to the couch quietly only to find Santi was awake, watching M.A.S.H with tears in his eyes. Javi looked to the TV and although he couldn’t pinpoint what was going on, the scene was somber. “Garcia?” He didn’t answer him. “Garcia, hey, Santi-” Javi touched his shoulder causing Santi to gasp out of his trance.

“Will?!” Santi jumped up, eyes wide with panic and hand going for his hip only to find no gun. No holder. No uniform…

“Hey, amigo, relaje, relaje… It’s okay.” He held up his hands to try and placate him. “It’s just me, you're safe, I’m not going to hurt you, Santi.”

When Santi realized it had happened again he quickly averted his eyes, subconsciously shifting away from his friend. “Fuck, sorry, I was… dreaming.”

Javi knew he wasn’t dreaming. He had been awake, clearly, but Javi didn’t question him. “Dreaming about how you got that scar on your neck?”

He knew him a little too well. That’s why Santi called out for Will, the voice he had heard before slipping into unconsciousness. Santi felt like he had been going crazy. It wasn’t as bad as it had been for Will; Santi could handle gunshots and cross fire and action. He could handle it well, he knew he was capable. It was other things, however, things like dead bodies or funerals that sent him into a haze. One funeral he went to when he looked in the casket he saw himself. He never told anyone and never went again. When he went to mass he prayed he would never have to go Frankie, Will, Benny, or Elena’s. He prayed he’d go first.

“No.” He took a few bites of soup, complimenting it.

Javi just nodded. “Alright.” Turning the TV to the Mary Tyler Moore show, Javi tried to change the subject to distract Santi. “Always thought she was hot.”

“Me too. Had a crush on her when she was on the Dick Van Dyke show.”

Javi chuckled. “Of course you did. Here.” He went and got the cough syrup and put it on a spoon. “Here.”

Like a child, Santi whined. “Asqueroso”

“Shut the hell up, I’m not Mary Poppins and I’m not giving you sugar to wash it down.”

“Fiiiiine.” Santi lifted is head enough that Javi could guid the spoon between his plush and waiting lips, eyes dropping in exhaustion and face flush with fever in a way that made Santi just look… fucked out.

No, fuck, shit, he’s not suppossed to be thinking those things about his partner, or men in general. Not that Javi had a problem with it, but he wasn’t gay. It was just his mind wandering, that’s all. 

“Javi?” Santi mumbled half asleep.

“Hm?”

“There’s some vicks vapor rub on the counter, can you grab it for me?”

“Yeah, no problem.” When Javi returned with the rub, Santi was out cold. “Garcia?” He felt his forehead, he was burning up. Poor kid was probably exhausted. Sighing, he opened the vapor rub. With care and precision, Javi rubbed a bit on his neck and a little on his chest, only dipping slightly under the collar so as to not put his hand anywhere untoward. It wasn’t sexual, Santi just needed help. Digging through his medicine cabinet, Javi also found some peppermint and lavender oils and remembered what his own mother used to do when he was sick. A tiny bit of lavender under the nose and some peppermint on Santi’s temples, Javi hopped at the very least he could have a good sleep.

He deserved it, honestly. The young man worked hard, he cared about what he did and the people of Colombia. He was smart, capable, and kind, traits that Javi remembered liking so much in Steve. He was easy to like. 

Settling into a chair nearby with some soup, Javier decided to stay for a little bit just in case Santi needed something or in case he got worse.

When Santi woke up a few hours later it had already gotten dark out and he had intended on moving to his bed. When he began to sit up, however, Santi saw Javier asleep on the chair. He must have stayed to keep an eye on him. Santi’s heart was full, overcome with emotion and affection for his partner in ways he can’t remember feeling since… well shit, Santi can’t remember feeling like this. He had friends he loved dearly, he loved his sister and his mother and all his extended family… but this felt… different. He couldn’t put his finger on it. 

Standing up, Santi quietly used the bathroom and got another blanket from his room. Before laying down again, Santiago carefully laid the blanket over Javier, tucking him in.

“Buenas noches, amigo. Y gracias."

************

Hope this was enough to tide y'all over!

I was writing the vapo rub scene and it was gonna be a lil more intimate but then I got trauma flashbacks to Glee and ina singing and... I said hmmmmmmmm nope lol

@runa-falls @lunar-ghoulie @campingwiththecharmings @whatthefishh @itspdameronthings @persephone-girl @criticalarchitecture @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @beelzebeth87 @pimosworld @millerscoffee @heareball @thatwonderouswoman @poolbool @meveispunk @lovable-liar @millllenniawrites @read-and-wip @missdictatorme @the-fox-den @milkymoon2483 @k-ra @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @rosellacwrites @legendary-pink-dot @dreamingofbucky @axshadows @englandsgray @starsthatwatch @laiisleitte @fairlyang @alwaysmicado @theywhowriteandknowthings @casa-boiardi @lostfleur @ninebluehearts @puglover12 @sub-aro @laiisleitte @itspdameronthings @heareball @comfortlessjoy @csarab615 @calaveramangonda @bit-dodgy-innit @stevngrant @nanfafnan @kirsteng42

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

between the lines | chapter 03

rúben dias x original female character [+18]

synopsis: isabella is a sports journalist covering the premier league. she has sworn to never get involved with a football player. that is, until she meets a handsome portuguese defender. warnings: incorrect journalism references; timeline of events are not faithful to real life; i have never been to england; mutual pining; romantic comedy;  minors dni.

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Chapter 03 — No one can accuse me of diving because I can't even swim

My mother died when I was very young, so dad had to raise me and my brother all by himself. Mom and dad didn’t have any siblings, so, since very early in life, Carlos and I understood the importance we had in each other's life. Even more so when dad told us he was sick. The tree of us where in the living room, watching Valencia lose to Espanyol, and before the 90’ mark, dad said:

“I have cancer.”

Just like that. We lost him a few months later. I still feel like that match lasted longer than the time I had left with him. My brother and I developed the morbid habit of blurting out important news during football matches after that. We just sit on the couch, sitting side by side and not making eye contact, and we just say whatever we want to. 

“Wouldn’t it be funny if we lose the game to Epanyol and that's what gets us relegated?” Carlos says, looking at his flat screen. I’m in his house, as I usually am in my free time, and we’re watching La Liga highlights.

“It would not be funny, no.” I answer, baby Lucía is on my lap taking a nap and I’m being super careful not to wake her up. “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘ironic’.”

“Tomayto-tomahto.”

“So, things didn’t really work out with Lucía pediatrician.” I tell him, we’re both still staring at the TV. “Hope you’re not upset or anything, I told Sienna I didn’t want to make things awkward for you guys.”

“No worries, it was her idea. I knew you two wouldn’t work.”

Carlos is very calm when he says that and I’m holding myself not to slap him. What the hell? How did he knew? Why didn’t he say anything?

“Hey, how did you know we wouldn’t work?” There’s annoyance in my intonation.

“He’s not your type.” Carlos takes a sip of his beer.

“What the fuck is my type?”

“Don’t curse in front of the baby!” He slowly and carefully puts a hand on top of her ear, Lucía has her mouth open and has been drooling all over me for the past 20 minutes.

“Shit, sorry. Sorry. What’s my type, smarthead?”

“I don't know.” He shrugs. “Just not him. I mean, he has an actual job and looks ready to commit. None of your exes fit the profile.”

“You’re such an…” I look at the sleeping baby in my arms and then back at my brother. “Alright, just so you know… That– his job, his willingness to commit– wasn't the problem at all. I really was willing to try.”

“What was the problem then?”

I’m quiet after he asks and Carlos chuckles, thinking he won the argument. Whatever. Let him think whatever he wants. It’s Victor’s birthday, so when Lucía is ready for her bathtime, I giver her goodbye, properly telling my brother to go fuck himself on the way out, when my nieces innocent ears are far way from us.

Victor is having a small gathering, and I’m supposed to bring something. So, after quickly dressing up at my place, I ran down to one of those fancy organic supermarkets, to try to find something overpriced but appropriate to bring to your colleague’s 32 birthday dinner.

At the dairy aisle, I see an apparition. I mean, he has to be a ghost hunting me at this point. A demon sent up to earth to provoke and humiliate me.

“You have got to be following me. Like, there’s no way you’re not following me!” I just point at Rúben, still more than two meters away from here, actually scared of getting any closer.

“Hey!” He gives me a big smile and I melt immediately, getting close to him and smiling back. “I got here first. So you must be the one following me.”

“Is Manchester really this small? 

“I think we just like to hang out at the same place, Isa.” He speaks kindly, as if explaining something simple to a child. It pisses me off and I can tell he notices because he chuckles.

“What are you even doing here?” I ask, properly pissed off.

“It’s a supermarket. I’m shopping.” Rúben looks at me head to toe as if it was something natural and then he actually comments on it. “You look nice. Are you going on another date?”

“Maybe…” I’m trying really hard not to fall for his compliment, I bite my lower lip, to avoid saying ‘thank you’.

“Hopefully not with the same guy from last time.” He puts his hand on his pockets and continues to smile at me, aggravatingly.

“Why not?” My voice is high pitched. Rúben is the second man to complain about Dr Peter Warren today, and I’m not having it.

“You just didn’t look like you were having fun with him.” He clicked his tongue and pretended to make a concerned face.

“You don’t know what I look like when I’m having fun.” I regret saying that immediately, but Rúben looks like he’s having fun with my reaction. Way behind him, right at the very end of the supermarket, I can see the wine aisle, like a light at the end of the tunnel. It’s my way out, I start to walk in that direction, only turning to him to say an excuse. “Anyway, I need to go.” I point in the direction I’m going. “I don’t want to be late.”

“Do you want a ride on the way out? Knowing us, we’re probably going to the same place.”

Fuck, a ride would be great. Is raining, and cold and Mel won’t answer my texts for some reason. What kind of question is that, anyway? Of course I want a ride.

“No…” I answer.

“You took a while to answer, are you sure?”

“Well, it was a great question. But I’m pretty sure, yeah.” I take a few seconds to just look at him as I say that, he’s wearing a white tee and fuck me, I have to cross my arms behind my back to fight the urge of hugging him. “Thanks, really.”

“No problem.” He winks. “Have a goodnight, Isa.”

“You too, Rúben.” I wave at him and he chuckles, waving back.

At Victor’s place, Melissa questions why I didn’t answer her calls.

“You didn’t answer my texts!” I explain to her.

“Cause I was busy calling you.” Mel points out. “Oh, hi, happy birthday, Victor!” She says when he opens the door, giving him a hug. I follow behind.

“Feliz cumpleaños, Victor! I brought wine.” I show him the bag. Inside, there’s a birthday card that says ‘holy guacamole, you’re 45!’, because it was the closest thing to his age I could find, as an apology I also wrote a random Oasis lyrics inside, since I know he hates the band for no reason.

“We all brought wine.” Sebastian yells from the apartment's kitchen. 

“That’s what I get for being more than 30.” Victor says.

“Wait until you’re 40! Things will turn around.” Melissa winks, already chewing on something. Alright, we do have food then.

“Well, I’m still in my twenties, so…” They all boo me as I say that.

“Who invited you? Get out.”

I do get out, eventually. After too much wine and not enough food, I go back to my place. My 25m² sanctuary. The whole place is spinning when I throw myself in bed. The next day this will all feel like a dream, and it’s gonna take me a couple hours to realize that I actually grabbed my phone to text Rúben.

isagarcia good wine great market palce to chooce wine

rubendias really? 

isagarcia oh yes great party tooo happy compleanos victor

rubendias hey are you ok? are you home?

isagarcia si home bed casa

rubendias good i’m glad you had fun now go drink some water, isa 😂

[michaelasworlds-blog]

Daddy’s Girl (A Hazbin OC Fanfic)

~~~~~~

Ch.9: Him

~~~~~~

🚨TRIGGER WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SMUT, MENTIONS OF SA & ALCOHOL/DRUG ABUSE🚨

“What are you doing?” Zeke’s voice was heard through the phone.

“Uh..” Bean didn’t know what to say. How could she tell him that she was currently sitting on the tv demon’s bed, rubbing his back. “Nothin..”

“You’re with him aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” She said, Vox groaned, “Shh..” Bean continued rubbing.

“Bean, you were supposed to drop him off then leave,” He sighed.

“I know, but he kept turning on his back and I was worried that he’d choke on his own vomit and I didn’t wanna be responsible for-”

“Okay okay, I got it, just be careful” Zeke interrupted her. “Don’t bring up anything about the book.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” She rolled her eyes. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Uh..ok?”

“What is the worst thing you did when you were alive?” Bean asked.

It was silent for a moment then Zeke sighed, “Um..well, I was working with the wrong kind of people; I was like a spy in a way. I would get information from rivals and give it to the people I worked for, one day I was surrounded by the rivals and abducted, they abducted my brother. They wanted me to confirm if he was the spy, apparently the people I worked for told them it was him and not me.”

“And you confirmed, didn't you?” Bean asked sadly.

“Yeah,” Zeke responded. “They killed him right in front of me.”

“I’m sorry, that must’ve been awful,”

Bean sat in the dark feeling conflicted, that’s all she felt these days. Well, to be fair she was always confused, she wished she knew what was going on half the time. She laid next to Vox looking at her reflection in his dark screen.

What was she doing?

Who was she?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chicago,1990s

Ruby wasn’t used to possession, she hadn’t gotten far with the last two; she wanted to help them but it only drove them to insanity. She wanted to help her children, but they wouldn’t help her. Bean wanted to help her but it was hard, she wouldn’t let Ruby take full control.

Ruby knew why.

It was because of him.

Bean was petrified of him, Ruby found him disgusting. Ruby had suggested ignoring him but he retaliated by taking away food for Bean, which in turn was food that Ruby wasn’t getting. If her child wasn’t healthy, she couldn’t be either. Ruby couldn’t return to full power if Bean wasn’t eating..So they resorted to eating while he wasn’t around, which wasn’t often or doing things Bean’s way; which was eating raw meat. Ruby didn’t mind, until today.

He had come home unexpectedly, leaving Bean in a state of shock; this gave Ruby the chance to take over. She watched him walk into the kitchen and sit right next to her, Ruby could feel Bean’s heart start to race. She swallowed her fear down glaring at the man.

“How’s my Beanie Baby doin?” He caressed her face, giving her a sick grin. Ruby snatched away, still glaring into his eyes, the man laughed. “Ya know I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I like this new you,” he bit his lip. “Like that you started putting up a fight.”

She stayed silent. Not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you falter.

He frowned, “You shouldn’t be eating raw meat,” the man threw food she had in front of her, in the trash. “It’s not good for you,” he whispered in her ear before leaving.

Ruby stared at the trash can, feeling the anger rise in her chest, she dug her nails into the wooden table.

“Don’t worry..mother will deal with him..”

Present Day, Hell

“What are you doing here?” Ruby glared at him.

“Now now, I thought we were friends,” the man grinned. She could only see half his face, the other half was hidden in his hood, “After all you knew my daughter’s body more than I did.”

Ruby stood up, looking the man directly in the eye. She didn’t want to cause a scene in her own establishment, “Shall we talk in the back?”

He chuckled, “No.”

“What do you want, Stefan?” She whispered, almost forcing the name out of her mouth like vomit.

He stepped closer to her, “Where is she?”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific,” Ruby smirked.

“Sure I can start breaking everyone’s necks in here, starting with her,” he pointed at Trixie. “Is that specific enough for you?” He leaned into her.

Ruby looked at her children, she couldn’t risk their lives for one, it wouldn’t be fair. She’d be alone again, she didn’t want to be alone.. “I don’t know where Bean is, but I can get her to come here,” She lied. She just needed to stall until she thought of something.

Stefan started slowly backing her into the wall behind her, she could see the other half of his face; which looked nothing but static and a glowing red eye that Ruby couldn’t help but stare at,“If you’re lying to me, I will burn this building down with everyone in it, do you understand what I’m saying?” She slowly nodded, “Good,” he grinned, before leaving.

Once he was gone Ruby let out a sigh of relief.

“Mother? Is everything okay?” One of her children asked. She nodded, she was so angry that she had no words for anyone.

“Tell Ty to start closing up,” She said before storming off. “I need to make a call.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Help..help me…please,” Bean heard a weak voice coming from down a dark hall. She slowly and quietly walked towards it.

Making it a dimly lit basement stairwell she stopped, hoping the voice wasn’t coming from there. “Is someone there?” Crap, Bean rolled her eyes.

She walked down the stairs, trying to stay away from the blood prints on the walls. The door was opened ajar, Bean slid into the very cold basement. She turned on the light, jumping back against the wall at the sight in front of her. There was a blue creature in the middle of the floor, with one leg and had stab wounds all over its body. It reached out to Bean with its bloody hand, “Help..” it was throwing up blood.

Bean walked towards it, “Who did this?”

“Please, it hurts,” it cried.

Bean picked it up, putting it on her back before exiting the basement, however the house had changed. Instead of a cold dreary old house, it was a cozy house; like one of those houses she had seen in a Christmas catalog. It was warm and quiet, it was even snowing outside. Bean walked into the living room to see a light skinned girl with curly hair sitting on the couch, she was covered in dirt, staring at static on the tv

“Excuse me?” Bean tapped the girl. She turned her head towards her looking annoyed.

“If you’re looking for him he isn’t done yet,” the girl snapped at Bean.

“I just need a phone, this person is hurt-” Bean realized the creature was no longer there. “What?”

The girl stood up, “He’s my dad too! It’s not fair! Why do you get all the nice stuff and I don’t!” She screamed.

Bean backed away in shock, “What do you-” she threw up a yellow liquid, she covered her mouth; but the closer the girl got the more liquid came out. She ran upstairs as the girl kept shouting.

Now she was in a long seemingly endless hallway. She was panting, she stopped to breathe. However Bean couldn’t rest for long, a monstrous screech came from where she had come from. “Hello?!” She started banging on doors. “Please help! There’s something after me!” She cried.

🚨TRIGGER WARNING: THIS PART CONTAINS SOUNDS OF SA🚨 (skip bold font if uncomfortable)

“For fuck sake Gee! I said let me finish!” A familiar voice came from one of the doors. Bean stopped frozen in fear. There were grunts and moans coming from it, “I love you so much Beanie, fuck you’re so beautiful,” the voice continued. There were small whimpering noises coming from the room.

Bean stared at the door, she wanted to stop listening, to keep running, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t move. The longer she stayed the louder the noises became, the more noises she heard.

She noticed a sign on the door, it was written in terrible but familiar handwriting,

“DO NOT ENTER! THIS IS A ROCKER ZONE!”

“This is..mine,” she took the sign, finally backing away from the door.

Bean bumped into something making her turn around. It was her, but with yellow liquid coming from her eyes and mouth.

Before Bean could scream she threw up yellow liquid.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bean woke up gagging. She looked around, she sighed in relief remembering she was in V-Tower, in Vox’s bedroom? It looked like he worked in here too, there were multiple tvs on the ceilings and a desk that went around the room filled with papers. She looked down also realizing she was in the same dress from last night.

Vox wasn’t in bed. Maybe he was in the bathroom? Wherever it was in here. Or the closet? There was no one in the closet. Maybe the bathroom, since she could hear humming coming from it.

There was a light knock at the door, “Um sir?” A voice came from the other side. “Zestial wants to know if you’ll be advertising his herb brand, at least that’s what I think it says..I’m not very good at old English-“ Bean opened the door, startling the assistant.

“Hi!” She smiled.

He jumped back, “Um hi, is Mr. Vox-”

“Is that for him?” She took the stack of papers, “Wow these are heavy, you carried these by yourself?” Bean was amazed.

“Yeah actually, I like to get my daily walk in so I usually take the stairs,” he smiled, flattered.

“Well don’t work too hard, I can give these to him if you want,” She offered. “I’m Bean, what’s your name?”

“Well Mr. Vox told me my name was Papermint so..”

“What was your name when you were alive?”

“Colin.”

“Hi Colin, I’m Beatrice,” she waved.

“But didn’t you say your name was-” before he could finish there was a loud thud from the bathroom.

The sinners rushed inside seeing Vox on the floor, a low battery sign flashed on his screen. They looked at each other then back at the overlord.

“There wouldn’t happen to be a charger in here right?” Bean asked Colin, hoping she wouldn’t have to drag this 7 foot tall man down a flight of stairs.

He shook his head, Bean groaned.

After 45 minutes of dragging Vox down the hall to the elevator and trying to get the password for the elevator, they finally got him to his charging port in the tv room.

“How do you plug this shit in?” Bean struggled to plug the charger into Vox, he fell over on the sofa. She looked at his ass then back at the charger smirking, getting dirty ideas.

