#i mean it was already made very clear that this reminded Charles of his dad but he's having full-on flashbacks here

[literally-forever]

i was on my third rewatch when i noticed you can hear Charles pleading with his dad underneath the noises of the Devlin murders

[oddaodd]

· I Don't Go In For Sweets ·

Request: by a lovely anon "set after the events of season 3. Tommy can't handle the company, he's still grieving and he has to be there for Charlie so Polly tells him she knows a girl from a good family to get married He ends up agreeing (aunt Pol can be very persuasive) but even though he's married, this new girl isn't considered as a wife. He doesn't really make any effort but his "wife" understands, he's a widowed father who lost his first wife only a year ago. However since they are...in this, she wants to make her time as enjoyable as possible for the both of them and for Charlie too. But no matter what Tommy makes it a point of honor to not let her in, to not let her replace Grace so he ignores her, he works more, tries to spend as little as possible in the house. Reader stays patient, it will be alright and Charlie is making her quite busy anyway. One night, Tommy comes home completely drunk and maybe a bit high too, he can't even make it to his office. Thankfully Reader is still awake, she takes care of him and Tommy just...melts at how gentle Reader is, he may be able to keep his distant while sober but it's much harder in his state. He admits to her how he's been feeling and all. Ever since that night, something changed, Tommy feels some comfort, some solace being around her, she accepts him wholly, even his flaws, the bad side of his business and she tries to provide some sort of safe place for when it gets too hard." (I edited the request because it was very long, but I kept all essential parts in there)

Author’s note: I loved loved loved writing this and it ended up being SUPER long, but I’m very happy with how it turned out. As always, I hope you like it and have the loveliest of days!

Warnings: season 3 SPOILERS sort of, but not really, still read at your own risk. Arranged marriage, mentions of alcohol and drugs, angst.

·

“Thomas, you may not be able to see it, but you’re breaking apart” Polly spoke with a sigh as she lit a cigarette after everyone was dismissed from a family meeting.

Everyone had left Tommy’s office in arrow house rather gaily after receiving their fair compensations for partaking in the whole Russian ordeal, all except Polly, who remained where she sat, wishing for a word with her nephew

Tommy merely scoffed at her concern before lighting his own cigarette and taking a puff “I’ll be alright”

“And Charlie?” Pol pressed knowing Tommy’s mourning was not only affecting him, but Charlie as well. “What about him?”

“He’s fine” He said before turning around to look through the window, ignoring his Aunt’s heavy stare.

“You take too much after your mother” she sighed half angry half sad “she too loved pretending everything was alright and I don’t need to remind you where that lead her”

Tommy sighed deeply, he knew he could fool anyone. Anyone but Polly. “We’ll manage”

“Consider my offer” Polly said standing up and making her way to the door “Y/n is a good girl from a good family” she persuaded before leaving the room.

Tommy sighed at his Aunt’s words, he wasn’t ready to get married again even when he knew the woman he would be marrying was a nice one. He felt like he was spitting on Grace’s grave and he hated himself for even considering the prospect, but he knew a mother figure would be good for Charlie.

He spent the rest of the day pondering about Polly’s suggestion and remembering his own childhood in the shadow of the absent tortured presence that his mother had been. It didn’t take him long to decide he didn’t want that for Charlie, so that same night he phoned Polly.

“I’ll do it” was all he said before hanging up. There was no need for more words, Polly would know exactly what he meant.

Exactly a week later, Tom was standing in the altar of a church that was significantly smaller than the one from his first wedding. The fact that everything about this wedding was so obscenely different from his first did soothe his guilt a bit. And as he stood there he couldn’t keep his mind from traveling to the days leading up to his wedding to Grace. She had made sure everything was perfect and had made an effort to invite every single relative she could think of. She remembered her rambling on an on about fabrics, insisting that everything ought to be perfect when he in all honestly couldn’t care less, he just wanted to marry her.

All his thoughts vanished away with a poof when Y/n came into sight. And what a sight she was. She had insisted on doing her own makeup and on pinning flowers to her hair to compliment her headpiece and her elegant, yet simple white dress flowed almost mystically as her father gave her away. She had never imagined she would be marrying someone she didn’t know, but she wanted to look her best for getting married is not something people do everyday.

When she stood in the altar, she offered her to be husband a smile which he did not return, instead turning his attention to the priest before them. She mirrored his actions, her heart beating violently under her chest as the priest began speaking.

It all felt like a blur, she could swear it had only been a second since her father had given her away and yet, the priest had already uttered the dreaded “you may now kiss the bride”

Tommy barely brushed his lips against hers and soon the sound of everyone clapping invaded her ears. They had a small party afterwards in Y/n’s former house. Her parents had invited pretty much all of their acquaintances while tommy had only invited his close relatives.

When night fell Tommy was more than ready to leave “Are you ready to go?” was one of the few sentences he uttered to his now wife that night.

She again offered him a smile before saying “yeah just let me say goodbye”

The drive to arrow house was tense, although Y/n didn’t know Thomas very well she would tell he was unhappy. She wondered about what to say to him, but couldn’t come up with anything good enough and soon enough they were pulling over in front of Tommy’s stately home.

“Charlie must already be asleep, but I'll introduce you tomorrow” he said opening Y/n’s door for her.

“It’s alright” she said looking at him, not quite knowing what to do next.

“Your parents sent some of your belongings, I've already asked the maids to take them up to your-our room” he said

“Thank you, Thomas” she smiled as she walked into the big house not yet feeling close enough to him to call him Tommy.

His name falling from her lips caused an echo of bittersweet emotions to stir inside him but he masked it perfectly well as she introduced Y/n to the maids that went to the door to take their coats.

“Frances here will show you the way to the room” he said after having made introductions.

“This way, Mrs” Frances politely said.

Y/n began following her but stopped when she didn’t hear Tommy’s footsteps behind her own.

“Are you not coming?” she asked turning to look at him.

“Maybe in a bit” was all he said before he walked away down one of the many spacious hallways of the house.

After Y/n made herself comfortable in the room and changed into her nightgown she took the time to peek around the room like one always does when one is a strange place. After familiarizing herself with it she laid down in the big bed. She was nervous, she knew what happened on wedding nights. A small chuckle stopped at her lips when she recalled the stories her close already married girlfriends told her. If she hadn’t married a complete stranger she too would be looking forward to it.

Her thoughts ended up luring her to sleep after a while despite her nerves and the night went by in a ridiculously fast flash. The next morning she woke up alone and after getting ready she made her way downstairs. Tommy and Charlie were already in the dining room when she entered it.

“good morning” she said

Charlie immediately turned his attention to her, his eyes widening while his dad merely glanced at her while he muttered a “Good morning “ of his own.

Y/n sat down next to Tommy while he cleared his throat “charles, this is Y/n. We got married yesterday so she’ll be living with us from now on”

Charlie merely nodded in understanding before playing around with his food.

A tense air flooded breakfast until Tommy stood up, having barely touched his food and spoke turning to look at Y/n “I have to go now, if you need anything feel free to ask Frances”

“Alright” Y/n replied feeling a bit disappointed, she would love to get to know him, but she already knew it was going to be difficult.

“I have to go too” Charlie announced in a timid voice, interrupting Y/n’s thoughts. Despite her disappointment she understood, maybe he was just shy and his dad just reticent. They had lost a wife and a mother after all.

The first few days after that, Charlie avoided her nearly as much as his father did and Y/n remained in lonely patience until one night Charlie’s cries interrupted her focus on the book that she had just bought. She rushed to his room and called out his name as she entered not knowing if the boy would be comfortable with her or not.

“What is it?” she asked worried as she knelt by his bed.

“I miss my mum” the boy confessed looking at her with teary eyes as he clutched his blanket.

Y/n felt her heart give a small ache at his confession and in an attempt to comfort him she spoke “She’s not really gone, you know?”

“She’s dead” the boy sobbed.

“but people who die, don’t leave us. Not really anyhow” she said hesitantly rubbing his arm. “just because we cant see them doesn’t mean they are not here”

“I miss seeing her” he continued.

“Oh but you can still see her”

“how”

“before you go to bed just think about her, then she’ll visit you in your dreams” Y/n spoke as if she was telling a fairy tale.

“really?” the boy’s eyes widened.

“really” Y/n confirmed “But you have to think really really hard”

“I’ll try” Charlie said having calmed down a bit.

“very well” Y/n said as she stood up, but Charlie’s voice stopped her.

“can you stay till I fall asleep?”

After that night, Charlie hardly left Y/n’s side and she felt much better with his company for she was sure if he wasn’t there keeping her on her toes all day she would fall into a depressive chasm induced by her husband’s absence.

On the rare moments he was home she tried to strike up conversation with him over breakfast or late at night when he came home and she was burdened by insomnia. But Tommy only humored her with a few short responses before excusing himself or turning to face the other side of the bed.

It wasn’t only the fact that he avoided her as much as he could, but he also made it a priority to exclude her at all times. She was never invited into family meetings or night’s at The Garrison so she thought it was a miracle when tommy didn’t oppose to her planning Charlie’s birthday party.

She invited only Tommy’s family which instantly warmed up to her, noticing what a good influence she was and Polly wanted to slap Thomas for the way he had been acting throughout his marriage to Y/n. Almost feeling guilty for getting her into this mess.

