#here's to it nearly having been six years total. i guess.

[kagedbird]

I'm 95% sure I caught covid from my coworker who drives me to and from work. :(

[queers-gambit]

Not All That Glitters is Gold

prompt: during your engagement dinner, you learn from your fiancé's niece that he holds choice words about you. or finding out he calls you clingy behind your back.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 3.1k+

warnings: cursing, draaaama, mild angst, AU timeline technically, hurt and comfort (reader don't play those games i guess), relationship angst, half edited.

His cloak was a shimmering beacon of golden glimmer even in the dark of night. It promoted an air of confidence and swagger, something independent from his usual cockiness. No, with that gold cloak, he walked as if the very air you all breathed was produced by him; being silent and domineering in his presence. It had been something you were initially attracted to, his alluring mystery and overwhelming stoic self-awareness.

He moved around the Throne Room like wings were gifted to his feet, carrying him with lithe movements to look as if gliding. All eyes were on him, whether out of admiration, jealousy, confusion, or lust - eyes followed him no matter where he went, no matter what he did, who he interacted with. You lifted the heavy gold goblet to your lips, taking a careful mouthful of wine before setting it down, swallowing, and standing from your seat at the banquet table.

You wanted your lover, so, you got up to satisfy your craving.

You approached him as he spoke to a pair of noblemen, slowing your gait to ease your arrival and not cause a surprise. Your dress was something a little more alluring, more revealing than you'd usually wear, and as you approached the men, the eyes not belonging to your new fiancé nearly bulged from their skulls.

Daemon turned his head and saw you, smirking as his arm opened and he welcomed you into his side. "I was beginning to wonder where you got off to," you told him softly, one arm around his hips as the other planted your hand against his chest. "The Aunties have descended and are becoming insufferable, I fear I needed reprieve."

Daemon grinned, sounding amused, "It was a matter of time before they found you. Stick with us, darling, the Aunties will stay away."

"They're about to serve dinner," you told him, "perhaps we should find our seats?"

He nodded, looking at the men he had been speaking to before you showed up. Daemon bid politely, offering no other explanation besides, "Excuse us, gentlemen."

They bowed out of their Prince's way, letting Daemon lead you toward the head banquet table (again) where his brother, King Viserys, was sitting with other prominent members of court. The night had been pleasant, everyone rejoicing in the upcoming nuptials between you and the Rogue Prince. For years, he'd been something chaotic and shunned; and after the passing of his first wife, Rhea Royce, he was like a kite cut from string. Loose and set adrift. Wild and out-of-reach. And then you came back into Daemon's life after not seeing one another since you were ten-and-six, and all of a sudden, the Rogue Prince was something more domesticated.

It was a refreshing change, albeit totally uncharacteristic for Daemon.

Viserys was the most shocked of them all, constantly praising you for whatever you had done to his brother to reel him into a controllable pace. He thought you and Daemon were perfect for one another, likened you two to fit-together puzzle pieces. The King had been more than happy to host the celebrations, starting with tonight, an engagement party! You had to play part of dutiful fiancé and upstanding citizen since you were to inherit a royal title; being poised and collected at all times with either a calm, passive expression or one of bright entertainment.

"Here, love," Daemon whispered, pulling your chair out for you. He waited until you were sat before taking his own seat, sighing when he glanced around the table only to settle his gaze on you.

"What's wrong, my Dragon?" You asked softly, leaning in to place your hand over his on his lap; pressed into his side despite the wooden chair arms between you.

"Just amusing," he mused, "most of these Lords and Ladies had much to say about my first marriage, and now, they break our bread to celebrate us."

"Cannot be the first time someone's tried to suck up to you," you chuckled, moving your conjoined hands in your lap. "The dragon does not concern himself with the opinion of the sheep," you advised smartly, "they only tolerate the sheep because one day, the dragon will need to feast - hmm?"

Daemon smirked, "When did you become so insightful, darling?"

"I've always been, you're just pussy-whipped now that I make a lot more sense."

He laughed, letting a servant pour your wine. In your ear, he mused, "Jest all you want, but you were meant to be a Targaryen. Once we are wed, I will plant my seed, and bind us together for eternity."

"Our marriage wouldn't doing exactly that already?"

"A child is more tangible - it's a bloodline."

You shrugged as a plate of blood-red lobster was set in front of you. Viserys truly went all out - giving a wide variety of foods to taste. "A marriage is for life, though," you countered.

"So is a child."

"Until they are married off."

Conversation continued, flowing easily between the family members and patrons of court. Viserys looked pleased, enjoying the celebration as his ailment often caused him grave pain and he could not attend events. He hardly had reason to smile, but when he watched you feed a bite to Daemon, he let his lips spread without thought. Queen Alicent clocked the King's expression, glancing at you and Daemon, then smiled fondly before reaching for her husband's hand.

Throughout the dinner, Rhaenyra watched you and Daemon with a bitter glare on her face; jaw locked and lips pursed. You ignored her obvious displeasure in favor of your husband, both too enraptured with one another to ever pay attention to the Princess' distain. When the meal was over, the dancing, mingling, drinking, and musical portion of the evening commenced.

And cake. Cake was to be served.

Daemon's golden cloak swept around guests as you both played dutiful host for your party, and mingled with those who arrived tonight to celebrate your upcoming nuptials. You did your best to keep up with the plethora of Lords and Ladies, like Daemon did so effortlessly, but it was a lot. You still held your own, but by Gods, there was a lot of people in attendance tonight and there was noway you could remember any names.

Thankfully, while Daemon was caught in a conversation with Ser Gerold Royce, you eventually made it to a small group of familiar faces: Princess Rhaenyra, Ser Harwin Strong, his brother, Larys, Lady Laena Velaryon, and her twin, Ser Laenor.

You graciously received the compliments, well-wishes, and joyful greetings of them all, but acutely noted the Princess did not offer even so much as a polite greeting. "This dress was made for you, it's just darling," Laena complimented, petting the bodice. "It must've cost a fortune."

"It was a gift from Daemon," you told her with a soft smile. "And the necklace, too! See?" You showed her, "He had it custom made, it's Valyrian Steel with embedded jewels."

"The perfect combination of your Houses, and a gorgeous piece of art to hang on such a gorgeous neck," she praised, but it was Princess Rhaenyra's scoff of annoyance that peaked your interest.

You thanked Laena Velaryon before eyeing Rhaenyra. "Princess?" You questioned. "If I may ask you something, plainly?"

"By all means."

"Have I... Upset you in anyway?"

"You mean beside my uncle spending the Crown's coin to buy you something exquisitely made; being a fleeting, lady interest of the Princes'? No, no, nothing's wrong," she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"What is this distain you hold towards me - towards my relationship with Daemon?" You demanded, the alcohol in your system spurring you on despite knowing the looming consequences of offering a member of the Royal family sharpened words.

"Truly? You wish to know why I do not fawn over you as others?"

"They do not fawn, oh - " You stopped yourself, sighing deeply and correcting yourself, "Of course I wish to know what the issue at hand here is, Princess, I do not wish for ill-will between us. I wish to resolve this."

"In truth, I simply do not understand it, this - this sham of a wedding," she snapped. "Daemon might buy you pretty things, but it's only out of guilt."

"What guilt could he possibly - "

"He finds you overwhelming, overbearing, suffocatingly clingy. So, with his distain, he, too, felt fleeting guilt - being why he showers you with gifts, it's for his own conscious. But if you ask me why I host such distain towards this union, it is because I know my uncle is not happy with your overwhelmingly clingy behavior. He's voiced his displeasure many-a-time. Not just to me, but to the King and Queen, as well."

You felt shell-shocked, acutely aware of the lingering eyes of the audience around you. You worried: how many of them had heard this rumor, how many secretly pitied you? Finding your voice, you managed to squeak out, "I beg your pardon?"

Rhaenyra only shrugged, "You asked, I answered."

"I see," you cleared your throat. "And your answer is that my betrothed has, what, started to slander my name behind my back?"

"Indeed. His chief complaint is how you seem to cling to him more and more, and he doesn't have the heart to push you away more than he already has. You're the one daft enough to not take a hint."

"And where do you get your information from?"

"Daemon, himself."

Your mind raced with all the little things: how Daemon would release your person during public events, avoid physical touch, ignore you sometimes, shut down your woes (call that gaslighting), how he stiffened at times you took his arm, how he seemed to shut down and only offer bored 'mmhms' when you spoke to him about your life. Your heart sank to your feet as you realized there were some truths to Rhaenyra's words.

You nodded slowly as Daemon chose that moment to approach your awkward group. His arm slithered around your waist, but you were silent as the grave and stiff as the corpse in said grave. Your mind raced with the idea that Rhaenyra could just be fucking with you, but the also with the idea that all she said was true.

"I'm going to retire for the evening, I've a headache," you told Daemon, finding an easy way out of his grip, "but you stay, enjoy the celebration. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am just tired."

He agreed and gently kissed you - sure to remain modest but still affectionate. "I'll visit you tonight," he muttered in your ear.

"No, I am truly tired," you told him softly but sternly. "We'll see each other tomorrow."

He hummed, "Then I shall walk you out - "

"No, you're needed here to save face. Go, mingle, play nice," you dismissed him. "I'll see you tomorrow."

You bid whoever you came across a good and safe night; thanking them for their attendance tonight. After thanking the King for hosting the party, you disappeared, taking a few secret passages to avoid the main hustle-and-bustle of the feast. When you arrived in your room, you slammed the door, bolted it, and leaned against it for a good long moment. Your mind was reeling with all kinds of thoughts regarding your intended, his niece, all of it suddenly feeling very overwhelming.

You were exhausted, so, you swiftly stripped, unpinned your hair, refused your maid's help, and soaked in a long, hot bath. After, you settled into bed with a book, and tried not to overwhelm yourself with the anxiety tomorrow would bring.

About an hour later, you heard Daemon knocking at your passage door. You paused, not making a sound, hearing his muffled voice, "Love? My love, are you awake?"

You didn't answer.

"Please, sweet girl, let me in," he begged quietly.

When you wrenched the door open, you seethed, "NO!"

"What - ?"

"I heard plenty tonight from your niece. In your moments of frustration, you know what? Sure, complain about your woes - but to find out you call me clingy when in regard to my affection - that's not something I'm going to be happy hearing, Daemon!"

"I know, but let me explain - "

"What? What will you say? That you just needed someone to talk to? To vent your feelings? I get that - I really do. But you fully offered slander to my name, to our relationship; to who I am as a partner. Your poisoned words of your irritation is soaked into your family, in the courts. And now, I must endure the pity those will offer knowing my husband truly holds distain for me!"

"No, you've got it wrong, I don't - "

"Then why!?" You demanded, voice cracking. "Why say those things? Why not come to me and communicate you're not comfortable with this and that behavior!? I won't know unless you tell me, so, instead of talking your shit to the courts and your family, why not just speak to me!?"

"I should have!" He admitted quickly. "I should have, I know that, and it was my mistake, my love. But I regret it, I regret feeling so, so - I don't know! Sure, let's call it frustrated, irritated, I don't care, I just needed it off my chest!"

"I understand that fully, but being as we're to marry one another, I should be the one listening to you when you need something off your chest. You should talk to me. And if I'm the one you need to speak about, choose more trustworthy confidants that do not need further reason to despise me!"

"What're you...? What? What does that mean?"

"Rhaenyra, Daemon! Your niece, Rhaenyra! Every-fucking-thing you've said to her, she remembers, and holds it against me! You forget, when you speak to family about the woes of your relationship, that's all they remember. You get to make up with me, we get to move on, but because you needed t'vent to them, that's what they can hold against me. Do you even wish to marry me, still!?"

"Of course, I do!"

"Then something needs to change," you deadpanned, exhausted by this. "I refuse to be belittled, spat on, and disrespected by your niece any longer."

"I will speak to her."

"Yes, you will! This is far too out of hand! She has weaponized your frustration to drive a wedge between us, and she chose a public event with an audience to lob it all at me!"

"What truly happened with Rhaenyra? What was so bad?"

"Daemon, she called me out for 'being clingy' in front of an audience! At our engagement celebration! Do you know how humiliating that was!? I'm more embarrassed than angry!"

He nodded, "I'll handle this. I swear, my darling, this will be resolved."

"You know what?" You breathed. "Do whatever you please because I've realized something. Not only did Rhaenyra spew our business to others, but you... You said it in the first place. You said those words..."

"Out of anger - "

"But you still spoke them!"

"I was foolish to do so!"

"You are a fool for many reasons, Daemon, but this is one act I am not willing to forgive so blindly. Wear your jester hat all you'd like, but it will take more than pretty words to make this up to me."

"I'll do what it takes to fix this." He tried to step into the room with you, but you held your ground in the doorway. "My love, please, how can I make it up to you if you do not let me in?"

"You must find any other way to do this because there's no chance in any of the Seven Hells that you share my bed again - married or not." You offered him a look of distain, musing, "You know what, I've decided: I simply don't care what you or your family thinks. I am extremely proud of who I am, and there's not a soul alive that can make me feel lesser than. Your words hurt, they cut deeper hearing it from the Princess, but that's simply your opinion," you eased. "I refuse to modify myself, but it's good to know you don't like my affection - I can always reserve it for whoever I choose to warm my bed. What was it you said?" You quipped venomously, "Marriages are political arrangements?"

"Not ours," he snapped.

"Oh? We're so different, are we?" You laughed.

"Of course we are, there's nothing I'd change. Hear me? Nothing," he sounded angry. "I was a fool to speak out of term, but you're right, I should talk to you about it - I am simply unequipped to having a wife I've chosen."

"Oh, spare me - "

"It's true," he insisted, "what woman in my life has loved me as you do? Has encouraged me to be so - so - loving and safe?"

"Apparently, I've been clingy and not as encouraging as I thought."

"I spoke out of turn," he insisted. "You're right - I can't go and take back what I've said. But I will do all I can to ensure I change their opinions on you, to mop up whatever verbal mess I've made."

You laughed without humor.

"And I will set Rhaenyra straight about all of this, I will ensure she knows that there's no room for such tension, jealousy, hatred."

"You swear to clean up all your messes?" You wondered earnestly.

"I swear."

"Good," you mused, "after that, how do you intend on rebuilding my trust?"

Daemon blinked, "You do not trust me anymore?"

"Of course not," you assured, "not since finding out how you speak of me so hatefully without my knowledge. That's where trust comes in, Daemon, but you proved me wrong, and now, that trust is gone."

Daemon looked confused, mouth opening and closing rapidly, shaking his head, "No, no, no, love, don't do this. We're okay, all right? We're fine, things with us - we're fine. We're okay."

"Saying it doesn't make it true."

"Do not tell me," He snapped. "H-Have I lost you?"

"Mhm. Not saying you can't fix things between us, but as of now, there's nothing about you I can trust."

"And if you cannot trust me, can you love me?"

You paused, considering his words. Honestly, his betrayal was something that hurt worse than anything you've endured before. "I'll have to think about that one," you whispered. With a saddened look, you hugged the door, sighing, and bid, "Goodnight, my Prince."

"My sweet - don't shut me out. Don't do this."

"Find a way to make this all up to me," you demanded, "because I'd hate for either of us to eventually resent this marriage, too."

He tried to argue but you shut the door on him forcefully; loudly locking it from the inside to prevent him from following you. You felt yourself brimming with anger, but nothing was like the betrayal coursing through your heart and veins. There was no sleep that night, there was a lot of tears, a lot of pacing, and a lot of grumbling to yourself.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

Clingy Baby collection

[sitp-recs]

hi liv! do you know of any draco-centered longish fics??? thanks! i just love him so much

Hi anon, definitely! Here are my favourites:

Heal Thyself by astolat (T, 47k)

"Are you going for the course?" Lovegood asked. "You have the NEWTs.”

“What course?” Draco said, then, “No, don’t be ridiculous,” when he realized she meant the notice pinned up on the board he’d been staring at: Applicants To The Introductory Mediwizard Course For The Coming Term Shall Present Themselves In The Chief Mediwizard’s Office By August 24th.

A Room Up There (And You In It) by @the-starryknight (T, 59k)

When Preservationist Draco Malfoy was assigned to work on Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, he was excited to delve into the gorgeous Black family antiques. His excitement quickly ended when something in the House decided it did not like his presence one bit.