Colin pushed him back in the upright position, “It doesn’t go there,” he took the charger from her, sticking it in the back of Vox’s head. His screen started loading, “Well I’m going now, don’t touch anything.” He left her alone.

“Ugh!” She was already bored. What the hell was she supposed to do?

Bean did the exact opposite of everything she was told, tapping the shark tank, to turning on and off cameras. “I am very confused on why this camera is right outside Voe’s bedroom,” she turned the camera off. “Oops.” She turned to Vox who was on 95%. She went over to him, sitting on his lap. Bean tapped his screen. “You’re not nice,” she poked his chest then kissed the side of his face before leaning against him, “What’s wrong with me?”

At that moment Vox woke up, he looked down in annoyance, “Why are you sitting on me?” Bean yelped startled. She fell onto the floor.

“Ow..” she stood up rubbing her back. “I was trying to see if you were awake.”

“Uh huh sure,” Vox pulled the charger out. “Is that why you were sleeping in my bed?” He crossed his arms.

“YOU asked ME to stay with you,” Bean put her hands on her hips. “You would not let go of me! then threatened to kill the limo driver!”

“I don’t remember that,” Vox waved her off.

“Yeah, you were drunk.”

“Whatever.”

Bean stared at him, it was obvious she was only annoying him. She sighed, “Fine, I’ll go.” She put her shoes on.

Vox groaned, “Wait, come back.” He pulled her back onto his lap, Bean had her arms crossed not looking at him. “Thank you, I appreciate you making sure I was okay,” She smiled at him. He blushed, rolling his eyes, “It wasn’t that big a deal, but thanks.”

“I appreciate you being nice, even if you were intoxicated,” she giggled.

He chuckled, embarrassed. Vox didn’t want anyone to see him like that, especially not Alastor or Voe..or Bean. “What did such a sweet doll like yourself do to end up down here?”

Bean leaned into him, seeing her reflection on his screen, “I killed my stepdad.”

“Interesting..” Vox was intrigued. “I guess that explains the strange behavior I’ve seen in the cameras.”

“Strange?” Bean tilted her head.

“Yeah,” He grinned. “The night after the nightmare wedding my cameras caught you ripping different sinners to shreds..all night.” Vox was excited just thinking about it, he had to admit it was hot.

Bean's eyes widened, “Are they okay?”

“Who cares?” Vox scoffed. “Val was super psyched, you got every sinner on his list; the bastard got over 1,200 souls back.”

Bean looked down, she had literally helped an abuser get his victims back. Is that why Angel went back? Was she really that scary? “I’m a failure..” she mumbled. “I don’t deserve redemption.”

“The princess got into your head didn’t she?” Vox rolled his eyes. “Redemption is a load of crap, I bet you those guys you killed probably ate babies in their lifetime! So if anything they deserved it! Not to be in heaven.”

“Do you think I deserve to go to heaven?” She looked at him shyly.

Vox pulled her closer to him, his hands resting on her waist, “My dear, you are heaven,” he winked at her.

She blushed, laughing, “Boo!”

“What? You don’t believe me?” He raised an eyebrow.

“ I don’t actually,” she smirked. “Which is ironic considering your motto is about ‘trust’.”

He laughed, his hand slowly moving from her waist to her hair, “Your hair, it’s long.” He looked at it.

She blushed even harder, the warmth from her cheeks were spreading to her entire body, “Yeah..I need to cut it.”

“Don’t,” Vox leaned forward. “I like it,” before Bean responded he kissed her, his hand still in her hair.

🚨TRIGGER WARNING: THIS PART CONTAINS SMUT🚨 (skip bold font if uncomfortable)

Bean kissed him back moaning into his mouth, she ripped his tie off tossing it aside deepening the kiss. He moved from her mouth to her neck, biting it, this only made the warmth in her body even hotter, “Vox..” She moaned, feeling the bulge in his pants graze her clit. She slowly started to grind into his crotch, her panties getting more and more soaked. Vox moaned, at one point biting into her neck, Bean screamed, “Fuck!”

“Did daddy hurt you?” He smirked, kissing the bite mark.

“Shut up,” she laughed, moaning as Vox slowly unzipped her dress. Bean pushed the dress down before Vox to kiss her cleavage, getting closer and closer to her nipple. One hand on her boob while he licked and played with her nipple through her bra.

Her tail wrapped around Vox’s leg, “Vox..fuck..” Bean could feel herself leaking through her panties as Vox pulled her closer to his boner, at this point they were grinding into each other. Her moans started becoming louder and louder the faster more they grinded.

Vox pulled one part of her bra down, licking her pierced nipple, Bean threw her head back, “Fuck Yes! Right there! Stay right there!” She was so close she could practically explode. When suddenly..

Vox’s phone rang, he pushed her off of him taking the call, “What? An overlord meeting? When?” He was listening while buttoning his shirt. Bean sat there covered in sweat and other fluids, feeling kind of silly. “You should go, I have a conference meeting in 5.”

“But it’s only 1,” Bean pouted.

“Minutes.”

“Oh, okay,” She pulled up her bra and dress disappointed before leaving.

Bean walked down the hallway feeling ashamed, even though there was no one there; she felt as though she had been some homewrecker who got shooed away because the wife was coming home.

“Boo.” She said sadly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eugenia took a deep breath before entering Donnie’s gallery, she was ready to face him. Ready to..honestly she didn’t know what she’d do. She stepped inside, the building was empty, there were no visitors. No workers.

Was Donnie even here?

She heard a loud crash coming from the back, Eugenia made her way over there cautiously.

“I knew it!” She heard a woman scream, she peeked through the door seeing Donnie and Ruby, she looked pissed. “I knew I couldn’t count on an idiot like you! And I chose to anyway!”

“Now Ruby, I don’t see what’s wrong with getting something from my daughter, you did,” he crossed his arms.

“You came to me because you wanted to protect your daughter, you wanted to see her again! You said that!” She raged on. “We made a deal back when she was alive! You just wanted to use her to play dick wars with the other overlords!”

“Now listen-”

“SHUT UP!” Ruby ripped the mask off of Donnie’s face. “You are useless!” She pushed him into a chair. All he could do was stare up in silence. “Because of you that man- your bff is comfortable enough to look down on me. ME!” Ruby slapped him with his mask. “Because of you! My child is in danger!”

Eugenia cringed hearing that. Her child was in danger, not this deranged woman.

Ruby cleared her throat, “I think it’d be better for you to spend some time in some silence,” Donnie’s eyes widened as she ripped the mask in half. “Take some time to listen to others.”

Eugenia backed up from the door bumping into someone, it was Alastor. “Funny, this doesn’t look like the Hell Mart,” he said sarcastically.

“I was just-”

“I don’t care,” he grabbed her arm before shadowing them both away.

They appeared in his radio station, “And what were you doing there?”

“I wanted to talk to him,” She shrugged.

“He seemed a bit preoccupied at the moment my dear, hope you weren’t going to ask for shared custody,” Alastor leaned on his cane.

“I need to protect my daughter-”

“If I recall correctly you wanted me to protect her,” he interrupted her.

“I know but-”

“And in return you do what I say.”

“I know! I just..I’m her mom, I want her to understand that I made mistakes but I did them for her,” she looked at the floor. If she could explain everything to Bean she’d understand.

The radio demon narrowed his eyes, “What are you saying?”

“I want to tell her, I know now that Donnie isn't the threat I thought he was, it’s..it’s my husband that’s the problem,” she sighed, then noticed Alastor looking at her still smiling, but his eyes looked at her like she was an idiot, “What?”

“It took you until you died and went to hell to realize that your husband was the issue? Is that what you’re going to tell her?”

“No- I don’t know, okay! My daughter is a very understanding person, I tell her things and she’ll listen.”

“Wow,” He slow clapped, “Mother of the year.”

She rolled her eyes, “Anyway I need to talk to Donnie, but he can’t talk at the moment.”

“Leave that to me my dear, and get back to work, will you, the residents want to see a friendly face when they come to the hotel, make sure to show off those beautiful pearly whites,” he gestured to his smile.

Eugenia rolled her eyes leaving the radio station, “I’m goin on break.”

After an hour break she went down to the front desk, “Where the hell were you?” Husk asked.

“On break,” Eugenia sat down.

“Break?! Who told you to- forget it I don’t care,” he went back to cleaning his bottles.

Eugenia took out a magazine and began reading it, “100 ways to tell a woman a bedtime story..hmm-”

“What are you doing?!” Someone yelled, making her drop her magazine. It was Voe, standing in front of her laughing.

“I’m working,” Eugenia picked up her magazine.

“Ah yes, reading ‘Sinful Stylez’ is definitely working,” Voe eyed the magazine. Eugenia quickly put it away. “Ya know I was actually on the cover a few months ago, don’t know if you saw that issue.”

She shook her head, “Sorry no..”

“Hm, anyway let’s talk!” The doe leaned on the desk.

“O..kay, what do you need?”

“You said you were a mom right?”

“I still consider myself one,” Eugenia thought of Bean. She honestly couldn’t wait to tell her that her mother was here and that she was sorry.

“Well, when you were alive, what was it like to be a mother,” Voe asked.

Eugenia had been asked that a lot when she was alive, she always told people “Raising girls were easy, at least until they become teens.” She could tell Voe probably didn’t want to hear that, she cleared her throat, “Well it’s scary, I guess you just never know what’s gonna happen with them; anything can happen but as long as you take care of them and love them you’ll always know what they need.”

“Hm, well shit I was just looking for if it’s easy or hard” Voe responded. “I got a ‘You basically give your soul to your children’.”

Eugenia laughed, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be, I asked. What about child birth is that-”

“Oh absolutely horrible! They say it gets easier the second time, it’s a fucking lie!” Eugenia said, making her laugh. She will never forget when she had Bean, She was fat for a baby so Eugenia was in a whole lot of pain, but having her was worth it

“I like you Gigi, you’re nice to talk to,” Voe smiled at her. Eugenia smiled back, thinking about also telling Voe the truth..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And then she goes, you can be my first patient or whatever!” Angel says angrily. “What does that even mean?!” He drank from a bottle of liquor he was sharing with Cherri and Bean.

Cherri laughed, “Looks like Voe traded up!”

The three sinners were laying on the floor in the living room, they thought it’d be cool to not use the couch; well Cherri and Bean did. Not Angel though, he laid on the couch behind them.

“I’ve been doin drugs all my life! She was fine with it when we met, now she’s gone all..shit I don’t know Mother Teresa,” He laughed, drinking from the bottle.

“Don’t hog it!” Cherri took the bottle drumming from it.

“She thinks just because she’s married she knows everything now!” The spider rolls his eyes. He looks over at Bean who has been quiet, “What’s with you Latte? You wanna go to the shrink?”

The friends laughed, “No! I just never thought about it,” Bean drank from the bottle. “Therapy wasn’t a thing, though I did have a great aunt who killed her husband and married the family dog, she might’ve been a good test subject!” She drank from the bottle.

“Speakin of husbands, I heard you and Vox were playin house last night y’all left Club 666,” Angel smirked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Bean blushed, “No no no! It wasn’t like that,” Angel and Cherri looked at her, not convinced. “Like nothing happened- well, not that night but in the morning- it wasn’t- I was just trying to help!” She couldn’t bring herself to talk about the embarrassing moment, he had texted her “hi” to which she responded but that was it.

“Holy shit!” Cherri gasped, “Did you guys fuck?!”

“No, we almost did but- ugh,” Bean covered her burning red face. “He had a meeting and told me to leave.”

“Awe shit,” Cherri rubbed her back. “I’m sorry babes.”

“Did you at least get ANY dick action?” Angel asked.

“I mean, we were dry humping,” She said in a small voice.

“Did it feel how Voe described?” He sat up, curious.

Bean’s embarrassment faded and was replaced by shock, “What? Why would Voe know what Vox’s dick feels like?”

Angel looked at Cherri, regretting asking the question. Well it was too late now, “Voe had an orgy with the Vees, according to them it was the hottest time they ever had in bed.”

“Oh.” Bean looked into space, trying not to let whatever feeling consume her. Was it anger? Hate? Betrayal? Sadness? Envy? She took a deep breath “Well that’s fine,” she gave them a fake smile.

“Ugh, men are the worst,” Angel crossed his arms.

“They most certainly fuckin are,” Cherri glared at the thought of testosterone. “Glad I don’t date anymore.” She looked over at a silent Bean, her head was down and she was staring at her phone. The one eyed sinner snatched, “Ya know what we should do?”

“What the fuck?!” Bean tried reaching for her phone, but was pushed back by Cherri.

“We should go out! Get fucked and fucked up!”

“Eh..I can’t I got plans, promised Husk a rematch at blackjack,” Angel declined.

“Boo!” His friend punched his arm. “That’s fine, we don’t need a man to have fun, right Bean?” Cherri grinned at her.

“Give my phone back,” Bean held her hand out.

“Only if you say yes to the best night of your life!”

Bean sighed, she was really doing this. It’s not like she had anything to do, and she did want something to take her mind off Vox.

“What time should I be ready?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alastor hummed a tune, walking through “Cannibal Town”, he waved to a few cannibals on the street, giving them a friendly smile. With everything going on with Bean, it took his mind off Vera for a while. He didn’t know what was going on with her, he didn’t want to assume the worst. Which was her getting bored with him and deciding to go off with the king of Hell, the thought of it made him go haywire, sometimes he couldn’t get over the fact that Voe had fucked Vox.

He sighed, finally making it to “Rosie’s Emporium.” Alastor fixed himself before going inside, as usual there was a line out the door and as usual Alastor went right in. He walked forward when he almost tripped over something, the Radio Demon looked down to see a small cannibal child looking up at him, she looked to be about 4 or 5, “Daddy?” She circled him. The children in Cannibal Town were always playing around but not inside, they were outside; where was this young one’s parents?

The little girl reached up to him, Alastor picked her up, moving her to the side. “Careful my dear, you don’t want to get stepped on.” He chuckled to himself.

“Now I know I’m gettin a little old, but is the Alastor standin in front of me?” Rosie emerged from the crowd with her cheery smile.

“In the flesh,” he kissed her hand.

“Don’t you try and butter me up young man,” The overlord chuckled. “Come come! There’s someone I want you to meet, and before you ask, I heard her accent and immediately thought of you.”

Rosie guided Alastor to the tea room, sitting there was just the woman he was hoping to see. The woman that owned Bean’s soul, she looked much different than when they first met. She had gotten better clothes and didn’t look frail and skinny like before, the woman was curvier. “Alastor, this is Ruby, we met at the Cannibal Sweet Shop a few weeks ago.”

“We’ve actually met before,” Alastor looked at the woman, “I see you’ve regained your overlord status.”

“I did, thanks to my children, their mother can now provide for them,” Ruby smiled.

“Did I mention that she’s a mother figure to all?” Rosie smiled warmly. “I find it sweet.”

“Mama?!” The same little girl came running into the room. She ran up to Ruby. “Mama?”

“Annalise!” Rosie picked her up. “What have I told you about running back here?!”

Ruby stared up at the child, “How precious,” she smiled. Annalise smiled back.

“Where are her parents?” Alastor asked.

“They were murdered during the last extermination,” Rosie said sadly. “She keeps lookin for her parents hopin they’ll show up, sorry for the damp mood let me go sit her down somewhere with a snack, you guys get to chattin,” she left with Annalise. Ruby waved at her.

“Awe how sweet, How tragic,” Alastor leaned in his hand, being dramatic. “Now as much as I love my dear friend, I am a bit busy today so I’ll get to it, you have something that I need.”

Ruby raised an eyebrow, “Mo chagren?”

Translation: I’m sorry?

“You have something that belongs to a friend of mine,” he put his hand over half his face, to let Ruby know what he was talking about.

“Oo..no,” She responded.

“Come now, you can’t silence the man, he needs to express himself-”

“He disobeyed me! He had one job and he decided to make stupid decisions!” She said angrily before going off and ranting in a different language.

Alastor put up his hand to stop her, Ruby looked at him like he was out of his mind. “I know you’re upset sha but he needs it, I think not connecting with his child is punishment enough don’t you think?”

“Did Eugenia send you?” She raised an eyebrow.

“I won’t lie to you but yes, she wants to talk to Donnie about Bean, and can’t since you have his mask,” he honestly didn’t know why she didn’t come here herself, but he remembered Eugenia was a coward.

“She doesn’t deserve to be a mother, I’ve got the situation under control ,” she waved him off.

“Really? Do you know where she is now?” The radio demon leaned on the table. Ruby remained silent, rolling her eyes. “What kind of mother would you be if you allowed your child to get hurt because of petty squabble,” he looked her up and down.

“She’s not letting up,” Rosie came back holding Annalise.

“That’s fine, I could be going,” Ruby stood up.

“Okay love, travel safe,” Rosie smiled.

Ruby booped Annalise on the nose, “Adyeu.” She said before leaving.

Translation: Good bye.

“Such a sweet lady,” Rosie said. “Oh no! She left somethin.” There was something wrapped in cloth.

Alastor took it, opening it, it was Donnie’s mask sewn back together, “Hm,” he smirked. “I’ll return this to her.” He stands up to leave, thinking about Bean, how she doesn’t have anybody; at least Alastor had his mother when he was alive. There was no one she could go to for anything, they always seemed to steer her in the wrong direction.

“Rosie,” he turned around. “I need a favor from you.”

“Of course!” Rosie smiled.

“There’s someone I want you to meet.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We’ve all heard the saying “Misery loves company”, have you ever heard of “A Partygoer loves a Playmate”?

No?

Neither had Bean until tonight, Cherri had shown her around to clubs that she didn’t know existed, each one was sicker than the last; it was even better since they were drunk and had taken at least 4 pills each and a 5th one for good luck.

They were at “Consent” dancing and laughing their asses off.

“Is it bad that I can’t feel my face?!” Bean screamed over the music.

“Your face should be falling off!” Cherri yelled, laughing. “Isn’t this better than sulkin into your phone?!”

“Fuck yeah!” She danced, accidentally dropping the drink in her hand. “Oh shit! I’m so sorry!”

“That’s alright babe, no need to cry over spilled milk, I’ll get you another one,” Cherri said before walking to the bar.

Bean watched her friend disappear into the crowd, she started twirling in circles feeling the music. She felt light as a feather, like she could fly without wings if she wanted to. For a moment she stopped dancing, looking at her phone, there were some texts from Angel, Voe, and Charlie; all of them basically saying to make good choices. There were none from Vox, only the “Hi” from earlier, she began to feel that empty feeling again; then all of a sudden she didn’t feel much like partying.

The music started to feel like it was playing through a tunnel, and everyone moved in slow motion. Where was Cherri? Bean tried looking through the crowd, but stopped when she had the most painful headache. She looked up, noticing a man standing in the crowd, he wasn’t dancing or drinking with the others; he was just standing there, staring at her. His aura felt familiar, it paralyzed her, made her feel hopeless and afraid. The more she looked at the hooded sinner she realized why he felt so familiar.. Bean was unable to breathe.

“You-” before Bean could even try to make words, she was grabbed by someone making her jump back. She turned seeing Cherri Bomb.

“Whoa! What’s wrong?” She asked a frightened Bean. She hugged Cherri crying and hyperventilating, Cherri held her, “Did someone do something to you?” She was ready to clock anyone who wanted to mess with her friend. However, Bean said nothing, she kept trying to breathe and wouldn’t stop sobbing and shaking. “Let’s get you out of here.”

The duo left the club and sat on a bench outside, Bean was finally able to breathe, “Sorry,” she finally said. “I thought I saw someone I used to know.”

“Don’t be, I know how that is,” Cherri smiled sadly. “When I broke up with my ex I couldn’t sleep for two months, still can’t sometimes. He used to scare the crap out of me.”

“He won’t leave me alone,” Bean held her head, it felt like it would explode at any moment.

“Who?”

She was silent for a moment, finding it too hard to even say the words, “My mom wouldn't stop him..I was alone.” Bean could feel herself slip out of consciousness but was shaken awake.

“Hey!” Cherri shook her. “Wake up! I can’t carry you!”

“Okay, let’s go home,” Bean stood up but immediately fell on the ground. “Ow..”

“Shit,” Cherri looked at the demon before taking her by the arms and dragging her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thank you, so much,” Eugenia took the mask from Alastor. “She sewed it.”

Alastor shrugged, “Probably because she felt guilty or she wants Bean to be happy.”

“I do make her happy, I’M her mother!” She said loudly. “Ruby is a parasite that sticks to people because she can’t live with the reality that she can’t ACTUALLY be a mother.” She was tired of hearing how Ruby was her mother, that woman did not raise Bean, she did!