When the party ended Tommy shut himself in his office like he often did when he was at home and though he had never given Y/n a reason to believe she was welcome in there of all places, she found herself allowing herself in after putting Charlie to bed.

Tommy looked up as she entered and let out a sigh before turning his attention back to some papers he had been reading.

“I noticed you didn’t have any” she commented not letting his sigh deflate her as she laid a plate with a slice of homemade chocolate cake on his desk. “it’s really good if I may say so myself” she mused sitting down in a chair opposite to his as she dug in with a fork in her own slice.

“I don’t go in for sweets” he stated.

“Not even chocolate?” Y/n tried, but tommy didn’t answer, instead he just shook his head.

“I still think you should try it, it’s not overly sweet, and…”

“is there anything you need?” he interrupted bluntly a bit harsher than he would’ve liked.

His tone caught her off guard and when she couldn’t come up with an answer tommy again turned his attention back to his papers.

“I wish you could let me in” She softly confessed after a few tense seconds.

“Well I wish we hadn’t married but I guess things don’t always go the way we want them to go”

Tommy knew he had crossed a line by the silence that again settled into the room. He looked up at Y/n with her parted lips and misty eyes. They exchanged glances for a second but instead of allowing him to see her like that any longer, she stood up setting her plate on his desk and walked away, only allowing a few tears to drop by when she was out of the room and his sight.

After that she stopped trying to get closer to him. He still loved his late wife and she understood, people in grief never mean what they say after all, but his words stung nonetheless.

She stopped trying to wait for him at night to see if he had gotten home alright and during breakfast she only uttered polite good mornings.

One night however, Y/n was yanked out of a peaceful sleep by a loud crash. She was on her feet in no time and after checking into Charlie’s room to see if he was alright she cautiously ventured downstairs. A few incoherent mumbles filled her ears before her husband came into sight, fumbling with his coat to get it off.

“need help?” she asked earning his attention.

“I’m fine” he said finally taking it off but as he went to take a step to begin walking the floor under him moved and he lost his balance, his knees crashing loudly against the wooden floor.

Y/n offered him a hand and helped him up. He smelled of whiskey and cigarettes, his hands were shaky, consequence of the snow, no doubt. “let’s get you upstairs”

“I can do it on me own” he slurred letting go of her hand.

“stop being so stubborn” she derided, snaking one of her arms around his waist as she helped him upstairs.

Y/n helped him into bed, tookoff his shoes and went to the bathroom to fetch a small towel and some cold water.

She dampened the towel with the cold water before dabing it gently on Tommy’s forehead. His eyes never leaving her face as she did so, making her grow a bit nervous. She continued, trying her best to ignore it until she felt his hand softly caressing her cheek.

“You are beautiful” he rasped.

“Stop it, Thomas” she said feeling her cheeks grow red when she felt a bit sad that he had to be completely drunk to compliment her.

Even in his drunken state he seemed to notice he was making her uncomfortable so he held his tongue until Y/n laid in bed next to him after turning on the lights.

“I’m sorry” he interrupted the silence “For the way I’ve been acting” the whiskey and cocaine making him more vulnerable and open “I guess I was afraid that if I let you in then she would disappear”

He didn’t expect her to answer, but then her voice came in a soft exhausted tone“ I don’t intend to replace her. You don’t need to act all defensive and secretive. Even if it’s not what you wanted, we are married.”

“I Know” was all he said.

Y/n expected him to withdraw more from her after showing himself that vulnerable to her that night but she was wrong. He began arriving home earlier, sometimes even asking if he could come along on the walks she and Charlie so much adored going on. And Y/n finally felt her marriage was going somewhere maybe it wasn’t based on love yet, but it was something.

One day she was at the stables while Charlie was taking a nap. She had always adored horses.

“I didn’t know you liked horses” came Tommy’s smooth voice causing her to jump.

“You never asked” she smiled petting a black horse as he walked closer to her.

“We could go out for a ride, I’m sure Charlie wouldn’t mind letting you borrow his horse” Tommy offered as he too began to pet the horse, his fingers brushing against Y/n’s for a brief second.

“I’d love to, but I am afraid I don’t know how to ride, Tommy” she said, panicking for a second after having called him that. But she rested assured as soon as he spoke again.

“Well that can be fixed” he said opening the door of the stall and guiding the horse outside.

“You mean now?” Y/n asked with a laugh.

“Got something better to do?” he asked walking out of the stable with the horse. Y/n observed tommy as he prepared the horse. She had never seen him so gentle and calm before and she only realized she had been staring when Tommy directed his attention to her to ask her if she was ready.

“I think so” she said going to stand next to the horse wondering how the hell to climb up. But before she had any more time to think she felt Tommy’s hands on her waist giving her a push that allowed her to pull herself up on the animal. It was a good thing she had chosen to wear slacks that day, she thought.

“Goodness this is high” she said nervously looking down at Tommy when he began guiding the horse to move in a slow walk.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall” he promised repressing a mirthful tone at her nervousness.

He guided the horse with her around the property in the crisp evening air and Y/n allowed herself to relax with every step the horse took. Tommy’s presence made her feel safe and protected and she found it increasingly harder to look away from his figure. She wondered if he could feel her eyes on him.

When the sky began turning soft shades of purple and orange the pair returned to the stables. When the time came from Y/n to come down from the horse, tommy helped her again. Y/n began to love the feeling of him touching her and when her feet touched the ground in front of Thomas, he didn’t remove his hands from her waist right away and instead fixed his blue eyes on her, not wanting to stop looking at her.

She too fixed her eyes on Tommy as she felt a silent gasp in the base of her throat. That was the way she would’ve liked him to look at her on their wedding day. Tommy then leaned in, almost as if he were asking for permission before he tenderly pressed his lips to Y/n’s.

·

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @peakyxtommy @nyotamalfoy @writeroutoftime @babylooneytoonz @slytherinicequeen @lilymurphy03

[nitrateglow]

Favorite films discovered in 2020

Well, this year sucked. I did see some good movies though. Some even made after I was born!

Perfect Blue (dir. Satoshi Kon, 1997)

I watch a lot of thrillers and horror movies, but precious few actually unsettle me in any lasting way. This cannot be said of Perfect Blue, which gave me one of the most visceral cinematic experiences of my life. Beyond the brief flashes of bloodletting (you will never look at a screwdriver the same way again), the scariest thing about Perfect Blue might be how the protagonist has both her life and her sense of self threatened by the villains. The movie’s prescience regarding public persona is also incredibly eerie, especially in our age of social media. While anime is seen as a very niche interest (albeit one that has become more mainstream in recent years), I would highly recommend this movie to thriller fans, whether they typically watch anime or not. It’s right up there with the best of Hitchcock or De Palma.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly (dir. Sergio Leone, 1966)

Nothing is better than when an iconic movie lives up to the hype. Clint Eastwood, Eli Wallach, and Lee Van Cleef play off of one another perfectly. I was impressed by Wallach as Tuco in particular: his character initially seems like a one-dimensional greedy criminal, but the performance is packed with wonderful moments of humanity. Do I really need to say anything about the direction? Or about the wonderful storyline, which takes on an almost mythic feel in its grandeur? Or that soundtrack?

Die Niebelungen (both movies) (dir. Fritz Lang, 1924)

I did NOT expect to love these movies as much as I did. That they would be dazzlingly gorgeous I never doubted: the medieval world of the story is brought to vivid life through the geometrical mise en scene and detailed costuming. However, the plot itself is so, so riveting, never losing steam over the course of the four hours it takes to watch both movies. The first half is heroic fantasy; the second half involves a revenge plot of almost Shakespearean proportions. This might actually be my favorite silent Fritz Lang movie now.

Muppet Treasure Island (dir. Brian Henson, 1996)

I understand that people have different tastes and all, but how does this movie have such a mixed reception? It’s absolutely hilarious. How could anybody get through the scene with “THA BLACK SPOT AGGHHHHHHH” and not declare this a masterpiece of comedy? And I risk being excommunicated from the Muppet fandom for saying it, but I like this one more than The Great Muppet Caper. It’s probably now my second favorite Muppet movie.

Belle de Jour (dir. Luis Bunuel, 1967)

I confess I’m not terribly fond of “but was it real???” movies. They tend to feel gimmicky more often than not. Belle de Jour is an exception. This is about more than a repressed housewife getting her kicks working as a daytime prostitute. The film delves into victim blaming, trauma, class, and identity-- sure, this sounds academic and dry when I put it that way, but what I’m trying to say is that these are very complicated characters and the blurring of fantasy and reality becomes thought-provoking rather than trite due to that complexity.

Secondhand Lions (dir. Tim McCanlies, 2003)

The term “family movie” is often used as a synonym for “children’s movie.” However, there is an important distinction: children’s movies only appeal to kids, while family movies retain their appeal as one grows up. Secondhand Lions is perhaps a perfect family movie, with a great deal more nuance than one might expect regarding the need for storytelling and its purpose in creating meaning for one’s life. It’s also amazingly cast: Haley Joel Osment is excellent as the juvenile lead, and Michael Caine and Robert Duvall steal the show as Osment’s eccentric uncles.