The Trouble with Wanting by waldorph (E, 60k)

Draco Malfoy is cleared of all charges; this is what happens next.

Tea and No Sympathy by who_la_hoop (E, 70k)

It's Potter's fault, of course, that Draco finds himself trapped in the same twenty-four-hour period, repeating itself over and over again. It's been nearly a year since the unpleasant business at Hogwarts, and Draco's getting on with his life quite nicely, thank you, until Harry sodding Potter steps in and ruins it all, just like always.

Among Ancient Pines by @graymatters (M, 74k)

Every day, Draco Malfoy tries. With every fiber of his being he tries. But he doesn’t much think about what he’s trying for. In his final term of Healer training, Draco is unfortunate enough to find himself on a plane, the only means of traveling to a small, magical town in rural Alaska.

Super Rich Kids by @thusspoketrish (E, 81k)

Draco Malfoy has become disillusioned by the glitz and glamour of the scandalous lives of the Post-Second Wizarding War Pureblood Elite. Enter: one existential crisis, one group of thieving cynical friends, and several terrible, terrible decisions.

A Thousand Beautiful Things by geoviki (M, 104k)

Draco Malfoy struggles with changed fortunes, shifted alliances, an ugly war, and an unusual spell, with the help of a concerned professor, an insightful house-elf, and an unexpected Gryffindor friend.

Nor All That Glisters by @sweet-s0rr0w (E, 110k)

Lonely and frustrated on house arrest, with no prospects for the future, Draco begins brewing Felix Felicis in an attempt to improve his lot. Just in the short term, of course. He isn’t a total idiot.

Far From The Tree by aideomai (E, 112k)

The arrival of Harry Potter’s children—snapped back in time, the children themselves guessed, twenty or so years—was the most interesting thing to happen at Hogwarts for years.

All Life is Yours to Miss by Saras_Girl (M, 114k)

Professor Malfoy's world is contained, controlled, and as solitary as he can make it, but when an act of petty revenge goes horribly awry, he and his trusty six-legged friend are thrown into Hogwarts life at the deep end and must learn to live, love and let go.

What We Pretend We Can't See by gyzym (M, 131k)

Seven years out from the war, Harry learns the hard truth of old history: it’s never quite as far behind you as you thought.

Any Instrument by @dictacontrion (E, 131k)

Draco Malfoy wouldn't go back to England for anything less than an exceptional case. Being asked to figure out why Harry Potter can't control his magic might be exceptional enough to qualify.

There Is Always the Moon by @firethesound (T, 159k)

Draco's life after the war is everything he wanted it to be: it's simple, and quiet, and predictable, and safe. But when a mysterious curse shatters the peace he'd worked so hard to build, there's only one person he can trust to help him. After all, Harry Potter has saved his life before. Now Draco has to believe that Potter will be able to do it one more time.

[hearts401]

A Shitty Brother Kinda Christmas

(7,441 words)

Evan invites Michael over for Christmas after not speaking to him for over two years now. Shenanigans ensue

Michael was cold.

He was also annoyed and bored and excited and the slightest bit nervous.

But right now, he was just cold.

He was sitting out in the middle of nowhere waiting for a bus that had either already come or was nearly a half an hour late.

He was praying it was the latter.

It didn’t help that he’d had literally no time to prepare. Evan had called him at six in the morning and he’d had to rush to find a gift and means for transportation and it didn’t help that everything was closed for Christmas. So he’d thrown on the only coat he had and went for the first bus he could catch. Now he was stuck out in the snow waiting for a bus that might not even arrive.

But some things were worth getting hypothermia for.

Unfortunately for Michael, this was not feeling like one of those things. But it was a second chance, and he’s fucked up too much to give up on a second chance. Frankly, when Evan had asked for his number, he’d already expected not to hear from him ever again, and he’d made peace with that. As much peace as he could at least. It wasn’t something he thought about a lot, and he doubted Evan thought about it much either.

But today his head’s been full of it, as unpleasant as that is.

When the bus finally pulled up, the driver assured him that the snow was what caused the delay, and apologized profusely. Michael didn’t care, he was just glad it came at all.

The bus was almost entirely empty, which made his life a lot easier. He clicked on his phone, not that there was anything to look at. It was Christmas, after all.

When Evan had invited him, he’d known it would be disappointing to Jeremy; He always looked forward to Christmas, but he promised they’d have their own little Christmas when he got back, but this was the first time he’d spoken to Evan in… Forever. His little brother had a house for god’s sake! A house! And he lived with his friend! That friend who’d punched Michael, the friend who always let Evan stay over his house, the friend he’d totally definitely not gotten into a fist fight with more than once all because of his own stubborn attitude.

So yeah, Michael was a jerk. But in his defense, Gregory was stubborn too.

His phone pinged and he picked it up. It was Evan again. Geez, why did he keep calling? Michael had already agreed, he didn’t want to talk to him right now, not yet.

But he can’t keep putting it off, and he doesn’t wanna seem like he’s avoiding Evan. (Even though he is, technically.)

“Hello? Hello, hello?” He said, “What’s up?”

“It’s me.” Evan said, “Just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay? I’m really sorry it’s such short notice.”

“It’s whatever.” Michael replied, “The bus was late though.”

“It’s Christmas, that’s expected.” Evan replied.

This was weird. Not a bad weird, but not a good weird either.

“Yeah.” Is all he said, “Uhm, is there anything else you need? The service here is ass.”

“Uh, no, I was calling to tell you if the bus hadn’t come to just forget it because I didn’t want you to keep waiting. It’s cold outside.”

“No shit.” He said with a dry laugh, “I’m gonna go now. Bad service, you know how it is.”

“Oh? O-Okay, yeah, bye.” Evan said.

“Bye.” Michael said before hanging up and sitting back against the seat.

“Shitty service?” He mumbled to himself, “Idiot.”

“Well, that sucked.” Elizabeth said. She was hanging decorations she’d brought since their house wasn’t “Christmas ready” in her words.

“He’s probably just tired.” Charlie said, “I’m sure he’s happy you invited him.”

“Well maybe the invitation isn’t what’s got him in the dumps and maybe it’s more the timing?” Elizabeth said.

Evan shrunk back, “I really didn’t notice how close it was getting to Christmas, I just… I couldn’t decide if I wanted to invite him…”

Elizabeth shrugged, “Fair, I guess. I usually invite him over but he spends his Christmas with his friends a lot.”

“His friends?” Charlie asked, “Jeremy?”

“And those other kids from middle school.”

Evan scrunched up his nose, “He still hangs out with those guys?”

“Yeah?” Elizabeth climbs down the small step ladder she was on, “They’re his friends.”

Evan huffs, “Yeah, I know.” He mutters.

Charlie offers a small smile at him, nudging him, “He’s not bringing any of them, it’s just him, Ev.” She says, “I’m sure everything will be okay.”

He nods slowly, “Yeah, yeah I guess.”

“Hey, Evan?” Gregory calls from the other room where he’s helping Sammy set up for dinner.

“O-oh, yeah?”

“Why does Michael do that weird ‘hello? Hello, hello?’ thing?”

Evan blinked, “I… I don’t know, actually.”

“Oh my god he does that all the time I don’t think he even realizes it!” Elizabeth said, “It drives me insane!”

Charlie laughed, “Yeah, Sammy says he does it every time he calls him.”

“He does!” Sammy said, “Every time. I asked him about it once and he was just as confused as me! He just does it. It’s like an instinct.”

Gregory laughed too, “That is funny as hell I’m never letting him live that down.”

“Oh, speaking of living things down,” Evan hopped off his bed and headed to the kitchen, “You’re gonna be on your best behavior. If you and him fight, I’m sticking you both outside.”

“If you put me outside with him I’ll bury him alive in the snow.” Gregory said.

“I’m serious.” Evan said, “I don’t want you fighting with him.”

It’s not that Evan didn’t appreciate Gregory standing up for him, but it was stressful. He didn’t want his friend hurt for him, and he certainly didn’t want to spend Christmas breaking up his brother and his best friend.

Gregory looked over at Evan, “Yeah, of course.” He said, “No fighting.”

“And that means no punching, kicking, swearing, snapping, pushing, shoving-”

“Okay, okay, okay, no fighting.” Gregory said, “But he needs to back off sometimes, I’m gonna let him know.”

“I can let him know.” Evan said, “We’re going to have a nice Christmas like a family!”

They all turned to look at him.

“We’re going to have a nice Christmas like a… decent dysfunctional patchwork family…” He rephrased, “I-I guess.”

Gregory laughed at that, “It’ll be fun, I’m sure.”

“I wish you could’ve invited Nessa,” Evan said, “I’m sure she’d have loved to meet Mike.”

When Michael finally arrived, he was met with the entire house laughing at him. Even Evan couldn’t hide his amusement at seeing his brother pull up to his house soaking wet and shaking like a leaf.

“You look great.” Sammy said.

“Piss off.” Michael muttered.

“Come inside, you look like you’re gonna freeze to death.” Charlie said.

“I feel like it too.” Michael muttered.

They brought him inside and Evan found himself suddenly regretting every decision that led up to this.

He felt sick, and he realized with a shock that there was a reason he had avoided Michael. He didn’t know what to say to him, what to do with him, or what to talk about. What do you say to your big brother who you ghosted for nearly two years after getting his number? What do you say to the person who ruined your life? What do you say to the person who treated you like shit and almost killed you and only formally apologized a couple years ago?

Gregory must have noticed because he discreetly led Evan back to his room and sat down with him.

“Not ready?” He asked.

“Not at all.” He said, flopping onto his back.

“What is it?” Gregory asked, laying down beside him.

“I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him in forever and I was cool with that but then we did talk again and then we split up again and I just… How can I never speak to him again after that? How can I not give him at least a chance to be better? But at the same time… I don’t want to talk about The Thing, and I don’t want to bring it up but I can’t move on if I don’t and I feel sick thinking about it because what if it goes wrong? What if I fuck it up? What if he fucks it up? What if all this bullshit was for nothing this whole time and I’m just gonna end up hating him more than I already do?”

Gregory listens intently, staring at Evan, “You know, I told you not to invite him.”

“I know but-”

He continues speaking, interrupting Evan, “But! You insisted. Why?”

“Because I want to give him another shot.” Evan said.

“And he came because…” Gregory raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“Because he wants to take that shot.” Evan said, slowly understanding.

“So, you want to give him a chance? You don’t have you, you don’t owe anything to him, especially forgiveness. Do you wanna cut this short? Nobody would blame you if you did. I sure as hell wouldn’t.”

Evan sits up, “I guess.”

Gregory smiles, “Why don’t you take some time, dinner’s not done yet. Nobody’s rushing you, and I’m sure Michael is just as nervous. The only difference is that he deserves it.”

Evan laughs a bit at that, “Be nice.” He said.

“No promises!” Gregory called as he walked out of the room.

Frankly, Gregory was right. Michael was just as nervous. In fact, he wanted to curl up in a ball and sink into a hole and die right about now. He didn’t know where to sit so he ended up standing awkwardly off to the side.

Unfortunately for him, Sammy was quick to act like he owned the place. Gregory and him were like siblings, to be fair.

“Come on Mike, sit down.” Sammy said, “What’s wrong, are you nervous?”

“No. Not at all.” He muttered, “I just prefer standing.”

“Yeah, well, you look out of place with the Christmas decorations and I need to take photos so unless you wanna be my santa clause, I suggest you move.” Elizabeth said.

“You're as blunt as ever.” He muttered.

“Thanks, I try my best.” She replied with a grin.

He sat down next to Sammy, pulling out his phone, only to have Charlie grab it away from him, ignoring the indignant noise he made.

“Aw, Jeremy? Are you guys dating yet?” She teased.

“Wha- no! Give that back!” He lunged, reaching for it, but she snatched it away too quickly.

“Come on, Mike, you’ve gotta have something interesting in your life, how’s my dad?”

“Uncle Henry’s doing fine.” He answered as he continued to chase her around, “Give it back Charlie!”

“What pictures do you have? Aw, is that your dog?” Charlie pulled up a picture.

“No, it’s Jeremy’s! Now give it back!”

“What’s its name?” She asked.

Michael looked over at Elizabeth and exaggeratedly gestured at Charlie, but she just laughed at him.

“She missed messing with you, this is your own fault.” She said.

“She’s right, messing with Evan isn’t as fun. He doesn’t get mad like you do.” Charlie said.

Michael scowled at her, but he couldn’t deny that it made him feel a lot better though. 

When Gregory and Evan returned, Michael offered a smile and a small wave at Evan, that his brother slowly returned.

Evan was pale, but Michael didn’t mention it; He probably was too. Although that could just be from sitting out in the snow for half an hour.

He was still a bit upset about that.

Elizabeth invited him to sit beside her, which ended up sticking him right beside Evan, who had Gregory on his other side, who had Sammy next to him, and then Charlie beside him, and then it came full circle back to Elizabeth.

Great, cool, cool cool cool cool cool. This could go one of two ways:

One, it goes horrible and awful and everything that could go wrong does go wrong.

Or two, it goes fine and Michael’s overreacting.

But he could tell Evan was uncomfortable, and the tension was uncomfortable for him as well.

He took a breath before standing abruptly, “Actually, I ate at home and I could totally just grab a hotel or something so I’m gonna-”

“You’re not leaving.” Evan said.

Michael turned to him, “I’m sorry what?”

Evan shrunk back, “I-I just mean- you can stay here. Uhm… Unless you really don’t want to which is fine but you know you should stay here with us because it’ll make it easier and honestly who sleeps in a hotel on Christmas Eve I mean-”

“Okay! Okay. That- we can do that, that’s fine.” Michael said. He sat back down slowly, staring hard at his plate.

“And I can tell you didn’t eat at home.” Evan said, “I don’t like that you’re lying to me.”

Michael doesn’t reply to that, shrugging.

Evan’s eyebrows furrow, but he doesn’t say anything else. Gregory leans in next to him and whispers something, though.

So it went bad. Not awful, but bad. Michael didn’t eat much, but the food was good. Henry knew how to cook, and it seemed like he’d taught the twins how to cook as well.

Elizabeth leans back in her chair, “So, now that we’ve invited Michael, who wants to send a call to dear old dad? I have his number.”

Evan groans, “Not again with this…”

“Please, please Evan it would be so funny please.” Gregory shot up in his chair, “Please you didn’t let me do it to Michael let me do it to your dad.”

“Do what to Michael?” Michael asked.

“They wanted me to prank call you guys and send you random shit. Gregory, my dad will find and kill us all. I hope you know that.”

Prank call his dad? Prank call the William Afton?

“No wait I like this idea, Ev, we should do it one hundred percent.” Michael said.

“See? He agrees.” Elizabeth said.

Evan rolled his eyes, “You guys are the worst.”

“We’re the best actually.” Charlie said, “And it’s uhhhh… five against one.”

Evan sighed, “Do what you want. I need to set up our room anyway.”

Charlie cheered.

“I actually think I’m still in his contacts.” Michael said, “He keeps texting me, I don’t read 'em though.” He didn’t tell them that he repeatedly hesitated and refused to block his dad for a reason he himself couldn’t fathom. But to be fair, Lizzie hadn’t blocked him either. In fact, she still messaged him back sometimes. Even if the conversations weren’t friendly, he couldn’t imagine talking to his dad ever again, he didn’t know how she did it. 

“And we don’t wanna start today, let’s use Charlie’s phone.” Sammy said.

They spent the night sending random images to William until he blocked them, and then they went on to relentlessly call Jeremy, who had apparently been asleep, before they went on to call Gregory, and stayed on call with him while he and Evan set up.

It was weird how normal this was. It was weird how quickly it had become just spending Christmas together instead of unloading 15 years of bullying and 21 years of loathing.

But then again, they were the Afton family, pretending to be normal was their whole thing. They did it for the first eighteen years of Michael’s life.

But he could sit back and enjoy this before the incredibly uncomfortable conversation that was inevitable. If him and Evan would quit avoiding it.

Gregory then came in to let them know the room was ready.

Sitting down in Evan’s house was one thing. Sleeping in it was a whole other thing. He felt like a teen again, when his dad was in the hospital for one of his springlock accidents and Michael had to stay with Henry while he was gone. That had sucked. His dad hadn’t wanted to bring him over Henry’s house, so he hardly knew Charlie and Sammy, and because of that he’d felt so out of place in their house. Not to mention his siblings were there, and by then he was sick to death of them.