Eugenia realized that Alastor was staring past her at something, “What?”

“You have an audience member,” his grin widened. She turned around and froze seeing a shocked and drunk looking Bean leaning against the kitchen wall.

“You’re my what?”

[plague-karm]

Fuck it more Summer Solstice stuff because I’m bored and I like writing these two a lot.

Carissa was panicking, badly. Two of the rabbits were missing! She looked everywhere! She asked everyone! Gabriel looked with her and he couldn’t find them! Her sisters couldn’t find them either! What was she going to do?! The other rabbits were worried for her, they didn’t like seeing their mama so distressed…

Her weariness brought her to Greed, she needed to calm herself down…when she stepped into the temple however she was met with a sight that was as relieving as it was confusing. The two lost rabbits! They were here! Sisyphus took notice of her frazzled state and immediately got up to tend to her.

“What happened? Were you hurt? Tell me who it was and I will-“

“THEY WERE HERE THE WHOLE TIME?!”

He flinched, normally he’d be prepared for such an outburst but she had never raised her voice to him before. He put his hands up and responded in protest.

“My love what are you talking about-“

“I’ve been looking for them all day! I sent you a letter about it this morning!”

“How did you send it?”

“…That’s not important!”

“…It was through the abandoned outpost wasn’t it?”

“Well…now that you mention it…yes but-“

He burst out laughing, Carissa responded defensively

“Oh hush I don’t leave my sanctuary often I couldn’t tell it was abandoned! They all look the same! How do you even know what it looks like?”

“I have my ways my treasure”

She approached the little ones and pet them gently

“Oh little ones how did you even get here? I can’t imagine what could’ve happened if you were spotted…”

“I’m curious about that as well. They just danced their way inside like they owned the place, I tried looking for you but you were nowhere to be found”

“Little ones why didn’t you tell me where you were going I’ve been worried sick!”

The rabbits looked at each other and spoke to her in little squeaky voices, Sisyphus couldn’t understand a word, but Carissa had been their caretaker for so long that she understood it all. It was endearing to watch in all honesty.

“Aww…”

“What is it?”

“I come here that often with them that…well, they thought it would be okay to just show up”

Okay he had to admit that was quite cute, he’d never say it out loud though. Carissa tried to sound as stern as she could but she was failing miserably.

“Little ones I’m okay with you coming here but you need to tell me first!”

“Listen to your mother lagomorphs”

They nodded and went back to what they were doing, which was going around the room and doing binkies.

“…What were they doing before I came?”

“They fought”

“They’re still young that’s normal”

“…”

“…You watched them didn’t you?”

“No, don’t be foolish”

“And you said you didn’t like them all that much~”

“I never said that, I just said that I would prefer it if they didn’t venture everywhere, trying to herd them when they’re all together is a nightmare”

“Hm~?”

“Stop smirking”

“I know you care~”

“Hmph…”

“Go on~ say it~”

He mumbled

“I care about the creatures…”

“I can’t hear you~”

He cleared his throat and spoke clearer

“I care about the creatures”

She clapped happily, looking pleased that he had finally warmed up to them, one of them wanted to be held and held they will be.

“They always catch up to you when you least expect it”

“I’m aware dearest”

The rabbits eventually went to sleep and Carissa wrapped them up in a small blanket.

“The care you show for creatures that are weaker than yourself is contagious”

“You CAN just call them cute hon”

“Hm…no”

“Suit yourself, I need to take them back upstairs soon, they get homesick”

“So that’s why they never stay over night…”

“I’ll be back soon”

“Oh don’t worry I know you will~”

She came back a while later, her hair was undone and she looked quite tired

“I suppose they were more of a handful tonight?”

“No…I was questioned”

He paused, he looked at her with grave concern, he wasn’t concerned about being found out, hell, he saw it as another act of spite towards heaven, making someone as worshipped as her fall for him. But he knew there were a LOT more risks for her, and she didn’t have much agency when it came to combat.

“By who?”

He sounded worried, something that caught her off guard, something about him of all people sounding unsure disturbed her.

“Gabriel, he’s noticing a pattern…he asked where I was going, I just said that I was going to get more greens for the little ones”

“And he believed you?”

“…”

“Carissa. Did he believe you?”

“Yes, he left me to my own devices after that”

He took a sigh of relief.

“I might have to visit at a different time…use a different route maybe”

That quickly changed to a sigh of frustration, damn angels…she held his hand.

“I know it’s frustrating but-“

“It is. You are ABOVE them, you have more power than ANY of them, your sanctuary is ABOVE heaven yet they keep you chained…why should it even bother them…? If you were one of their own then maybe but you’re NOT…”

“…You’re upset we can’t be open about this, aren’t you?”

He was about to protest, but she was right. It wasn’t her fault, but to tell the truth…he was terrified of what could happen to her…she may be a being of high standing but she was still fallible, capable of being hurt, capable of being killed. And the last thing he wanted was for her to be killed by THEM, if she was going to die he’d rather it be here.

“…I hate it when you’re right”

“I’m bothered too…I hate sneaking around, it makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong even though I’m not…I feel like I’m lying to everyone…my sisters, Gabriel…”

“I know that you’re close but he’s still part of the problem”

“Please Sisyphus just let me finish”

He gently put her in his lap as he returned to his throne, growing weary due to the stress of losing her to THEM. Him? Sure, lock him up and throw away the key, he didn’t care, but she was too good for that, he’d rather die than let that happen.

“But I’m still happy I can see you, you’ve been in my life for so long that I can’t think of one without you”

“Me too…I…”

He always struggled with stuff like this, flirtation? He could do that all day. Flattery? He could run rings around almost anyone. Genuine forms of worded affection without a hint of teasing? Fuck.

“…I’ve been here for so long, it’s my pride along with my scars, you…”

He sounded hesitant, she held his hand again, she knew how hard this was, how much distrust he had in others outside of his layer and a very small circle of people outside of it. She wanted him to let it out.

“Make me feel more at ease with myself…with this life, I wish I could give you more…I’ve always been tempted to show you off, I know I can’t but it’s always been in the back of my mind. And I’ve always been fascinated by your form…”

He stroked her cheek as gently as he could, she smiled, she admired his strength but she admired his patience even more.

“You look so human…you’re warm…”

“Of course I’m warm silly it’s always hot here”

“No, your warmth is different”

“I see, this is probably my favourite form to take, it’s the most comfortable at least…I’m flattered you like it so much”

He paused and looked down at her

“…What?”

“Oh, this is just the form I take on so no one gets scared, I greet a lot of people when they enter heaven and I want them to be met with something familiar”

The two looked at each other in silence for a solid 30 seconds before Carissa spoke up and realised what was going through his mind.

“…You…didn’t actually think this was my real form, did you?”

“Yes…?”

“I thought all the higher ups in hell had true forms? Medusa has one”

“She’s a special case, I am stuck like this for as long as I live”

“It’s not the worst form to be stuck in”

“I know, but that still means a lot coming from you”

“Hm…”

“…Can I see it?”

“See what?”

“What you actually look like”

“Oh! Well I-I’m not really sure that’s the best idea, it’s something most people can’t really comprehend and it ends up making them very confused”

“But I’m not some people, am I? We’ve known each other for so long…and I can handle a lot worse than the abstract nature of holy vessels”

“…Are you sure?”

“I’m positive”

“Okay, if you get uncomfortable I’ll stop”

She unsheathed her true form…wow. He wasn’t really sure what to expect but it wasn’t that, he could look at her all night and not get tired, it was hypnotising, was that her intent? To catch him off guard? Because it was definitely working, she eventually returned to her human form and nestled back into his lap.

“It was nice to have a stretch, I haven’t done that in a while-…Sisyphus?”

He was still entranced, oh god, she knew this was going to happen…how was she going to snap him out of it? She tried slapping him a few times, no results, a few kisses here and there, still nothing, oh no, he can’t remain rendered a statue! She had to do something!

And then she had an idea, she went over to one of his nearby gold stashes, she knew how protective he was over these, so she gave one of the many coins that were laid out a slight tap and that was enough to snap him out of it.

Turning to the sound with a harsh glare before realising it was her, he quickly calmed down and she giggled softly

“There’s a reason I don’t show it often”

“Indeed…it’s…effective…”

“Are you okay?”

“…Yes just…give me a minute before we go to bed”

“Alright”

That night as he slept Carissa lay beside him, wide awake, hugging his arm as she thought back to the exchange she had with Gabriel…in reality he was quite close to finding out the truth, but she managed to speak convincingly enough that he left without pushing further…she hated doing this. She hated the fact that all of the people she loved were on opposing sides, she hated lying to them, she felt like she was becoming what her father feared all of his creations to be, failures with the gift of free will and the curse of besmirching it at every turn.

No, they had been together for this long, this doubt will pass, nothing bad will come of this, nothing awful any way, Sisyphus said it himself, she was more powerful than heaven…her sisters however…they looked down at hell every chance they got, sickened at its very existence, of those who resided there, but then again…she was like that too before she went down here herself.

Would they be as willing to change as she did though? That was a thought that always prevented her from going through with that plan, she needs to stop thinking like this, this is fine, everything is fine, nothing bad will happen, no one has to know, this will pass.

This. Will. Pass.

[ruby-red-inky-blue]

Carrie watches “North & South” (2004) Ep. 1 and 2

Uh-oh, choices were made.

Thornton’s intro. I have so many questions, and the first is... why? (The Hades vibes I can take or leave - don’t get me wrong, I *love* me that myth, but I don’t quite know yet if I like it applied here. But it’s a choice, and I’m willing to see where it goes.) But, like, you catch a guy smoking in your cotton mill. I get it. I get it. But... you get his pipe off him, still warm, mind you, likely still gleaming - and you take time out of your day to pummel him to the ground?? Instead of getting both the worker and the pipe well out of the room that is *filled* with incredibly combustible fluff? If Thornton were as business-minded and no-nonsense as they claim he is, he’d have kicked that guy out in two sentences, and maybe sent a clerk after him to notify the cops. And he’d not get in a fistfight... with a worker... all that does is waste time and make him lose face? He might shout abuse after him a bit, and that would have done fine for this scene, actually, if they had to write a new one? Why are we spending all this time to establish he’s physically violent? And that he has a temper? Why is Thornton a tall dark and handsome Byronic hero - John “oh whelp too awkward to explain why I’m standing around by the side of the road better take a day trip to the country” “bringing my unrequited love’s mother fruit baskets because she’s sick” “travelling across the country to collect roses where the one that got away grew up and pressing them in my balance book” Thornton? Why is the main trait the audience is supposed to associate him with that he may erupt into unapologetic violence at any point? I do feel strongly reminded of a love interest from a classic novel, actually, but it is not North and South - this violent streak is giving me intense Mr. Rochester vibes. Again, choices were made.

(He *did* have a bit of a temper in the book! But like, he was a bit short with people. On relatively rare occasions. He wasn’t given to punching someone in a room full of people who would never raise a hand to stop him because they all work for him? Isn’t he all about fairness all the time? And idk, Armitage is giving him a vibe in his early scenes as if that temper could come out with *anyone*, except maybe his mother? As if Margaret should be afraid of him physically harming her? It’s very uncomfortable and I really don’t get what they think the story is gaining from this.)

They really put on the intense staring with old Mrs. Thornton, but I do quite like her, actually - and Fanny is delightfully horrid. I think it’s touching, in a way, seeing how the two of them must have spoiled her rotten, so I actually like how hard they’re leaning into this.

Mr. Bell is decidedly creepy in this. I wasn’t a fan of his in the book - lord but he was annoying as all hell - but why make him so weirdly *into* Margaret? Right in front of her father, too? And right in front of my salad??

Going into ep 2, I am warming up to this Thorton, though I still feel he’s a bit too... sure of himself? The power dynamic between him and the Hales is weirdly underplayed, which is a shame, it’s so interesting. Like that little interlude at his mother’s dinner, when he leaves her to go talk to what’s-his-name... that was too smooth. He’s great when it’s about the strike, but with Margaret he’s so weirdly dominant. But again. The performance is growing on me. The smitten looks do help.

Holy manufactured drama Batman! Margaret is outed at the dinner table for bringing food to the Higgins’s! *gasp* Was this in the book? Surely I’d remember that... will have to check, but boy, did that feel forced, with everyone dropping their knives and forks in outrage.

Oooooh, the strike! The buildup was nicely adapted, but it did feel a little anticlimactic to see it play out, it’s over so quickly! There really isn’t much more to the event, but it felt so much longer in the book! (And all the time Thorton spends lingering on it afterwards probably made it feel even longer than it was.)

Ngl the dramatic blending of flashbacks to Margaret’s bloody temple with a closeup of Thornton staring out of a window is a bit funny with twenty years of hindsight on it. As I’m coming up on the end of ep 2, I guess my temporary verdict is they *really* upped the ante on the drama front, arguably more than necessary.

It does feel a bit out of character for Hannah to go on about the inititals in the wedding linens in front of her son, but I love that they kept that detail! She’s such an interesting character, I’m delighted how much attention they’re paying to her.

YES, thank God. Now they’re getting it. Now they’re getting the vibe. Urgh this proposal is setting my teeth on edge... but in a good way! It’s supposed to! And honestly I’ll never be over Margaret’s ongoing theme of suitor: ‘I simply have to -’ Margaret: ‘Oh you really don’t!!’

Side note, but I’ve seen the gifs of “One minute we were talking of the colour of fruit, the next of love. How does that happen?” so often and I always thought Margaret was the one saying it. It’s hilarious that it’s Thornton. My dude you started both these conversation topics without so much as stopping for breath between one and the other.

I love how he’s basically shouting. This throws the whole surprised denial and careful questioning from her father months (!) later into a completely different light. The whole house must be hearing this, now Mr Hale is basically playing a completely pointless sharade with his daughter - oh you’re not telling me he likes you? Maybe even... asked...? Lol nope with walls that thin half the street is getting these news as they come in.

Yes, “I spoke to you about my feelings because I love you, I had no thought for your reputation!” is a banger of a line, and top notch delivery. Like I said, I *am* warming up to him. Especially in this scene.

I just love the “Oh there are others! This happens to you every day! Of course!” line so much. He’s such a petty bitch I adore him.

That said Thornton is jumping to so many conclusions it’s practically parcour. Margaret: “Hey I’m sorry I’m not taking this well my only friend in this town is dying a horrible slow death as we speak.” Thornton: “Oh so you think I’m a murderer!!!” Margaret: “I do not know how to respond when someone speaks to me as you just have -” Thornton: “Oh so this happens to you all the time???” Like. How is that what you’re taking from this. You’re right, somehow, but how are you getting there with what you’re given? Isn’t the implication of ‘hey I do not know how to handle shit like this’ exactly the opposite - that you haven’t ever been in this situation and thus don’t know how to handle it?

I think overall Margaret is actually nicer to him than in the book, at least in these last few scenes? This may not be based on actual facts but... she seems a bit gentler, more forgiving, which makes “I understand you completely” even more tragic. Buddy, you visibly don’t.

I’m starting to see how this got compared to P&P so much (aside from the obvious “criminally unromantic dude is turned down - love interest makes a spectacle of himself in a meltdown/proposal and is turned down - love interest comes back after life-altering calamity and is accepted” structural parallel). Like they made Thornton a bit more abrasive in tone and then Macfadyen made Darcy seem a lot *less* abrasive in tone so their desaster proposals kind of meet in the middle.

[free-for-all-fics]

Part 3/7 💜📸📝

“May I come in?”

“Yes, Jim. Just a minute. Oh, no. That zit is still there. Thank you for seeing me. I was rather nervous when it took so long for you to answer.”

“Fine dinner, Fanny. I enjoyed that roast. You know it reminds me of a roast I once fed to an old cannibal chief in the Solomon Islands. Had a remarkable effect on the old boy. Made a vegetarian of him. I take it back, Fanny. She'll never be the cook Manby is.”

“By the way, Jim, how about a quick smoke? My ex-husband gave up smoking, but I still have some of his leftover cigars.”

“Oh, not a bad idea at all.”

“There we are.”

“Hmm. The Angel’s Smoke. This is their brand. Though I doubt if they afford them on their present salaries.”

“Masters, There’s something you and I— Well, the fact is, Jim—”

“There’s something you want to get off your chest.”

“Yes, there is.”

“Come on, then. You know, I thought that perhaps a good straight from the shoulder heart to heart talk would go with this cigar.”

“I’m afraid it does… Jim, have you been encouraging my daughter to carry on with you?”

“You look lovely, Fanny. You always had a special sort of bloom.”

“No nonsense. Did it not occur to you to speak to me before you addressed my daughter?”

“I suppose I was carried away.”

“You have no right to influence her.”

“Well, that’s true, Fanny. I didn’t have the right to encourage her. Neither did I have the right to discourage her, so I merely looked wise. She mistook it for reciprocation.”

“So I was right to be nervous. You’re birds of a feather, you and my daughter.”

“I’ve always thought of myself as a magnificently exclusive specie. However, there’s room for your daughter if she’d like to join.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Sure, why not? You know we’re not so far apart, we two. We both suffer from wanderlust. Though I must say, she got it with trimmings.”

“How long have you and my daughter been seeing each other?”

“That depends. Are you referring to when we were in Europe or here in New York?”

“You mean to tell me you’ve met before?”

“Yes. In Switzerland. While I was passing through, we saw each other every night.”

“Seeing each other every night? Lovely. So you must be the mystery man.”

“Mystery man?”

“Sometimes when Jones was driving for me and my daughter, she asked him to drop her off at the corner of a street, typically in front of the local café. She was always telling me that she'd make it back home on her own. It aroused my curiosity. So after dropping her off, I asked Jones to park the car and watch her, see where she went and relay his observations to me. She ordered two cups of coffee, to go. She then left the café and walked up the street for about ten minutes to a residential area. She stopped in front of a motel and pressed the doorbell. Shortly after, a man in his mid-to-late forties, wearing a suit, opened the door. He leaned over and hugged her. She gave the coffee to him and they exchanged some words. Jones couldn't hear what they said or see the man’s face. They then entered the motel room together. Who is he, I wondered. It was the sixth time I had Jones follow my daughter. After she went into the building with the man, he parked the car nearby to wait for her to come out.”

“You had one of your household staff stalk your daughter?”

“Is it considered stalking when I’m her mother and only want to make sure she’s safe?”

“When you’re ordering an employee to follow and watch her like he’s on a stakeout mission? Yes.”

“About two hours later, a cab stopped out in front of the motel. Shortly afterwards, she came outside, and the man followed closely behind. They chatted for a bit. She looked extremely comfortable with him. Before leaving, she kissed him on the cheek. When Jones reported back to me, I thought, what's going on? How could she do this? Who the hell is this man? I reported sick for the third consecutive day. As I laid in bed, I kept thinking on why my daughter would be seeing another man. How could she be having an affair now? She's better than that. She's supposed to choose John. There were nights when she inexplicably was absent from home and wasn’t at dinner. I remember being so worried, but Fanny never said a thing about you…”

~

“I’m sorry to trouble you, but we haven’t seen her all day. You haven’t? No, she didn’t come in for dinner. Well, thank you, Mrs. Worthing. The Worthings haven’t seen her. I think I’ll call the Lemps. Are you sure your sister didn’t say where she was going?”

“No, she didn’t. I’m positive. She’s a grown up girl, Uncle George. She knows what she’s doing.”

“With all this excitement I can’t concentrate on my letters.”

“Manby, are you sure she didn’t leave a message in a milk bottle or something? It’s not like her not to be here for dinner.”

“She didn’t say a thing to me. I didn’t hear it.”

“Well, she isn’t with Maggie Worthing. But she thinks she might be with someone called Jim Masters. She says she left the dance with him last night.”

“That’s impossible. She wouldn’t be with Jim. He’s not her type. Besides, I wouldn’t permit it. Jim’s good hearted, but he’s our chauffeur and almost a criminal.”

“Oh, come to think of it, I’m sure she’s not with Jim.”

“How would you know? Where's your sister?”

“Well, I just remembered she told me she was going to Selena’s for some shopping. The bus probably broke down.”

“Why didn’t you tell us before? Really, Fanny.”

“Why don’t you all go to a movie and relax? I’ll wait up for her.”

“That’s a good idea. The movie’s in technicolor.”

~

“She never said a single word to Fanny, did she? You’re an awful liar, Jim.”

“Don’t act as if you’ve made a great discovery. I’ve known it for years. It was our secret pact.”