The Pawnbroker (dir. Sidney Lumet, 1964)

Controversial in its day for depicting frontal nudity, The Pawnbroker shocks today for different reasons. As the top review of the film on IMDB says, we’re used to victims of great atrocities being presented as sympathetic, good people in fiction. Here, Rod Steiger’s Sol Nazerman subverts such a trope: his suffering at the hands of the Nazis has made him a hard, closed-off person, dismissive of his second wife (herself also a survivor of the Holocaust), cold to his friendly assistant, and bitter towards himself. The movie follows Nazerman’s postwar life, vividly presenting his inner pain in a way that is almost too much to bear. Gotta say, Steiger gives one of the best performances I have ever seen in a movie here: he’s so three-dimensional and complex. The emotions on his face are registered with Falconetti-level brilliance.

The Apartment (dir. Billy Wilder, 1960)

While not the most depressing Christmas movie ever, The Apartment certainly puts a good injection of cynicism into the season. I have rarely seen a movie so adept at blending comedy, romance, and satire without feeling tone-deaf. There are a lot of things to praise about The Apartment, but I want to give a special shoutout to the dialogue. “Witty” dialogue that sounds natural is hard to come by-- so often, it just feels smart-assy and strained. Not here.

Anatomy of a Murder (dir. Otto Preminger, 1959)

I’m not big into courtroom dramas, but Anatomy of a Murder is a big exception. Its morally ambiguous characters elevate it from being a mere “whodunit” (or I guess in the case of this movie, “whydunit”), because if there’s something you’re not going to get with this movie, it’s a clear answer as to what happened on the night of the crime. Jimmy Stewart gives one of his least characteristic performances as the cynical lawyer, and is absolutely brilliant. 

Oldboy (dir. Park Chan-Wook, 2003)

Oldboy reminded me a great deal of John Webster’s 17th century tragedy The Duchess of Malfi. Both are gruesome, frightening, and heartbreaking works of art, straddling the line between sensationalism and intelligence, proving the two are not mutually exclusive. It’s both entertaining and difficult to watch. The thought of revisiting it terrifies me but I feel there is so much more to appreciate about the sheer craft on display.

Family Plot (dir. Alfred Hitchcock, 1976)

Family Plot is an enjoyable comedy; you guys are just mean. I know in an ideal world, Hitchcock’s swan song would be a great thriller masterpiece in the vein of Vertigo or Psycho. Family Plot is instead a silly send-up of Hitchcock’s favorite tropes, lampooning everything from the dangerous blonde archetype (with not one but two characters) to complicated MacGuffin plots. You’ll probably demand my film buff card be revoked for my opinion, but to hell with it-- this is my favorite of Hitchcock’s post-Psycho movies.

My Best Girl (dir. Sam Taylor, 1927)

Mary Pickford’s farewell to silent film also happens to be among her best movies. It’s a simple, charming romantic comedy starring her future husband, Charles “Buddy” Rogers. Pickford also gets to play an adult character here, rather than the little girl parts her public demanded she essay even well into her thirties. She and Rogers are sweet together without being diabetes-inducing, and the comedy is often laugh out loud funny. It even mocks a few tropes that anyone who watches enough old movies will recognize and probably dislike-- such as “break his heart to save him!!” (my personal most loathed 1920s/1930s trope).

Parasite (dir. Bong Joon-ho, 2019)

This feels like such a zeitgeist movie. It’s about the gap between the rich and the poor, it’s ironic,  it’s depressing, it’s unpredictable as hell. I don’t like terms like “modern classic,” because by its very definition, a classic can only be deemed as such after a long passage of time, but I have a good feeling Parasite will be considered one of the definitive films of the 2010s in the years to come.

Indiscreet (dir. Stanley Donen, 1958)

Indiscreet often gets criticized for not being Notorious more or less, which is a shame. It’s not SUPPOSED to be-- it’s cinematic souffle and both Ingrid Bergman and Cary Grant elevate that light material with their perfect chemistry and comedic timing. It’s also refreshing to see a rom-com with characters over 40 as the leads-- and the movie does not try to make them seem younger or less mature, making the zany moments all the more hilarious. It’s worth seeing for Cary Grant’s jig (picture above) alone.

The Taking of Pelham One Two Three (dir. Joseph Sargent, 1974)

This movie embodies so much of what I love about 70s cinema: it’s gritty, irreverent, and hard-hitting. It’s both hilarious and suspenseful-- I was tense all throughout the run time. I heard there was a remake and it just seems... so, so pointless when you already have this gem perfect as it is.

They All Laughed (dir. Peter Bogdonavich, 1981)

Bogdonavich’s lesser known homage to 1930s screwball comedy is also a weirdly autumnal movie. Among the last gasps of the New Hollywood movement, it is also marks the final time Audrey Hepburn would star in a theatrical release. The gentle comedy, excellent ensemble cast (John Ritter is the standout), and the mature but short-lived romance between Hepburn and Ben Gazarra’s characters make this a memorably bittersweet gem.

The Palm Beach Story (dir. Preston Sturges, 1942)

Absolutely hilarious. I was watching this with my parents in the room. My mom tends to like old movies while my dad doesn’t, but both of them were laughing aloud at this one. Not much else to say about it, other than I love Joel McCrea the more movies I see him in-- though it’s weird seeing him in comedies since I’m so used to him as a back-breaking man on the edge in The Most Dangerous Game!

Nothing Sacred (dir. William Wellman, 1937)

I tend to associate William Wellman with the pre-code era, so I’ve tried delving more into his post-code work. Nothing Sacred is easily my favorite of those films thus far, mainly for Carole Lombard but also because the story still feels pretty fresh due to the jabs it takes at celebrity worship and moral hypocrisy. For a satire, it’s still very warm towards its characters, even when they’re misbehaving or deluding themselves, so it’s oddly a feel-good film too.

Applause (dir. Rouben Mamoulian, 1929)

I love watching early sound movies, but my inner history nerd tends to enjoy them more than the part of me that, well, craves good, well-made movies. Most early sound films are pure awkward, but there’s always an exception and Applause is one of them. While the plot’s backstage melodrama is nothing special, the way the story is told is super sophisticated and expressive for this period of cinema history, and Helen Morgan makes the figure of the discarded burlesque queen seem truly human and tragic rather than merely sentimental.

Topaz (dir. Alfred Hitchcock, 1969)

Another late Hitchcock everyone but me seems to hate. After suffering through Torn Curtain, I expected Hitchcock’s other cold war thriller was going to be dull as dishwater, but instead I found an understated espionage movie standing in stark contrast to the more popular spy movies of the period. It’ll never be top Hitchcock, of course-- still it was stylish and enjoyable, with some truly haunting moments. I think it deserves more appreciation than it’s been given.

What were your favorite cinematic discoveries in 2020?

[marvelyningreen]

Gone Fishin’

Father’s Day 2/2

Peter Maximoff & Erik Lehnsherr

-🎣-

Even Peter could barely believe how long he’d sat still – like, actually sat still without zipping off to get something else done while he waited – in the garden behind the school. Sure, it’d only been about twenty minutes, but that was an eternity for him.

Oh, looked like the waiting was over. Peter caught sight of Erik walking down the back stairs. Perfect.

“Hey!” he called out.

As Erik glanced in his direction, Peter decided to be polite and walk over to him and a normal pace.

“Not going on that mission with the others?” Peter asked.

“Several world powers would rather prefer that I didn’t,” Erik said dryly, “So, no. I remain in retirement.”

Peter grinned. “Great! That means you’ve got the morning free, then, right?”

A suspicious look crossed Erik’s face.

“I suppose I do,” he said, and it almost sounded like a question.

“Well, come on! We’re burning daylight here.”

Peter grabbed Erik’s arm with one hand, bracing his neck with the other.

“Peter, I don’t-”

He took off without giving Erik a chance to finish his thought. This was only sorta kidnapping, considering this guy was one of the most powerful mutants on the planet. If he absolutely wanted to leave, Peter would take him back to the school before he could, who knows, yank out all the iron in his bloodstream or something.

Peter came to a halt where he’d left the gear earlier that morning. Thankfully, it was all still there. He wasn’t sure somebody would want to steal a bunch of borrowed old fishing gear, but dumber things had happened. He slowed back down to normal speed, making sure Erik didn’t faceplant before releasing his hold.

“- know what you’re getting at,” Erik finished, just a little dazed. “Where on earth are we?”

The little lake was a few miles outside of town, just below a dam. When he was running errands one day, Peter heard a couple of older locals discussing it as a good fishing spot. It was secluded enough – just a little access road leading to a small boat launch, without even a fishing dock. Peter kinda figured that, for as much time as Erik spent at the Xavier mansion years ago, he’d probably never been down this way.

“I heard it’s a good spot for fishing,” Peter said. “And it’s boring to go alone, so…”

“Fishing,” Erik repeated flatly.

“Yeah.” Peter paused. “Unless… you’ve got something else going on?”

He held Erik’s gaze for a second, certain he was going to demand to be taken back to the school rather than be forced into a trivial outing.

But Erik just sighed. “Alright, then. What do you fish for?”

“Me? Validation, mostly.” Peter laughed, then broke off, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Right, sorry. The professor said I should stop using self-deprecating humor as a defense mechanism.”

“That… certainly sounds like something Charles would say.”

Welp, that couldn’t have gone worse if he’d tried. Peter busied himself with checking over the fishing poles, and took a second shot at answering Erik’s question.

“Bass, I think,” he said. “At least, that’s what people say. I’ve never actually caught anything. I get bored after five minutes, y’know?”