Thinking back on it, he did have a lot of issues as a kid. Maybe he still had them. Who was he to dwell on it, though.

Michael Afton has issues, like that’s news.

This time he made a point to sit beside Elizabeth. She wasn’t the best choice, but she was the only one who still messaged him. Despite how she acted, she always wanted a family. But she got the Aftons, which is more like a classification than a family.

She gave him a disappointed look, but he ignored it.

The decorations in the room were really cool. They had lights strung up on the walls and they’d put up blankets to hang over them, as well as covering up the window. The floor was layered with blankets and pillows, and Michael noticed it looked like a nest.

He had taught Evan how to make nest-like pillow forts when he was only four. Michael had been seven, and hadn’t even been good at teaching, but Evan had really enjoyed it. Michael hadn’t enjoyed teaching him, but it kept the kid quiet and that’s all he’d needed. But this fort was obviously not a product of his teaching, since it was unlikely Evan remembered that.

Weird that he’d remember that. It felt like a karmic “fuck you” from the universe.

Evan was really enjoying this. He didn’t feel as anxious anymore, and it felt almost normal. He had been preoccupied with everything else to think about The Thing and it made him feel a lot better about it. He was also proud of the pillow fort, which Gregory had helped with a lot. They’d had it planned for a while, and he was glad it turned out so well.

Good food, good bed, good friends, and so far no issues with Michael. None that he wanted to talk about yet, at least.

This was a good day! A great day! And hopefully a great Christmas day would follow!

He was quick to pull his friends into it and talk to them about it. He loved how cozy it looked. Like a shiny little nest. It was awesome and he loved it so much.

“Wait. Wait! I need my camera!” He went out to the kitchen, “Gregory? Do you know where I put my camera?”

“I put it in the end table drawer! The bottom one, next to the couch!” Gregory called back.

“Awesome. Thank you!” He grabbed it and ran back into the room, “Mike get in the back you’re the tallest, Gregory and Charlie, I need you guys up front. Elizabeth, get closer to Mike, come on. Sammy, you’re perfect there don’t move. It’s on a ten second timer so hold that for a moment!”

He ran over to them, positioning himself beside Michael and behind Gregory.

He went to grab his camera when it was done, smiling at the picture, “It looks awesome, I can’t wait to print it.” He said.

The others crowded over to see.

“You’re pretty good at sitting still and looking pretty.” Charlie teased Michael, “It’s your one redeeming quality.”

Michael shoved her face away with his hand, “Oh piss off.”

“He said the thing again!” Sammy cheered, “He said it earlier too. I feel like I’m in England every time I talk to him.”

“Did I tell you guys about that time Evan screamed ‘you cunt’ at the top of his lungs?” Gregory said.

“No! No! You promised you wouldn’t tell them about that!” Evan wails, grabbing Gregory’s arm.

“He was playing a racing game or something and he just lost big time. Huge time. Horribly. Awful. It was embarrassing.”

“Gregory!”

“And he just shouted at the top of his lungs. In the most British I’ve ever heard him, it was insane.” Gregory continues, “He had to apologize to our neighbors. It was hilarious.”

Evan covered his face, “It was awful, I felt so bad.” He groaned.

Michael chuckled, “That’s funny, Lizzie was always the one who used British slang. She got it from our father.”

Elizabeth shoved him playfully, “Okay Mr. I-Say-Bloody-Hell-And-Piss-Off-Every-Five-Seconds.”

“Pi- leave me alone!” Michael said indignantly.

“He almost said it again!” Charlie said, laughing.

“Jeez, you people are impossible.” He said.

At that moment, his phone rang. “Oh, shit, it’s Jeremy. I’ll be right back!”

Evan watched Michael leave, his head tilted slightly to the side.

Gregory nudged him, “Feel better?”

“A bit… Thanks.” He answered.

Gregory smiled, “I told you it’d be okay.”

Evan nodded, “I’m stressing out a bit still but I do feel better. Maybe I was just overreacting.”

“Mike is being super weird though.” Elizabeth said, “He’s not usually like this with his friends.”

“Well duh,” Charlie said, “he’s overthinking just as much as Evan is. He’s just shit at hiding it because he’s not a ball of fear and sadness the way Evan is.”

Evan frowned, “Well I wish he’d just act normal. I don’t like that he keeps lying to me. He makes everything harder than it has to be.”

Charlie hummed, “He’s just scared. Like a little animal in the woods.”

Evan couldn’t stop his sudden and loud laughter at that.

But he did feel angry. He wasn’t going to say it, he wasn’t sure he was ready to say it, but he felt it. Michael wasn’t even trying.

“I’m gonna use the bathroom real quick.” He told Gregory.

Michael knew the call wasn’t Jeremy. He also knew it would end long before he wanted it to. It’d been one of his friends from middle school, and they had hung up several minutes ago. But he liked the silence while it lasted.

“So, you’re avoiding me?” Evan asked from directly beside him. 

Michael jumped with a shout, nearly falling off the couch.

“Jesus Christ, Evan!” He gasped, “Don’t do that!”

Evan didn’t react, “Whatcha doin’?”

“Sitting… on the couch?”

Evan’s eyebrows furrowed. He looked like Dad when he did that.

“No, actually,” he said, “you’re being a bum. Alone on Christmas? Come on, we’re heading to bed now.”

Michael nodded, “Yeah, okay.”

They spent the night doing random things. Charlie told some scary stories, they watched a movie, Michael showed them his playing card collection and Evan beat Gregory at war at least ten times, and Elizabeth got a whole console out and they played a few different games.

Of course, the tension did not leave. Everytime he accidentally bumped into Evan or one of them said something a little too… Iffy… it only got thicker.

When he looked over at his little brother, he noticed he was asleep. Him and everyone else.

Well, except for one.

“Can’t sleep?” Gregory asked.

Michael shrugged, “Who can sleep on Christmas Eve?”

Gregory eyed the others, “Them, apparently.”

Michael chuckled, “Yeah, I guess so.” He said.

They fell silent, and Michael laid down on his back, staring at the blankets hung above him.

“You know I don’t want you here, right?”

“Yeah. I know.”

“But he does. Don’t ruin that for him. Or Elizabeth. She said she’s been trying to get you to come over for Christmas.”

Michael stares at him, “I don’t talk to her a lot, I thought she was just being nice.”

“She was.” Gregory said, “I don’t doubt she was. But she still likes talking to you. I don’t know, don’t you think maybe she actually cared if she asked every year?”

Michael scoffed, “I told her every year that I spend my Christmas with Jeremy. Or Henry.”

“Speaking of Henry, what’s he doing for Christmas if Charlie and Sammy aren’t there?”

Gregory sat up, “Charlie said He remarried or something.”

“Really?” Michael said, “That’s… He didn’t tell me that…”

“I might be wrong but that’s what I heard.”

 “Hm.”

Gregory looked over at him, “You’re kind of a loser, you know that?”

Michael stared at him for a moment before he burst out laughing.

Gregory shushed him, “You’re gonna wake them up, shut your mouth!” He hissed.

Michael flopped over on his back, still laughing, though he tried to keep quiet, “You are incredibly blunt.”

“Well, to be fair, I don’t particularly like you very much,” Gregory said.

“I can tell.”

When Gregory heard him go quiet, he glanced over his shoulder.

“Lightweight.”

Evan woke up with a pillow being chucked at his face the moment he sat up.

So he stayed down.

But he could hear Charlie and Michael laughing.

Michael sounded like he’d been doing this for a while, and Charlie kept squealing. The noise was quickly giving him a headache, but it made him feel better about the day, and that’s all he needed anyways.

The day?

Holy shit it’s Christmas.

Evan bolted upright, “It’s Christmas.”

Gregory laughed, “Yeah, it is.”

Elizabeth threw herself on Evan and pulled him into a hug, “Morning sleepyhead!” She said, “You’re the last one to wake up.”

“We’ve been waiting forever.” Sammy groaned, “So I started chucking pillows at you and seeing if you’d wake up.”

“I told him not to.” Gregory said.

Evan smiled, “You guys are amusing. Has anyone made breakfast?”

Charlie points at Michael, “I told him to.”

Michael pushes her finger away from his face, “And I told her that I have not cooked something edible since I was 15.”

Elizabeth shuddered, “That lasagna was not edible.”

“Har har har.” Michael muttered, “at least I tried.”

Charlie sat up, “Me and Sammy made dinner, it’s someone else’s turn.”

“I vote Greg does it.” Sammy said.

“What? Why me?” Gregory whined, “I always do it!”

“I’ll make it.” Evan said.

“I’ll come help.” Elizabeth jumped to her feet.

She grabbed Michael’s arm, “I’ll show you what edible actually means.”

Charlie waved Michael goodbye with a smirk on her face as he scowled.

Evan took out the stupid cinnamon rolls in the weird circle can thingy? He didn’t know anything about them but they were good so who cares.

Michael frowned, “This is breakfast?”

“You look like you live off ramen noodles, shut up and enjoy Christmas dinner as it should be.” Evan said.

Michael blinked a few times.

“… You don’t… You don’t actually live off noodles, do you?”

“…”

So Evan learned several unpleasant things about Michael’s eating habits.

But so far, so good. He’d only felt soul crushing anxiety twice since Michael got here!

So… Good?

He wasn’t sure but it wasn’t bad so that had to mean something.

Despite joking around, Evan was a bit irritated. Michael was still being weird and it didn’t help that Elizabeth clearly didn’t understand the tension.

���You two are too quiet, come on, it’s Christmas.” She said, “Loosen up!”

“I’m just tired, Liz.” Evan said.

She flicked his forehead, earning a yelp from Evan.

“Well, don’t be, it’s Christmas!”

He didn’t like how much this reminded him of home. He didn’t like that this reminded him of his sister avoiding and ignoring his problems or his brother never listening to him.

They were all so different, but some things never change.

Unpleasantly, his mind drifted to his dad. But he pushed those thoughts away. He didn’t know why he always thought of his dad when he talked to his siblings.

“Evan, it’s done.” Elizabeth said, “Do you wanna frost it?”

Evan nodded, “While they’re still hot.”

She smiled at him, “Then we can open gifts? You’re gonna love what I got you, I promise.”

No, his siblings were nothing like his dad. No doubt they have pieces of him in them—No doubt Evan did too—But they were not him.

Maybe he could learn to live with those pieces. He’d done it with Elizabeth.

But it was just so much harder with Michael. Even now, when they were laughing and pretending to be okay, he felt dissatisfied. He wanted more than this, he wanted reassurance that his brother actually wanted to change and didn’t just feel bad. What if Michael was doing this for himself? To make himself feel less guilty? Less at fault?

As cruel as it sounded in his head, he found himself regretting giving Michael this chance. He didn’t deserve closure, not when it had taken Evan over a decade to get his own closure. He knew Michael was trying, but why did he get to decide when this change of heart came along? Why did he get to decide when this ended?

He settled in his seat beside Gregory, who was talking to Charlie and Sammy. Elizabeth was quietly talking to Michael, and Evan stayed quiet. He had things to think over. A lot.

When they finished, Charlie and Elizabeth practically dragged him to the tree.

Michael hung back, and Evan felt a twinge of… Something. Sadness? Anger? He didn’t know. But it was something.

Elizabeth insisted he opened hers first, so he did. It was a camera. Except it was yellow and had little bear ears and…

“It’s Fredbear!” He exclaimed, “It’s so cute! Oh my god, Lizzie, this must have taken forever!”

“Charlie helped with it,” She said.

He looked it over, “And it’s brand new… Smile!” He pointed it at Elizabeth and Charlie, snapping a photo quickly, “Oh my god, I love it, Liz.”

She grinned, “I knew you would.”

Gregory smiled at Evan, pushing a small box closer to him.

Evan unwrapped it slowly, before slamming it down and giving Gregory a playfully harsh look, “You did not.”

Gregory laughed, “I really did.”

He held up the sweater, “This is so dumb I’m gonna wear it for the rest of my life.”

The sweater was black with a skull on it, but it was sporadically decorated with random Christmas things. It looked so strange and out of place and he loved it.

Of course he got Gregory an equally ugly sweater, one with flowers on it, but the middle of the flower was replaced with Glamrock Freddy, one of the characters made for Fazbear Entertainment after his father had sold it off in response to the horror rumors about it.

Evan knew they weren’t true, but they still made his skin crawl sometimes.

Sammy bought him a crochet kit, with a bunch of colors for him and Gregory to mess with. He must have remembered Evan mentioning that he wanted to pick it up as a hobby.

They continued exchanging gifts, and Michael was quiet for the most part, as if he was dreading something, which Evan found amusing; of course he was nervous, he’d had one day to find thoughtful gifts for people he hardly spoke to.

Suddenly, just as Evan was going to stand, Michael tossed something to him, and he jumped in surprise.

“I didn’t know what to get you, to be honest. I, uhm, I hope this isn’t a shitty gift…” Michael said, “I also hope it doesn’t like… ruin your day… it’s a hit or miss, so I’m taking a shot.”

Evan blinks a few times, “Alright…”

He carefully unwraps the gift, gasping softly when he sees it fully.

The fur is worn, and the stitches are messy—the handiwork of his uncle, no doubt—and one of the ears has a hole in it, but there’s no mistaking it.

It was Fredbear.

The original plushie.

The one he hadn’t seen since he moved out of his dad’s house.

He’d had another, one that Gregory’s dad had made for him, but it’d never been quite the same. It also didn’t talk to him.

… Well maybe that was a good thing.

He didn’t take his eyes off it as he spoke softly, “Where… did you get this?” 

“Dad sent it to me since he didn’t have contact with you. He didn’t give me a chance to say I didn’t either. Henry patched it up and it’s just been collecting dust for the past few months.”

He stared at it. It reminded him of a lot of things. The animatronics on stage that terrified him, being bullied, his nightmares, his dad, The Thing, meeting Gregory, that day he broke his ankle, that time Mike almost hit him with his car his first time driving it, when he spent that first night with Gregory, and so many other things.

“Huh…” He said.

“Is it… a good gift…?”

“Yeah, yeah I missed him.” He said, “Thank you.”

Michael smiled.

Elizabeth stood up, “Well, that was sweet,” she said, “let’s get this picked up now.”

They all groaned, and Lizzie clicked her tongue, “Come on, guys, this isn’t our house, we can’t trash it and leave.”

So they picked up. It wasn’t hard, but at some point Charlie bumped into Elizabeth, who playfully pushed her away, and then that ended with the two of them wrestling each other to the ground. Sammy jumped in and for a moment Evan thought Gregory would too, but he didn’t.

So the two of them just continued cleaning while Charlie squealed. And he glanced over at Michael.

He was picking up alongside them, and Evan couldn’t stop himself from laughing a bit.

Michael frowned, “What? What am I doing?”

“Nothing, nothing, it’s just funny that you’re cleaning. We were lucky if Dad got you to pick up a sock, much less your room, much less Henry’s house.”

Michael scoffed, but didn’t say anything.

Thanks for participating in the conversation, I’m glad we’re talking. Evan thought sarcastically.

Gregory looked like he wanted to say something, but he bit his tongue when Evan gave him a look.

“No fighting, I know,” He muttered.

God this sucked a lot.

Michael didn’t know what to say. And he was annoyed that Evan would bring that up. He got so much shit from his dad for not picking up his room, but he could never bring himself to care. He’d hated that house, he’d hated his dad, he’d hated his siblings, and god he’d hated his little brother.

Not that he knew exactly why, though.

His thoughts were interrupted by Elizabeth grabbing his arm, “It snowed last night, do you guys still get snow over in Utah?”

“What? Of course we do!” He said, “Why wouldn’t we?”

“I don’t know, you seem so grumpy I thought you must have never experienced a good thing in your life.” She said.

Evan winced and Michael frowned, “I’m not grumpy.” He said.

“Sure, as if you haven’t been moping around. You know, if you were just going to sulk this whole time you shouldn’t have come,” Elizabeth crossed her arms, “Nobody forced you to come, but you’re acting like this is the worst place to be right now.”

“I’m just… nervous…” He said slowly.

“Nervous? About what? You came because you wanted to see us, didn’t you?” She challenged, “You’re just being dodgy today, I don’t know. You just nudged gifts to us and mumbled ‘thank you’ and hung back, why aren’t you at least trying to participate?”