“You didn’t seem too willing to drive for me. That should’ve been my first clue. I didn’t think a five day trip was that long. Job often had trips longer than that and the previous driver never seemed to mind them. Now that I think about it, you and she were unusually quiet whenever I was around. You didn’t even look at me. It’s like you were avoiding me. I wondered why. So I called Dorothy. She told me something interesting about my daughter. You are telling me that you took my daughter to a motel to meet in broad daylight?”

“Oh. I... I suppose they think something improper went on between us. I suppose everyone does. But it wasn't like that.”

“What was it like, Masters?”

“You only know this because you've opened a letter addressed to her.”

“She’s a young girl. And I’m her mother, and I have every right to know who's corresponding with her.”

“She’s not a girl. She’s a woman, whether it suits you or not.”

“By which you mean?”

“Your daughter is an adult. She cannot be cooped up here forever. I guess you want to know our intentions, Mrs. Skeffington.”

“My daughter is rather young to have intentions.”

“I didn’t intend any harm. We’re not lovers, you know. Not in the way you fear. We’ve never been intimate, never shared a bed in that way. It was quite innocent. Mrs. Skeffington, there's no sense beating around the bush. I'm in love with your daughter. I think she's just about the best girl there is. She's an old soul with young eyes, a vintage heart, and a beautiful mind. She's clever and sensitive and beautiful...”

“You're not courting me, Masters.”

“No.”

“So you love her. That's quite apparent. And is she in love with you?”

“Well, hasn't she told you?”

“As a matter of fact, no. She has not. But I’m going to ask her. Well, that's quite romantic, Jim...but, tell me something, will you?”

“Of course.”

“How old are you?“

“Thirty-nine.”

“Yes, I seem to recall that when you applied for your post as the chauffeur, you listed your age as thirty-nine. But I found out from your ex-wife that you were born in, let me see, 1889, which would make you forty-six.”

“Come on, Fanny. All right, I'm forty-six. Too old for your daughter? Is that it?”

Fanny knew you wanted refuge from the kind of world she and, by extension, you lived in, wanted respite from the kind of life she lived. But old men weren't refuges. They needed refuge themselves, for they were timid, and shrank from responsibility, and advised one to be friends with one's husband, and let go one's arm when they got near the house. There was, in fact, no love in them. Not that one wished love to be in them, except that without it, without, anyhow, the capacity for it, people didn't seem to be much good. Dry as bones, cold as stones, they seemed to become, when love was done; inhuman, indifferent, self-absorbed, numb. Except Jim Masters wasn't an old thing at all. He may not have been exactly a young thing, but he certainly wasn't an old one.

“In a sense. I like you, Jim. I do. You’re charismatic, charming, and extroverted, among other fine qualities. There wouldn't be a woman who wasn't setting her cap at you. But when I see you and my daughter together...”

“Meaning?”

“If you were a couple decades younger, maybe—”

“Don’t start. You’re one to talk about age, Mrs. Skeffington. You oughta be ashamed of yourself. Your daughter and I are both consenting adults. She’s twenty years old. And I'm almost forty-seven. How old are you?” was the abrupt interruption.

“Forty...five.”

And when he gave her a look like he didn’t believe her, she told him truthfully, it being merely foolish not to, that she was fifty, to which he remarked, “You surprise me.”

It was at that point that Fanny began feeling stung; for, from his expression, it seemed as if what surprised him wasn't, as for an instant she had naturally supposed, that she was as old as that, but that she was as young as that. So she was stung.

“But if this light were on, you could see I’m in the prime of life. Far from an old woman.”

“Well, you may not be in a wheelchair yet. But you aren’t in rompers either. Neither are you Lillian Russell. Yet as you’d gotten older and older, your lovers had kept on getting younger and younger. Before your illness, there you were, pushing fifty, yet I recall the most recent and youngest of your adorers, Johnny Mitchell, had been but twenty-six when you met him. To you, he was yet another attractive man you wanted to talk to. It didn’t matter to you that he didn’t shave yet. He voted for Roosevelt, so he was at least twenty-one and fair game. Not only that, but you met before.”

“No, I would've remembered.”

“Sorry, but you did. Your husband introduced the two of you.”

“Job? When was this?”

“About fifteen years ago. Johnny was your husband's office boy and thirteen years of age. It was during summer holiday. Now he’s junior partner in his father’s firm. You must know his father. He said he almost committed suicide because of you.”

“Well, I'll have to look at my records—”

“And now he’s sweet on Fanny, who’s twenty and much closer to his age. I wouldn’t be surprised if they married. Why don’t you stop pretending and tell me what’s really bothering you.”

“We’re a very happy family here, Masters. There was a time where I considered you a suitable match for my daughter, but as I looked into your history, I began to suspect that, if you did marry, you would have no armory for the battle that lay ahead.”

“We’d have no money, you mean.”

“We know New York, you and I. There's a life to be lived here, and a good life. But two penniless strangers from out of town could not have hoped to live it. I’ve someone more practical in mind for my daughter. Sir John Talbot is in love with her. He’s crazy about her and she’s more than a little fond of him—”

“She does not love Sir John Talbot and he does not love her.”

“How do you know?”

“At dinner this evening, I could see it in their eyes, their body language. They engaged in polite table conversation and smiled at each other, but they never so much as held hands under the table or snuck secret glances at each other. I know what love, real love, looks like, Fanny. I’ve seen it in many couples I’ve encountered and passed by in my travels. And what I saw tonight was not love. It was an act put on by the both of them to keep up appearances. But that’s not all. She told me about John occasionally when we were together and only spoke of him like he was her friend and nothing more. She’s told me so herself that she doesn’t lo—”

“You are mistaken, Masters. She’s very much in love with Sir John. You know there’s not a false note in the picture.”

“Well, that is what I do not quite know. But you are right to claim it since a love match is what she’s determined on for herself. I ask you again: Does she love him?”

“I can assure you that she do—”

“Please. You have not convinced her, and you will not convince me. I think you may genuinely like him and that you intend her to be happy in her life with him.”

“More than I—”

“Let me finish! I understand you married Mr. Skeffington after only knowing him for two months, and that you practically knew nothing about him at all. I understand that these marriages of convenience take place in every fashionable church in this city, but I want more than that for your daughter.”

“Of course you do. But these days so many people marry without love.”

“Which means my initial judgment was correct and she does not love John.”

“The fact is— Oh, Jim, there are no facts in love,” she had told him, naturally not liking to be pinned down. Whereupon he had suggested, that she was being foolish.

“My dear lady, there are always facts,” he had said, looking tired and patient. “I'll tell you what the facts are. The more you pushed for her to be a prim and proper lady, the more she felt her desire for it slipping away. I suppose you’re so deep in denial because you thought that if you could only make it happen, then things would come right.”

“I can only promise— I will make sure my daughter— Sir John comes from a good family, and there is money, and she’d be in society, which is what I want for her. He can be very amusing. He does make her laugh.”

“That is a useful quality, I grant you, but it is not enough to base a marriage on.”

Passion, Fanny was sure, was a thoroughly bad basis for marriage. Jim, married to you, would be a frazzle of nerves, and intolerably jealous and suspicious. No, you were best with John. A life with Jim was going to be lonely, it was going to be difficult to bear the increasing loneliness. You ought really, she supposed, to get into touch with other young women, and find out what they did with themselves, but the thought of affiliating with other young women of New York society filled you with nausea.

Besides, you had been in touch with one the week before, and had merely got rapped over the knuckles. Well, anyhow, Fanny had had a wonderful time, she told herself, trying to make you be grateful, and now, she supposed, she must start paying for it. After fifty, the bills were bound to begin coming in. But in an empty present, how difficult to be grateful for even the fullest, most delightful past.

“Sir John Talbot is stable and well-mannered—”

“And has $40,000 a year. Sir John Talbot is much like the spectacularly rich Mr. Skeffington. Mr. Skeffington, who had an extraordinary gift for growing richer, was a wonderful parti for you, a penniless girl. Mrs. Skeffington, I know Sir John cares for her a great deal. The same could be said of me, but I'm not doing as well as he is. But you see, I think your daughter and I love each other very much. She would set her cap at me, if you let her. But for some reason, you're fighting it.”

“I'm not.”

“You’ve forced me to believe that it is my lack of money and position that present the problem, and if that’s truly the case, then shame on you. Aren't you better than that?”

“What?”

“Well, it just seems rather small to me. To not let your daughter marry a man for lack of money is the same as marrying her off to him because he has more than plenty of it.”

“Oh, stop lecturing me!”

“Am I not right?”

“No. You don't begin to understand," she said, turning to the tea-things and pouring herself out a cup of very black tea. “You dare call me a grubby, little gold digger? You've got a nerve!”

“Your daughter told me that you were quite upfront about marrying Mr. Skeffington, the richest man in town, for his money. While you were courted by him, you didn’t love him. You didn’t even fake affection for him.”

“Do you know why I came to his office that day to sell him bazaar tickets? Because I'd made up my mind even then that I was going to marry him.”

“Why?”

“Because he was good and kind...and his eyes were special in a St. Bernard sort of way. There he was half stopping when he saw me, and gazing at me with those opaque dog's eyes of his as though I were the single love of his life. And although I'd never really seen him smile...I always had the feeling he was laughing at me. And I found that attractive. Besides the fact he was very rich. Job… Sometimes I think he’s still laughing at me. Without moving a muscle.”

“I assure you, Fanny, you're no laughing matter. So you just admitted... He’s a bit older than you, isn’t he?”

“Oh, I concede the conspicuous difference in my and my ex-husband’s ages, but you’re wrong. I didn’t marry Job just for his money and to secure my future. I married him for the selfless reason of wanting to save my late brother, Trippy. He had gotten himself into trouble and...all I could do was throw myself on Job’s mercy.”

~

Trippington was at a preparatory school when Fanny got engaged, and she went down to see him there and tell him herself, before anyone else knew.

"What— that Jew?" he exclaimed, horrified. "Why didn't you tell me about this? I didn't even know you were seeing him.”

“I was afraid to tell you, Trippy, because I knew how you felt about him. But you're wrong.”

“But, Fan— You can't.”

“Can't I? You'll see. He's a very nice man. Terribly kind. Much the kindest of anybody we know, and much the—the nicest, really. He has character. And he's a—”

“Don't tell me you're in love with him. I'm not drunk enough to bear that. And— Think of his nose.”

“I do. I've thought of it a great deal. And I've come to the conclusion noses aren't everything.”

“Aren't they, just. You wait till you have to start the day every morning with his wagging at you over the bacon.”

“I'll tell you this much, Trippy. You're safe now. You don't have to worry about anything anymore. And you can spend all the money you want to.”

“Oh, I see. It's me. That's why you want to marry him.”

“Trippy, I'm very fond of Job...but I love you. Now Trippy, little sweet,” she said, leaning over him and giving him a butterfly-kiss with her eyelashes in the hope of making him smile, “don't be silly and throw cold water on my lovely plans. Be a good brother and give me your blessing— Please, darling. Trippy, if you love me at all, you won't leave.” Then she put her arm round him, and began to kiss him.

Trippington, taking no notice of those blandishments, only said, “I love you very much...but I despise Mrs. Skeffington. It's bloody,”—and immediately afterwards, looking suddenly distraught, announced that he must go out of the room a minute, because he was going to be sick.

And now he, for whose sake she had married Job, so that the thousands of acres her father had had to mortgage could be freed from debt and handed over to him, when he came to inherit, in the condition his ancestors knew, had long ago vanished out of her life, and Job, who freed the inheritance, had vanished too—Trippy forever, behind the clanking gates of death, and Job forever too, of course, but differently forever. In his case she could still get at him if she wanted to, still invite him, if she wanted to, according to Sir Stilton's grotesque suggestion, to dinner; while Trippy—ah, but wasn't her darling Trippy, after all, lucky, never to have to grow old? Wasn't it a happy thing, in these days of apparently swiftly approaching horror, to know that he at least, her precious brother, was forever safe? He should have lived forever, but maybe it was better he did not.

~

“Job married me for my youth and beauty. We both got what we wanted after a fashion. I’d always known my daughter would not marry a pauper, but I was considerate in choosing a man she knows very well instead of a wealthy stranger. Sir John answered my letter and, as of today, they are engaged. I expect her and Sir John to set the wedding date within the year. But you’re still here, coming and going as you please. You see, one too many lovers in one household would make things a little top heavy. Now, I’ll admit you won my daughter over either by some peculiar sort of charm or perhaps it’s because she doesn’t know any better.”

“If it’ll make you feel better about what you’re about to say, let’s just say she doesn’t know any better.”

“I know she wants to marry for love, but I want her to marry well and, frankly, Jim, she still wants you around. And if you stay, no man has much of a chance. Whether you want to or not, you’ll win away every scrap of affection she has. Stacked up alongside of you, she’ll see any other potential suitor for what they really are: Dull, pedantic...and then what would happen? One fine day you’d up and leave. That’s the kind of a person you are. And think how that would hurt her. She’d never feel the same towards any other man. All that old, beautiful, carefree relationship would be a thing of the past. Usually I’d give employees the usual two weeks notice but, in your case, I can’t risk underestimating your charm. In two weeks, she’d be sunk. I’ve been so busy living in my own world that I haven’t had a chance to realize how lonely she’s been. All I want now is for her to be happy. And Sir John can make her happy, if you let him. She doesn’t see it now, but the fondness she has for him will turn into something more. She can learn to love him in time. She’ll be luckier in life and in love than I was when I was her age. I didn’t love her father when I married him, but she— The point is, I feel that if you cut your visit short, go away before my daughter grew too fond of you, things wouldn’t be changed. Oh, Jim, you know what I’m trying to say, don’t you?”

“Yes, I know. You’re trying to give me my walking papers. But I don’t want to go, Mrs. Skeffington.”

“You’ve been here almost eight months, isn’t that a record for you?”

“But I never want to be without her.”

“How long will you feel this way, Jim? You see, I received a very interesting letter recently from a Nan Sloane over in Carmel, California about her ex-husband. She told me he is notorious for having light fingers and a silver tongue. The picture enclosed with the letter was at least twenty years old, but looked just like you, the very same Jim Masters who my daughter is supposedly sweet on. Are you going to deny it?”

“No.” To Jim’s credit, he didn't attempt to lie when she confronted him with the fact that he had a previous family, much like how Job didn’t attempt to lie when she confronted him with the fact that he had been seeing other women, so at least there was that.

“So it’s true, then. You've been married before. You have four grown daughters, and you abandoned them and your wife soon after the youngest, Buff, was born.”

“Yes.”

“Have you no shame?”

“I'm sorry you feel like that, Mrs. Skeffington. You're a good woman, underneath it all. But no, I have no shame. In fact, I have great pride in the love of that young woman and I will strive to be worthy of it.”

“How long with your wife, Jim? Five years? Ten years?”

Jim did not answer.

“I see.”

“Do you, Fanny? If you’re so knowledgeable about what the last twenty years of my life have been like, go on, then. Tell me, what have the past few years been like?”

“It must’ve been lonely.”

“Lonely is a gross understatement. It wasn’t a fever to keep moving. That burned itself out long ago. But I had to keep on going because I didn’t dare to come home. Where our meeting joins: One room in a smelly boarding house... I wouldn’t have minded the one room so much if the wallpaper were to turn and peel. Twenty years of it, Fanny. I was sick to death of trains and ships and strangers and cut-rate buses. But then I met your daughter in Switzerland and everything changed. Then I lost her again in Berlin when the Nazis began to encroach upon the land…and I found her again, here, in New York. We hadn’t planned on meeting again, but it happened. Don’t you see, Fanny? Fate brought us together once, and it brought us together again. My dear lady, the strongest men break when they try to battle with fate. You don’t know what these few months with your daughter have done to me. The wallpaper intact. Nearly eight months without setting foot on a train. Even a trolley car. How many years do you think it's taken me to find someone I want to spend the rest of my life with?”

“Living in my family house? Living nowhere? Working to preserve your livelihood and being outlived by your much younger wife?”

“Oh, I'm tougher than I look. Death doesn’t frighten me. It doesn’t discriminate and is a great equalizer. It takes everyone. I love your daughter, Fanny, and, in an ideal world, I’d want her to be my widow. But there’s always a chance that, God forbid, I outlive her or we die together like Romeo and Juliet. But we can’t waste what little time we have on this earth living in fear of the inevitable. We must live in the present moment. We must live.”

“Oh, Jim, please don't make this harder than it has to be.”

“Are you mad? Your daughter has reminded me that it isn’t too late to start again. If you're trying to get rid of me, I'm going to make this as hard and as horrible as I can!”

“Well, you're being extremely unfair!”

“Unfair? Mrs. Skeffington, I tried to resign four months ago. You talked me out of it. Do you remember that?”

“Yes.”

“I knew your daughter was falling in love with me again, and I knew what would happen. It's happened before. A few years of happiness and then— I tried to warn her. I did everything in my power to discourage her…”

~

“You know, there’s an old theatrical trick… I did dabble a bit once in New York with a group. Still, it’s hard for me to act as if we’ve never met before, to pretend that we don’t know each other.”

“Not as hard as it is for me.”

“Miss Skeffington...”

“I know I shouldn't say it, but I can't keep it in any longer.”

“I wish you would. Oh, no. Darling— darling, don't. No, wait, darling. We have to talk about this reasonably.”

“I have loved you since the moment we went to the theater together. What could be more reasonable than to run away with you?”

“We'd kill each other.”

“Nonsense!”

“Neither of us can keep our temper.”

“I can. Unless provoked.”

“We're both stupidly stubborn, especially you. We'd only quarrel.”

“I wouldn't!”

“You can't even propose our running away together without quarreling.”

“Jim. Dear Jim. I swear I'll be a saint. I'll let you win every argument. I'll take care of you. I'll give you every luxury you've ever been denied. You won't have to work. Unless you want to.”

“Please, don't. I'd rather not.”

“Jim, please listen to me. I've told myself and told myself you’re too old, too far below me in social status, but things are changing. I feel another war coming and, when it does, by the time it’s over, the world won't be the same place as it was when it started. And it’s not true what they say. You’ll make something of yourself, I know you will. Bet on me, Jim.”

“And if your family casts you off?”

“It won't be forever. They'll come around. And until they do, I promise to devote every waking minute to your happiness.”

“I'm terribly flattered.”

“Don't say that.”

“Why not?“

“Because flattered is a word people use when they're getting ready to say ��no.’”

Jim smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “That sounds more like you.”

“Please don't make fun of me. It's cost me all I've got to say these things. Jim, please. You can't put me off any longer. Will you say yes?”

“Sweetheart, you can't be serious.”

“I've never been more serious about anything.”

Jim stared at the ground uncomfortably.

You watched him, then nodded. “Right.” You put your hat back on. “I'll go. and I won't be here when you get back.”

Jim’s head snapped up. “No, don't do that.”

“I must. They won't let you stay when they've heard what I said. They’ll blame you and I can’t bear to be here when you’re forced to leave.”

“They won't hear. Not from me.”

“I love you, Jim. And even if you don't love me now, maybe you could learn to.”

“I already love you, but we can’t. We shouldn’t. Please go away and let me be.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Won't you even think about it?”

“Just go away. Please go away.”

“Oh, Jim.”

“Sweetheart, I feel I should warn you. If you persist in your pursuit of me, if you do this, you’ll have to defy your mother. I can't let you go against your old woman.”

“Her, or the whole of society? If you didn't care, Jim, you would've left months ago.”

“Oh, I see. Because I don't want to lose my job, it must mean I'm madly in love with you.”

“Well, doesn't it?”

“You say I'm a free spirit, and I hope I am. But I can’t ask you to give up your whole world and everyone in it. That's too high a price to pay.”

“It is a high price. I love my father, but he’s not here. You don't know him. Not really. But I want you to, someday. And I love my sister and my uncle and my friends. Oh, but Jim, when I imagine myself in that life, the kind my mother lives, I can think of only one thing that would make me happy. One person.”

“I'm not asking you to give them up forever.”

“And when they come around, I will welcome them with open arms.”

“And what about your people? Would they accept me?”

“We needn’t worry about that now. Look, it comes down to whether or not you love me. That's all. That's it. The rest is detail.”

“What's this? What's going on here?”

“So surprised to see you, Mrs. Ridgefield.”

“Well, that's evident. What mischief is going on here? I insist upon knowing. Who is this man you’re talking to?”

“Masters?”

“Yes. Masters.”

“He's just our chauffeur.”

“What were you talking to Masters about? When I came into the yard?“

“Nothing.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I’m ordering the car. That is why one talks to chauffeurs, isn't it? To plan journeys by road. Masters, could you take me into SoHo at three?” You turned to Mrs. Ridgefield and said in an overly polite tone that couldn’t be misinterpreted as anything but sarcasm, “I'm getting some things for Mother and Fanny. Is there anything you want?”