He grinned, handing Erik one of the poles. Erik took it with an expression of complete exasperation.

“Why on earth did you drag me all the way out here if you don’t catch any fish?” he asked, massaging his forehead.

“Wha-? What kind of a question is that? Fishing is fun! That’s the sort of thing that people do on… on days like today, right?” Nearly blew it again right there. Peter turned away. “Where did I leave those worms?”

“You didn’t bring any,” Erik said flatly.

“I… oh.”

Shit. At a loss, Peter stood motionless for a second, staring down at the now-useless assortment of fishing gear. He’d made a mess of things, like usual. Well, nothing else for it now. He straightened up, turning back to face Erik with a smile.

“That’s fine!” he said cheerily. “I’ll just run back and-”

“Peter, wait,” said Erik, grabbing his arm as he went to turn away again. “I know.”

Erik released his arm and regarded him in silence. Panic was setting in. Was this the plan? Peter couldn’t remember how he’d wanted this conversation to go. He shifted his weight, rubbing at the back of his neck in a desperate attempt to appear casual.

“You, uh… You know?” he floundered. “What, exactly, is it? That you know?”

“I know that you’re my son.”

Peter’s stomach dropped. Erik was hard to read to start with, and Peter couldn’t begin to figure out what he was thinking. Every chaotic conflicted feeling Peter had had since he was a kid washed over him at once, and sent him reeling inwardly.

“You, uh… Huh.” Peter’s mouth felt as dry as chalk. “I didn’t think you… did.”

“Of course I know,” said Erik. “How could I not? Do you think I can look at you and not see your mother in your face?”

Peter suddenly found it very hard to meet Erik’s gaze.

Ever since he’d put two and two together himself, Peter had worried that he reminded his mom too much of Erik, that even looking at him would bring up painful memories for her. So hearing that Erik saw something of his mom in him, too… It made him happy, honestly – but it was hard to know how Erik meant it.

“I kinda figured, uh…” Peter frowned for a moment, struggling to find the right words. “When I was a kid, at least, I kinda figured that you knew about me, and you just didn’t want anything to do with me because I was always such a screw-up. But I wanted you to care, I guess.”

With a flick of his wrist, Peter sent the stone sailing across the water. It didn’t skip even once, just hit the water with a dull plunk and sank to the bottom. Wow. What appropriate imagery.

“But then Cairo happened,” he went on, “And when they told me everything that’d happened to you, I just… I knew it was the wrong time. With everything you’d lost, I couldn’t. I’m sorry for bringing it up. I’m making a mess out of this, I know. It’s just… maybe there won’t ever be a right time. I didn’t want to wait too long and be too late, y’know?”

A breeze, barely cooler than the hot June sun, skated across the lake. Ever since Peter hit his late twenties, it’d gotten so much easier to match the pace of the rest of the world without getting impatient. Not now, though. The seconds he waited for Erik to reply passed at an agonizing crawl.

“You’re right, you know.”

Peter’s gaze snapped back to Erik as he finally spoke. Erik watched him for a second more, smiling sadly.

“I wouldn’t have been ready to hear it then,” Erik went on. “I want to thank you – for giving me time to grieve.”

“If you need more time, that’s okay,” Peter said hurriedly. “I’m not trying to pressure you or anything, I just-”

Erik shook his head. “I think I’ve made you wait long enough. You’re already a better man than I’ve ever been, Peter. Please understand that I don’t say this lightly. Your unflinching courage, the hope you bring to those around you – these are things to be proud of.”

Peter looked away again, falling back on his usual self-deprecation.

“I don’t… I mean-” He broke off suddenly as he felt Erik grip his shoulder.

“I know that I’ve hardly been a father to you, and for that, I am sorry. But I’d be proud to call you my son, Peter.”

Dammit, he didn’t think he was gonna get choked up over this. But whenever he’d thought through how this conversation would play out, it always seemed to end in rejection or indifference. That Erik might actually, honestly be proud of him was something Peter had never really considered.

Peter sped up for just a second – just long enough to wipe at his eyes without Erik seeing – and then cleared his throat to steady his voice before answering.

“I’d like that,” he said. “If, y’know, if you’re okay with it.”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean.” Erik smiled, releasing his shoulder and taking a step back. “Now, run off and get us some worms. It sounds like you’ve got more fishing experience than I do, so you’ll have to teach me.”

With a grin, Peter sped off. Part of him still kinda expected to find the shoreline empty when he got back, but no – Erik was still there waiting for him.

Him and his dad having their first ever fishing trip. Huh. Peter couldn’t think of a better way to spend Fathers Day.

[amyscascadingtabs]

rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky

It’s the perfect little getaway, exactly what they needed. It would be even better if she could only stop thinking.

“So, tell me.” Jake holds her hand over the table, forcing her back to reality. “Five top moments for us 2019, go. Countdown-stylez.”

Three different New Year's Eves, as celebrated by Jake and Amy (and Mac).

read on ao3 💕

december 31st, 2019.

The hotel guests checking in before Jake and Amy are a family. A little girl with blonde hair, maybe four or five years old, is carrying her own pink backpack and making up dance steps around her father’s feet as he goes through the information with the receptionist, and an even younger boy is hiding behind his mother’s legs as he watches the people in the lobby with wide eyes. Looking up, Amy realizes that the mother’s open coat is revealing a baby bump, too. She’d put her at six, maybe seven months pregnant. Three kids. Amy feels a pang of jealousy.

Even with the observation skills of an experienced detective, it shocks her how good she’s become at picking out families and pregnant women in any crowd. It’s an interesting talent, but measured against the pain it causes her, Amy wouldn’t call it a very useful one. She notices Jake looking at the kids as well, a daydreaming look on his face, and somehow, that makes her pain worse.

The idea behind going away to a hotel upstate for New Year’s was so they could get away from the stress for a moment; go somewhere else, rest and relax, forget about the pregnancy master calendar they’ve stared themselves blind at for a few days. Amy didn’t realize how impossible it would be to get away from all the other reminders.

She draws a breath of relief when the family in front of them gets the keys to their room, the little girl running first towards the elevator and her brother laughing as he chases after.

“Cute kids,” Jake whispers, watching them longingly.

“Yeah.” Amy tries not to think about the negative pregnancy test she threw away in the bathroom trashcan before they left. “Really cute.”

//

“I’m excited you said we could drink tonight.” Jake toasts his White Russian with her glass of Sauvignon. “It’s been a while.”

“I know, “ Amy feels the guilt wash over her. “Well, it’s not New Year’s Eve every day. I think we’ve earned it.” And I already took a negative test, she thinks.

“We sure have.” He gives her a closer look, pressing his lips together like he always does when he’s worried about her. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Just tired,” she says. It’s not technically a lie. “I didn’t sleep that well last night.”

“Lucky we have a huge hotel bed to help with that tonight, then. Seriously, this place rocks.”

Amy’s prepared to agree on that part – she did her research the moment it stood clear they would both get New Year’s Eve off. After getting their room, they’ve spent the evening getting massages in the hotel spa, dining at the surprisingly nice restaurant, and now they’re admiring the view from the bar on the top floor, waiting for the fireworks. It’s the perfect little getaway, exactly what they needed. It would be even better if she could only stop thinking.

“So, tell me.” Jake holds her hand over the table, forcing her back to reality. “Five top moments for us 2019, go. Countdown-stylez.”

“Number five!” She rolls the r and holds on the i, earning herself an amused look from the older couple next to them. “Okay, I’m going to go with… that date you took me on for my birthday. I can’t believe you got into the puzzle bar this time!”

“I might have convinced the guard to let me in because it was your birthday, but still a good one. Number fooo-uur… the Cinco de Mayo-heist. God, that was fun, even if the tasing hurt like a bitch.”

“Agreed. Number three – when Holt finally invited us to that dinner party and I almost didn’t lose my cool once.”

“You keep telling yourself that, babe. Number two… the Jake way. Seriously, I still think we should try that again. It was awesome.”

“It was, but also way inappropriate,” she reminds him, but he just shrugs. “Number one, then.”

“I know which one is mine, but you go first.”

Amy swallows, then sighs. “Mine is after the manhunt. When we decided to start trying. That’s still my favorite moment.”

“Mine, too.” Jake looks her in the eyes, and she knows the bittersweet feeling is shared. “It’s going to happen, Ames. I know it. Maybe this month’s the one.”

Amy doesn’t have the strength to correct him, tell him she’s already taken an early test and that she’s lacking any confidence there’s going to be a second line when she tests again in a couple of days. Luckily, she doesn’t have to, because right then, the fireworks that have been going off a few at a time in the distance begin to multiply as the countdown starts.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four…

Amy leans forward so she can be kissing him already when the new year begins.

Three, two, one… happy new year!

The crowd around them erupts into cheers as the sky glows with colorful explosions when burning bits of metal lighting up the darkness outside. Jake kisses her deeper, seeming to forget that there are people around with a bit of alcohol in his system and his hands cupping her face. For a moment, Amy lets herself just be happy.

~

december 31st, 2020.

The instant Amy closes her eyes for the more-than-well-deserved nap Jake told her to take while he made dinner, Mac begins to cry from his crib again.

“McClane, please,” Amy pleads, as if reasoning with her two-month-old would solve his discontent. “You can't seriously be hungry again, that’s insane.”