“I am trying! I’m just not feeling it, okay? Why do you even care, you’re not the one who invited me!”

Elizabeth scoffed, “I invite you every year and every year you shut me down, but not Evan? Is this even about him? Because it feels like it’s about you!”

Michael stared at her, “I’m trying my best!”

“Avoiding us is your best!?”

He fell silent. One look at Evan and Gregory told him they had been thinking the same things.

Goddammit.

He really had been neglecting his sister, hadn’t he? It’s not that he meant to, it’s just that he didn’t know how to talk to her. Her life fell apart pretty quickly once their father’s parenting… declined… but even then she still reached out to their father. Whether she actually thought he could change or if she was just doing it for herself, though, he had no idea.

He was trying to settle these things one at a time! why did he have to fuck up with both his siblings?

“She’s not wrong.” Gregory said, “You’ve been weird lately, and it’d be much easier for everyone if you just… I don’t know… talked? You’re not getting anywhere sneaking around like a dog.”

Michael felt his anger spark at that, “I’m not sneaking around! And don’t call me a dog!”

Elizabeth clenched her fists, “Well if you were really here to make amends, you’d put some effort in, but instead this feels more like a shitty way of getting closure and making yourself feel better-”

Evan stepped forward then, “Okay, that’s enough!”

“-And maybe if you hadn’t almost killed Evan he wouldn’t hate you so much!”

The whole room fell silent.

Evan stared at her, “Elizabeth…”

“It’s true!” She said, “It’s true! He’s always done this! You just avoid us, you shut us out, like that will help, and then you come crawling back for forgiveness so you don’t feel like shit about it!”

“Elizabeth!” Evan shouted.

She turned to look at Evan, and they locked eyes for a moment. She sighed, “I’m going… To go to the gas station for a bit. Call me if you need me.”

Michael watched her go, silent. His gut was twisting and he felt sick.

He was a shitty brother all around, wasn’t he?

He couldn’t even get his sister to like him. Not that he’d tried very hard. Elizabeth made herself feel untouchable. She avoided her brothers because she didn’t want to be caught in the middle of whatever they were doing. She hadn’t been talking about Evan, not entirely. She was probably lonely, he realized.

He looked at Evan, “I didn’t… I’m… I’m sorry…”

Evan stared at him, “Do you want to talk about It? Now?”

Michael laughed, but it was dry and humorless, “No, but I’m willing to, if you want to.”

“We’ll leave you guys alone.” Charlie said, grabbing Gregory and Sammy and pulling them away.

“Liz is right, you’re not really proving anything other than the fact that you feel bad. Which is… It’s annoying.” Evan said, “I know you feel bad, I’ve known that since I got out of the hospital when I was ten, Mike. I don’t need to know you feel bad, I need to know you care and want to make an effort to change.”

“Well, I am trying I just-”

“Don’t know how?”

Michael looked up at him.

“...Yeah.” He said softly, “I don’t know what to do, I hardly know you guys anymore.”

Evan sat down beside him, “None of us do, it took Elizabeth years to even look at me, and even longer for us to finally start actually talking. There’s a lot of things we can’t fix. Elizabeth will always be blunt, that will never change. It’s something she got from Dad. She can’t help that, but she can make it better.” He looked up at Michael, “And I think you can, too. If you just talk to me, but you won’t. And that’s making it hard. I don’t want to push you or bother you but I really really need to just… understand this.”

“So… About The Thing…”

“Yeah, The Thing. Me almost dying, you putting my head into heavy machinery? That Thing?”

“Yeah.”

“I… I still have the scar, you know? It healed over pretty well though, head wounds do that. But I still dream of it, you know. Do you have nightmares?”

“Of seeing my little brother’s head get crushed like a grape? Yeah,” He took a deep breath, “Hard to forget that when I spent at least five minutes staring at it.”

Evan stares at the floor, “... I don’t even remember when it happened. I didn’t feel it at all. Not until I woke up, at least.”

He takes a deep breath, “I… Can I just ask you why?”

“What?”

“Why did you do all that? Why did you treat me like that?”

Michael fell silent. He never talked about the why. It’s not that he didn’t know. He knew. He had known since he started, since he watched his brother’s skull get crunched in front of him.

“I thought it was funny,” He said, “I didn’t like that Dad did all that shit to me. He obviously enjoyed it, and I enjoyed doing it to you. Some kind of fucked up stress relief, I guess.”

Evan stares at him, looking hurt, “That’s brutally honest.”

“You said you didn’t want me to lie to you.”

Evan nodded, “Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a bit, before Evan spoke.

“I don’t know if I want to forgive you or not,” He said, “It’s not that… It’s not that I don’t think you’ve changed but… I still have nightmares. I still remember these things that happened to me and they… they suck. But sometimes I feel like a jerk because I know you’re trying and I know you don’t get why this is so hard for me but… But I really hate you. I hate that you are here for closure, I hate that you are here at all. But I invited you.”

“I think I do get it.” Michael said.

“Hm?”

“I… I haven’t blocked Dad yet, did you know that?”

“Really? I blocked him the day I moved out.” Evan said.

“I keep not wanting to. I keep thinking, ‘what if something happens? What if I need to talk to him?’ even though I know that’ll probably never happen.”

“So I guess I can get where you’re coming from. In a weird twisted way, you know? I don’t know how to cut him off, but I don’t know how to talk to him. It’s like there’s a door open in front of me and I’m too scared to walk through it but what if I close it and it locks? What if there was something good in there?”

Evan doesn’t take his eyes off Michael, before he says, “Give me your phone.”

Michael blinks at him, tilting his head, but he slowly hands Evan his phone, “What’re you doing?”

“Blocking Dad.”

“What!? Did you not hear anything I just said?” He reached for his phone, but Evan was quicker and pulled away from him.

“There’s nothing behind that door, Michael.” He says, startling Michael with his intensity, “Nothing that you want or need. You left that room forever ago and you deserve to stay out of it for the rest of your life. You and Liz.”

Michael watched him and his hand dropped back to his side.

Maybe Evan was right. Maybe there was nothing behind that door. Maybe he was just wishing there had been something in that room. It’s like he was closing and opening it in hopes for something new.

“...Thanks.”

“Always available for cutting off shitty family members. I’m incredibly good at it.”

Michael laughed, “... Yeah… you are.”

Evan stood up, “I think that’s enough for now, I don’t know if I forgive you, honestly.”

Michael shrugs, “Eh, that’s not the most of my worries,” He says, “I guess this was something of a test run?”

“If it was, I think it turned out okay.”

When Elizabeth got back, Michael took her aside to talk to her. Evan didn’t listen in, but he knew what they were talking about, and he did indeed see them hug tightly. It wasn’t Evan’s business. He left it alone.

So things weren’t fixed. But they were better. They had wrapped old wounds. Nothing was healed, but they weren’t bleeding anymore, and that was good.

The rest of the day was fun. Elizabeth insisted Michael stayed, but he had to go home eventually, and there was a mutual understanding that he needed some time alone after all that. It was overwhelming, and Evan was definitely done with seeing his family for a bit. They weren’t friends, but it was something.

He watched Michael walk outside, where Jeremy had come to pick him up.

“Hey, Mike?” He called.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for coming.”

Michael smiled at him, “Thanks for letting me.”

Not forgiveness, and in the end he would always prefer the family he’d made for himself, but otherwise this went well.

That being said, he was never inviting that many people over for Christmas again. He should’ve gotten them together for Thanksgiving instead.

Gregory pulled Evan back inside, “Dude, it’s freezing, come inside.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Gregory looked inside, “This place is a mess. What happened to ‘we can’t make a mess and leave it’?”

Evan laughed.

[aclockmaker]

steddie established relationship argument (mild on the actual arguing) under the cut. ~1700 words. cw discussion of having kids. no teaser because it starts out kind of E rated lol

also on ao3

“Pretty baby,” Eddie said, nose in the back of Steve’s hair, dragging against his scalp. “You’re so sweet, you were so sweet with Emily earlier.”

They’d been playing with Nancy and Jonathan’s 3-month old for the first time.

“Oh yeah?” Steve said, grinding the swell of his ass back against Eddie.

“Yes,” Eddie rumbled, lips against a shivery part of Steve’s neck.

After nearly a year of dating, Steve was used to this flavor of praise from Eddie, but it still worked to calm something deep inside him. And it was exactly because he did feel calm that he said, “So do you finally wanna talk about it?”

Eddie made an inquisitive sound into Steve’s skin.

“Eddie. You know,” Steve said gently, holding himself still. He thought if he played his cards right he might be able to get Eddie to mess around a little, ask him if he wanted to get a baby put in him, that sort of thing.

But when Eddie just kept frowning into Steve’s neck Steve went on—“Kids?”

“Uh huh. What about them?”

“Come on,” Steve said, squirming and then flipping over when Eddie let up.  “You know I want kids, right?” He said it softly, because of course Eddie did know.

Except Eddie froze, just a little, and the whole thing began to feel decidedly unsexy. “Uh,” he said, a notch too loud for the situation.

“Okay, not right,” Steve said, mostly to himself. He’d thought, for sure, that he’d been making no secret of it.

“I mean,” Eddie said, trying to recover. “I totally, yeah, I guess, I know you—like kids and everything.” He chewed his lip like he knew it was lame. Steve rarely saw him so wrong-footed.

“Well, yeah,” Steve said. “I do, but—like last weekend, remember when that dad was arguing with his kids about milkshakes? And I said I wouldn’t make a big deal out of a milkshake with my kids—what’s the point?”

Eddie sputtered. “Okay, that was a hypothetical! I thought! I just thought—and you never said—” Eddie shook his head. “Oh. Six little nuggets.”

“Yes, as you’re so fond of reminding me.” Steve rolled his eyes to show he was joking.

“But, Steve,” Eddie said, sitting up.

Slowly, not wanting to do it, Steve followed.

“I mean—what does this mean? You would want to, what? Marry a woman?” At least Eddie seemed baffled by it. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I mean I want to do it with you, obviously. Dumbass,” Steve added for good measure.

“With me,” Eddie said, not able to hide the way his eyes went wide.

“No, with Jonathan,” Steve said, annoyed. “Obviously you, man, who else am I in a serious relationship with?”

“Okay, Jesus, give me two minutes to catch up here!”

Guilt made Steve want to let him off the hook but he didn’t think he should have to, really. Steve frowned at his lap, feeling miserable and stuck. He had the unpleasant sense that this wasn’t going anywhere good.

“Is it really so bad?” Steve asked.

“I don’t know!” Eddie said. He stood up, paced restlessly to the opposite side of the room and back. He was wearing only a pair of boxers and he reminded Steve of a caged animal before he even started throwing on his clothes. 

Steve sat quietly in bed as he dressed only partly because he knew it was the thing he could do that would annoy Eddie the most. And Eddie was the one who was leaving, he deserved it. He also did it because he really didn’t know what else to do. Begging Eddie to stay wouldn’t do any good. They both needed space sometimes.

“I don’t even—it’s not that easy,” Eddie said, picking up his wallet and then putting it down again to punctuate it. “It wouldn’t be that easy for us.”

“I get that,” Steve said carefully. “But I thought… it doesn’t have to be a baby. Maybe an older kid.”

“Steve,” Eddie said, looking almost choked up. “Can we—talk about this later?” His voice had turned brusque. “I just need to—clear my head.”

“Yeah, course,” Steve said, feeling stupid and vulnerable still in the t-shirt he slept in while Eddie was dressed. The fight had gone out of him. Eddie just needed to deal with the revelation in his own way. He’d come back. Steve owed it to him to be patient after, apparently, springing this on him.

Eddie paused at the door. “I do love you.”

“I know. You too.”

And then the door was shutting behind him. Steve’s fingers itched to call Robin but for the first time it felt so personal that he decided against it. It was personal for Eddie, too. It belonged to both of them, and, for right now at least, no one else.

Now, if Eddie wasn’t back by the morning, all bets were off.

Steve gave up on sleeping after a frustrating 45 minutes and resigned himself to sitting up at least until exhaustion won out with worry. And right now, worry was putting up a good fight.

Steve put the water on for tea. He wasn’t stupid—he knew that Eddie might not come back. Or, well, he’d surely come back to the apartment either way but he might not ever really come back to Steve after this.

They were serious about each other. A consequence of the years of charged friendship before they’d so much as kissed, maybe, or just a consequence of how well they usually worked together. They talked about spending the rest of their lives together. Something like whether or not they each wanted kids was a big deal—the kind of thing that changed things. Steve had given Eddie an ultimatum. Part of him wanted to backtrack, call Eddie up and say just kidding, I can be flexible about this. But he couldn’t, and besides, he didn’t know where to call (except for how, realistically, he knew Eddie was at his uncle’s or Jeff’s place.)

In the morning, Steve called Robin.

“Oh, babe,” Robin said when Steve explained it, her voice crackling just a little down the line from New York where she was always up early. “Did you sleep at all?”

“About four hours,” Steve admitted. He’d been too wound up for any more and he was sure as hell feeling it now, exhausted and eyes aching. He hadn’t cried, and he spared a thought for the fact that maybe he was kidding himself by not really examining the worst case scenario. “Do you think—I mean, obviously this isn’t a good sign. That he left. But do you think there’s a chance or am I delusional?”

Robin snorted. “There’s more than a chance. He loves you, obviously. But—yeah, he might decide he wants to end things. We know that’s an option.” She said it gently enough that now Steve did feel a little hot behind the eyes.

Today was a Sunday. Their only plans were hanging out with Jonathan and Nancy and Emily more while they were in town. If Steve had to go see them alone—

“I wish there was something I could do,” Steve said miserably. And then the front door opened and there was Eddie, close across the small apartment, looking a little out of breath in the yellow morning light that was pouring in through the window, too cheerful for Steve’s heavy heart. “Oh, shit, Rob, I have to go.”

“Is it—”

“Yeah. Love you.”

“I love you, call me, that’s a threat—”

Steve hung up the phone.

“Uh,” Eddie said. “Robin?”

“Yeah.”

“Hi, Robin,” Eddie said dutifully toward the hung-up phone.

“I’ll tell her,” Steve said, so giddy with relief that Eddie was back that the nothing joke made him want to laugh. “Hi.”

Eddie looked at him. “Hi.”

Steve took a breath. “I’m sorry. For bringing it up during sex, and all. That was stupid.” He’d been feeling guilty some more and that, at least, was a legitimate reason for it.

But Eddie just shrugged. “No, it’s…” He searched for the word. “You thought I knew.” He wore his hair short these days, and it looked like he’d been running his fingers through it.

“Yeah. Eddie, listen—”

“No, just—give me a second,” Eddie said. And then he was going down on one knee, pulling something out of his pocket and holding it out to Steve. It was a simple gold band. It looked well-worn, but it shone in the light.

He cleared his throat. “Steve, I—“ his voice broke. “I’m sorry I don’t have a ring box. I went to the pawn shop as soon as it opened and I didn’t want to wait for another place to—I love you. I got scared when you started talking about kids, because it seems so big. And I just didn’t realize you felt that way, even though, okay, I guess I should’ve. But the more I thought about it the more what really scared me was losing you. I love the idea of you as a dad. You’d make any kid so lucky to have you. I can’t believe you want to do it with me, but if you really do—I’m open to it. So—will you?”

“We can’t even get married, though,” Steve reminded him, perilously close to tears again.

“Psh,” Eddie said. “Fuck the government, I’ll marry you anyway.”

“Eddie, get up,” Steve said, and then the tears were coming. He swiped at his eyes while Eddie stood hesitantly. “Save it, okay? Save the ring. I don’t want it to be like this—to end a fight. I want it to be its own thing. And it’s too soon anyway. It hasn’t even been a year. But—” Steve grabbed Eddie’s hand before he could put the ring back in his pocket. “Yes. Of course I want to marry you.”

Eddie touched his knuckles to Steve’s cheek, pushed aside a tear. “Getting some mixed signals,” he said, looking between Steve’s eyes with his own so full of love it hurt to see. “I’m sorry. And for worrying you.”

Steve sniffed. “I was worried but—I knew you’d come back. I know you.”

“I know you do,” Eddie said. He was still holding the ring. “Do you want to at least try it on? You could wear it on a chain or something—”

Steve put the ring on, and he didn’t take it off until the day in Joyce’s backyard when Eddie held it safe in his pocket until it was time for him to put it back on Steve in front of everyone they loved in the world.