“Nothing you can find in SoHo.”

“Then why are you here?”

Mrs. Ridgefield gave you and Jim an irritated look as she marched off. You and Jim watched her leave, and you gave him one last glance before turning to go back into the house.

~

“In the end, it wasn’t enough. She wasn’t dissuaded or discouraged.”

“Then why didn't you leave?”

“Because, by then, it was too late. I was in love with her, and she was in love with me. I need her. Everything is against it. All my reason and experience. But that doesn't matter now. It doesn't matter.”

“It does to me, Jim. I can't let you be with my daughter. You are welcome to show me what you like, I'm not in a hurry, but nothing will alter my conclusion. I won't allow it. I will not allow my daughter to throw away her life!”

“But I don't accept that I am ruining her life, nor that I'm cutting her off from her family. If you want to cut her off, that's your decision.”

“But how will you look after her? How can you hope to provide for her? You know the one thing she wants more than anything else in the world is her own home, and her own paid up furniture so she can rearrange it.”

“No, that’s what you want! With respect, Mrs. Skeffington, you seem to think that she can only be happy in some version of Charles Street or high New York society, when it's obvious that if she wanted that life, she would not be running away with me.”

“I thought it odd she blew up in front of John tonight. I suspected this was some dirty trick of yours. We had none of this - none of it - until you set foot in our house!”

“Are you referring to your daughter’s appalling exhibition of temperament? If so, I had nothing to do with that.”

“How can I believe a word you say? You are a conman. You lie and you cheat by trade. You embellished your resume, and just so happened to be at the right place and time so you could insert yourself into our lives, all so you could get close to my daughter. And all the time, you've been driving me about, bowing and scraping and seducing my daughter behind my back?”

“I don't bow and scrape! And I've not seduced anyone! Give your daughter some credit for knowing her own mind! To be faced by a virago at this hour of the evening. Listen to yourself. I think it should be I who complains. And in the evening to be confronted by a bawling fishwife, bristling with fury because both her daughter and I fail to appreciate the genius of her marriage scheme.”

“How dare you speak to me in that tone. All this time you’ve been sneaking around. I don't like sneaks. You will leave at once.”

“Look, I made a mistake. I'm sorry. I thought I could present my arguments effectively in person, clearly I was wrong.”

“I can't bear to be maneuvered.” Fanny tossed her hat and cane onto the couch as she sat in her writing chair. “Very well. I'd hoped to avoid this, but I see that I can't.” Fanny pulled out a check book and opened it on the table next to her. She uncapped one of Job’s fountain pens. “How much will you take to leave us in peace?”

Jim was stunned. “What?”

“That’s why you sell phony relics. That’s why you’re in hot water all the time. You want enough money to get out of here and you want it quick. You must have doubts. Your own ex-wife must think you foolish.”

“Yes, she does.”

“Then yield to those doubts and take enough to make a new life elsewhere, wherever you choose. Why don’t you go and make yourself useful? I'll be generous and you'll be rich, if we can bring this nonsense to an end. Be assured that I will honor my offer, but not if you break the terms of our agreement.”

“This is why you brought me here?”

“I am sorry to say so, but it is.”

Jim scoffed. “I see. You know, your trouble, Fanny, you're like all of your kind. Older women like you especially, having grabbed, are inclined to clutch. You’re now an older woman and your beauty is gone. But your money - no, your husband’s money - remains. The ‘cream of the crop’, the ‘cool crowd’… They pretend to know that money can't buy happiness, yet they would choose money every time. They celebrate mediocrity at every available opportunity and love to see others' misfortune. You think love and happiness can be bought with money, that hearts can be won with material or emotional bribes. Money is the only source of power you have now, but it’s ineffective against your daughter and I. You have no power over her, over us, and you hate it.”

Fanny looked up sharply from writing her check. “You are just a rascal.”

“Do you expect me to fly into a rage at that? I’m sorry to disappoint you. You can't make me mad by calling me names that are true. Certainly I'm a rascal, and why not? It's a free country and a man may be a rascal if he chooses. It's only hypocrites like you, my dear lady, just as black at heart but trying to hide it, who become enraged when called by their right names. As I said, you can posture it all you like, Fanny, but it won't make any difference.”

“Oh, yes, it will.”

“How? We don’t want any money and you can hardly lock your daughter up until she dies. Doesn't it occur to you that I might believe the best guarantee of her happiness lies with me?”

“Well!” Fanny put her checkbook away and stood up. “It seems I’m getting nowhere and I won’t disgrace myself by discussing the topic any further. If you’re sure of your decision to turn down my offer, let us leave it there, Mr. Masters.”

“Mrs. Skeffington, If you’re not prepared to listen to reason—”

“I'm not prepared to listen to insults. Presumably you speak in such a manner because you know you have lost your position?”

“Yes, Mrs. Skeffington. I'll pack at once.”

“Good. Now, if you will go, Masters, I will continue with my day. Leave an address where I may forward what is owing to you.”

“No problem there, Mrs. Skeffington. I'll be at the inn until Miss Skeffington is ready to make her departure. I'll arrange to have the car returned in the morning. I will bid you a good day.” Jim picked up his hat and coat. Just as he had his hand on the doorknob, about to turn it and open the door, Fanny said from behind him,

“Do you want some money? For the room?”

“No, thank you, Mrs. Skeffington. I can pay my own way.”

“And I want you to leave town. I'll have the money for you when you're ready to leave. You may send a final letter, and after that, you will never communicate with my daughter again. You will not see her. And if you encounter each other socially, you will avoid any contact, providing you can do so without causing comment.”

With his hand still on the doorknob, Jim turned to look at her. “Even though she'll come to me the moment I call? Do you really want me to leave now when I will take her with me that same hour?” Jim put on his hat and left without a word.

A few minutes later, Manby entered. “Is it really true—?”

Fanny adjusted her wig and pushed her real hair behind her ears. She felt the beginning of a dreadful headache coming on. “Please, Manby. I have asked for silence and silence I will have.” Without her hat, she seemed to Manby a good deal less questionable. It was quite possible, with it off, after all, to see traces of beauty; and there was a kind of undefeatable blamelessness about her forehead, however meretricious she might be lower down, with her darkened eyelashes and reddened mouth. She sat staring at the cold face before her without seeing it. In so short a time as less than a month, she reassured herself, it wasn't possible to change from the most beautiful thing on God's earth into an eyesore. Or—again she hesitated—was it? What men there were in the world, she was thinking, what common men. But also, thank God, what other men, who saw one quite differently, who adored one, and swore they couldn't live away from one. At least, that was what they swore last autumn, and last autumn was still only just round the corner; or wasn't it? But anyhow, there was Dwight, and only last autumn, just before her illness, he was declaring he couldn't live away from her, that he would chuck everything and come and be her lodge-keeper, or pantry-boy, if he might only sometimes see her, for she was the most beautiful thing on God's earth. True, since then she had hardly set eyes on him, for almost immediately she fell ill. When it came to you, Fanny felt she was being a fool—another fool, for had she not been one already, for months past, and an arch one, over Dwight? Now she was being a fool again, supposing in her need that she might be able to get the blood of comfort out of somebody who was probably just a stone.

You came down from your bedroom when you heard Jim’s voice coming from the foyer. You were still angry, but you figured it wouldn’t hurt to go down. John had already retired to a guest room for the night. You had hoped for some alone time with Jim in the garage or, at the very least, to go down just for a minute to say goodnight and then immediately go back up to your room. To your disappointment, it had to be the latter, as he seemed eager to leave, and not in the way that excited you.

“I should be going.”

“Not yet, surely.”

“Yes, I should. But, swee— Miss Skeffington... You're a great girl, one of the best I've ever known or ever will know. I mean that.”

“I don't understand.”

“Good night. Good night, Mr. Trellis. Tell Mrs. Skeffington thank you for dinner, and... God bless you all.”

To your dismay, your mother’s firm hand on your shoulder stopped you from returning to your bedroom. Instead, she led you to her bedroom, which you knew could not be a very good sign. A meeting with Mother so late in the evening, especially when you’d just had guests for dinner? Manby had gone, shutting the door very slowly behind her as though wanting to hear more.

“Come, sit.”

You held your breath as you took a seat in a chair across from your mother, who was currently walking laps around her chair, and appeared to be taking deep breaths in order to calm herself down. You held your breath as you watched her calm her nerves enough to speak to you. Finally, she stopped pacing and sat down in her large chair, her deep blue eyes looking at you with such intensity that you knew that you had done something to displease her. Your suspicions were confirmed when your mother leaned back in her chair and folded her hands over her lap, a deep frown finding its way onto her face.

“Darling,” she said, not taking her eyes off of you. “Darling, I love you too much to not be straightforward with you on important matters, one of which has come to my attention.”

You gave a hesitant nod at her words, but did not dare speak for fear of saying something that would only get you (or quite possibly Jim) in trouble. “Is anything the matter?”

“You tell me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Janie Clarkson called me last week, telling me she saw a young woman meet a man at a motel in the middle of the night. She knew the woman's name, but not the man’s. In fact, she told me the woman’s name before I could stop her.”

“And who told you the man’s?”

“Nobody. I didn't know his name…until today.”

“Then you didn't know that Jim and I had met before. In Europe.”

“No, I didn't know. If I had known, I wouldn't have agreed to your suggestion of hiring him as the chauffeur. I had no idea you’d ever met Masters.”

“He may be the chauffeur, but he’s still a person. He can discuss other things outside of his work.”

“I'm sure he can. But not with you. Darling, what exactly are your…affections for Masters?” she asked, looking you straight in the eyes.

At the mention of Jim, you felt ready to sigh with joy. However, your mother’s expression told you that it would not be a good idea to do so. Instead, you bit your lip to think of a good and truthful answer. “I care for him very much, Mother,” you said.

“So you lied to me. You and Jim, you cooked this up between you. When he wrote to me, asking for an interview for the vacant position as chauffeur, when I wrote him and asked him to come to Job’s office… You knew each other then, but pretended you didn’t.”

“Yes. He wrote you asking for an interview because that's what I told him to do. I knew what the interview would be about, and that he’d be a good fit for the position. I wanted to be quite sure what your answer would be when you sent your reply, and that you’d give him the job. We’re not proud of the manipulation, but we lied because we love each other. We knew you wouldn't understand.”

“I don't understand. How could you have done this? I’m your mother, yet you have lied and disobeyed me in this way. Are you so knowledgeable about the great world that my instructions are to be set as nothing?”

“Mother, I'm sorry I disobeyed you, but what else was I to do? I knew you wouldn't approve.”

“Which presumably is why you hid your plans from me.”

“I'm interested! I’m political! I have opinions!”

“Of course, I blame Masters.”

“I don't think that's fair. I don't believe this is Masters’ fault. Truly, Mother. I’ve always been this way. Either you’ve never seen it, or you have, but you’ve denied what was right in front of you every time. If you’re going to blame anyone, blame me.”

“I do blame you! Now, darling, I’ve asked you time and time again not to go on seeing him. Do you want me to turn into an old fashioned mother and put you on bread and water?”

“But, Mother, he’s a reformed character. He's got a job at a newspaper. He heard it's a real chance. He's a journalist now, which sounds better for you, and he’s working hard. He hasn’t complained once. Really, he’s a changed man. And you know what Freud says in his latest book, mothers should definitely not interfere.”

“Well there’s a new edition out and he’s reversed himself. It’s all right now for mothers to interfere. I’m sorry, darling, I do not approve Jim and neither does Manby. Do you, Manby?”

“Well, Mrs. Skeffington, I think that she is—”

“What?”

“I was only going to say that she is entitled to her opinions.”

“No! She isn't until she is married. Then her husband will tell her what her opinions are.”

“Oh, Mother!“ you huffed, frustrated.

“And perhaps a little more of the conventionality and ordinariness you appear to think is a waste of time might’ve improved your general prospects.”

“My general prospects! Heavens—my general prospects,” you repeated, with a wry smile.

“Now don't tell me about him, because I don't want to know,” she quickly intervened, holding up a prohibiting hand.

“Well, Uncle George likes him.”

“Oh, he does, does he? Well, that proves my point, doesn’t it? I think I have something to say to your Uncle George.”

“I don’t think it’ll help. If you would only explain my crime, the one I'm being punished for.”

“Certainly. You meet with men old enough to be your father. You correspond with them.”

“Not this again.”

“Do you deny it?”

“Mother, I don't deserve to be told off. Not by you. Nothing's happened.”

“Why? What might’ve happened?”

“I mean it. We haven't gone to bed together or anything close to it. I can count on one hand the number of times we’ve kissed, and I don’t think any of them lasted longer than three seconds.”

“We are still talking about…?”

“Masters. Yes.”

“The Jim Masters that was our chauffeur? That Masters?”

“Oh, how disappointing of you— Wait. What do you mean ‘was’?”

Your mother ignored your question. “I'm just trying to get it straight in my head. You and the chauffeur.”

“Oh, no, you know I don't care about all of that. If Jim were to ask for my hand in marriage, I would not refuse him.”

Your mother’s frown deepened. “You may not refuse him, but I certainly would!” she said. She tried to get out of the deep chair, feeling she would be able to say what she had to say better on her feet, but it was too low, and she held out her hands for you to pull her up. You, extremely reluctant to take hold of hands you felt you never wanted to touch again, were not obliged to help her. Manby stood nearby as your mother bristled, so she helped her instead. She stood from her chair with such force that it skidded away from her. Uncle George could hear Fanny’s distant shouting and looked up at the ceiling as he paced on the floor below.

“Oh, please, Mother, lower your voice. Someone will hear you.”

“What has he said to you? Did he dare propose to you?”

“That he loves me and he wants me to run away with him. But no, he hasn’t proposed to me.”

“Thank God for that, because no daughter of mine is going to marry a…a… deadbeat!”

“Mother!” you cried, your hands flying to your mouth in shock. “How can you say such a thing? Jim is not a deadbeat!”

“Jim, is it?” She said, her eyes narrowing. “Since when do you address him by his Christian name?” When you didn’t answer her, she grew more frustrated. “You speak his name too casually, darling, which means that you and he are much closer and more affectionate than I thought. Then that alters the whole situation. I believe he is nothing but a no-good greedy swindler. I know you get real mad when I say that, but I've heard about the money he swindles from tourists in the places he passes through. I suppose I should give thanks he didn’t rob us blind and run out on us!”

“Mother, oh, Mother, please. I know what he was and what he did, but even he had standards when he did it. He never, ever stole from houses and only swindled from people he met on his journeys, people that already had heaps and heaps of money, more than they knew what to do with, more than they’d ever spend in their entire lifetime. He did what he had to to survive and get by, and only when he absolutely had to. That doesn’t mean—”

“Yes, it does. A leopard doesn’t change his spots.”

“Now you’re just throwing proverbs at me. The very fact that you can’t be original shows you haven’t got a leg to stand on. Leopards are still just cats, you know. Yeah, they’re big, but they’re only fierce when they need to be. And just like house cats, they can also be sweet.”

“I don't know anything about your relationship with Masters. I don't know how emotionally involved you are with him. But I fear you’re still sweet on him and that you’ve been seeing him when I’m busy. I worry that you’ve been getting letters from him which you hide from me. I suppose that it will be a good thing for me to forbid you from ever seeing one another again.”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh, Mother, no!” you cried, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. “Please don't do this!”

“I fear I must do this, dearest,” she said, her tone softening a bit. “He can provide nothing for you; even if he has a job as a journalist, how can he be trusted to hold it for long? The man has no way of honestly earning money to give you what you need for a future the two of you, and your children, might have together.”

“When did I ever say I wanted children? I’m about as fond of them as you are, so I don’t think I’ll ever be a mother.”

“Most every woman wants a man of her own, a home of her own, and a child of her own.”

“I’m not most women. And I love him!” you cried, tears of anger and frustration now falling freely down your face. You pulled out a handkerchief and buried your face in it.

“Love is all well and good, but I will not have you marry a man who may become a beggar within the next several years,” your mother declared, and while her tone wasn’t harsh, it was final. “With no steady income from him for you to live off of, it’d be up to you to support him, and the two of you would be out on the street before you could blink! It is your duty to marry a rich man and help your family, Miss Independence. And you may be sure that this hook knows that you have a rich relation—me—and that’ll be why, if, and when he ever expresses a desire to marry you. You would have to support the both of you. He’d act as a leech and suck you dry until there was nothing more for him to take. And then he’d move on to the next victim.”

“How dare you say such a thing? Why, my Jim would no more marry for money than I would.”

“It doesn’t matter. Shortly after I returned home after my illness, I wrote to your good friend, Sir John Talbot, asking him to accept your hand in marriage. He has replied to my letter, agreeing to the match. As of today, Jim is dismissed from this house, and you and Sir John are engaged.”

The cup slipped from your fingers and dropped to the polished wooden floor, shattering into a hundred shining pieces. For a moment, you stared at your empty hand, trying to fully understand what was happening. After your mind managed to absorb the fact that you were now engaged, you looked up to examine the faces of those around you. You felt your eyes narrow in anger. How dare she try to run your life and tell you who to spend it with?

“No,” you said, allowing a cold, hard air of resolve to develop around you.

For a moment, the two of you stared at each other, wondering if you had actually spoken that word, wondering if you were actually being disobedient to an order from your mother.

“What do you mean 'no'?” she blurted out, her eyes bulging in their sockets.

“It means, no, I will not marry him,” you declared, holding your head high as you glared at your mother.

“Yes, you will,” Fanny snapped as she took a sip of her tea. “As an unmarried woman, you must obey the head of your household, who, in your father’s absence, is me. If I ask you to marry Sir John Talbot, then you will do as you're told.”

“I will not! And since when are you head of the house? You said so yourself that, since your parents died, Uncle George has been acting more or less as the head of the family in their stead!” you yelled, standing from your seat. You were trying to catch your breath so that you could yell at her some more.

“I make all the domestic arrangements.”

“Mrs. Skeffington, can we do this in the morning? Miss Skeffington needs rest,” Manby tried to interject, but her voice was drowned out and went ignored by you and your mother. It was as if she wasn’t even in the room.

“Darling, what could Jim have that Sir John doesn’t? He's a man without a house, for goodness sakes!”

You could feel your hair whirling around you like a hurricane as you spun around. “Jim just so happens to be the most considerate, the most doting, and the most handsome man that I have ever met!” With each trait, you took one step forward, bringing yourself right in front of your mother’s face. “He treats me like a woman and a goddess at the same time, and makes me feel wanted, beautiful, and loved. He makes my heart soar even as it races within my chest.” Now you were merely inches from her face. “And I would give my life for him if need be.”

You could hear her approach your side, but you did not look up from the veil that your handkerchief provided as you dabbed your eyes. A hand landed on your shoulder, gently gripping it in what was meant to be a comforting gesture, but instead did nothing more than crush your heart.

“While I am sure Masters has many virtues, and I had thought that he could be a good match for you at one time, after discovering his history, I’ve come to realize he is damaged goods. He’s put himself out of the running. He is frightfully full of himself and far too forward in his affection, and has nothing to give you. I cannot allow this to continue. I'm sorry. You must never see Jim Masters again.”

How final, how flint-like was that ‘Never’. At fifty, Fanny revealing herself as a flint. So old and so untender, you thought to yourself, staring at her as though you were seeing her for the first time.

“This is the best solution, darling,” she said softly.

“What have you done?”

“What makes you think I’ve done anything?”

“I know you. You haven't spoiled things, Mother?”

“Not for Masters. You may be sure of that, darling.”

“If you’ve punished Jim, I'll never speak to you again! Never! If I find tomorrow that Jim is missing, I'll run away. I warn you.”

“Oh? And where would you go?”

“Well, I can't think now, but I will go, and you'll be sorry.”

“Oh, darling, darling, don't be such a baby. This isn't fairyland. What did you think? You’d marry the chauffeur and we’d all come to tea? My mother was hard on me too, you know. She taught me that cleanliness was next to godliness. She forced me to wash my face at least twenty times a day, convinced it was never clean enough. But I was very grateful to her. She taught me to be all that I could be. And now here I am. And you will be Lady Talbot.” She pointed to her finger, where a ring with a giant ruby laid. “If you are very good, one day, this ring will belong to you. You just keep being a proper young lady and see if it doesn't.”

“I don’t want your ruby ring. If you think that’s going to be my engagement or wedding ring, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“You’ll see. You’ll be very happy with Sir John.”

A humorless laugh escaped your lips as you turned to face her. “But suppose I don’t love him? You want to make my life a living nightmare just because I won't be your pliant little doll that you can dress up and mold into your carbon copy for your shallow friends and sycophants! I won’t marry Sir John just for his money and family name!” you snapped, giving her a hard glare.