She tries with the pacifier first, checking his diaper, even standing up and walking around with him for a bit to eliminate anything else, but Mac is still clenching his fists and only looking even more furious with her, so Amy gives in. She sits down with him again, unhooks one side of the bra and lets him find his grip, exhaling when the peaceful suckles begin and the desperate crying finally ceases. She swears it looks like her son is side-eyeing her for taking too long, but to her defense, she fed him for a good forty-five minutes only a little over an hour ago and it's exhausting being used like a human pacifier. Growth spurt, Camila Santiago said when Amy called her in tears yesterday, and the problem-shooting section in the 0-3 months baby-binder had agreed. Amy would argue that sounds way too innocent for something which is turning her otherwise happy and smiley baby into a constantly hungry and crying mini-monster who won't close his eyes for more than twenty minutes at a time.

There's a soft knock on the door after a few minutes, and Jake peeks in. He’s wearing his fancy kitchen apron, which Charles gave him for Christmas with the comment that there’s nothing sexier than a dad who can cook. It hasn’t magically improved his cooking skills, but Amy’s willing to admit that it does look good on him.

“You guys doing okay?”

“He is, for now. I’m going crazy. How’s our dinner going?”

“Well, I haven’t burnt it yet, but there’s still time,” he grimaces, sitting down at the foot of the bed. “Do you need anything, babe?”

“Sleep, but that’s not going to happen.” Amy rubs her eyes. “It’s fine. He’s got to fall asleep at some point, though, this is nuts.”

“Don’t challenge him, he’s breaking records,” Jake says, leaning forward to tickle Mac’s feet. Mac reacts by kicking at the boob he’s not currently feeding from, making Amy curse. “Oops, sorry. Anyway, I’m sure he will fall asleep at some point, and we can have a nice, calm New Year’s dinner. I mean, he has to be exhausted, right?”

“God, I hope so. I’m starving.” She can see Mac’s eyelids getting heavy, but every time she thinks they’re about to fall closed, it’s like he twitches and stares at her, wide awake. “He’s lucky he’s cute.”

Jake grins. “Lucky indeed.”

Mac starts pulling away at that moment, a little bit of milk still dribbling from his cheeks. Amy reaches for one of the muslin blankets that’s never more than a few feet away in their home nowadays, lifting him so he’s upright against her shoulder and patting him on the back. She expects a burp, but instead, she gets an unpleasant surprise when he spits up, managing to get sour baby puke down her back and in her already greasy hair. She groans, giving Jake an exhausted look when she sees him stifling a chuckle.

“Hey, I’ll take him. You go take a shower and I’ll put him in the BabyBjörn. Maybe that will do it.”

“That’s the hottest thing you’ve ever said,” Amy mumbles, and she’s not entirely kidding.

She makes the shower as long as she possibly can. Most days, she has to shower with Mac in the baby bouncer on the bathroom floor, so even the chance to be alone in the bathroom for more than five minutes feels like a luxury. She lets the shampoo really lather and the conditioner take its time to sink in, trying to massage the knots in her neck and shoulders under the hot water. She can hear Mac still fussing from the kitchen, and it makes her feel guilty even though he’s barely left her arms today.

“He’s fine,” she whispers to herself like a mantra. “He’s fine. Jake can handle it. He’s perfectly fine. Everything’s okay. You deserve this.”

She still skips the make-up and nicer clothes she had been planning to put on, throwing on a pair of maternity leggings and one of Jake’s old hoodies instead.

The dinner looks fantastic, some sort of chicken baked in the oven with rice and a lemon sauce, and Amy’s actually impressed. She imagines it would have been even nicer if she could have eaten it warm and together with Jake, but they only make it through toasting in orange soda and the first two bites before Mac wakes up from his ten-minute-nap, wailing as if he truly believed he’d just been abandoned. They end up having to take turns eating and walking laps around the living room with him, because he starts crying again if they stop moving for a second or as much as make an attempt to put him down. Amy is suddenly relieved they said no to her brother Tony’s New Year’s party-invite.

She can barely believe it when after what feels like the fiftieth or so feed of the day, Mac falls asleep. Curled up like a little frog on her chest and letting out the cutest of baby snores, he finally seems to relax, and Amy doesn’t even dare to breathe too sharply for the first ten minutes. Eventually, though, once it seems like he’s not going to wake up from the slightest movement or a raised voice anymore, Jake tucks them both in under a blanket and gets the Ben and Jerry’s from the freezer and orange soda from the fridge. Then he gets another blanket for himself, and they snuggle up together in the corner of the sofa in front of the tv. From live footage at Times Square, Amy can see crowds of people waiting for the ball to drop.

“Wishing you were there?” Jake winks, but she just laughs.

“Are you kidding? Cold, crowded, and you can never even get a good view. This is better in every way.” She strokes her thumb over Mac’s dark hair. “I have this one and you. That’s all I need. And ice cream,” she adds, digging out a piece of cookie dough from the tub.

“You’re right, it’s pretty damn close to perfection. Top five moments of 2020?”

Amy shakes her head, pointing to Mac. “No point. They’re all about him, anyway, and they’re all too good to compare.”

“True that.” Jake shakes his head. “Hey, isn’t it crazy that although he’s been kind of a nightmare today, I’ve already forgiven him?”

“No, it makes perfect sense, because I’ve almost wanted to give him away several times and now I can’t even remember why.”

“Having a baby makes us kind of crazy, huh?”

“Oh, absolutely. I wouldn’t change it for the world, though.”

“Me neither. Not even if I was offered a role in the next Die Hard-movie and Taylor Swift did the soundtrack.”

“That’s pretty big,” Amy laughs, leaning in for a quick kiss. “Would Taylor Swift do the soundtrack for Die Hard, though? Realistically speaking?”

“It’s a daydream, Ames!”

She has no time for a comeback, though, because right then, the countdown starts on the tv and Jake raises the volume a few bars so they can hear.

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four…

p;

“New Year’s kiss,” Amy says, holding Mac up slightly so they can both reach him.

Three, two, one… happy new year!

They both smother his cheeks with kisses at the same time as the fireworks explode over the sky in the distance outside their windows and the crowd begins to cheer on tv. Mac doesn’t even flinch, completely oblivious to the celebrations going on outside. Amy sighs.

“How can he magically sleep through all of this, but wake up the second I put him down in his crib at night?”

Jake shrugs. “Babies, man.”

~

december 31st, 2021.

Amy has only started to take off Mac’s winter overall before he starts trying to flee, kicking wildly with his boots and pointing towards the kitchen where he’s already spotted Rosa. Jake notices her struggle and is quick to help her, and the instant the toddler is free, he hurries off towards his best friend.

“Wo-wo-wo-wo-wo-wo!”

“Mac! Hey, happy new year, man!” Before Amy can even take off her own jacket, Mac is already in Rosa’s arms and babbling excitedly as he plays with her gold necklace. Amy wonders how much of what Mac’s saying actually makes sense to Rosa, but she’s nodding and smiling and seems to have abandoned whoever she was previously talking to in favor of the one-year-old.

“Jake. Amy.” Kevin appears to take their coats, shaking their hands. “Welcome. Drinks and hors d’oeuvres are in the living room, and I see your small child has made himself at home.”

“He found Rosa, yep.” Jake grins. “And he has a name.”

“Ah, yes… McClane.” Kevin nods. “Very well. I have to go check on… the kitchen. Enjoy your evening.”

  “He’s never going to like me,” Jake whispers to Amy the moment he’s left.

“Well, I think we both might have lost a few points with the name choice, babe.”

“He’s one to talk names, he’s got a dog named after a cheese!”

“I know, but we can’t tell him that. Come on, Jake, I have to find something to chew on before I get sick.”

“You can always blame it on the alcohol, if you do.”

“Jake.”

“Just kidding,” he grins. “You go check on Mac and Rosa and I’ll locate the snacks.”

 It turns out Rosa is more than willing to guard Mac for the evening, currently showing him the model train she's found in the library. Mac is watching with focus as Rosa helps him turn on the button that makes the train drive around the tracks, laughing as it lets out a choo-choo sound.

“Your son is much cooler than the rest of these lame partygoers,” she shrugs when Amy asks her if she's sure it's fine. “He says what he's thinking, unlike the rest of all these dum-dums.”

“Dum-dums,” Mac repeats, proud. Rosa nods.

“Exactly. I’ll call you if something happens.”

 And so, in an unexpected turn of events, Amy finds herself able to sit down for most of the evening without having to chase a wild toddler around to keep him from whatever dangers he could somehow manage to get himself into in Holt’s and Kevin’s house. She supposes it looks quite antisocial of her, and maybe it is, but she’s six weeks pregnant and the early symptoms of nausea and fatigue seem to be coming on both stronger and faster the second time around, so Amy doesn’t really care. She’s got lemon sparkling water for a non-alcoholic drink, a paper plate of carrot sticks, salted crisps and almonds, and she’s not going to talk to anyone unless they sit down next to her. It’s practically heaven. Jake checks on her from time to time, assuring her multiple times that they can just leave early if she wants to, but however tired she feels, Amy doesn’t want to insult Holt that badly. They’re staying until midnight as per proper New Year’s party etiquette, and then — and not a second later — they can go home so she can crash in bed.

 Rosa finds her again when Mac begins to get sleepy, rubbing his eyes and yawning but still shaking his head when Amy asks if he's feeling a little tired. He crawls over to her arms anyway, laying his head on her shoulder and hugging his arms around her chest.