[jrob64]

Ghosted

Chapter 1 - Hauntings

Here is the first chapter of my contribution for this year's Captain Swan Supernatural Summer. I have many people to thank for helping me get this written and posted by my assigned date.

Thank you to my fellow mods of CSSNS24 - @winterbaby89 @stahlop @ultraluckycatnd and @kmomof4. I'm so glad we've had such a great response to this last event!

More thanks to Krystal for creating the absolutely amazing pic set for this story. It turned out great, didn't it? Making Neal and Liam appear ghostly was the handiwork of @motherkatereloyshipper, so she also deserves my appreciation.

Rounding out my list of thank yous is my ever-loyal beta, @hookedmom. I've been writing CS stories for nearly six years and she's been with me for the vast majority of them!

I anticipate this story being 3-4 chapters long in total. It isn't completely written yet, so unfortunately I can't provide a posting schedule, but I assure you it WILL be finished. If you're not on my tag list and would like to be informed when future chapters post, please let me know.

DISCLAIMER: All I know about ghost hunting is what I've watched on Ghost Adventures (which is worth watching simply for the entertainment factor.) I also know next to nothing about how YouTube works beyond being a viewer. Please excuse all errors and keep in mind that this is fanfic and isn't meant to be completely accurate!

SUMMARY: When Emma Swan’s ex-boyfriend dies, she’s haunted by his ghost. Her neighbor, Killian Jones, a ghost hunter who has a YouTube channel, realizes what’s happening and offers to help. However, there’s more at stake than simply helping the apparition move on. There’s also the matter of Killian telling Emma he’s in love with her.

Rating: T (subject to change)

Words (Chapter 1): 4700

Also posted to ffn and Ao3

Juggling a large Americano and a blueberry scone, Emma Swan made a beeline across the coffee shop for the small table in the corner. Whenever she stopped in, she tried to sit there because it was beside the window and was only big enough for one chair. Even when the shop was crowded, no one could join her or bother her by asking if ‘this seat is taken’. She could be left alone, which was the way she preferred it in the mornings.

Taking a sip of the near-scalding beverage, she tilted her head back and closed her eyes, savoring the aromatic flavor on her tongue. She tried not to make a habit of coming to this shop, but her coffee maker died over the weekend and she needed her shot of caffeine.

She was nibbling on the corner of her scone when she felt her phone vibrate with an incoming text. Pulling it out of the back pocket of her jeans, she saw that it was from her friend Ruby. The partial message on the lock screen said I’ve got huge news. Are you sitting down?

Emma huffed out a sound of amusement as she unlocked her phone. Ruby’s ‘huge’ news was probably that Graham Humbert, who worked at the police station where Ruby was the dispatcher, had switched to a different scent of cologne. Instead, her eyes widened as she read the rest of the message:

They found Neal Cassidy dead in his cell this morning. Apparent suicide. Guess you won’t have to worry about him stalking you again when he gets out.

It took her a few moments to digest the information. For nearly two years, thoughts of that man had never been far from the forefront of her mind. The memories of their blossoming romantic relationship, which were replaced by her suspicions and ultimate confirmation of his criminal activities, raced through her brain as she stared at the message for an inordinate amount of time.

When she finally started typing a response to Ruby, a shadow fell across the table, blocking the late morning sun. It didn’t move for several moments, so she glanced up, meaning to find the source of it on the other side of the window.

And looked directly into the eyes of Neal Cassidy.

Shocked beyond words, she squeezed her eyes closed, then blinked repeatedly before she looked up again, her heart hammering in her chest.

He was gone.

*********

Emma met Neal at a car dealership where he worked as a salesman. She was looking to trade in her yellow VW bug for something more reliable and he was eager to help. He was charming and funny, so when he asked her out on a date after the sale was made, she didn’t hesitate to accept.

They dated for six months before she started getting the feeling that he was selling more than cars. Hearing him have secretive one-sided conversations on the phone and seeing him meet shady looking characters in neighborhoods known to be frequented by crime lords made her suspicious, but the day she found a small bag of crack cocaine in his apartment was the day she was officially done with him.

When she broke it off, Neal begged her to stay, bragging about how he was in line to become very important and wealthy someday soon, and would provide her with everything her heart desired. Emma assured him she did not desire to be in the company of drug dealers and walked away, determined to put that chapter of her life behind her.

Having witnessed his sales techniques, she was well aware that he was persistent, but his persistence rapidly turned into obsession. She received dozens of texts from him every day, along with numerous calls she refused to answer. After listening to a few voicemails he left declaring his love for her, she deleted the rest and blocked his number.

That didn’t deter him, though. He continued showing up at her apartment, the gym where she worked out, and her place of employment - the swanky hotel where she tended bar. It was annoying, but she didn’t feel threatened and didn’t think a restraining order against him was necessary.

After several months of rebuffing or simply ignoring him, she was relieved when two days in a row went by without any contact from him. Then Ruby called to tell her he had been busted for drug trafficking and was awaiting a hearing. A trial followed, he was sentenced to five years in prison, and Emma hoped she had seen the last of Neal Cassidy.

*********

Emma dragged herself up the two flights of stairs to her apartment on wobbly legs. She was still trembling from the encounter at the coffee shop, unable to shake the image of her deceased ex-boyfriend from her mind.

She had finally managed to send Ruby a text, asking her if she had proof Neal was actually dead. Ruby replied that her friend Dorothy, who worked at the prison where Neal was serving his time, saw his body on the gurney as he was taken out, and talked to the guard who found him hanging by a bed sheet. He was definitely dead.

The only explanation Emma could come up with for seeing Neal outside the window was that the shock of reading Ruby’s text caused her to conjure an image of him. But that didn’t explain the feeling she had of being watched or followed all the way home, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

When she reached the third floor, she wasn’t surprised to see her friend and neighbor, Killian Jones, in the hallway between their two doors, fiddling with a metal box which was emitting a strange humming sound. As a paranormal investigator and the host of a popular YouTube channel called “Killian Jones - Ghost Hunter”, he was always trying out various pieces of equipment.

He glanced up, his striking blue eyes fastening on her before his face split into a grin. “Hey, Swan. How are you today?”

She answered vaguely as she stopped in front of her door. Suddenly, the humming sound increased in volume and pitch and Killian’s smile faded into a look of confusion. Picking up what looked like a radar gun laying beside him on the floor, he stood and held it between himself and Emma.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

He didn’t answer, too intent on circling her slowly and studying the numbers on the gadget. When he finally looked up several seconds later, he hesitantly commented, “Swan…it appears you have a…a ghost following you.”

Emma felt the blood drain from her face and her knees buckle, which was the last thing she remembered before everything went black.

Killian barely caught Emma in time to keep her from hitting the floor as she fainted. Hoisting her up into his arms, he carried her inside his apartment. This was not how he expected her to end up in his arms, but he would take what he could get.

*********

The two of them had lived beside each other ever since Killian moved into the apartment next to hers when he arrived in Boston five years ago. At first, they just exchanged pleasantries when they passed in the hall. After a few months, they began to have short conversations about the weather and their frustration with the landlord. That led to them doing favors for one another, such as taking in packages, bringing the other’s clothes upstairs from the laundry room, and picking up items one of them forgot to buy at the grocery store. Eventually, they built up enough trust in each other that they traded apartment keys to make it more convenient to drop things off.

Every once in a while, they would share a pizza while watching TV in one of their apartments. Seeing Emma so relaxed in her own home, laughing and bantering with him, started Killian down the road of developing deeper feelings toward her. He was enamored with her wit and intelligence and thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met.

At times, he witnessed men coming to her door to pick her up for a date, something that always left him feeling bereft. Fortunately, most of them never came around more than once. He enjoyed listening to her humorous assessments of each man’s shortcomings afterwards.

Then she started dating Neal Cassidy, and during those months, Killian hardly saw her. When he did bump into the couple, Neal treated him with disdain, looking down his nose at him and scoffing at everything Killian said. It was made worse by the fact that Emma didn’t even seem to notice. Killian was sure he had missed his chance of acting on his feelings for her.

He almost felt guilty for being ecstatic upon finding out she’d broken up with Neal. His happiness turned to concern and then anger when Emma told him Neal wouldn’t leave her alone. The two men had words several times when Killian found him hanging around in the hall outside her apartment. Then Emma told him Neal had been arrested and sent to prison, and he was beyond relieved that the idiot wouldn’t be bothering her anymore.

Still, Killian didn’t ask her out, reasoning that she’d just gotten out of a bad relationship. He continued to fall for her more and more, while she remained completely unaware of his burgeoning feelings toward her. Feelings that, by now, felt a lot like love.

*********

After laying her on his couch, Killian tapped Emma’s cheeks, urging, “Swan! Swan! Wake up! You have to wake up, Love.” When she didn’t respond, he scrubbed a hand down his face. “Bloody hell, Lass. I didn’t mean to frighten you that badly.”

He glanced around the living room, trying to figure out what to do to help Emma regain consciousness. Going into his kitchen, he took a clean dish towel out of the drawer, placed some ice cubes inside and while there, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

She was still out cold when he emerged a minute later. Concern etched his face. In all the years he lived next door to Emma Swan, he never knew her to be anything but tough and strong. Seeing her lying there so ashen and unmoving unnerved him. He lifted her head slightly to place the ice under her neck.

Convinced there was nothing more he could do at the moment, he went back out to the hallway and collected his EMF meter, noticing that it was back to a steady hum. Picking up the infrared thermometer he had dropped, he saw the temperature had returned to normal. No more cold spots. Apparently whatever spirit that had entered the hallway with Emma was gone.

Reentering his apartment, he sat on the coffee table in front of the sofa to keep vigil over his neighbor, continuing to pat her cheeks and call her name from time to time. After several more long minutes, her eyelids began to flutter, then slowly opened. Her eyes darted around, obviously trying to figure out where she was. He could tell the moment she figured it out, because she groaned and covered her face with her hands.

“Please tell me I didn’t faint,” she pleaded.

“I wish I could, but that would be untrue,” he responded, tilting his head to offer her a small, reassuring smile when she uncovered her eyes.

She started to sit up, but he put a hand to her shoulder to stop her. “Easy, Swan. Better lie still a bit longer.”

With a huff of annoyance, she laid back down, adjusting the ice pack behind her neck. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“You’re welcome.”

She lay quietly for a while, nibbling on her bottom lip. “May I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Why, uh…why did you say that I had a ghost with me?”

She was obviously trying to pass off the question as being simply one of curiosity, but the look in her eyes told him she was quite serious about it.

“The infrared thermometer showed a definite cold spot and the EMF detector…”

“EMF detector?” she questioned. “What’s that?”

He sighed in frustration. “Don’t you ever watch my videos, Swan?” No matter how many times he talked to her about his show, he could never get her to commit to watching his YouTube channel.

“You know I don’t believe in ghosts,” she said.

He rolled his eyes before explaining. “An EMF detector measures electromagnetic fields. A high reading indicates the presence of a spirit.” He paused, making sure he worded his next statement carefully. “And perhaps you had better rethink your position on ghosts, because my instruments strongly suggested paranormal activity around you.”

She closed her eyes and cursed. Killian picked up the bottle of water and held it out to her. She sat up and accepted it, taking a long drink as she propped her feet on the table beside him.

“Care to enlighten me as to why you fainted when I told you my findings?” he inquired.

Capping the bottle, she held it against her forehead for a minute or two - long enough for Killian to wonder if she was going to give him an answer. Finally, she looked up at him and murmured, “Do you remember Neal Cassidy?”

“The wanker who hung around outside your apartment for months after you broke up with him?”

“That’s the one. Did I tell you that he was sentenced to prison for drug trafficking?”

“Aye, you did.”

“Well, apparently he hung himself in his cell. They found his body this morning.”

Killian let out a low whistle. “You think it could be his spirit that was causing my instruments to spike?”

She looked down again, fiddling with the label on the water bottle. “Possibly…because…” She drew in a deep breath. “Because I saw him outside the coffee shop this morning,” she said on an exhale.

Trying not to overreact and make Emma even more uncomfortable, he swallowed hard. “Now, when you say you saw him…”

“I mean I saw him,” she emphasized. “My friend Ruby texted to tell me about Neal’s death and as I was in the process of answering her, I noticed this shadow that didn’t move outside the window where I was sitting. When I looked up, Neal was standing there, staring right at me. I blinked, then he was gone.”

Killian’s ‘ghost hunter’ mind was getting excited about the prospect of being able to investigate a spirit practically under his own nose, but his heart went out to her. Being haunted was something he was more or less used to, but he wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

“Did you see him again after that?” he asked.

“No, but I had this…feeling while I was walking home; like someone was watching me. It really freaked me out.”

“So when I told you there was a ghost following you…”

“It was lights out for me.” She buried her face in her hands. “I’m so embarrassed. I’ve never fainted before.”

Killian reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “There’s no reason for embarrassment, Love. I’ve met many people who’ve had the exact same reaction when faced with the possibility of being in the presence of a ghost.”

“Seriously?”

He rubbed his thumb against the bridge of his nose, trying to contain his impatience. “If you watched my YouTube channel, you would be aware of that.”

“No offense, but the last thing I want to do right now is watch people being haunted.”

“That’s quite understandable, considering what you’ve been through today.”

She took another swig of water, then looked up at him. “Do you think he’s gone? Moved on, or whatever?”

Killian blew out a breath. “Probably not. My guess is he has unfinished business or he would have already moved on.”

“That’s just great,” Emma muttered sarcastically. “How long can I expect him to hang around?”

“Until he accomplishes what he needs to do.”

“So what am I supposed to do until then?” she moaned.

“Just go about your daily routine. If you see him or sense he’s there, gently tell him that he has died and needs to move on.”

 “So saying ‘go to hell’ wouldn’t be a wise choice?”

He bark laughed. “I’m not sure that would be very effective.”

She drained the rest of the water, set the empty bottle on the table and stood up. Killian stood too, placing his hand on the small of her back. “Alright there, Swan?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m gonna go get something to eat and take it easy this afternoon until I have to go to work.”

“That sounds like a good plan.” As she started toward the door, he added, “Uh, Emma? Could I ask a favor of you?”

She turned to look at him. “A favor for the guy who carried me into his apartment and took care of me when I fainted like a prissy debutante? Sure.”

“If, um, if Neal’s spirit does reappear, would you be opposed to letting me document it?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she tilted her head in contemplation. “What would you do exactly?”

“Use equipment to detect paranormal activity and post it to my YouTube channel.”

“You mean that ESPN detector and stuff like that?”

He sighed in exasperation. “It’s EMF, Swan. Yes, that and voice recorders to conduct EVP sessions…”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Stop saying letters. You know I don’t know what that shit means.”

“Electronic voice phenomena sessions record sounds or voices from ghosts. If he’s trying to communicate with you, we might be able to pick it up on a voice recorder.”

Shrugging, she replied, “That’s fine. I’m sure it would get lots of hits for your channel.”

He stepped into her personal space, sincerity shining in his eyes. “I hope you know that’s not why I want to do this, Emma. My goal is to help you encourage him to move on so you will no longer have to deal with him. It’s bad enough he stalked you while he was alive; doing it after he’s dead is even worse.”

She gave a slight nod. “You’re right about that.” Pushing up to her toes, she brushed a kiss to his cheek. “Thanks again for everything, Killian. If I get the feeling he’s back, I’ll call you right away.”

“Day or night, Swan. I’m at your beck and call.”

“Good to know,” she smirked. “I’ll see you later.”

He watched her walk out the door, reaching up to rub his cheek where she kissed him. He was going to have to do his best to remain professional around her, but potentially having Emma as his next subject was going to be quite the challenge.

*********

Emma entered her apartment, quickly flipped on the light switch, and glanced around nervously. Not seeing or sensing anything out of the ordinary, she moved into the kitchen.

After heating up leftovers and eating lunch, she climbed into her worn, comfy recliner to scroll through Hulu. She tried to concentrate on her selected show, but her eyes kept darting around the room. “Fuck you, Neal,” she muttered. “Making me paranoid in my own home.”

Finally giving up on watching TV, she went into her bedroom to select her clothes for work that evening. Then she decided to take a long, relaxing bath. The longer she soaked in the tub without any sign of Neal’s ghostly image, the more she relaxed.