“It’s not just about the money or our family names. Darling, I don’t want you to be on your own forever, I just don’t want you to spend your life in a bare knuckle fight—”

“Just to pick someone who shares the family's values,” you snarked.

“Someone who feels friendly towards us is not the same thing. The union of our two families would put us amongst the greatest and most elite people in both America and Europe. Think of the friends you could make; you with your charm and beauty, right beside John with his ancestral home and influence in the community—”

“I don't want any of those things, I want love! I want a man who I love, and who loves me!” you shouted, pushing her aside to make your way back to the door.

“And he can give that to you!” your mother exclaimed with a touch of desperation in her voice. “Darling, you should consider yourself fortunate that he has any feelings for you at all,” she said, looking over at you. “Even in the most fashionable churches in this city, people still marry for convenience, for wealth and position. Love is overrated, old fashioned. Last generation.”

“Last generation or not, I still want love.”

“Don't be silly. You should be happy that this hasn’t truly been forced on you the way it is in other places.”

“Oh, believe me, this is most certainly being forced upon an unwilling bride!” you snapped, turning away from her.

“You don’t see how lucky you are to lose him now. While you’re so young, it won’t leave a scar.”

“Easy for you to talk. You never liked Jim.”

“You’re wrong, darling. I never liked what he would’ve done to your life. I wish I could think of the right thing to say to comfort you. But believe me, darling, this is for the best. You must marry well and save your family, just as I had done when I was around your age. That’s all I wanted to say to you. You can go finish your…little painting. But remember, I’m only doing this because I love you and I want you to be happy!”

“Love? I’m afraid we have very different definitions of the word, Mother. How can you speak of love? Of wanting me to be happy? You’re torturing me. Don’t pretend you’re doing this solely for my sake or for my own good. You’re only arranging this marriage because of what benefits you can reap from such a match. You want people to point me out in a crowd and say: ‘There goes the smart Lady Talbot.’ And Sir John Talbot would be an ideal son-in-law for you, and not merely because his wealth would be a godsend.”

“Darling, what’s the matter with you? I’m on your side.”

“Then be on my side! I’m not sure why John would agree to your scheme, but I’m going to ask him.”

You watched as your mother sighed and ran her thin fingers through her even thinner hair. It was quite sad to watch, as the poor woman had no attractiveness whatsoever. Poor Mother was just pale and thin…and quite exhausting to be around. Perhaps there was someone out there who would love her, but it certainly wasn't going to be you! Jim already had your heart, and you knew that you had his. You happily watched as your mother frowned. If this was her last word, this detestable, unchristian ‘never’, then you had better go away and not come back, you thought to yourself, as you glowered at her from beneath drawn-together eyebrows. And you thought, watching her, defending yourself against the appeal of her helplessness, it’s not fair. You’re being got at unfairly. This isn't the way to— You won't be caught by— Instead of waiting for her to reply, though, you pulled away from her and let your handkerchief fall from your fingers as you turned on your heel to face the doorway.

You rudely pushed past her, not caring if the force caused her to stumble or fall, and went out the door, heading for your room. If she lost her footing, Manby could help her stand up straight. You had more pressing matters to attend to. You had to speak with John. Just as you exited, Uncle George entered. You didn’t say anything to him as you passed him in the doorway, didn’t even spare him a glance as you marched forward and down the staircase, clearly on a mission. You looked serious.

“You made everything clear, Fanny?”

“I did indeed.”

“You may regret it. Mr. Masters seems a decent fellow.”

“He’s not what I want.”

“Why not? He cares for her deeply. And she cares for him just as much. It may even be love, and what else is there that could be more important than that?”

“You'll see. I’ve found what I was looking for in Sir John Talbot. I want more for her in life than what Mr. Masters has to offer her.”

“And Sir John can make sure of that life for her in Wales?”

“Well, why not? He won't suit the old crowd, but he’ll do well enough with the new, and his fortune is more than ample for both of them. I don’t admire myself for it, but we need Sir John Talbot for a happy life, and I need her to realize that. The sooner she understands that, the happier she will be.”

“You know my opinion, Fanny.”

“George, I'm working to achieve a position that will alter my daughter’s life for the better, that will give her everything that I never had when I was her age. If you want to help her, help me.”

“And how long do you propose to keep her incarcerated, Fanny? It isn't right, you know. Miss Woodell is nice, but you’re having her act as a jailer. And she’s a grown woman whether you like it or not. Girls get married at her age.”

“And live to regret it. I know what I’m doing, George.”

“You can’t keep the girl locked up forever. She must make friends, Fanny.”

“Mr. Masters is not what we want.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s not what I want.”

“If you force her into secrecy, you’re taking a risk. I think we both know that she’s not meant to live her whole life on Charles Street.”

“I won’t countenance any more of her nonsense. I can't even—don't want to—think about the time when she’ll be wanting to head off.”

“But I’m fair to certain she will.”

“What makes you say that?”

He glanced at Fanny again. “I’ve seen the way she looks at Jim, Fanny. She’s got a bit of the wanderlust herself. With that wild charisma and wanderlust of his, he’s her other half. Your sending him away and engaging her to another man won’t change that.”

“Leave my daughter to me. I know what I want, George, and Sir John Talbot can help me to get it.”

The next morning, you didn’t come down for breakfast. Instead you had a tray sent up to your room. Fanny sat at the table with George, going over a small stack of letters while he picked away at his plate.

“By the way, he's written to her. Mr. Masters.”

“Well, give his letter to her now. If you won’t, then I'll give it to her.”

“If you go soft on me now, George, we could lose everything we’ve worked for.”

“Whom am I going soft about? Your daughter?”

“Just please don't be soft.”

“No one could accuse you of that.”

“But what’s he done wrong?” you asked as you paced about your room.

“Your mother thinks that with the state of the world and the looming threat of another war, it’s unwise and unsafe to be galavanting around the world by yourself at present, that’s all.”

“But it isn’t all. If she said I had to wait until the war was over or could only travel to neutral countries, I’d accept it, but she hasn’t.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t pretend. She’s the one who set out the conditions.”

“Why do you say that?”

“‘Your mother has asked for my word that we will not meet again. Or, if we do, that we should not attempt to speak in any private manner’”.

“Your mother thinks it best.”

“You’re one of the most successful men in the country. With connections to real estate and steel and copper and coal and oil and railroads that are the envy of the world, and you can’t stand up to your cousin? I suppose she bought him off. And if he took it, he wasn’t worthy of me. That’s what Mother will say.”

“Don't be too hard on him. She made it tough for him to refuse.”

“I just wish I knew the reason.”

“Because your mother believes that you have more to come than marriage to a man who won’t become anything more than a journalist in Los Angeles or a banker in Manhattan.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing. It’s not special.”

“Uncle George, I’m not special. Why can’t she see it? I’m ordinary. I’m just an ordinary person who wants an ordinary life.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?”

“…No.”

“No, my darling. You are not in the least ordinary. On that point, you, your mother, and I are as one.”

Four weeks passed since Jim left. Four weeks. Nearly a month. And you and John were no closer to setting a wedding date than you were last week. Or the week before that. Or the week before that. You ran up to your room in a huff. George was concerned and wanted to know what it was that set you off yet again, but he decided to give you space, allow you time to be alone and cool off. He didn’t want to smother you. Your mother was doing a well enough job in that department. Thirty minutes passed before he walked upstairs and down the hallway to your room. He was about to knock on your door, but he could hear your voice from inside. It was muffled, but he could still make out bits of what you were saying.

“I’m sorry my mother was such a bitch that night. She was hardly ever around because she was always too busy with her lovers and friends, but since they abandoned her, she’s been home all the time. She never had time for anything or anyone else before but now… She has nothing but time. She took it out on you because you’re not a member of the family. She thought you’d be an easy target, that you wouldn’t call her on it, but she was wrong. I know she’s just jealous of our cool and freewheeling lifestyles. I don’t get it. You seemed to be all for it on the night before you left. Always leave them laughing. Is that your idea? I get it. Your heart isn’t in this. You’re just saying a speech for my old lady. I don’t feel sorry for her. I feel sorry for myself. You’re lucky, your parents are deceased. I have to have a mother every day. Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up your parents or the mother thing like that. I know, I shouldn’t complain. I still have a dad who loves me, so it’s not all bad, but… No, I’m being totally serious. My mother is a bitch and her lovers were all complete tools. Living in New York with nobody to love her is her punishment in my mind. What do you expect me to do then? So you would rather I live with John in Wales? Is that it? Well, I’m going to go back and tell her my answer’s no. We could have found a way. I know you still care about me. I want to see you when this is all over. I know. All I said was I want to see you. Then why did you call me in the first place? Just see me.”

It sounded like you were talking to Jim. George jumped slightly and quickly stepped back when you opened your bedroom door and saw him standing there in the hallway.

You raised your eyebrows in suspicion. “Hey. Did you listen in on my call?”

“I came to check on you. I know it wasn’t easy last night. Your mother says you don’t want to go with her to London to visit your Aunt Martha.”

“No. There's something I need to have settled before I can leave New York. Of course, that sounds overdramatic, but it won't wait until the end of the spring. This will affect the rest of my life.”

“How grave you make it sound.”

“Naturally you want to make a joke of it, but I can’t. To be honest, I thought everything would be settled already. But day after day goes by...”

“Does it have anything to do with Jim Masters?”

“Why do you say that?”

“You seem so distracted nowadays. And I couldn’t help but overhear what you were talking about.”

“Oh, you couldn’t? I find eavesdropping to be rather rude. Forget what you heard and consider the subject closed.”

“Well, something is on your mind. Or are you going to tell me I’m wrong? It may surprise you, but I hope it has something to do with Mr. Masters. Was it Jim? Did he call you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“The man you were on the phone with.”

“You don’t know what you heard. You understand me?”

“So it was Jim.”

“You don’t have the context, and aren’t invited into this conversation. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know your mother doesn’t like him. But I think he is someone important to you. The way you’re talking to this man—”

“You want a conversation? Fine. I love Jim. I want to spend my life with him.”

“You’re engaged.”

“A technicality that will shortly be remedied. Jim and I… We should’ve spoken out long ago. I’ve been trying to compose a letter to Sir John to explain the situation, but I can’t seem to find the words.”

“Well, now you won’t have to. Your fiancé is just downstairs, waiting for you. But I assume you’re not getting married?”

“No. I am not. Besides, our engagement was based on a lie. It was mostly pretend. It was all Mother’s doing. I don’t like deceit and John doesn’t deserve it. You see, before John and I got together, I was with Jim. I met him in Switzerland.”

“Known him a long time, haven’t you?”

“Well…a year, maybe, if you count the time we’ve been apart.”

“Well, you needn’t sound so apologetic. I spent only an hour with Jim. And I can tell you there’s nothing really wrong with that man.”

“Will you tell that to Mother?”

“I could, if you believe it’ll help. Of course, what I say to her will depend on what you want me to say. But, darling, If you want to marry this man, then come out with it. Sit through the argument. Hold to your faith. And if he's right for you, eventually it will come to pass.”

“I haven't got time for eventually.”

“Why not? What’s happened?”

“You see, I’m going away.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“No, well, I haven't told anybody.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to, but when Fanny and Johnny get back, tell them my mind was made up and I wasn’t hysterical or anything. And give them my love.”

“Oh, God. Won'’t you wait and talk to them about it?”

“If I talked to anyone, it’d be you or Fanny. But Fanny’s not here, so…”

“Then talk to me, please.”

“I can’t. Not now, anyway.”

“Your mother doesn’t like Jim now, and she will like him even less if you’re planning some sort of escapade.”

“She’ll come to like him when she decides to get to know him.”

“Not if you force her hand.”

“That’s her problem, no longer mine.”

“May I make you an offer? What if I were to promise to support your choice, so long as you can tell me you have fallen in love?”

“Even if Mother is against it?”

“Even then. I give you my word. Can’t you tell me something? Anything. Please.”

“Very well. I’ll write Mother and Fanny goodbye letters to send later, but I might not have time to write you one, so it’s only fair I tell you this much to give you some peace of mind. I won’t tell you where I’m going, but I’ll tell you the reason I’m going - or part of it. You see, most of my bags are packed and ready to go already. Jim and I planned to run away together. He gave me the reasons why I should accept his offer.”

“That was clever of him.”

“He asked me if I wanted to get away from Mother, and of course I do. I used my own savings to purchase our tickets and other travel expenses so Mother wouldn’t know until Jim and I were already halfway across the world.”

“Oh, dear.”

“I don't want to get away from you, but I must be allowed the freedom to make my own decisions.”

“Marriage is not the place to look for freedom. May I ask if you love him?”

“Yes. Yes, I love him. Jim Masters is a good man, and I love him tremendously. I would live and die for him. And I know he’d do the same for me. If soulmates are something that can be believed in, that’s what Jim and I are. I know that sounds incredibly cheesy and corny, or like borderline wishful thinking, but that’s what we felt whenever we were together. But… But on the evening before the day we were supposed to run away together, Mother fired Jim and told me about my engagement to Sir John, which put a massive wrinkle into the plans we had. I found this secret letter he left for me. I still have it and I’ll be taking it with me, keeping it close to my heart, but please don’t ask me to show it to you, Uncle George. It’s something private and personal, meant for my eyes only. To summarize, he said he loved me but that he was leaving.” What you didn’t tell Uncle George was that Jim’s words were seared into your memory. You only read it once, but you could’ve recited the entire letter verbatim to Uncle George from memory if you wanted to.

April 1936

My sweet storyteller,

As usual, things did not work out like I planned. Just when I get everything fixed right for us, I go and get myself fired and expelled from your mother’s house. I am sure to be out of here by the time you read this. I will be gone. Your mother gave me my walking papers, but I wanted to get going myself. She made the motion and I seconded it. I’m sorry if I gave you a false impression, but what made you think I’d stick around here? I told you once before that the first good wind that comes along will take me with it. I’ve never forgotten anything I’ve ever said. That wind has come, so I'm leaving tonight. It's going to be a long, boring journey. Fool that I am, I forgot to bring any recreational reading material, so all I have to pore over are some informational texts for tourists. Thrilling. But I won’t tell you on which train nor where I’m going. Eight months in one spot is all that I can bear. I got a date with the world. A rendezvous with the universe. Dear universe, may I never find myself. I might’ve stayed another week or so, but since you know Manby’s cooking, you will understand. I’ve got to get back on business. I know we said a great many things the night we went to the theater, and the night of your mother’s birthday celebration, and last night too, promises and sweet nothings...but it was all pillow talk. None of it makes any sense in the sunlight. I couldn’t stand the thought of what might’ve been between you and me, the flame that could’ve illumined both our lives… I’m afraid, my love, that ours is a love that cannot be, because in the Indian Ocean there are six islands and I have a wife on every one of them. Well, thanks for the last eight months, anyway, my darling. They’ll make glorious remembering. How’d I live so long without your reckless touch? I don’t remember life before you came into the picture. You brought the beauty I was missing with you, showed me colors I haven’t ever seen. My life was black and white but you’re the painter.

So, these words are my only chance to tell you how much you mean to me. Your mother asked me to break your heart and leave you. By this time, surely I have accomplished both. Your mother seems to think I’m too old for you, darling. She told me the news. You’re engaged to marry Sir John Talbot. Although I’ve only briefly met him, I’m glad you have such a grand person as a friend. I hope you’ll be very happy to have him as your husband too. I must go. If I stay, darling, I’ll destroy you along with myself. Can't you see? I was forced to wander, having no one, forced by my nature to keep wandering because wandering was the only thing that I believed in, and the only thing that believed in me. There’s always something a man wants that he can’t ever get. And you’re it for me. I’ll have everything else. I’ll get out of this place. Find what I’m looking for. Do what I wanna do. I’ll have everything but you. You are more precious to me than all the wonders of the world combined, more precious to me than ten thousand treasures put together. I love you too much to condemn you to my fate. A girl like you why, you’re geared for the best. Perfumes from Araby, spices from Damascus. I can hear you now, telling me, “Oh. We'll fight it together!” No, we won't. I'm the worthless one. I’m the exile. I’m the lost soul. Don’t you see? I can’t ever be normal. Never be the kind of man who can give you a real home. You and me? It’s not written in the books. We’ll never get together. Now you know very well that you and I… Oh, you get the idea. I can hear you again, asking, “How do you know? What makes you so sure?” I just know. Now Sir John, there’s the man for you. I personally guarantee he’ll stay put. He’s the real article. For you and him it is written in the book. Marry him and be happy. I’m asking it myself. Do it for my sake and for yours. With a family tree will grow out of us two nuts. Now let me go.

Though it came from a place of stereotype, people who didn’t know you expected your Jew blood to make you a brilliant storyteller, one capable of igniting happiness and love in the world, and on that you delivered, every time. I hope you continue to tell your stories and enthrall any and all who listen, even though I’m not around to hear them. Though I won’t be a part of it, I hope your own story continues to unfold and twist and turn in ways you might never have expected, revealing to you secrets that you might not have known about yourself and the world around you. Some of them may be terrible, but most of them will be wonderful. Though our paths must diverge and never again meet, our time together was never a waste. It was never a mistake. Because I love you. At the time in which I finish penning this, you still love me. Maybe when you read this, you’ll hate me. Even if you hate me, at least you’d still carry my memory with you wherever you go, for a time, at the very least. Though John holds your future, I will always hold your past. We’ll always have Switzerland. We’ll always have our memories, you and I. And I’ll cherish them when I get to wherever it is I’m going. Indifference is so much worse than hate. I can’t fathom a day in which you’ll forget me entirely, because I’ll still carry reminders of you with me everywhere I go. And I don’t just mean the miniature portrait you painted for me. I love you. Present tense. Don’t let your mother or her friends or my ex-wife have you believe otherwise. Goodbye, my darling. I will look for your wedding announcement in the papers. Though I won’t be able to attend the ceremony and tell you in person, I wish you good health and every happiness in your new life with John.

Jim

The tremble in his pen strokes said as much as his bittersweet words, and that is how a love letter should be written. The letter had so many crease lines, all of them fluffy to the outside from so many times being folded and unfolded. Likewise, the paper was soft to the touch, the blue ink had run but only slightly. The dark spots on the sheet made you imagine a few stray tears fell onto the sheet while Jim was in the process of writing it. It made your heart clench and swell. Jim didn’t cry. He never cried in all the time you knew him. Your eyes caressed the strokes of the pen made just hours ago, seeing the personality behind the strong lines and heavy punctuation marks. This letter was on two cent paper but the words were without price. Everything he said was music to you, no matter the words, no matter the topic... because it came from his mind and flowed down his arm to the pen that would’ve otherwise rested lazily upon the table. You touched the letter as if you could’ve stepped through the page and into Jim’s arms, and in a way, with his words, you did. You held the letter to your face as if the ink carried his heartbeat, taking in the aroma that lingered from his touch. This was your map to finding him.

“By the time I found the letter, he was already long gone. But I couldn’t help but notice his plane ticket wasn’t returned, so maybe he used it or planned on using it… I would’ve began my search for him the very next day after his departure, but instead I waited it out, promising myself I’d stay here for at least two more weeks before going after him. In that time, I’ve done everything in my power to get Mother to come to her senses. I had hoped this engagement nonsense would blow over but, as more days passed, and two weeks became four, I realized that wasn’t going to happen. I didn't want to do anything hasty and split the family when Mother might still wake up, but I can’t wait any longer. I must take my future into my own hands. But just now Jim put in a reverse call to me out of the blue from a telephone booth in a town who knows where.”

“To ask you to come and find him? To tell you that he would come and get you?”

“No, neither of those things. He just wanted to hear my voice again. He confirmed what I had already suspected - that Mother pushed him away in an attempt to push me and John closer together. Even worse, I found these in Mother’s vanity drawer in her room.” You showed your Uncle George the letters Jim wrote to you, all opened, and not by you.

Uncle George looked appalled and disappointed at this discovery. Your mother’s promise to him had evidently been broken. “She still opens your letters?”

“Always. On the surface, he’s accepted the situation, but he writes a little too well. It doesn’t sound entirely like him, only the essence of him. Like words were being forced into his mouth. Mother read my diary and that’s how she found out about our little trips to Wakeforte Park, a seldom-used hiking route discovered by Jim so he could hide from the world around him. Not a flashy place, but it had a great view. I wished it could’ve been our special place. And it was. Ours and ours only. And there was the motel near the Red Fern Gardens... Those places were our main secret hideouts ever since the first time Jim took me there, and Mother thought her knowing about our secret places would turn them into fucking nothing. That Wakeforte Park and the Red Fern Gardens would be nothing but a rockpile of rain-soaked memories now.”