“Thanks for looking after him,” she tells Rosa, but she just shrugs.

“No worries. I don't get to hang out with him enough. Your kid is dope.”

“Douh,” Mac whispers, mimicking her, and Rosa laughs.

“Repeats every word you tell him, too,” Amy says. “Yeah, he’s pretty awesome. Come over to our apartment at five-thirty in the morning on any weekend and you can hang out with him all you want. I won't stop you.”

Rosa scrunches her nose. “I’ll consider it.”

“He’s in a great mood then, I can assure you that.”

“I'll take your word for it. Also, Jake was tipsy talking baby names with some etymology professor when I saw him last, and he seemed very intense about it for a guy who's not currently thinking of naming any new babies. Or?” She raises an eyebrow.

“No, he just get thats intense when somebody implies McClane is a weird name,” Amy says, and makes a note to herself to remind Jake about their agreement not to tell anyone else at least until the twelve-week mark. “Which, to be fair, I warned him that people would think. But here we are anyway.”

“It is a weird name. Couldn’t imagine him being called anything else, though, even if I still don’t understand why you agreed to it.”

“There was a really good PowerPoint involved.”

Rosa looks at her questioningly, but Amy shakes her head, knowing there’s no point in explaining the unexplainable.

“Hmm. You guys are weird. You make pretty great kids, though.”

“Yeah.” Mac has fallen asleep by now, drooling a little bit on Amy’s shoulder. She kisses the top of his head and thinks of the abstract idea of her second kid, the thump-thump of an already present heartbeat they got so lucky as to hear on an early ultrasound yesterday. “The best.”

 As midnight draws closer, most of the guests take on jackets, scarves and shoes to venture out into the garden to watch fireworks. Not wanting to be left out, Amy and Jake manage to get a half-sleeping Mac, who wakes up suddenly interested when he hears about the promise of fireworks, into his overall and join them. It’s a surprisingly good view from the garden, the cold winter air waking them up, and Jake points out the vibrant displays in the sky to a drowsy Mac, who blinks at them dazedly. It’s so cute it makes Amy tear up. Being both a mom and newly pregnant does that to her; she’s given up trying to fight it.

  It’s hard to believe that two years ago, she was toasting in champagne in a hotel bar and wondering if they would ever make a baby together, and now she’s standing in a garden watching Jake with their one-year-old son and knowing that next New Year’s, if all goes well, they’ll be parents of two.

“What are you thinking of?” Jake must see her tears, because he looks worried, but Amy just smiles.

“Just how quickly things can change. How happy I am. And how much I love you.”

“Love you, too. Top three-hundred-and-sixty-five moments of this year,” Jake says, hugging her close so they’re standing in a little family bubble. “Every single day I get to wake up with and then come home to my family.”

  Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four…

  They both lean in so they can smother their son with kisses, and he laughs as he figures out what’s about to happen.

 Three, two, one… happy new year!

  The sky explodes with color, Jake and Amy attack their son with kisses, and as the new year begins, Amy thinks she might just be the luckiest person in the entire world.

~

[porkchop-ao3]

A Thrill I’ve Never Known (Chapter 64)

Loose Ends

Yep, I’m still alive! Just not spending any time at all writing 😅😬 Here’s another chapter anyway, I hope you enjoy! Also, happy holidays and here’s hoping for a better 2021!!

Tagging @emily-strange and @actuallyhansolo ❤

(All chapters tagged with #ATINK and also posted on Ao3, username PorkChop)

-

We moved west, staying north, and found a place to camp far from where any Pinkertons were still patrolling. We travelled for hours, all through the remaining hours of the night, through the morning and into the afternoon. We ended up at Cotorra Springs when the sun began to set; it was cooler there and when we found a spot away from any trails, pretty secluded, we decided it was as good a place as any. The rushing sound of the geysers erupting every now and then kept making me jump at first but soon became a somewhat comforting sound. A reminder that no matter what happened, life always carried on, the world wasn't going to stop spinning and fall to pieces just yet.

We set up a small campsite with a few tents and a fire, over which we cooked meat from a deer that Charles had hunted while the rest of us set up. None of us knew how long we would be there but it was clear that we all needed some food and some rest before we even attempted to figure out our next move. We all sat around the fire with our food and little Jack was asleep with Cain by his side; the dog had tagged along with us on our journey, jumping atop the Marston's wagon whenever he got too tired.

"What exactly are we all gonna do?" John was the first one to bring up the elephant in the room, and everyone turned to eye him almost irritatedly.

Nobody spoke up or offered any sort of response, and after a moment, Lenny threw his hat in the ring.

"It's a good question. We can't live like this forever, can we?"

"Course not," Arthur said. He didn't quite snap the words but they weren't untroubled. "We've got a chest full of money on that wagon, we'll… we'll figure out what everyone wants to do and split it accordingly."

"I don't want a penny of that money," Sadie hissed, then spat into the fire, "reeks of Dutch and Micah and dirty betrayal."

"Hey, that implies it was all their money. Dutch barely put a penny in if it weren't from a job we all did together," John scoffed.

"I don't want it either but let's be rational. We're gonna need it," Charles said, looking at Sadie. "We didn't just go through all that only to starve to death at the end of it, all because of pride."

"He's got a point," I agreed. "I don't think any of us should have a problem taking that bastard's money," I added.

"Ain't his money," John shook his head, picking at something stuck in his teeth, "it's our half, fair 'n' square."

"Yeah," I nodded after a moment, but frowned a little. Silence lingered. 

"It's obvious none of us feel too good about takin' it," Abigail broke it, stating the unspoken.

"I feel fine," John snorted.

"Me too, for the most part," I hesitantly agreed. Arthur sighed beside me and everyone looked at him.

"For the love of God, not a single one of you refuse that money. This is hard enough, at this point, that money's the only thing that made this possible. Without money, we're trapped, and if we're trapped, we'll end up in the damn ground," he told us through tensely gritted teeth. More silence followed, broken by Susan.

"You're right, Mr. Morgan. This ain't no time for pride and making things needlessly hard on ourselves. We've just gotta take this opportunity to get the heck out of this mess, so I don't wanna hear no bellyaching from any of you," she said sternly, and John nodded in agreement. Lenny took a breath, and nodded too. 

"And what're you gonna do Miss Grimshaw?" I asked her softly. She met my eyes across the fire, her brows arching a little in surprise that I'd asked. 

"Me? I'm- I'm–" she began hesitantly, and glanced at the others before letting out a breath. 

"You ain't thought about it none?" Abigail asked, and Susan turned her gaze to her.

"Quite the opposite," she scoffed a laugh, then patted the side of her hair bun in an attempt at brushing back fly-aways. "Maybe I'm just a little bit ashamed to admit that I've been planning for this for a while."

My eyes widened, and so did most of the others'. 

"Oh come on. Please. A woman would have to be foolish to not consider a few back up plans in this way of life. Especially with how things have been the past few months. Even Miss O'Shea had her plans," she added, and my eyes dropped down at her mention. I always felt strange about the whole Molly situation, considering I was potentially the last person to really talk to her.

"You ain't wrong. So what's your plan?" Abigail asked. 

"I know a lot of people Miss Roberts, I have options," she chuckled. "But I think I envision a future in moonshine. An old friend of mine's been wanting to go into business together for a while now, I think I'll pay her a visit."

"Which old friend is this, anyone we know?" Arthur questioned.

"No. If you knew her, you'd know exactly who I'm talking about. She ain't a lady you easily forget," Susan chuckled, shaking her head. 

"Ain't nothing to do with those Braithwaites, then?" John snorted and Susan rolled her eyes.

"The Maggie I know would sooner hang than have anything to do with those idiots," she laughed. I smiled as I watched her laugh, feeling my admiration for her swell. Susan was a woman I would never be like, and I knew I'd miss her sorely despite all of the times I'd giggled when one of the girls would roll their eyes or pull a face at her behind her back. I knew everyone had a lot of love for her, and I did too. 

"What about you then, Lenny?" Arthur asked. "What's your plan?"

"Ohh, I'll be a rolling stone for a while I think, see where life takes me. I’d like to… learn,” he said almost hesitantly, a mild frown puckering the skin between his brows. His eyes lifted and settled on Charles for a brief moment, “maybe, if the stars align, I might just have a chance at making something of myself,” he laughed, but there was an ugly reality behind his words that bittered them slightly, though he kept smiling, and it was no accident that it was Charles that his eyes landed on. The smile that Charles returned to him was one of quiet understanding.

“My father, he wanted me to be a lawyer,” Lenny turned his grin to me, his eyes brightening a little. “From bank robber to lawyer, can you imagine that?”

I chuckled, despite the fact that with Lenny’s intelligence, charisma and articulateness, I didn't doubt his capability.

“Dutch always said I had too much potential to stay robbing banks for the rest of my life,” he breathed, looking down into the fire, the flames reflecting in his eyes, making them shine bright even though his energy dulled a little at his mention. Yet another silence fell across the campfire and I kept my eyes on the young man before me, so full of potential yet held back by so many factors far out of his control, and my heart hurt.

“I think that's the only thing I know of that came out of his mouth and made a lick of sense,” I noted. He looked at me, held my gaze for a few moments, then released a quiet breath.