By the time she left for work three hours later, she was nearly back to her normal self and very hopeful that he had indeed moved on.

*********

After Emma left his apartment, Killian tidied up - dumping the melting ice cubes into the sink, hanging the towel to dry, and throwing the empty water bottle into his recycling bin. Then he checked all of his ghost hunting equipment, setting the batteries to charge if they were a little low.

Plopping down on the couch, he pulled up the message app on his phone and clicked on the group text with his technical director, Belle French, and his assistant, Will Scarlett.

K: We may have a new gig right here in my apartment building.

As expected, he got an immediate response from Will. The man’s eyes were practically glued to his phone screen most of the time.

W: Got a haunter right under your nose, do ya?

Belle’s answer several minutes later was a little more refined.

B: Can you provide us with any details?

K: My neighbor’s ex-boyfriend committed suicide in prison and she’s experiencing some paranormal activity. She says she saw his ghost outside a coffee shop and when she got home, I was in the hall with the EMF meter and thermo. Both of them spiked.

B: Oh, wow! That’s incredible! Sad for the guy and your neighbor, but what an opportunity!

W: Is this neighbor the hot blonde you’ve been crushin’ on for years?

Killian dropped his head back and groaned. He should have known better than to have confessed his unrequited feelings to his assistant during a boring all-nighter in an old warehouse in Portland, Maine last year.

K: That’s a very crass way to put it, but yes, it’s Emma.

W: You mean we might actually get to meet her?

K: Not if you’re going to be an ass about it.

W: I’ll be on me best behavior, I promise.

K: Why doesn’t that reassure me?

B: What are your plans, Killian?

Leave it to Belle to be the peacemaker of the conversation, Killian thought. If he was feeling vengeful toward Will, he could mention the crush his friend had on the auburn-haired beauty. How she never realized it, Killian would never know. Will was the very definition of heart eyes whenever he was around her.

K: I’ve got my equipment ready to go. If she senses anything, she’s going to call me. If it’s a recurring thing, we’ll set up an EVP session. I’ll let you know if anything happens. Just wanted to put you on alert.

B: Sounds good. I’ll be editing tomorrow. The new episode should be ready to post by Thursday.

K: Thanks, Belle. You’re the best!

W: He’s right, ya know. You really are bloody brilliant.

Seriously - how could she not see it when Will was always falling all over himself to proclaim her perfection?

Once Killian ended the conversation, he wandered into the room he used as his office.

“Hello, little brother.”

*********

From a very early age, Killian had been able to sense paranormal activity. He was confused by it for many years, but as he grew and began to read about ghosts, he realized he had a gift, albeit an unwanted one.

When he was twelve, his mother passed and he was there to witness her soul departing her body. She only stayed long enough to declare her never-ending love for her boys and bid him goodbye, before she moved on to her eternal reward.

Eight years later, when Liam died in a naval training exercise, Killian expected him to join their mother. However, his brother’s apparition began appearing to him from time to time. At first, his appearance was simply a mist, barely recognizable, but as Killian did more research into the paranormal and practiced tapping into his abilities, it became more discernible. Still, he was frustrated that he could see his brother, but was unable to speak to him.

He purchased several pieces of equipment used by paranormal investigators, hoping to enhance his encounters with Liam. They turned out to be very helpful, but Liam soon learned to communicate with his brother well enough that the tools weren’t necessary.

On a whim, Killian posted videos of himself explaining the use of equipment to make contact with ghosts on YouTube, and soon he was in demand as a paranormal investigator. People were willing to pay large sums of money to be able to make contact with their departed loved ones, or to encourage ghosts to move on. He quit his job as a dock worker and began traveling, taking his friend Will along with him, and when the technical aspects of editing and posting to YouTube proved too daunting, he hired Belle.

Even his closest friends were unaware that Killian’s deceased brother appeared and spoke with him on a regular basis; he wanted to keep that part of his life to himself.

*********

It still startled Killian whenever the apparition of his brother appeared, but it wasn’t ever an unwelcome intrusion. His visits never lasted long, but there was always enough time for a nice chat.

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten I’m a grown man and therefore your younger brother,” Killian reminded Liam, for at least the fiftieth time.

“I’m not sure that’s technically true any more, since you’ve now lived past the age I was when I died.”

Killian hated it when Liam talked about his own death. “You were born before me, so you’ll always be older.”

“Hmm…” Liam responded, giving his brother the maddening little nod that meant he was right and Killian was wrong. “So, the lovely lass you’re pining for was here today, aye?”

“How did you know that?” Killian asked unnecessarily. Obviously Liam had popped in and, being a tad preoccupied taking care of Emma, he hadn’t noticed.

“I’m not doing the job of watching over my little brother very well if I don’t know what’s going on in his life.”

Killian had never come right out and asked Liam about the unfinished business that kept him from moving on, but having been his guardian for years before his death, he was sure it was to continue taking care of him. Not that he needed it, but he wasn’t complaining, as long as he had a chance to have his older brother with him in some shape or form.

“She, uh…she fainted so I brought her in to lay her on my sofa. I couldn’t very well let her lay on the floor in the hallway.”

“What caused her to faint?” Liam asked, his playful tone giving way to concern.

“Seems she was visited by the ghost of her departed ex-boyfriend. You didn’t see him hanging around, did you?”

“You know spirits seldom bump into one another, unless they were associated with each other while they were living.”

“I just thought I would ask. It spooked her badly - no pun intended.”

“Have you agreed to help her?”

“Aye, if I can. The guy made her life miserable when he was alive. She shouldn’t have to put up with him after his death.”

Liam studied his brother for several moments. “Perhaps this will give you a chance to get closer to her. Maybe you’ll even work up the nerve to finally ask her out.”

Killian sighed. “I’m not going to do that when she’s so vulnerable, Liam. I simply want to get the tosser to move on.”

“And after that?”

“I don’t know,” Killian conceded.

“You’ve had feelings for that lass for ages, Killy. When are you going to act on them?”

“I’m afraid she’s only ever going to think of me as a friend. If I ask her out and she turns me down, I might lose her friendship, and I don’t want that to happen.”

“You’ll never know unless you try.”

Killian didn’t answer. He’d had this conversation with his brother before and Liam always pushed him to ask Emma out. He didn’t understand why his love life was so important to his brother, but whenever he asked him, Liam was evasive and refused to answer.

“Just think about it, Killian. I have to go. I love you, Brother.”

“Love you, too, Liam.”

He watched his brother’s translucent form dissolve, leaving him sad and lonely, as always. He didn’t know when Liam would complete his unfinished business, but he did know that when he finally did, Killian would be left alone once again.

Unbeknownst to him, Liam’s unfinished business was to see his brother happily married to the love of his life, but it was up to Killian to take the first step.

*********

Thanks very much for reading. Be sure to check out the other great stories in the CSSNS24 collection!

Tagging:

@qualitycoffeethings @grimmswan @cs-rylie @wyntereyez @kmomof4 @hookedmom @ultraluckycatnd @paradiselady19 @xarandomdreamx @motherkatereloyshipper @lfh1226-linda

@pawshapedheart @vampcoffeegyrl23 @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @eleveneitherway @elfiola @kday426

@julieenchanted-swans @gingerchangeling @andiirivera @djlbg @jonesfandomfanatic @snowbellewells @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones

@zaharadessert @lyssapup27 @undercaffinatednightmare @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @xsajx @jackieorioncat @teamhook @soniccat @jarienn972 @softkilly @kymbersmith-90 @apiratewhopines

@hollyethecurious @laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @caught-in-the-filter @stahlop @veryverynotgoodwrites @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @whimsicallyenchantedrose @earanemith @superchocovian @idristardis @captainswan-kellie @beckettj @cssns

[callsign-rogueone]

wrong to love you

Garrick Tavis x Sloane Mairi 💌: Could I request a Garrick x Sloane angst where Garrick feels guilty/conflicted about having feelings for Liam's kid sister? words: 861 🏷: Iron Flame spoilers and mentions of sex / very mild objectification. written in third person, but Garrick's POV. I promise I love ***** as much as the next guy, but somebody has to be the antagonist here. I did not think my first character x character fic would be this, but here we are -- I read this ask and nearly fell down the stairs. literally. this pairing is something I had never considered until this very moment but I’m kinda obsessed with it — I had to put everything down and write this as a stream of consciousness (no editing, just brain worms.) let me know if you want me to make this a series, I guess?

Liam was an objectively pretty guy, but seeing his features on a woman is devastating. 

It feels wrong to call Sloane Mairi a woman, but it’s the truth; she’s grown in the six years since he’s seen her, from the tagalong younger sister into a goddess; gorgeous waves of golden hair, big ice-blue eyes and long eyelashes, soft pink lips and a little button nose, defined cheekbones…

and Gods, her body -- the muscle she’s put on in training for Basgiath, the way the flight leathers hug every curve of her waist and hips, squeeze every muscle of her thighs, all that dark black contrasting with the bits of pale skin peeking out from her collar and her sleeves… 

Garrick has always considered himself a gentleman, prided himself on being a man who thinks with his head instead of his dick, but Sloane Mairi has him re-evaluating those statements. 

Definitely wrong. Undoubtedly, incredibly wrong. Well… 

She’s an adult, he reasons. A dragon rider, even. She’s capable of making her own decisions, of defending herself with both body and mind -- she’d always been sharp-tongued, even before their lives went to shit; it’s one of the things he’d liked most about her. That and her laugh, that lovely sound that he thought he’d never hear again.

Nope. Still wrong.

It should feel wrong, he decides. It is wrong. It is so fucking wrong to sit here imagining her skin on his, how easy it would be to heft her over one shoulder and carry her up to his room, how soft and small she’d feel underneath him, those gorgeous blue eyes rolling back as he— 

Stop it, he hisses to himself, gritting his teeth. If he wasn’t in public right now, wasn’t sitting in the middle of the mess hall pretending to listen to Bodhi’s blathering about gods-know-what, he’d slap himself across the face.

Liam is totally going to haunt him for this. He’d deserve it -- the bro-code applies even in the afterlife; no perving on sisters allowed, older or younger, and Sloane is definitely younger. She’s hardly old enough to drink, for godssakes.

He could really use a drink himself right now, but that might make this even worse.

“Four years isn’t that much, even in the context of your little human lifespan,” Chradh reasons, sounding like he’s enjoying this — of fucking course he is. He’s always liked watching Garrick squirm.

“What about the fact that I’m her superior officer?”

“A small ethical complication, I agree. But if you don’t stake your claim, someone else will,” Chradh muses. “Someone might have already.”

Garrick’s about to snap back, to ask him what the fuck he’s talking about, when he finally notices who she’s sitting with, whose joke she’s laughing at, who’s shoulder she’s touching. 

He’s going to bend his fork in half from how hard he’s gripping it. 

Stupid, spoiled princes and their ceaseless fucking meddling in his life. First Alic and his outspoken hatred of Garrick and the other marked ones, going as far as making an attempt on his life during threshing. He would be dead, had Xaden not intervened; Alic had the conviction to go through with it, but he’d been a coward, jumping someone who had their back turned.

And now that prick’s little brother is flirting with his girl, not a care in the world, not a thought in that pretty little head. He hadn’t even known Liam, or their parents. He has no idea what she’s been through. What business does he have giving her a shoulder to cry on, when his dear old dad had been the one to decide to execute eighty-six mothers and fathers, to orphan a hundred and seven innocent children in one fell swoop and to sentence them all to life serving the crown -- if they made it out of that deathtrap school first?

And she has no idea who he is under that little working-class costume he’s been wearing for the last four months. Aaric Graycastle. Come on. Using the first name of the last king and putting castle in the surname? Not subtle at all. 

Neither of the apples fell far from the idiot tree, apparently. If Halden is as stupid as his brothers, then Navarre is doomed. As if it isn’t already. As if it hasn’t been cursed from the moment they tried to conquer Tyrrendor. Serves them fucking right.

At least the brat had jumped ship with them and came to Aretia to finally start living on the right side of history — though that was likely due to his disdain for his father. Does every son of the royal family have daddy issues? Is it a requirement? Something they teach you at those fancy boarding schools in Calldyr? 

Maybe Sloane had been the one to convince him to come along. Maybe Chradh is right — maybe they’re already together.

So help him gods, if that little prick prince lays another hand on his girl, if he tries anything, Garrick is going to beat him to a pulp.

“I guess you’ve made up your mind, then,” Chradh says, snapping Garrick out of his rage.

“What?”  “You called her yours. Twice.”

[charlesandmartine]

Friday 15th November 2024

A relaxing first night in our miner's rest. This is a very comfortable and well equipped property. There are 3 units in total here at number 12, and I suspect that through Airbnb, the guests are mainly connected to the mining industry. Mount Isa has been one of two major domestic sources of copper since 1953 when it became a one-stop shop for copper production — mine, concentrator, and smelter all next door to each other. Twenty percent of the Mount Isa Mines personnel live in the town, with most of the remainder working in supporting industries. One percent of the world's copper is mined here. Sadly, controversy is mounting because Swiss company Glencore, is planning to cease copper mining here next year and smelting here by 2030. A lot of government involvement here clearly with jobs at stake, the profile of this is pretty high. A town of nearly 20,000 people depends on this industry for its future. New open cast copper mining opportunities are proposed for Cloncurry 100kms away, but a decision is pending for 2026. Big challenges ahead, I guess.

Our first stop this morning was to the Tourist Information Office to find out what needs to be done around these parts. The must do event was the Hard Times Mine Tour, departing 13.00. We were offered concessions, so what's not to like? This was 10 am, so we had some time to kill, which we used highly productively looking round mining exhibits. Then, before the mine tour was to commence, we crossed the road to the City Lookout, which commemorates the spot where in February 1923, John Campbell Miles, a prospector, by chance spotted some yellow and brown rock, which when split open was black and honeycomb colour. When samples were analysed in Cloncurry, the results showed high levels of lead and silver; cerussite, a lead carbonate. And from this, a mining industry in Mount Isa was born. From this lookout, we could survey the whole of the city, from mine to the retail areas, to residential streets. Viewing the tree lined grid system roads, it was like looking down on Milton Keynes with a big dirty mine in the middle of it; the ever present tall copper and lead smelter chimneys overseeing and dominating the skyline!

Now it was time for our two and a half hour tour of the mine. This facsimile 25m deep mine was dug out in 2003, designed by the mayor and experienced miners to be as accurate a copy of a real mine, in size, equipment, procedure, sound, dirt etc. An experienced miner of 45 years of service led the tour. We started by descending into the ground in an authentic lift. Clothed in bright orange overalls, helmet, helmet light, boots we emerged into the darkness of the pit head, and we all turned on our lights, boarded a pit train and taken to a muster junction control area where tokens were kept, one for each miner monitoring and accounting for all in the mine. As a muster point, it was a place where lunch would also have been taken. We were lead on foot through the tunnels, having demonstrations of mine drilling equipment through the ages. All of it was extremely heavy; all rock mined by explosive and then moved onto trains. It is not a career for the faint-hearted. I felt tired just looking at the drills. The drill action was more of a hammer and chisel; bang and turn chisel, bang, turn etc. These old drills still worked as intended as we held onto an operating one, we were very aware of the weight and vibration, experiencing just how tough a job this would be. Drilling horizontally into the rock face would have been exhausting in extreme heat. Drilling into the roof almost impossible, but a team of two men would drill sufficient depth into the face, charge all the holes with explosive, clear the section, ignite through a chain reaction and extend the tunnel by six feet every day. Loose rock was removed to the surface for crushing and mineral extraction. As we moved through the decades, the work became more productive with heavier mechanised equipment until you reach the equipment of today which can use high pressure water or lasers to drill into the rock in readiness for explosive. More productive, certainly, easier work? I don't think so. Powerful ventilation fans, trains, massive dumper trucks, hammer drills, and explosions must have been deafening, working 6 days a week, 12 hours a day. Our guide, Steve, after a lifetime in the industry, would not wish to change anything, but regrets now the damage to his health having been diagnosed with the miner's disease silicosis, losing part of one lung and the knowledge that soon he will need to be on oxygen.