“I don’t think you’re being treated wisely. I used to be proud of Fanny. This time I’m ashamed.”

“And isn’t it wonderful that you know so much better? How could she do this to us? Mother wanted a piece of the Talbot fortune, and the Talbots could stand to benefit from a piece of the Skeffington influence. So excuse me for being conflicted. I want John to be happy, but…”

“I suppose this means you’ll tell him.”

“Tell him what?”

“That you can’t marry him.”

“Y-Yes, that’s exactly what I’ll do with John. I’ll go to him, let him down gently. And then I suggest we forget about this whole thing. But how did you— How did you know?”

“Even if Jim was out of the picture, Sir John isn’t really right for you. You know it and so do I. Besides, he’s still in love with his wife. I saw it that night at dinner. Have you told your mother?”

“Not yet, but I will.“

“Your mother will be furious, but she has so much to make her furious just now. You mustn’t let that trouble you.”

“I didn’t love John enough. Not like you and Aunt Nigella.”

“That makes me proud—to be the rule by which you judge these things.”

“Dear Uncle George. All right. If you really think I’m not making a mistake.”

“Of one thing I am sure. You can do better than Sir John Talbot, and he can do better than you. I just wish—”

“I can’t stay, Uncle George, not if I’m ever going to be happy at all.”

“Of course. Oh, darling. Darling, you have so many extraordinary gifts. How can you expect to lead an ordinary life? You’re ready to go out and find a good use for your talents. Though I don’t know what I shall do without my niece. Go, and embrace your liberty. And see what wonderful things come of it. Now, won’t you at least tell me where you’re going? Or can’t I at least drive you somewhere?”

“No. But I will take one of the cars to the station and leave the keys with the station master. You needn’t worry. I do have a plan, dearest Uncle George, I just don’t want you to know the details because I don’t want you to be blamed. I don’t blame you for the departure of Mr. Masters, but...”

“All right, I understand. As for your mother, I wouldn’t tell her about the phone call. It might get you in the wrong. Maybe I’d better keep my mouth shut.”

“If you can. Just until I’m far enough away so she can’t chase after me.”

“I won’t tell a single living soul. I’d soon as sicken and die than put you in the wrong.”

“Really?”

“Well, I’ll try. Naturally I can’t guarantee anything.”

“Remember, if anyone asks, you know nothing.”

“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Skeffington, Mr. Trellis, but Sir John Talbot has asked for a taxi. Soames has gone out, so I'm not quite sure—”

“What? Sir John is leaving?”

“Obviously, if he wants a taxi. What’s happened? Where’s Clinton? Can’t he drive him to the station? Don't bother about it, Miss Woodell. I’ll sort it out.”

“Very good, Mr. Trellis.”

“Do you know where we’ll be two weeks from today? We’ll be on the ocean, two days off Iceland.”

“That’s so soon, John. I do want to be sure.”

“There are so many things about you I don’t understand. You put me off, and you don’t tell me why. I don’t even know if you’re thinking favorably or unfavorably.”

“Oh, favorably, John. But John, there are so many things to think about. Taking over another woman’s domain, her house, her sons.”

“You can redo the house. I’ll build you a new one.”

“Oh. Claire was such a wonderful person. Do you often think of her?”

“Well, yes. I want to be honest. But you needn’t be afraid that Claire will ever come back in any way. She’s just a memory now.”

“I’m sure she's much more substantial than that. You have her sons. And I have only a dried Harrison’s Yellow and box of postcards. And I can’t even say his name.”

“I want to make you understand that I’ll be beginning a new life with you and for you.”

“You know what I’d like?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“I’d like you to take me to some Bohemian restaurant for dinner some night, where we could be very gay, have cocktails and champagne, and you could make love to me, and... Well, what I mean is...if I could...if I could just get rid of some of my inhibitions, just for once, I might have more confidence.”

“Time will give you confidence.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Well, what do you mean?”

“In school I read...a novel once about a woman, a very repressed woman. She was in an automobile accident with a man. It was a very cold night. He gave her a drink to keep her warm. And because of the drink, she lost her inhibitions. You see, she was just... I’m afraid I sound very depraved. The thing is, John, I’ve been racking my brain all night.”

“About our trip... If you like, I can exchange the two tickets for three and take my sons.”

“Would you?”

“Certainly. Darling, I’ve been thinking about us.”

“Yes?”

“Perhaps we wouldn’t be happy.”

“We wouldn’t be, John. I do love you. You’re my dearest friend, but I just can’t be your wife. It wouldn’t be right. I’m desperately sorry. And I’m so sad if this is disappointing for you. I don’t think we want the same things or even the same life.”

“I want a life like everyone else’s.”

“But I don’t. Or not yet. I want to do some good in the world before I settle down, if ever that comes to pass. But I don’t think I’ll ever marry. Some women just aren’t the marrying kind.”

“You say you won’t, but you will.”

“I won’t.”

“You will.”

“I won’t.”

“Couldn’t you see us bashing around Wales?”

“Wales. Oh, John, I’m not fashionable enough for Wales. You need someone who’s elegant and refined. You ought to marry someone who would enjoy what you enjoy. Someone who can be content to stay in one place. John, do you love me as much as you loved Claire? Be honest, please.”

“Claire is dead.”

“Of course. I know you’re lonely but, in your heart, Claire is still your wife.”

“Well, you can’t stop loving people when you want to.”

“Nor should you. But my point is that, sometimes, you don’t understand a situation at first. But when you think about it properly, you realize that it’s just not right—not for you, not for me. One day, you’ll meet a woman who’s not just a temporary solution and who actually shares your interests, your dreams. I want that for you, but I’m not her. You and I both know it’s true. Let’s not linger over it, John. But you’ll meet someone. Thank you for thinking it was me. I have that on my record, anyway. What’s the matter, John? Are you angry with me?”

“How could I be when you’ve been so kind to me? No, I’m not angry. I just… What about you? I don’t want you to be on your own forever.”

“I may as well tell you. I’ve told Uncle George, and I’ll write goodbye letters to my mother and Fanny while I’m in transit and send them later. You see, I’m going away. To India.”

“It's…not a common destination, is it? I apologize if my bad manners have brought this on.”

“Your manners have been perfect. No need to apologize. I am what I am and you are what you are.”

“Never the twain shall meet!”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Then what brings you there, if you don’t mind me asking? Trust me, I won’t laugh.”

“Okay, fine. It’s a bit of a personal pilgrimage. Uncle George and Fanny will think it’s to attend an art exhibition in Delhi, but that’s only half of the truth. The other half is, I’m going after Jim. He said something in his last letter to me… It might be a clue to his location, or it might be nothing, but I have to try.”

“What does your mother make of that?”

“It was decided just today, so she doesn’t know anything about it yet. But I imagine she’ll think I’m very foolish.”

“I won’t pry any further, but I want to say good luck, and everything else that goes with it.”

“And good luck to you. You’re a fine man, John. You mustn’t let them flatten that out of you.”

“I’d better go if I’m to catch my boat.”

“Yes, hurry. I only wish I could find a proper way to thank you.”

“Shall I tell you how? If you can find Mr. Masters and have a full and happy life with him, then that’s all the thanks I need. Do I kiss you goodbye?”

“No, let’s not. It isn’t really goodbye. We’ll see each other again, won’t we?”

“Of course we will.”

“I want to follow every stage of your life and dance at your sons’ weddings with joy.”

“You don’t not love me, then?”

“Oh, I love you a lot, just not quite as a wife should love a husband. But I pray one day we’ll both be as happy as can be. Now, you better go, or you’ll be late for your boat. And John, I want to say good luck to you, too. I mean that.”

“Well, goodbye till we meet again.”

“Goodbye till we meet again.”

Manby, George, and your mother stood watching you and John from a distance.

George checked his watch. “He’ll miss his boat.”

“Let him miss it. He can catch the next one. What’s happened?”

“Mrs. Skeffington, do I take it the wedding is cancelled?”

“I don’t know, Manby. I’m not entirely sure what’s happening right now.”

You waved goodbye to John as he got in his taxi and departed, mentally making a note to yourself to write him a letter when you next got a chance. You walked back up the long cobblestone path leading up to the house from where you and John were talking in the gardens and finally reached your mother, who stood waiting for you on the terrace.

She turned her attention towards you to ask you herself, “What happened?”

“Mother, Sir John and I have broken our engagement,” you said matter-of-factly, your voice even and your head held high as you maintained eye contact with her.

“What did you say?”

“I said, Sir John and I have broken our engagement.”

“Why have you done that? Why aren’t you going to marry Sir John? Why did you change your mind?”

“My mind was never changed. I never had any intention of marrying him, because I don’t love him. And he doesn’t love me. I never loved him. I tell you, I never loved him.”

“Get upstairs, take off your hat, and I will see you in the drawing room later.”

“No, you won’t.”

You began pacing around the attic, gathering everything you’d need for the art exhibition - your paints, brushes, canvases, sketchbooks - all of it - and shoved it into your suitcase. You then moved to your bedroom, slid open your drawers, and threw a few blouses and trousers that you liked into your duffle bag. Everything you’d need to travel - money, passports, tickets - was already packed and ready to go. You could hear Manby, Uncle George, and your mother from the hallway as they made their way towards your room.

“How could she refuse Sir John? This is ridiculous. I am her mother, and I make the decisions! She’s never done anything to make me proud or to make herself proud either. Why, I should think she’d be ashamed to be born and live all her life as she does. Miss Skeffington, the high school dropout, the vagabond, the wanderer. George, do something! Go upstairs, quick. She’s acting dreadfully, and I don’t like it! George, why are you just standing there? Aren’t you going to reason with her?”

“No, I’m not. I already talked to her and there was no changing her mind. Not that I’d want her to.”

“George! How can you be okay with this?”

“I’m not okay with it, but I’m accepting of it. She won’t give him up.”

“She had. She did.”

“Did she? I don’t think so. Why did you invite John to stay overnight and make himself at home, without asking her first?”

“George, it was past seven and the man’s hotel was in Durham. What did you want him to do? Pitch a tent under a tree?”

“He must have made a plan for his journey back. And I doubt Jim ever went to Rye. He came up here to see her.”

“Who said so?”

“Your daughter did. She saw the look in his eyes. She’s still clearly quite mad about Jim, whatever she says.”

“Don’t tell me you think it’s a good idea! A professional conman? With nothing to his name?”

“You can’t expect me to be rude or pass judgment condemning him. The man’s only crimes are to pickpocket, which he has since given up, and to love your daughter. Fanny, will you just get off your high horse?”

“Why are you interfering?”

“I love my niece and want her to be happy.”

“Well, you’ve got an odd way of showing it!”

“I take it this is Miss Skeffington you’re fighting about?”

“Yes, Manby, it is. And you can dig yourself out, Fanny, because I’ve had enough.” Without another word, George collected his hat and coat from Soames and left out the front door. You could hear him leave.

“Oh! It looks like I’m going to have to try. Wait outside the door for now, Manby.”

You pretended not to have heard anything and continued with your task of getting your bags ready.

Your mother knocked on your door, but didn’t wait for you to bid her to enter before opening it. "Darling.”

You turned to see your mother standing in the doorway. “Yes?” you asked, your tone short and terse as you zipped up the bag and looked around your room to see if you had missed anything.

“Are you going on a trip somewhere, honey?”

“Yes, Mother.”

“And where are you going?”

“Out.”

“Don’t be clever with me, missy. Are you planning to meet a certain someone? If so, I forbid it. No, no, young lady. You’re staying indoors today.”

“No, Mother, I’m not. The Lemp girls have invited me to their family picnic, then we’re going out of town for a girls’ trip.”

She knew you were lying. You didn't really care, but, of course, she instantly started. “I know you’re not just going on a girls’ trip.” Her voice cut into barely a whisper, “I know you’re going after Jim.”

“Actually, I had some good news I wanted to share with you all this morning, but Fanny and Johnny went out and John was here... It wasn’t the right moment. Jim’s not the only reason I’m going. But even if it was, so what? I’m twenty years old, and am therefore an independent, fully functional adult. The fact that you’re still trying to forbid me from traveling on my own or going after Jim is, frankly, absurd. Especially compared with when Fanny and I were eleven going on twelve, yet you allowed us to go all the way across an ocean to another continent with Father.”

“That’s not fair. The circumstances of that situation were very different.”

“Were they?”

“Now, dear, this sort of thing is all very well in novels, but in reality, it can prove very uncomfortable. And while I am sure Masters has many virtues…”

You were about to reply when Manby knocked. You heard the door open behind you as she entered.

“I do hope I’m interrupting something.”

“I only wish you were, but I seem to be getting nowhere. I can't help blaming Masters for this.”

“Don’t. We both wanted to wait until we had your blessing.”

“But he hasn’t waited, has he, darling?”

“Only because you sent him away! I will not give him up!”

“Don’t be rude to your mother, Miss,” Manby interjected.

“No, she’s not being rude, just wrong. Darling, I know you’re upset, and I know Jim’s sudden departure still hurts, but soon that pain will subside. Might I suggest that you let him go and then you can use the calm to reconsider John’s offer—”

You scoffed. “No. That ship has sailed. Would you have wanted me married in a lie?”

“I don’t think so, but we’ll never know now.”

“No. You see, I don’t feel I could spend the rest of my life married to someone I don’t love. On the same vein, I don’t feel I could spend my life around someone I don’t trust. Who didn’t trust me. So I’m leaving. Do you understand?”

“I don’t understand. Your life was about to be perfectly wonderful, but now you’ve thrown it all away.”

“What do you want from me? Am I to see if John has a younger brother? One who’s even richer than he is? I’ve let you steer me for long enough. In future, I’ll look after myself.”

“But surely it would be better for us—”

“No! As my mother I love you, but I’ve tried and failed to like you. In fact, I despise you. After the divorce, Father abandoned you—”

“No, he didn’t. I wanted him to go.”

“That’s not what it looked like.”

“Well, that’s how it was.”

“There’s no need for this,” Manby tried again to interject.

“You lazed about spending Dad’s money on beauty treatments, courting men, and upstaging women you saw as rivals. You aren’t serious about charity like Uncle George is. Do you remember the Christmas when Fanny and I were seven? We just finished trimming the tree. But the men in the army were having such a terrible winter, so I thought it was right when Uncle George said we shouldn’t buy each other presents. We had to make sacrifices. I was glad to make them. But you bemoaned, ‘Oh, Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents.’”

“It’s dreadful to be poor. I especially felt it that winter because I remembered when your Uncle Trippy and I used to be poor growing up with our parents. I didn’t want you or Fanny to have to know what it is to be poor, to experience growing up like we did, especially on Christmas. And now look at us. Look at where we are. We are better off than a lot of people - orphans, for instance. You have your father and me, and your Uncle George, and Fanny, and the servants. You have so much more than I ever did when I was your age. Do you really want to leave it all behind and throw it all away over a man you barely know?”

“I’ve known him longer than I’ve known you. And I’ve told you, this isn’t just about him so, please, save me the guilt trip. Will you please leave me to get on with my life?”

“But this is your home.”

“Not anymore! Take it, and may you have joy of it.”

She began to stride up and down the room. “Darling, it might be well enough to wander if you’ve a place and people to come back to, but I tell you now there’s no desolation like wanting to go home and truly not knowing where it is. I just so happen to know something that would kill you if you knew—” she broke off, stopping suddenly, as though overcome by what she knew.

“Mrs. Skeffington, don’t. Miss, if your news is good, then we are very happy for you. Aren’t we, Mrs. Skeffington?” Manby asked, trying for the third time to salvage the situation. She, for the third time, went ignored.

“Oh, really?”

“Yes. Get your things, if you so wish, since your bags are already packed. If you want him, you can have him. Only first, before you go, there’s something I have to say that will intrigue you enormously. You should know what you’re getting. If you take him, it’s a long road. There’s no turning back. Tomorrow’s too late to repent.”

“And your point is? Mother, I don’t have time for this. If I’m to catch my boat, I have to go now.”

“Now can be a long time, darling...but time passes...and then there’s the end of the road. I admire you, darling. Not everyone would accept Jim’s past. Well, he must’ve told you? You couldn’t accept him without him telling you?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Not until you’ve heard the rest.”

You looped the duffle bag over your shoulder and did another once over of the room. “Enough. I’m tired of you speaking in riddles. If all this is about is Jim’s past, you can save your breath. I know all about it.”

“What?”

“I said, I know all about Jim’s past. What the fuck do you know about Jim that I don’t, Mother? Tit for tat. Let’s exchange stories.”

“What do you mean ‘you know’? Do you mean to tell me that you know about his other family? His ex-wife? His four adult daughters? You know, and you’ve carried on with him anyway?”

“Yes. I know that he has an ex-wife and four grown daughters around my age. Yes, I know that Jim was once married. And, yes, I know what that means. I’ve known it for a long time. I knew it when you called for me to come into your office and told me about the engagement you arranged. Jim even thought, ‘Well, it’ll come out sooner or later. It’s best she hears it from me. I might as well make this a public confession.’ So he sat me down one day, took my hands in his, and he told me. He told me the truth, that a little less than twenty years ago he had the bad taste and the poor judgment to leave his family and roam the world. He was in his twenties when he married Nan, at the same age his father was when he got married. He was very young, you know. To be a father. His parents were gone. His mother died in San Francisco shortly after his father. I was sorry, truly. And…and…I stayed to listen. I didn’t interrupt. I didn’t balk. I didn’t run away. I stayed. And listened to every word...”

~

“There once was a young man and woman who fell in love in a special place. They married soon after and had a child together. A healthy daughter who was their whole world. Growing up, she happily followed in her mother’s footsteps. Then the man and the woman had another daughter, and another, and another after that. However, their road was not without obstacles. Money was short, time spent between the six even shorter. And so, the road led to an inevitable end…”

“I’m not shocked exactly. It isn’t that. I promise you.”

“You have to protect the honor of your family. Of course you do.”

“It isn’t even that. You should have told me the whole story from the beginning. You haven’t been fair to me.”

“No. I don’t believe I have.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“I suppose I thought it might ruin everything.”

“You mean you didn’t trust me?”

“I can’t have, can I?”

“Listen, Jim. I mean… Well, now I’m wondering... Why did you run out on your family?”

“No picturesque reason. Just plain old fashioned wanderlust. You know, I imagined I had a rendezvous with the universe. The doctor who has a cure for that will find a statue waiting for him.”

“You could’ve come back.”

“Too ashamed. All those years and still I can’t ever scrape together enough courage. There’s Buff, my youngest. The day she was born, Nan and I were so set on a boy. I raised my eyes towards heaven. ‘I don’t wanna complain’, I said, ‘but this is getting monotonous.’ I’ve never forgotten anything I ever said. At this point, it’s far too late to come back. Even if I worked up the courage, I wouldn’t want to. If I came back now, I’d only disrupt their lives. They’re better off without me. I stay away because I love them and I want what’s best for them. I want them to be happy in their lives, even if I can’t be a part of them.”

“Of course you don’t know your daughters very well, but their mother, your wife, didn’t you ever think of her?”

“Their mother was warned against me. She was told what would happen. It was pounded into her. ‘Don’t marry that lunatic. Hook somebody safe and solid.’”

“And who did the warning and pounding?”

“I did. Afraid I didn’t sound very sincere.”

~

“Since then, I’ve thought about it, and I’ve thought about it some more. I’ve thought about it every which way, carefully considered all the implications of what would happen if I carried on with him, what it meant for my future…and you know what? I don’t mind. He abandoned his family, yes. I won’t make excuses for him or pretend that that wasn’t a horrible and irresponsible thing to do. But I’m not put off by it in the slightest. I know all about it. I know all about it and I really don’t care, Mother. Have you ever stopped to consider that Nan was never built for the kind of life being with Jim entailed? Jim warned her against him, but she didn’t listen and married him anyway. She may have thought she was cut out for it, that she could handle it, but she realized too late that she wasn’t and she couldn’t. But as Shakespeare or Babe Ruth or somebody said, I’m made of sterner stuff. I’m leaving this town. Yeah. Jim loves me and I love him. He’s a journalist now and he said he could help us get out of here. He wanted to help me, how can that be wrong?” you asked her in your wide-eyed innocence and idealism. “He’s kind, intelligent, handsome, and my best friend. He makes me feel so good, and I can do the same for him. And what’s more I’ll make him happy and I’m no fortune teller either. He and Nan wanted very different things. They weren’t compatible in the long-term. But Jim and I… We are. We want the same thing. We have the same dreams and ambitions. And to travel is to breathe sentience into one’s ambitions. So I’m leaving. I’m going to travel the world. And when I do find Jim - not if, when - he’s not going to leave me, because there’ll be nobody to get in our way. Not you, not Nan, nobody. It’ll just be me and him and the open road. Since you may also remember that I have my own car now, you can’t really stop me.”