“Maybe I’ll head to Washington D.C. Try to get a job, or go to school. I don't know about being a lawyer,” he breathed a laugh and shook his head, “but doing something… more than what I have been doing. That’d be good. I think my dad would be proud of that.”

“Your dad would be proud of you already, Lenny. I mean that. You’re a good kid, got a good heart,” Arthur told him, and everyone made a show of agreement, nodding, humming confirmations and patting him on the shoulder. 

“Thanks, all’a you, I… it's been quite a ride, ain’t it?” Lenny sighed. 

“That it has…” Charles trailed off. 

“And I think I’m gonna hit the hay,” Abigail announced, dropping her plate on the ground before rising to her feet. I watched as she very carefully bundled Jack up into her arms. “Goodnight, y’all.”

“Goodnight,” the rest of us whispered softly, as if suddenly we would all wake up the boy, even though he’d been sleeping just fine before. 

“I need some sleep too,” John agreed, and it set off a chain reaction, and Lenny and Susan retired to their sleeping spots. Charles drained the contents of his bottle of the beer that Sadie had managed to snag before we all left. 

“Arthur, tomorrow night we should…” he said quietly as he rose to his feet, trailing off. Arthur met his eyes and stared silently for a while, then nodded. 

“We will.”

“Alright. Thank you,” Charles nodded, then headed towards his tent.

“I weren’t planning on leaving him, not for a second,” Arthur called after him and Charles waved a hand dismissively, smiling over his shoulder at him.

“I know. Goodnight, folks,” he added, then crawled inside his tent to bed down for the night. I glanced at Arthur for some clarification and his eyes dropped to the ground.

“Eagle Flies got captured by the army. I said I’d break him out, I have to, princess–”

“Don't think I’m gonna try to stop you,” I whispered. He turned his head towards me, and I kissed his cheek. 

“Thank you. He got caught when I was helping Dutch screw the lot of ‘em over, pretending to be helpful. I gotta speak to him and his father, tell them about what happened with the gang today. Eagle Flies can’t keep on trusting him, getting sucked in by his fancy words just like I did at his age. It won’t do anyone any good in the end,” he explained, and I nodded in agreement.

"You need some help breaking him out?" Sadie questioned. Arthur met her eyes and shook his head. 

"Charles has a plan, shouldn't need more than the two of us."

"In that case, maybe there's something you can help me with instead," she said, leaning forwards, elbows on knees. My stomach squeezed a bit at the way her eyes lit with devilish determination. "O'Driscolls. There's a bunch of 'em hiding out over at Hanging Dog Ranch."

"Sadie–" Arthur began, his hand raising.

"With Colm gone and with just a few stragglers left, we can end those bastards for good," she cut him off, her hands clenching into fists. I took a breath and looked down at my feet, pressing my lips together.

"Sadie, I… I don't think we– we just got out of a bad situation, we're doing all we can just to get by–" he began again, and I could feel his tense but careful sympathy in his tone.

"We can finish 'em. We can. This is all I got left now, bringing some kinda justice to those sick bastards after what they did to me, what they did to my husband," she leaned forwards even more, her body tensing up, I could see her from the corner of my eye, getting full of desperation. I sensed Arthur glance at me.

My heart ached. We were finally away from Dutch and I had hoped that it would be the end of Arthur risking his life over grudges. I could handle him going with Charles to break a good man out of prison, I wasn't happy about the risk he was putting himself at but I knew he had to do it. But going to kill O'Driscolls? I was so conflicted. Sadie deserved closure over what happened to her husband, but I didn't want to lose Arthur over it. I couldn't stand it if we came this far only to–

"Please, Arthur. I need someone to ride with me. I can't go in there on my own but if I got no one–” Sadie's voice cracked and my eyes flashed up to her. "You're the only one I trust to do this with me and do it right. And I gotta do it, Arthur, I can't just let them get away with it. Please."

I stared at Sadie, feeling her pain emanating from her in waves, it made the hairs on my arms stand up and bile rise in my throat. My eyes tingled as tears threatened to form there, and Arthur looked at me again. Then Sadie did. Suddenly, I found, it was my choice, without even saying a word. 

I nervously toyed with the locket around my neck, and saw Arthur's eyes momentarily flitter down to it. 

"Arthur you–" I began after some time, when it was made clear that they were waiting on my blessing. Mine. Like I had any control over anything. "Sadie's done so much for us," I said monotonously, though it wasn't without feeling, "it's clear she needs this." 

"Thank you!" Sadie exhaled, and I rose to my feet. 

"I need to sleep," I whispered, then stepped over the log I'd been sitting on and headed for the tent I shared with Arthur. "Goodnight."

I climbed inside and laid down on my bedroll, wrapping myself up in the blanket and curling up on my side. I could hear quiet voices outside the tent, a muffled mix of soft tones from both Sadie and Arthur, none of which I could make out as words. It was only a few minutes before cool air filled the tent as the flap was pulled back, and Arthur climbed in beside me. He shuffled around, getting under his own blanket and scooting up behind me, his hand gingerly resting on my hip.

"Princess," he whispered. I made a small hum of acknowledgement. "Are you okay?"

I nodded my head, and Arthur exhaled, then kissed the shell of my ear. 

"Talk to me, please."

"I'm sorry Arthur. I'm trying not to put a leash on you, and trying to give Sadie the opportunity to get justice for her husband. All the while I'm worrying any one of these jobs people have you doing'll be the one that kills you. Right when we're finally doing what we've been waiting for," I whispered. Arthur's hand gently drifted up and down my side, his lips still at my ear giving me little pecks. 

"I could try to reassure you, but it won't help, will it?" He said softly, sadly. I shook my head. "What do you want me to do instead?" 

"Nothing. I don't want you to do anything, Arthur. I can't ask you not to do all these things. That's why I came in here to sleep, cause I know anything I say ain't gonna do any good."

"Are you angry with me?"

"No, I'm not," I breathed, then rolled over to face him. "I'm not mad, I'm worried. And I'll be worried until we're away from here for good. That's it. All I need from you is just to hold me right now, so I can enjoy the time I have with you," I told him, and kissed his chin. He wrapped his arms around me and rested his chin on my head.

"Just a couple more jobs, princess, then it's over. I promise," he told me. 

"Please keep your word," I whispered, closing my eyes and nestling my face into his collar. 

"I will. I'm under nobody's thumb no more, I do what I want. These things, they're just… they're things I gotta do for my friends. I know you understand that, right?"

"I do. It's why I'm not stopping you."

"I'm real lucky I have you. And that you're like this. You're a good woman," he told me and I chuckled, shaking my head a little. 

"You don't have to flatter me, Arthur."

"I ain't flattering. I'm thanking you. Thank you," he said, pressed his lips momentarily to the crown of my head. "I love you."

"I love you too," I replied. 

After a few moments of silence, Arthur spoke again. "Can I ask you something? Or shall I let you sleep?"

"Now I'm curious about the question. Go on," I answered.

"Where'd you get that locket from? The one you been wearing since I got back. Looks familiar." 

The question surprised me. It wasn't anything like what I was expecting, and I laughed. Then stopped when I considered my answer. My heart was suddenly pounding because I knew I had to address how I had felt while he was away in Guarma.

"It was Susan's," I told him. "She gave it to me."

"That'll be why it's familiar," he mused. 

"It has a photograph of you inside it," I added. He was quiet for a moment.

"It does?" He questioned, tone going up a note.

I hummed my confirmation. "I… I was real bad for a while when you was gone. Susan wanted to cheer me up. I haven't taken it off since."

"Did it make you feel better?"

"A little. It was nice to have something of you, at least. But it didn't hurt any less, that you were gone."

"It would've been a comfort to have something of you with me while I was away. I thought about you constantly, I wanted to see your face just once… I didn't even have my journal, with my drawings of you. They don't live up to the real thing but they're something, at least," he whispered, squeezing me tight. 

"Let me see them," I whispered, kissing his collar bone. He made a small sound, a sort of hum, sort of sigh. 

"My drawings?"

I nodded as I moved back a little to look at him. "I've only seen a couple of your drawings of me. How many have you done?" 

"More than you've seen," he chuckled sheepishly, then rolled onto his back, staring up at the top of the tent. I shifted onto my elbow and gazed down at him. 

"May I see?" I questioned insistently, his grin widened. He was embarrassed, it was clear. "It's just me," I whispered, stroking my hand over his chest.

"Just you? That's the problem."

"Problem?"

"I'm worried I'll embarrass you." 

"Why would I be embarrassed?" I laughed. Arthur sighed and met my eyes. 

"Get my journal," he acquiesced. I giggled and sat up, reaching for his satchel that sat by his feet. I retrieved the journal and handed it to him, but he nodded towards me, urging me to keep it. "Take a look, princess." 