Such an excellent authentic afternoon spent being shown and having demonstrated a way of life totally alien to anything within our own experience, by someone who has lived through it himself and was able to patiently portray it, often humorously to us. Great value, and we were served hot pasties and coffee.

ps. We got to keep the overalls, so dead useful if we decide to take up mining at some point. Steve wanted the helmets back!

pps. As we sat enjoying our evening SB and nibbles, we watched plane after plane leaving Mount Isa from its tiny airport. Like many mining operations, a percentage at the workers are FIFOs, fly in, fly out Friday. It's clearly a nice town, but not that nice.

[blurglesmurfklaine]

hello/goodbye hugs that linger for javey 💙

Number 18 comin right up!

edit: oops, this got away from me because I don't know the definition of concise apparently

******

"It's just another three weeks, and then I'm home for the entire summer," Davey assures.

"It's too long," Jack whines. "I hate Yale. I hate stupid Boston and their stupid red-sox and their stupid Ivy League schools that have ya away for nine months of the year."

As much as Davey wants to pretend that Jack being all sorts of clingy is a major inconvenience, he can't dismiss the fact that he loves the way Jack always refuses to release them from their final hugs before Davey heads back to school.

It's become a tradition of sorts. They hug goodbye, and Davey makes some comment about being late for his train, and Jack tightens his grip while Davey rolls his eyes and lets his arms go limp at his side.

There's something different this time around, though, and Davey can't quite put his finger on it. The soft, ragged breath Jack takes when he buries his face into the crook of Davey's neck. The way his smile isn't entirely reaching his eyes.

"Hey," Davey's hands settle on Jack's shoulders as he puts enough space between them to get a good look at his best friend. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Jack mutters. Davey can tell by the dimness of his eyes that he's lying. " 'm'fine."

"You don't seem fine."

"I guess," Jack sighs, "In the past year, with you bein' gone and all... I didn't realize how much I was gonna miss ya. I didn't realize a lot of things."

Before Davey can even open his mouth to reply, he's being hauled in again for another bone-crushing hug. Davey's arms dangle by his side in shock as Jack's come up behind his back, gripping the back of Davey's shirt with such force.

Davey blinks himself out of his stupor and slowly brings his arms to clasp around Jack's waist.

"I love you, Dave."

"Love you, too, Jackie."

Davey's on the train, his mind running through their last encounter the way a needle runs over vinyl, when his phone buzzes.

Jackie: i need to tell you something. Jackie: shoulda said it before you left Jackie: i mean, i said it, but i didn't really SAY it ykwim?? Jackie: fuck. i hope you don't have signal rn and we can just wait til u get back for summer

Me: Bad news Me: I have signal

Jackie: well shit

Me: You were saying?

The three dots indicating someone on the other side is texting pop up. They disappear for a moment and return, sending anxiety that rises like the tide shooting through Davey's veins. This is where Jack admits what's been bothering him. This is where Jack says they've grown apart, that keeping up with Davey when he's so far away isn't worth the effort, that their friendship of nearly six years isn't worth the effo--

Jackie: I love you.

Davey squints at the screen.

All that fuss for Jack to tell Davey something he already knows?

Me: That's nice, Jackie. I love you, too!

Jackie: ffs Jackie: you go to an ivy league school Jackie: ain't no way ur really this dense

Me: ??? uncalled for??

Jackie: Dave. Jackie: I'm IN LOVE with you.

Oh. Well. Davey certainly wasn't expecting that.

Jackie: and i feel stupid sayin that over a damn text message but i was too scared to say it earlier and i feel like it'll eat me alive if i don't say anything Jackie: if you don't feel the same i TOTALLY understand btw Jackie: we can also just. pretend this never happened when you come back and it'll be just like old times

He blinks dumbly at the phone, heart hammering in his chest as more frantic messages come in.

Jackie: OR you could continue to ignore me Jackie: you have your read receipts on, you know that?

Jackie: oh my god i'm gonna block you. Jackie: hi hey hello, davey jacobs? jack kelly here, your best friend who just confessed his love for you? yeah it'd be great if you could SAY SOMETHING

Me: That certainly was a sentence.

Jackie: I hate you.

Me: Pretty sure you love me. Source: you.

Jackie: no fr how am *i* the one who gets a rep for being annoying?

Jackie: really though. are we gonna talk about this?

Me: Look who's being dense now.

Jackie: DAVE

Davey laughs at his screen and decides to put Jack out of his misery, chest feeling like it's exploding into a million stars.

Me: JACK Me: Good news. Me: I love you, too.

Jackie: see, was that so hard? Jackie: holy shit, so... Jackie: we're like. properly in love huh? Jackie: whaddya wanna do about that?

Me: We could call when I get back to my dorm? Have a real conversation about it? Me: And maybe talk about it when I get home in May?

Jackie: yeah. i like the sound of both those things

When Davey comes home for summer break, Jack runs to him as soon as he steps off the train, arms so tight around his torso and heart so full that Davey can't imagine either of them ever letting go.

[optimistredsox]

15 June, NYY @ BOS, 4-8, win

Much like the 'fake it until you make it' concept, I sometimes feel as though the 'be an optimist until you are an optimist' could be a truism. My sign off after a loss that 'we'll get 'em tonight' is often going through motions. Such was the case with yesterday's sign off following Friday's shit-kicking. Not without hope, but perhaps lacking a little conviction that it would actually happen. BUT IT DID FUCKING HAPPEN AND IT WAS AWESOME! Yeah we still made an error but whatever. There were so many bright sides I nearly started writing them down before even mentioning that there were bright sides to be had. But there were. So here they are.

Cooper Criswell started off solidly. Not his best start but certainly not his worst. He gave up 2 runs on 3 hits and struck out six, walking two.

Kenley Jansen was awesome. A longtime vet of the Dodgers/Giants rivalry, he asked Cora to call him up if needed in the eighth. AND HE WAS NEEDED IN THE EIGHTH! And he fucking nailed it. Four outs and all ZEROES to get the save. He is a player who I struggled a bit with last year, but I think this year has become that perfect balance of still having youthful fire in his belly but being a real old guard veteran and also just loving the game and wanting to do the best for the team. And for him to be like, 'yeah, Yankees-Red Sox is just a different level' is also pretty awesome.

There was one error but there were also some great grabs fielding-wise. Devers was heads up, Bobby Dalbec made a run-saving throw to the plate on a bases loaded fielders choice hit by Dugie (who did not have the same sort of night last night that he did Friday) that could've been a RBI.

Masa Yoshida, recovering from his thumb injury, looked good at the plate, doubling and then scoring on that double. Would love to see him get hot.

Jarren Duran seems to wear the leadoff spot the same way he wears a stillsuit on Arrakis. He was 2-for-5 and scored twice. One of the runs he scored was on a super heads up read of an overthrow to third and his gleeful fist pump as he charged for home filled me with joy. It was nice to score on unearned run rather than be scored upon with an unearned run. Jarren also knocked in a run.

Rob Refsnyder didn't get a hit but he took a walk and guess what? You already know where I'm going with this, don't you? Yes. Yes, he took a walk and scored because of that. Actually, he took two walks. But he only scored once. But he would've scored zero if he hadn't walked. So there.

Tyler O'Neill went 2-for-5 as well with two runs scored and a RBI. Must be in the Jarren Duran fan club or something.

Raffy hit an awesome 2-run double. It was his only hit, but that's ok. We still love Raffy.

Ceddanne Rafaela was 3-for-4 with a run scored and not a single strike out.

Enmanuel Valdez once again showing warmth went 1-for-1 and that one was a RBI.

Jamie Westbrook knocked in a run.

The Sox took five walks in total against 11 strikeouts. Which isn't bad.

Yankees starter Carlos Rodón was on a 7 game winning streak before last night. Delighted to put a stop to that. Fuck the Yankees.

We won! We won against the fucking Skankees!

If we win tonight, we take the series! That would be cool!

If we win tonight, we'll be two games above .500! That would also be cool!

Did I mention we beat the stupid Yankees? Yes? Good. Fuck those guys.

[puffymucher]

Quiet Little Moment (Iris x Willow)

aka i love them your honor and the sever has stolen me, so have some shit i wrote -----

It was nice to have some piece and quiet once and a while.

It wasn't exactly quiet, the smaller hound in front of Willow was yapping off about who knows what- Well, she knew what Iris was rambling on about. It was about the color of the flower crown that she was currently braiding together, and Willow looked back down at her crumpled up attempt. They both had taken the same amount of time and yet here Willow was, frowning at the little ring of flowers that she'd accidentally crushed as she pulled them together. She was embarrassed, that's for sure, because she glanced back over at Iris's, how even if it wasn't the neatest, all of her flowers still had their petals.

"Hey, Willy, you still with me or in space, huh?"

Willow blinked up as Iris leaned in close, and the hound could feel her entire face flush up as those eyes of hers looked over her frame. One could count the seconds that it took for Willow to come up with an answer, mostly because she'd nearly forgotten what they were talking about. She knew the topic from around five minutes ago, but knowing Iris, that could've been a few topics ago. So, with a simple shrug, she glanced back down to her flowers in her lap. "Is that what you're all bugged about?" Willow's ears perked up in alarm as Iris simply plucked up her shitty crown, and as Willow opened up her maw to speak, it was soon already placed on Iris's head, and she had a rather wide smile. "Do I look stunning?" The little hound asked as she wiggled her brows, something that had the doberman chortling along soon enough. "Yeah- If you were fresh outta prison, maybe. Yours looks a lot better than mine," Willow hummed as she ducked her head down, letting Iris now fit the crown she was working on right dab on her head. She didn't know if she looked pretty, she never really did, but..

The way that Iris was looking at her made her feel like the most gorgeous woman in all of Hell.

"It's pretty good for being years outta practice," Iris started, only turning away from Willow for a moment before laying her head right dab onto her lap, now looking up at an ever flustering Wills. "But.. It's making a flower crown. I wasn't even good when we were little." Was the retort, the larger dog's ears flattening as she recalled the thought. They weren't really that big, probably around six or seven, but she remembered trying to make plenty of flower jewelry and such. Always giving it to Iris whenever the yappy pup defended her, and she remembered a few times after they'd split she'd made them too. It was always around special days, like Iris's adoption day, but it was a routine that Willow enjoyed- Until she got kicked out onto the streets, that is. You forget a bit about making flower crowns when you're busy making them out of sinner's teeth. "Yeah, you weren't good." That had snapped the quiet dog out of her thoughts, and she looked down at Iris with a terribly confused look. "But, I thought you were the best in the world, y'know. I mean- You taught me." This got a nod from Willow, who's little tail was wagging all excitedly behind her- She felt lucky that Iris couldn't point it out to bug her.

"I don't know- I think I could do better. Guess my hands aren't for picking flowers anymore." She said a bit flatly, but as she looked over her own hands, she felt Iris take them, now examining her scarred palms from the years of work and survival- And she smiled. Always smiling, Willow noted, at the oddest things. "Well.. Your hands are still pretty hot, y'know. All hard and worked- C'mon, that's like, total babe material." Willow's face flushed with heat as she groaned, rolling her eyes as Iris erupted into laughter underneath her, still notably holding onto her hands.. And it wasn't like Willow was going to let go either. Though, as their laughter died down, the two hounds soon let silence reclaim the field around them, though they both seemed rather peaceful.

She always enjoyed these quiet little moments with Iris. It felt like what she'd been chasing for so long.

Home.

[inkofamethyst]

September 6, 2023

Actual goals for this school year:

Stay within my monthly budgets (I'll give september a pass if needed)

Take a programming course (in R or Python probably)

Go to fitness classes both to stay fit and to meet people

Maintain connections with interesting people (pretend to be the fearless extrovert)

Try at least one new recipe each month (again, september gets a pass)

Decorate my room

Go to symposia and talks in various departments; bask in the intellectual community

Read for fun or listen to audiobooks on occasion

No studying while eating (exceptions include: exam in 48 hours or less, expected reading due in 24 hours or less)

These are more like "additional" goals, I guess, since I would indeed like to become hotter, weirder, richer, more terrifying, and more unpredictable. I know I should become richer and I'm always on the trajectory to become weirder, but I may have to put work into the other three.

A wise man on tiktok once said "not every day can be a slay" and you know what? He was right. Sometimes it's totally worth having a chill day where you just don't put massive amounts of thought into your life. Yes, romanticizing the little moments feels good. But if it requires more mental energy than I can reasonably give that day, then it's not worth it. Same goes for outfits and meals and all sorts, really. It's actually something I've been putting into practice long before I'd heard it put into those words. Granted, a day of "non-slay" might look different for everyone. But it doesn't mean that I'm a failure for deciding to wear leggings or sweatpants on a day when I really just can't be arsed.

When I was talking to that random dude the day before school started, I told him that this school year felt different. He asked why and I had to say that I couldn't really put my finger on it. That was a lie. I just didn't want to make our lighthearted conversation into a therapy session. In fact, I could place not just a finger, but all of my fingers and some of my toes on it. 1. far away from home for an extended period 2. the whole thing with ~~~elite~~~ education (not imposter syndrome, more like the internal and personal discomfort of contributing to a system of hierarchies (the same way that race is a human construct that isn't really real but the effects of racism are real? academic elitism is socially constructed but has real effects (and you know ultimately this may not matter because the academic job market sucks and I may not be offered find a position (that I like bc why not be picky) in the first place lol))) 3. feeling very young 4. feeling ungrounded because, unlike the rest of my cohort, I came up here a week before school started and moved in merely days prior, so I wasn't nearly as grounded in my space as I would liked to have been. There's probably some other things that I just can't conjure up right now.

Full disclosure, most of the above comes from before school started. I'm not swamped with work, not exactly, but I certainly haven't had much time to devote to journaling (tbh this is exactly the time that I should be journaling). I don't really know where all of my hours are going (and maybe it's just the school adjustment period, it is only the second day, after all). I'll do a full recap sometime later. Ultimately: I'm doing okay.

Today I'm thankful that I'm doing okay.

Last thing: considering auditioning for/joining a choir. It's mostly undergrads, though they take grad students. It seems like a dope program. But there's a musical theatre one (also mostly undergrads lol) that also seems cool. It's been a long while since I've done MT. I do miss it, I think. But doing MT covers doesn't make me feel nearly as powerful as singing as part of a symphony :/ I could always go for the real choir some other year if I really wanted. I'll be here for six or so. I've got time.

I mean I've always wanted to do a musical theatre duet.

This could also just be pre-audition nerves ha.

[krokodile]

Sometimes I get incredibly sad thinking about how much my dad would love Six.

I can actually hear his ear-murdering rendition of Don’t Lose Ur Head if I think about it.  (Dude couldn’t sing.  What I think is my earliest memory is of me standing in my crib heckling him.)

His favorite would’ve been one of the Annes.

His crush on Sam Pauly would’ve been mildly off-putting but like I think it wouldn’t be hard to admit we all GET IT.  

He probably would’ve driven us both to DC or Boston for the Aragon Tour.

His crush on Gabriela Carrillo would’ve been unnerving because it’s never NOT weird to be attracted to the same person your parent is, but, like.  In a family where everyone’s interests merge into a Venn diagram that’s basically three circles barely distinguishable from the others, it’ll happen.

(And he would’ve loved spending that time with my friend’s daughter.)  

I am grateful for what is, but that doesn’t mean I cannot be sad for what isn’t.

I am nearly 40 and then I will have spent a complete decade of my life without him.  Thirteen years total now, I think.  

I wish I could’ve known him while I was a finally formed adult.  But, I guess, who knows who I’d be now if he were here.  I’m not sure I could be as stable as I am (which is kind of hilarious because lol that’s not very) if he were.  I’m not sure I’d be someone worth knowing then.  

Maybe it’s thirteen years away from him is what actually did it.  I hate to think that, but.  When your entire life is lived on the defensive it’s hard to not be a reactive asshole to the other people you love who don’t deserve it.

It still fucking sucks, though.  

I had a dream, not long ago, or maybe long ago, I don’t know what time is anymore, where I asked him if he’d still love me if I were a boy.  

My mom woke me up before he could answer, and that’s so on the nose if someone had written as fiction I’d roll my eyes.  

[ironwoman359]

Soooo I was looking through my drafts because there's posts in there years old, and I found this old fanfiction question list that my dear friend @thuriweaver tagged me in two years ago and I thought what the heck, I'll fill that out tonight because I've been trying to work on writing more lately. So, without further ado...

1.How many works do you have on AO3?

95!