“Darling, darling, please... It’s not right. Now, how could you do that to that poor woman?” she asked you, “What has she done to you?” She rose her voice and took on that tone that she'd been using on you since you were a little girl. There was nothing worse than being surrounded by a bunch of people telling you to do what was right, when they couldn’t define that definition, without a lot of hatred and judgment behind it.

“You only care about her because she’s a woman like you, a woman who needs a man around to take care of her. I was never like that, but now I am. Now I need him, and he needs me too. You sent me to Europe for a reason, and I’ve found two.”

“Don’t you care that he was married?” your mother pleaded with you, “Don't you care that that fool woman was probably head-over-heels for him at one point, just like you? Aren’t you afraid you’ll share her fate?”

Coldly, you replied, “No, Mother.”

“You will break my heart if you leave in pursuit of this man.”

“You and I both know that’s not true. It’s your pride we’re dealing with here, not your heart.”

With tears in her eyes— She was always crying about something or another like her current crisis was the worst in history— she all but asked you to absolve her of her current sin, all but told you to forgive her for inflicting the scar still fresh on her heart on you. “At least think about what your father did to us. Do you really want to inflict that pain on yourself or somebody else?"

Is she really going there? You couldn’t handle this. You stepped into your boots and glared at your mother as you laced them up. “No. What you did to him,” you said icily. “I don’t recall Dad cheating until after suffering nearly twelve years of emotional and physical neglect. Really, Mother, what did you expect? Do you think he ever would’ve looked at another woman if he’d received one grain of affection from you? In private life he was generous, and kind, and affectionate, and devoted. And what’s he got to show for all his years of unyielding devotion to you? Worry lines on his forehead, you, a narcissistic, hypocritical, pseudo-adulterous wife, and me, a delinquent dropout for a daughter. But before his ‘lapses’, as you like to call them, you were shallow and faithless, merely fond of him and largely ignored him. Five secretaries is a drop in the bucket compared to the number of men you brought into the house. Even when father went to camp, you still invited them in. You even acquired a few new ones. Jim Conderley, Edward Morrison, Chester Forbish, Bill Thatcher, Miles Hyslop, Max MacMahon, Perry Lanks… Although I could go on and list them all by name, the list is too exhaustive and I don’t have time to do so. And those are just the ones I know about. The point is, you took Father for granted. You humiliated him every time you brought a lover into the house. You couldn’t survive on oxygen alone, you had to be surrounded by men. Dad knew that, but he had needs too! There was never a selfish bone in his body. For years he put you, Fanny, and I before himself, and those needs went unmet. You were so self-absorbed you never noticed how he suffered in silence all those years and did nothing to alleviate his pain! He was desperate for solace, a kind word, a gentle caress, a loving touch, even if it came from the warm embrace of a woman. More than desperate. He wanted so badly for that woman to be you, but you treated him like a dog. He was admired, petted, but never loved! It’s no wonder that, during the divorce proceedings, you couldn’t bear to look at him. His eyes had such a hurt expression, and you were the cause.”

“He repudiated his eyes. He had no right to feel hurt. He knew I didn’t love him when I married him. He said so himself.”

“He was a very patient man, but you beat him down so much that he was at his wits’ end. Of course he was going to snap. Of course he was going to break down. You mustn’t think too harshly of his secretaries. They were very kind and understanding when he came to the office after a hard day at home. Really, Mother, it was inevitable that sooner or later he was going to seek out what he so desperately needed from other women who were willing to give it to him when you, his own wife, were not. Any man in his position would’ve done the same. You all but pushed him away, drove him into the arms of those secretaries yourself when you exiled him from your marital bed. You know, when a father is neglected in certain sections of Malay, he collects a dozen human skulls and bangs on them with the jaw bones of asses to draw attention to himself. Father found leaving and taking Fanny and I with him to Europe much more sensible. Don’t you dare blame him for your mistakes. Just because you couldn’t manage your own relationship, don’t put that shit on me.”

She came back and stood over you, a woman flushed with equal parts desperation and agitation, with the necessity for persuading you quickly to do what she thought was the right - the only thing. “My dear, this is all unnecessary and unpleasant.”

“See, Manby? I told you. The one thing Mother can’t bear is when things are going better for me or Fanny than for her.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“You don’t know her. Fanny’s taken Johnny Mitchell away from you, I’m going to explore the world, and you’ve lost all your admirers and your husband, and you just can’t stand it.”

“Miss, there is no need for—”

“You’re wrong. You think I care about Jim’s life? That man brought his ruin on himself. And if he’s like every man I’ve ever known, he’d do again with his pants down and a smile on his face,” she lectured you. “Please, for the last time, my dear, I’m asking you to stay home with me. To move on and not to see or even think about Jim anymore.”

She, now, was calling you her dear, always a symptom of at least temporary dislike. That your mother should address you as ‘my dear’ showed you how much annoyed she was. But you were annoyed with her too. “Mother, that sounds very close to an ultimatum.”

“It is. My dear, I’m warning you. I’m warning you—”

“Threats, eh? Mother, if you knew how many daggers I’ve had flourished before me by hysterical anti-semitic classmates in school and severely troubled, mentally tortured patients at Cascade at an earlier period of my life… Some of them I now use for paper knives.”

“Good heavens, you didn’t stab or cut anyone, did you?”

“Just once. And it was just a letter opener. Don’t give me that look. It was self-defense and didn’t even require stitches! A flesh wound. Don’t change the subject. If you’re going to warn and threaten me, get on with it.”

“There’s one thing that lends a threat some dignity, my dear.”

“What’s that?”

“An inflexible resolve to carry it out. You mind yourself, my dear, one day you’ll need me and you’ll wish you had behaved better.”

You chose your next words carefully. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, Mother. Charitable people like yourself saved my life. But I wish they’d thought a bit more about what I am to do with it, once the war is over and it is safe. Thank you, Mother, for Jim’s employment and your many kindnesses, but I intend to make my own way in the world. I think Jim and I can manage to get along without any help from you, if that’s what you mean.”

“It is what I mean. And what do you intend to do with your life?”

“Get a dog and a parrot and roam the world, living with Jim in unmarried blessedness.”

“Stop rocking.”

“Well, I could earn my own living, Mother. I’ve often thought about it. If my art doesn’t work out, I’d make a good head waitress in a restaurant, or I could run a cat house, or go on the stage, or—”

“No one makes their own way, not really, least of all a woman. There are but precious few ways for women to make money. You’ll need to marry well.”

“Daphne MacClare isn’t yet married either, Mother, and she’s doing well for herself.”

“Because she’s rich and an only child. She’s sure to keep her money, if her father doesn’t change his mind about making her his sole heiress.”

“So the only way to be an unmarried woman is to be rich.”

“Yes. That’s why you should heed me.”

“That’s not true. I’m not listening to you. You’ll say anything, do anything.”

“Have you no sense of obligation to your family or to me? Here you had the chance to join our name, Skeffington, with one of the finest families in Europe, Talbot. And you tell me that you’re not in love? I certainly didn’t love your father when I married him, and look at how well my life has turned out.”

“You only wanted me to get married to John so you could brag about who your son-in-law is.”

“No, so you could live a better life than I have.”

“I thought you said your life turned out well. I love my life the way it is.”

“You don’t know what you love. All those years you spent at Cascade… This must be Dr. Jaquith’s influence at work. It’s his voice speaking through you, not your own. He cares more about educating children and curing men and women than taking care of his family. He doesn’t have any children of his own, does he?”

“No, but he was right.”

“It is possible to be right and foolish.”

“I don’t think so.”

Your mother softened, but only slightly. “I know you don’t care much about marriage now. I can’5 say I blame you, but you’re behaving like a romantic girl of eighteen.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“This is a folly! A ridiculous, juvenile madness! Which brings me to the business of the afternoon. I don’t want you to marry Jim.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You broke off your engagement, so you must have another candidate in mind to be your husband. I don’t want you to marry Jim.”

“What if I refuse? What if I do someday marry Jim?”

“If you refuse, which you are, of course, fully entitled to do, let me tell you, Miss, that if you chase after and marry this hook or rook or crook, not a penny of my money goes to you, do you understand?”

“Is that all? It’s not really your money, it’s Father’s.”

Your father was a self-made man. He could do what he liked with money. It came dancing into his pockets at a glance—a very different glance from the sort of dog-like glances your mother knew, for these other glances, familiar to his fellow-financiers, were hard as steel and alert and concentrated as a hawk’s. He had an unerring instinct for attracting money, and, having attracted it, for manipulating it with the easy mastery of genius. Invariably he bought at the exact right moment, and sold at the exact right moment. He was a generous spirit, that Jewish man, generous with his emotional warmth in a way that brought the same out in others.

“You should remember that every bit of all this—your flower-filled rooms, the extravagantly wasteful amount of stuff to eat that often goes untouched on the tea-table, and you yourself, sunk in softness, wrapped in probably wickedly expensive garments for all their air of simplicity,—everything in this house, every stitch on your back, is yours because of his generosity. Legally, Father didn’t have to give you one-tenth of what he insisted you have.”

“Well, of course, it was ridiculous of him to settle a fortune on me. But then, it would’ve been ridiculous for me to refuse, wouldn’t it? Twelve years with the wrong husband? It should be rewarded. Of course, I thanked him for the very generous settlement he made on me. But for you, there will be no more money. From here on in, your life will be very different,” Fanny said as she paused, in the chilly voice natural to one whose decency was doubted.

Her chill annoyed you. You glared at her. You were asking yourself if this was really your mother, this cold thing, and whether her heart had grown as fleshless as the rest of her. “We’d get along.”

“Yes. Making over old, secondhand clothes, selling your artwork which is nothing more than mediocre copies of another man’s genius, and sleeping in cheap motels.”

“Unlike you, Mother, I can live without the latest luxury. Your threats are hollow, don’t you see? How do I make you understand? I couldn’t care less. I am not some victim for you to save from consensual, adult relationships.”

“Very well, do as you please. No one takes my advice. Go after Jim, then. If you think he can make you happier than John will. But remember the day that you marry him, I will disinherit you.”

“Is that supposed to frighten me? Marriage is just an idea you old people are trying to force onto us, and we don’t want your baggage. As of now, I’ve no interest in being a wife. I want fun. Lots of laughs. All the married people I’ve seen…why, they’re a little bit short on laughter, aren’t they, Mother? But if my mind were to ever change, I will marry who I please, and I don’t care anything about your money. So what if you have no duty and I have no claim? Why worry about the future? If I’ve got anything coming to me, it’ll come. I know I’m right. About love, I mean. I don’t wanna be stuck here like you, my poor mother, frozen in time and denying the passage of it all her life. I’m just trying to have a good time.”

“Are you sure you’re in love?”

“Of course I am. What makes you think I’m not?”

“Well, you ate an enormous meal.”

“Your mother doesn’t want you to be trapped before you’re completely sure.” Manby tried to placate you and keep the peace.

“But I am sure! How many times do I have to say it? Am I so weak you believe I could be talked out of giving my heart in five minutes flat? Believe it or not, I will stay true to him.”

“Mrs. Skeffington’s right. It’s a very big thing to give up your whole world.”

“Thank you. Listen to her if you won’t listen to me.”

“But I’m not giving up my world! If you want to give me up, that’s your affair. I’m perfectly happy to carry on being friends with everyone.”

“Married to Jim Masters, the former chauffeur?”

“Yes. If we ever change our minds and decide that’s what we want.”

“So you'’re quite sure of your feelings. I mean, you know, people sometimes get carried away. Come to their senses again with a jolt.”

“You’re right, Mother. Here’s hoping you come to yours sooner than later.” You got your luggage and took one last teary-eyed look at her before shoving past her and making to leave the room.

Fanny sighed shakily as she felt her resolve waning. She let herself fall into one of the plush armchairs, unable to speak through her sobbing. She looked up at you and she knew you won.

“You know, this reminds me of something I once read in one of the books Dr. Jaquith lent to me: A hypocritical businessman, whose fortune had been the misfortune of many others, told Mark Twain piously, ‘Before I die I intend to make a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. I want to climb to the top of Mount Sinai and read the Ten Commandments aloud.’ ‘I have a better idea,’ suggested Twain. ‘Why don’t you stay right at home in Boston and keep them?’ While I’m out enjoying my life, why don’t you stay here and cry some more. It’s about the only thing you’re fucking good at.” You heard someone gasp. Whether it was Manby or your mother, you couldn’t tell, but you didn’t care either way. You gave your mother one final look of disdain and walked out of the house. Her face was red and her tears had already made streaks through her makeup. She only managed to smear it more as she attempted to wipe the tears away with her sleeve.

[thanatos1dahilias]

beginning of my horror story "You can't leave." PLEASEE LEAVE FEEDBACK LIKE WHAT YOU LIKED/DIDNT

He wants to leave, he really fucking does, but what other choice does he have? His life seems like it is and forever will be a sick and twisted version of Simon says. Simon says move away from everything you’ve ever known! So Ayzen does. Simon says you’re fine and just throwing a tantrum because you’re a big baby ! So Ayzen is. Simon says you can’t leave. So Ayzen listens.

—-

Simon has never necessarily been a horrible person named Simon, it has always been his parents, specifically his mother.

His mother whose corpse just spoke to him.

“You can’t leave..” she whispers, her voice is hoarse yet terrifying.

She’s always been terrifying.

It’s not like Ayzen expected his mother to still be scary from beyond the grave, which she very much was supposed to be in.

“What the absolute hell!?” he yells, backing away from her somehow moving, yet very obviously rotting corpse. Could he even call it that anymore? It surely looked like it, but that was his mother fucking talking. That is his very much dead mother lying on the floor of his bedroom.

“You can’t leave.” she says again, this time her voice is louder, and it echoes throughout his empty room. His room? It hasn’t been his room for a while.

She also hasn’t been his mother in quite a while.

Was she ever?

“I- I can leave! I always can!” His voice is shaky and unsure. He doesn’t know why he feels the need to scream at a dead person, but god is it satisfying.

“You can’t leave.” She repeats the three words like it’s an order. Her eyes open a slight bit, revealing a horrible green which begins to drip down her oddly angled chin.

Ayzen watches in horror as the liquid falls, drips, and begins to flow heavily from her eyes. It’s not the liquid that scares him.

It’s the fact that it’s coming from her.

It drips onto her stained clothing.

He sees the 3 opened holes in her chest all dripping the same liquid.

He turns to the carpeted corner next to him and hurls up anything he’s eaten within the past few days and it comes out a disgusting chunky orange goo. He watches in disgust as it sinks into the carpet, leaving a putrid smell.

He almost vomits again.

Not before he gets up and tries to run to the door.

“You can’t leave.” she mumbles, the door slamming shut as soon as she opened her mouth.

Youcan’tleaveyoucan’tleaveyoucan’tleave-

So Ayzen doesn’t.

—-

When he opens his eyes, the green is gone.

It’s all red.

More like brown?

Her skin is pale.

Her hair is matted.

Her eyes are shut.

“You can’t leave.” is the only thing he can hear as he crawls over to her.

“Mom?” his voice is small, quiet, it’s all he’s ever known.

“Mom? Mom please?” he puts his hand on her shoulder, only to retract it immediately from the cold from her skin. She’s gone.

“Mom! Mom, you can’t do this!” he grips both her shoulders this time, and doesn’t pull his hands away. Tears form in his eyes, everything becomes blurry.

“Mom..” he sobs, pulling her cold lifeless body into his arms again.

��Don’t leave. I’m sorry I was a bad son.” he can’t stop the tears from overflowing and falling into her hair.

“Mom, I love you.” he whispers tearfully, still clinging onto her.

“I’m sorry.” he says, for her or him, he can’t tell.

“I’m sorry.” he cries.

His throat hurts, his eyes hurt, everything fucking hurts.

“Mom. You can’t leave.”

“Mom please.”

She doesn’t listen.

—-

He can’t hear her heartbeat.

He can’t feel the comfort her hugs used to provide.

Everything’s cold.

Everything hurts.

“Mom. I’m so sorry.”

He sobs again. Again and again and again.

His stupid tears won’t bring her back.

He doesn’t know if he wants her back.

—-

Ayzen feels numb. He’s all cried out, even if he wanted to keep crying he couldn’t. His voice hurts a little, and he’s still laying with his mother’s now cold body. “You can’t leave” plays in his mind again.

Again.

And again.

And again.

She came back- she fucking came back after so long under the ground.

She came to see him- to see Ayzen only to die in his arms again.

He stands up, and shuts his eyes as he hears her head hit the carpeted ground.

“Goodnight Mom.” It hurts to say.

She deserves to rest.

He walks to the door, which seems to be cracked open- even though it was slammed shut earlier?

“You can’t leave” comes from behind him as he grabs the doorknob.

Ayzen turns around terrified, only to find his mother still unmoving.

“You can’t leave.” this time, it’s not coming from her.

[keepontruckinlucky]

Falling Chapter 5: Bradley

Warnings: Mentions of Cancer

High school just started and I’m already in the principal’s office. In truth, it wasn’t my fault. We were goofing off on the baseball diamond when we were supposed to be in class. Neither of us wanted to be in class that day. I could hear the arguing in the back of my head. I could hear my uncle Mav yell about how the two of us were irresponsible or how we let Mom down. I barely pay attention as I see Emily knock on the door. “It’s my fault. I told him that I didn’t want to go alone.” She piped up and I can see her picking at her nails. “Don’t call his mom. Call my dad instead.” 

She willingly threw herself under the bus and brought in her hard-ass dad. We’re screwed. She’s screwed. I get up to tell her to shut up, but she just stares me down. There’s no use arguing with her once she puts her mind to it. I want to yell at her for it, but I can’t. The principal calls her dad and we sit there in silence. Soon, the familiar footsteps were making their way down the hall. “Emily Eileen Kazansky, what the hell were you thinking?” His voice was slightly raw as if he was yelling before he came into the room. “Daddy, I didn’t want to go to class. I didn’t want to be alone either. I made Bradley come with me. He wanted to be in class.” Tom huffs, shaking his head. “Come on. Get to the car. Both of you.” I look down as I follow Emily to the car. “You didn’t have to do that, Em. I could’ve handled it.” She turns on her heel, shaking her head. “No. You couldn’t handle it. You always fold. I’m taking the blame for this one.” 

I lay on the grass with her when we get back to her house. “Did you get in trouble?” She asks softly, pulling the grass out methodically. It bewilders me. She worries about me even after getting yelled at by her parents. “Emmy,” I begin, shrugging my shoulders. “I didn’t really go home after your dad dropped me off. I went to visit Dad.” I stop, leaning against her. “I’ll go home around dinner time. I promise.” She shakes her head. “Dad says that I’m supposed to come straight home from school every day for a month. If he’s not home, I’m supposed to go down to the base and wait.” My eyes meet hers and I smile. “That doesn’t seem too bad, Em. You get to watch training.” She rolls her eyes at me, laughing as she does so. “Your head is in the clouds again, Brad.” I nudge her playfully at the remark. “Come on, it’s in our blood, Kazansky.” Her hand comes up to push my face and I dodge it with a laugh. “Bradley, get back here!” She squealed as she tried to chase after him. 

We stop as soon as her father’s voice booms through the house. Her hand shoots out to stop me from going into his office. “Wait.” She whispers. “He’s talking about Uncle Mav.” She stays still against the wall of the office. We both catch whispers of deployment, cancer, and home. My heart stops as I hear those words. He’s trying to bring Maverick home because someone is sick. Who’s sick? “I have to go, Em.” I mumble, hugging her and leaving quickly. My heart pounds as I make my way to my house, my hand shaking as I open the door. “Momma?” I shout, peeking into the kitchen. “I heard Mr. Kazansky talking to Uncle Mav.” Her head peeks around the corner, ushering me to sit down. “And what did you hear, Sweetheart?” Her voice is soft as she speaks, hand coming to cup my cheek. “He said someone was sick. Someone had cancer. Are you sick? Is that why Uncle Mav is coming home?” I begin to ramble, trying to breathe slowly. Her hand combs through my hair to soothe me. “It’s not me, sweetheart.” I relax, looking up at her. “It’s Emily’s dad. Now, you can’t tell her, you hear me? He doesn’t know how to tell her about him being sick. She’s going to need you, Bradley.” I nod, playing with the hem of my shirt. “Is he going to die?” I ask softly, not looking at my mother anymore. “I don’t know, Bradley.”