Though I've written more, there are things on @ironwhumper359 and @ironwoman359-writes that aren't fandom related and are only on tumblr, and there's probably some other things on my masterlist that aren't on AO3 either, maybe I ought to comb through it at some point and upload more!

2. What is your total AO3 word count?

333,493! And fun fact, I just counted that up manually from all 95 fics because I thought AO3 didn't display that stat, but it turns out I just wasn't logged in. The stat page says I actually has 335,438 words, so either I missed a fic or it includes the author's notes or summaries in that count.

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

 If you look at the fandom list it has 10, but I think 5 is a more accurate count, which I'll explain in a sec. These are the fandoms on AO3:

Sanders Sides (Web Series) (87)

Super Mario & Related Fandoms (3)

Marvel Cinematic Universe (3)

Undertale (Video Game) (3)

Leverage (2)

Video Blogging RPF (2)

Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series) (1)

In Space With Markiplier (Web Series) (1)

Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo (1)

Markiplier TV (Web Series) (1)

The thing is, the two fics in the "video blogging" fandom are markiplier ego fics and I'd lump those, Who Killed Markiplier, In Space With Markiplier, and Markiplier TV all as one fandom, and also, all the Super Mario fics and MCU fics are actually both Sanders Sides AUs, so those aren't really separate fandoms either.

A better list would be:

Sanders Sides

Markiplier

Undertale

Leverage

Six of Crows

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

So this was fascinating to look at! I'm going to list them in reverse order, for the Drama.

5: How to Catch a Fairy, posted on June 16th, 2020 with 2,918 hits and 515 kudos. This is a very short little oneshot, filling a prompt from a Bad Things Happen Bingo card, "Used as Bait." I really enjoyed writing this one, but I'm surprised it's beat out so many of my other, older fics. It has almost 100 more kudos than Our Own Villain, the (admittedly incomplete) fic that is my 6th biggest in kudos and kind of put me on the map in the TSS fandom. I guess people really like fae, feral protective love interests, and analogical.

4: Phase One, originally posted on September 11th, 2020, with 3,575 hits and 532 kudos. Now this is far less surprising, the Marvel AU is one of my most popular stories, with an entire sideblog dedicated to developing it, and it is by far the story I am most asked about continuing. The story is told partly through in universe S.H.I.E.L.D. documents and internal communications, questions on @ask-agent-sanders, and traditionally posted stories. Phase One is the AO3 name for the traditional story portion of the universe, each chapter being an entry in the story. The plan was, eventually, to create a fic called Phase Two for stories taking place post-Avengers (2012) content, but I haven't updated the fic in nearly 2 years.

3: A Part of the FamILY, originally posted on May 9th, 2018, with 5,326 hits and 696 kudos. According to the author's notes, I originally wrote the fic in February of 2018 to celebrate 1,000 tumblr followers, so it makes sense that it would have a lot of kudos. It also leans HEAVILY on a lot of tropes that the TSS fandom was really into at the time, and even has song lyrics in it with links to said songs on spotify. I stand by the quality of the actual story and writing on display here, but I'd be lying if I didn't say that those aspects make me cringe just a bit today 😅

2: A Fiendly Reunion, originally posted on July 7th, 2019, with 7,621 hits and 766 kudos. This story is one of my proudest achievements, both in the TSS fandom and as a writer in general. At 30,000+ words over 10 chapters, it is the longest single fic I've ever posted, and the only multichapter fic over 4 chapters that I've ever completed, outside a Big Bang challenge I did in 2018. It took over a year to write, and was a huge passion project for me. I'm really, really happy that it's at the number two spot, and that my readers loved it as much as I did. I'd honestly be surprised that it wasn't at the number one spot, if it weren't for what IS at the number one spot...

1: Broken Wings, originally posted on September 9th, 2018 with 7,747 hits and 1,159 kudos. This fic is the most popular thing I've ever posted on AO3, and it's tumblr cross-post has over 1,000 notes, which is a lot for a fanfiction on this site. Why? It's short, at just under two thousand words, it's angsty and it's fluffy, it has protective-and-self-sacrificing Virgil, protective light sides, vague and abusive dark sides (this was 2018, ok, the fandom was a very different place then), it has wings, and to top it all off it was actually based on fanart, this amazing workby @asofterfan who came up with all the wing designs and potential dynamics that the winged sides would have, I just took their vision and translated it to words. I kind of love that my most popular work is actually something that's collaborative in nature, I think it says something about the way fandom comes together as a community <3.

5. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do! I used to not as often because I felt awkward, and I'm not gonna lie, I still do sometimes, but these days I try to respond when possible, because I really, really appreciate comments! They're absolutely everything as a creative.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

I'm not really into angsty endings, very rarely do I leave something unhappy on purpose. Sometimes I start out with something unhappy, only to later go and add more fic to give it a happier ending. I'm Left in the Dark originally was a short prompt fill, chapter 1, but then I went back and wrote chapters 2 and 3 to resolve the plot.

All that to say, I think the angstiest ending out there is actually the ending of an instant of great white gravity, which is the first installment in a series I hope to write more for that I'm calling Before and After, though I haven't made it a series on AO3 yet. By it's very nature of being a prequel to the events of Who Killed Markiplier, the whole thing has big 'doomed by the narrative' energy, and even though not every fic will necessarily have a melancholy tone, great white gravity does, because it's about Will being too late to ask Celine out and having to live with watching her marry Mark instead, and about Damien watching the friend group he used to be able to count on be irrecoverably changed by this tension. Goooood angst, right there!

7. Do you ever write crossovers?

I do! Or, I've written one, at least. The Marvel AU isn't a recasting like most of my other AUs based on existing stories, the Marvel characters also exist and are in the story.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I don't believe so, no! I've been very fortunate in that regard, the little hate I have received over the years has all been in my askbox directly, never in the comments of a fic that I can recall.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Nope! Sex-repulsed asexual over here, but y'all have fun in your corner of the internet!

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

To my knowledge/recollection, no, but I do know that someone reposted one of my fics on Wattpad once. They credited me as the author though, so I didn't ask them to take it down, but in general, I don't like it when people do that.

11. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! Until the Sun Rises, a walking dead style zombie AU, is a collab with @buzz-by-bee, aka @a-valourous-choice, author of the To Build a Home series! We haven't updated it in a long time (oops) but it has a sideblog over on @until-the-sun-rises that has some pretty sweet fanart as well as all the content if you're interested!

You Don't Own Me (You Don't Even Know Me) also started out as a collab with @5-falsehoods-phonated, aka RoseyWinter on AO3, but he has since left the project and left me to finish our plan on my own (which I keep saying that I'll do and then not doing, whoops).

Also, I swear I've written a fic with @theinvisiblespoon, but maybe I'm just thinking of the hours we used to spend rp-ing and all the times we've talked about writing a more structured story together and then just never doing it (have you spotted the theme yet?)

12. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Oh gosh, that's so hard. Even back when I only wrote for One fandom I was a multishipper, and now I'm shipping in other fandoms? Too many good choices, how dare you make me choose. If I have to limit it to 5 all time favorites though... Analogical, Moxiety, LAMP, Kanej, and the Leverage OT3.

13. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Undertale! if you go waaay back on my AO3...or, you know, just click on the Undertale fandom link there, you can see the few works that I put out: a series of prompts for Cheer Up the Skeleton Week, an event focusing on depicting Sans as Happy for once, an OC self insert story that I quickly abandoned after a few chapters, and Your Fault, a piece about the multiverse breaking down that I'm still actually pretty proud of, all things considered.

14. What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

Oof, that may be the hardest yet. A Fiendly Reunion, because I actually finished it? A Sanders Carol, because it was my first ever Big Bang, and my first ever completed multi-chapter fic? The Secret History of the Invincible II, because it's new and exciting? They're Only Children because I have so many ideas for it? I honestly couldn't tell you. I love all of them, they're all very dear to me.

15. BONUS QUESTION: Do you have a WIP that haunts you?

Dude, all of them. If I've filtered things correctly on AO3, then of the 24 works in progress that I've started, only 9 are actually complete. That's 15 unfinished stories floating around in my mind, and I know it's actually at least 17, because there are two that show up as completed because I'm doing multiple single works in a series instead of chapters in a single work, so they look complete right now but I know that they're not, plus there's a few that never have been posted to begin with. SO many unfinished stories.

But the one that haunts me the most has to be Our Own Villain, because it is quite possibly my oldest wip, over 5 years old at this point, and it's still not finished but I want it to be so badly. Other wips I've kind of made peace with potentially not continuing, but I swear to god, OOV has to finish before I die, even if Sanders Sides as a show has changed so much since January of 2018 when I first had the idea that the whole premise is now fundamentally flawed, I just have to finish. It's my fanfiction white whale.

---

This was fun! If you've never read any of my work before (tho let's be real, if you made it this far you probably have), I do have a masterlist pinned right at the top of this blog that you can check out. Most of this post was sanders sides because it's what I've written the most of, but I'm actually focusing more on some in space with markiplier and six of crows stuff fic wise, as well as my own original writing. Thanks for reading, I'm not going to tag anyone specific since this challenge is so old. Any writer who sees this and wants to do it, go for it!

[varley-of-torment]

The von Bartels Siblings Post

I think Mercedes, by the time she's at the academy, has a really complex relationship with her older siblings.

To be clear, in my headcanon (of which is. extensive. I am just bonkers about the bartels household) Von Bartels children, of which there were four, were all close in age and about/at least ten years older than Mercie and Emile, and thus were adults (early 20's) when they were growing up. To put it briefly, I think Von Bartels deeply neglected his children when they were growing up, and this is why they resent Emile and Mercedes- they're jealous that these kids, with crests, are getting the attention they were denied as children (even if it's negative attention). This anger manifested in abusing their younger siblings, whether physically, emotionally, etc depending on the sibling.

So growing up, Mercedes would obviously see them as one sided villains that exist to torment her. But I think, with distance and time, she started to consider that they were also victims of Von Bartels abuse and were working with the limited understanding of family dynamics they had. But at the same time, THEY were the adults when she was just a kid, so not only is it pathetic for them to bully literal children because of their insecurities, but of anyone there, they should have been the ones to step up and protect her and Emile from their father. When she gets to the age they were when she was a kid, she can't understand how they'd act that way.

I guess now is a good time to go over my Bartels children OC's

Edgar: The youngest of the siblings (16-18). Toxic Masculinity embodied and wants nothing but to impress his father, or at least have him notice him. Aggressive, impulsive, competitive, and loud. Primarily uses physical force to antagonize his younger siblings. Grew out/wears his hair to look like his father. Childishly jealous of Mercedes and Emile. Is called to House Bartels during breaks from school.

Franz and Sylvia: middle and oldest but very close in age (22-25). Both completely done with Von Bartels' shit. Franz, imagine David from HBO's Six Feet Under; Very calm and collected with simmering rage buried deep beneath, well read and hardworking, but always mirthless. Sylvia is Sylvia: cool, ruthless, plain mean, confident in her competency- and she's right to be, as she's the most powerful of her siblings. Wears those black leather boots. Carries herself as though nothing can hurt her, a tough as nails type. I put them together because they work as a unit. For reasons I won't go into here, in my headcanon Von Bartels was stripped of his Baron power and responsibilities while maintaining his title. This means it fell on Franz and Sylvia to do... everything, the business, the connections, the paperwork- they are overworked, but they're both also really smart and do it well. They are obviously bitter that, even though they technically have the power of Baron, they are forced to work the job of their father who neglected them their whole life while he maintains power over them (he forces them to give him the majority of the money so they are financially dependent on him), and while they work themselves to the bone, he is ungrateful. They are less concerned with Mercedes and Emile, but play mind games, verbally abuse and lock them in rooms because they are "intruders", and treat them like they should be totally subservient, and resent Mercedes for being Von Bartels' favorite. Called to House Bartels frequently but for short bursts to discuss business and have meetings about the Baron-hood.

Evi: middle (20-23). Has cut ties as much as possible- not a presence at all in Mercedes's life growing up. Absolutely closed off even to herself, has coped with everything via pure apathy. Never talks to anyone in her family.

Here's a small scene to demonstrate their personalities: In their backyard, Edgar throws a javelin at the practice target and gets it nearly in the center. He turns to Sylvia and goes "Ha! Beat that!" Sylvia aims a finger gun and demolishes the practice target with a lightning bolt. "Beat you." Meanwhile, Franz is inside working, reviewing the monthly expense receipts and grumbling to himself.

[theuniversitychallengereview]

I wrote a blog called No Spoiler last year, about how easy it had been for me to avoid spoilers for the previous day's episode of The Challenge, and how that was an oddity in our information-dense, social-media flooded lives. Well, on Tuesday I innocently logged onto Twitter, having missed this week's episode due to my Book Club, and had the result spoiled for me. It was my own fault - as I said in the other post, when you log on to a Twitter account which is specifically for University Challenge then that is the kind of fire you are playing with. 

For the past few weeks, I've been watching the Netflix Tour de France documentary with my girlfriend. With no prior interest in the sport of cycling she really got into it (and really loved Wout van Aert, which did make me a bit jealous, but who doesn't?). Despite the fact that it was about last year's Tour, the result of which has been known for nearly a full twelve months, and despite the fact that we watched several stages of this year's race together, she made it to the final episode with no knowledge (besides her correct inclination that there was no way redacted would be coming back from such a large deficit going into the final few days) of the overall victor. 

What's the moral of this story? Nothing particularly profound, just that its interesting how siloed our consumption of things is. If I had to estimate, I'd say that I read/heard the fact that cyclist A beat cyclist B in the 2022 Tour de France more than a hundred times in the past month, but if you're not looking out for something, or if your personal Internet isn't pre-programmed to show you it then this sort of thing is far easier to avoid. 

It would be pretty funny, I think, if I did go ahead and not review this week's episode, but I've already spent a while looking up cool stats and I don't want to waste them, so with that in mind; here's your first Starter for Ten.

You can watch the episode here before reading my review...

Birkbeck were regulars in the early years of the Paxman era, appearing six times in the first nine series, culminating with victory in 2003, after which they weren't seen for seventeen years. Oxford Brookes, meanwhile, have only been on five times in total, making the quarter-finals twice.

Brookes skipper Manton buzzes early on the first starter, but he's wrong, and McMillan swoops in for Birkbeck to steal the points. An easy bonus set on films nets them a full house, before Manton makes up for his earlier mistake with epiphany. They grab a hat-trick on the Biafran war, but remain behind thanks to the incorrect interruption.

Another from McMillan stretched the Londoner's lead, but Gardner hit back for Brookes to keep things tight. McMillan is then able to give one of the coldest possible UC answers of all time when asked to complete the phrase written on Woody Guthrie's guitar, 'This machine... kills fascists". Rajan shows off his cricket credentials, scolding Birkbeck for mistaking a doosra for a googly, and demonstrating the bowling action at his desk. 

The first picture starter continues the ping-pong nature of the game so far, with Broadbent, eyebrows plastered in a kindly frown, quickest to recognise the Togo flag. He blitzes the bonuses too to tie the game. Two more consecutive starters for Brookes open up the biggest lead of the game, but Birkbeck fought back through Huntley and McMillan. 

It looks like no one knows the musical on the music starter, but Chadha guesses Funny Girl after hearing the lyric 'good for a laugh', which is excellent quizzing. After the bonuses we're back level, at 110 each. 

The scoring has been going at quite the clip and doesn't let up in the second half. Brookes get a couple to go ahead again, but three in a row from Birkbeck nudge them back in front. No one is allowed to build up too much momentum though, and Broadbent buzzes rapidly with games console to regain the advantage for Brookes. Its an absolute basketball match of a quiz, but who is going to be the one to score the dagger?

McMillan puts Birkbeck five points clear, and skipper Chadha gives Taylor Swift (an answer for the second time this series) to put the game beyond Brookes.

Birkbeck 220 - 205 Oxford Brookes

Phew! You can definitely see the effect of Rajan's quicker questioning here. 

This was the first match with a combined score of 400 or more since Durham thrashed Strathclyde 360-55 in 2018. You've got to go back to 2014 for the last match where both teams scored more than 200, when Trinity beat Manchester 285-205 in the quarters.

So despite the fact I think the average score is going to be a bit higher this series than in recent history, Oxford Brookes can count themselves supremely unlucky, and will definitely be returning as high-scoring losers. 

See you tomorrow for Southampton vs Christchurch