[wickedmilo]

SURVIVAL TIPS | MILO & WILLOW

PLACE: A bookstore TIMING: Way, way back when Milo first became a vampire SUMMARY: Milo and Willow accidentally cross paths, and realise they both have the power to distract each other from their problems WRITING PARTNER: @willcwthewisp​ CONTENT WARNINGS: None

Milo couldn’t remember the last time he had unironically set foot in a bookstore. After graduating uni, it all felt a little pointless. He had books, though they were at his parents’ house, far beyond his reach now. And reading felt too trivial considering the latest developments in his life. Why would he ever need books? What could they possibly have to offer him? But this evening, against his better judgement, he had been struck by the overwhelming urge to go to a bookshop. To steal back a semblance of the normalcy belonging to his previous life. With Harsh’s constant, and unexpected support, he was feeling more in control than ever before. Though his grip on his cravings remained tenuous at best, he figured he was capable of a short visit. After impatiently waiting for the sun to set, he had hurried into town, slipping quietly through the familiar door. The bell above him rang out, announcing his arrival, and the sound caused a wave of nostalgia to wash over him. Maybe he missed this more than he thought. Once upon a time, before he had allowed himself to spiral, he would come here. His mom would find new books for him to study. His dad would nudge him away from the children’s section, towards the classics that were technically beyond his reading level. If it’s easy, then what are you learning, Milo? You need to be challenged. He could still hear his tone, the exact way he would make not being able to choose his own stories sound like a privilege rather than a frustration.  

Drifting through the various sections, taking in the new sounds, and scents he had never been able to appreciate before, it wasn’t long until he found himself standing where his parents used to encourage him to stand. They would search through the shelves, talking amongst themselves to determine which novels were best suited for their son. Even now that he had a choice, he was drawn to the books they had selected for him. Maybe it was a warped sense of loyalty, maybe he missed the simplicity of having every decision made for him. Gently running his fingers along the spine of Great Expectations, he wondered whether Charles Dickens had lived in a world of vampires, and ghosts. Certainly Edgar Allan Poe had to have known about the existence of the Supernatural. It made him want to revisit the tales, search for any hint that might indicate the world had always been this confusing. Finally pulling Great Expectations from the shelf, he turned to walk towards the seating area, completely unaware of the person walking in the opposite direction. He stumbled backwards the moment he saw them, very nearly walking into them. A sheepish grin on his face, he did what he could to hold his breath. Harsh had already warned him doing so would draw attention, but he didn’t see any other option when people got so close. “Shit- I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.” 

Willow was to the point of desperation when it came to finding the book she was looking for. For some unfathomable reason it wasn’t available anywhere that she could find online. Maybe it was simply so popular that most sellers had run out of it, but either way she’d ended up braving the trek to the bookstore after hearing they had a copy in stock. Books were one of the few ways she’d managed to stay sane in her self-appointed isolation, filling her head with stories of the outside world that she couldn’t bring herself to experience anymore. But she should have known going out into public once again was a terrible idea, and that became clear the moment she nearly collided with another being. Her eyes widened in alarm at the severity of the close call, already imagining how she could have sent the young man standing in front of her flying through multiple shelves of books.  

“Oh god-” Willow gasped as if she’d been startled at a haunted house, hand clutched to her chest as she took a few, healthy steps backwards to put some space between her and the stranger. “No, no- I didn't see you there either, I’m sorry.” Her nerves had been set on edge by the near run in, and she was doing her best to steady her breaths, trying not to think about the ten million ways this interaction could go poorly if the stranger got too close. “I was just- I wasn’t watching that carefully where I was going, I guess.” A lapse on judgement on her part. She should know better than to walk blindly when she was a walking disaster waiting to happen. 

Milo was already tense, doing his very best to hide it. But it made him feel a little better to hear the stranger’s heart pounding in her chest. Clearly he wasn’t the only person who had been caught so off guard, and clearly he wasn’t the only person so panicked by the close proximity. The relief didn’t last for very long though. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, the sound of her pulse served as an unwelcome reminder of how dry his throat felt, the new reality he was desperately trying to ignore. Before he could take a further step back, the woman had done so for him, and he watched her curiously, wondering whether she might also a reason of her own to keep her distance. “Are you okay?” He asked, genuinely concerned for her. “No- I wasn’t looking either, it was my fault as much as it was yours!” He insisted. If he had been more careful, as careful as he should be given his current situation, this wouldn’t have happened. But he was already tired of being careful. Was one evening too much to ask for? One evening of reading books in a bookstore like a regular human being? “I, uh-” He held up his copy of Great Expectations, still holding his breath between sentences as though such a desperate gesture might be able to fix all of his problems. “I was distracted too…”

“Oh- oh, I’m fine!” Willow tried to assure, not wanting the young man to think he’d startled her too badly— even if he had done just that. “Are you alright?” she asked out of politeness. He didn’t seem very shaken, but it was only in her nature to ask in return. Forcing a chuckle, she clutched the book she’d fetched to her chest, as if it could protect her. “I think we’re gonna have to either agree to disagree, or just let me take the blame.” She wasn’t particularly in the practice of letting the guilt fall on someone else when it came to situations that involved herself. “Oh, are you reading Great Expectations?” she asked as she took in the title and cover of the book. It wasn’t one of her favorites- mostly because she’d been forced to read it in highschool, but it was still a classic and staple. In her opinion, it had ghosts that weren’t really ghosts, and that was something she’d been drawn to. 

Smiling at the woman’s insistence that she really was okay, Milo allowed himself to relax as much as he dared to. It wasn’t easy, trying to find a balance. Trying to stay aware of his surroundings, while also staying aware of himself. He could only hope one day it would become a part of his routine, something he did without even needing to focus. “I am.” He answered quietly. He wasn’t sure how true that was, but he sincerely appreciated the question. “I mean, if you want to take the blame I have a track record of avoiding responsibility.” He teased, laughing quietly at the fact that he was being entirely honest now. “I’m not going to try and stop you.” Glancing down at the book in his hands, he stared at the cover for a moment too long. There were so many childhood memories connected to it that it was difficult to look away from. “I guess so.” He grinned, offering her a shrug. “My parents made me read it as a kid… I’m kind of missing the simplicity of that, you know? My biggest worry being how quickly I could get to the end of a book.” Finally tearing his gaze away and looking back up at the stranger, he realised he had yet to introduce himself. “I’m Milo, by the way… So, are you going to tell me what you’re reading? Hopefully something far less cliché.”

Part of Willow was glad that the young man hadn’t insisted on taking the blame as many people were often wont to do. Generally that just resulted in a tiring back and forth until they found some sort of compromise, or forgot what they were talking about altogether. “Perfect,” she settled the burden of blame with a chuckle, her smile still warm. “Glad we agreed on that as easily as we did.” He seemed nice despite her nearly running headlong into him. Her head tilted curiously to the side, listening closely while he spoke of his parents and books. “Oh- well that’s...sweet in a way. And it makes sense.” She could certainly relate to wishing for a simpler time, often thinking of the days she’d been able to walk free without fear of breaking someone in half via telekinesis. “Books are a good way to forget the world for a bit.” They were her favorite method of escaping behind painting. “Oh- I’m Willow,” she replied quickly, a little embarrassed that she’d forgotten to introduce herself in the first place. “I don’t think Great Expectations is necessarily cliché,” she offered politely with another little laugh before continuing on. “But mine’s called ‘Leave the World’.”

Amused by Willow apparently being grateful he was readily allowing her to take the blame, Milo realised he was genuinely beginning to enjoy her company. His smile only growing as she talked about the ease of the decision, it was refreshing not being seen as somebody argumentative, or petulant, even if the context could barely be considered serious. “It was a pleasure discussing business with you.” He replied, feigning sincerity as he caught her eye. Raising his eyebrows as she called his actions sweet, he wasn’t sure he would use that word but perhaps from an outsider’s perspective his explanation could be seen as sentimental. “Yeah, you could probably call it that.” He admitted, absentmindedly tapping his fingertips against the cover of the book still in his hands. “I don’t know… I hadn’t really thought about it. I don’t even know why I came here really, I think I might be looking for something that’s just... impossible to find, you know?” His old life, his humanity... Realising the stranger was right, his smile softened into an open, and unguarded expression. Books were a good way to escape, however briefly. And though there were no hidden doorways here allowing him to step back into the past, maybe a brief escape would enough for now. If achieving one was even possible. Maybe it needed to be enough. “Leave the World?” He couldn't say he had ever heard of it. “I don’t suppose there are any tips in there? I could use a vacation from this place.”

The younger man’s words brought a laugh to Willow’s lips, and she was grateful for the bell-like sound as she reminded herself how few and far between interactions like this had been. Sure- she’d talked to people in her self-imposed isolation, had even seen a few humans here and there, but there was nothing that could replace the actual company of another living and breathing person. “I hope I don’t have a bill coming in the mail for this business talk,” she teased back. Her shoulders relaxing another inch while she let herself slip a little further into comfort. 

The expression on her face took on a more sincere air as her head tilted curiously to the side, a gentle nod of understanding shaking it in the end. “I think...a lot of people feel that way, if we’re being honest.” And she didn’t see any reason not to be. Even ghosts were looking for something that seemed impossible to find. After all, that was why they’d stuck around in the first place. “But I also haven’t met anyone that hasn’t eventually found what they’re looking for. Sometimes you just need help, you know?” That was the job of the medium or exorcist in her mind— to extend that helping hand when someone needed it. “And sometimes the answer isn’t what we expect, but I think you’ll get there eventually.” Another chuckle shook her gently before she gave her answer. “No tips in there unless you’re looking for ways to survive and deal with the apocalypse. But if you’re looking for some ‘vacation’ books I can take you to some of my favorites?”

Milo laughed too, his eyes shining. “I wasn’t going to but now that I think about it my rent is probably due.” He teased, unable to help himself. He could hardly consider their conversation business talk, but he was enjoying it more than he would ever have expected to. Although he liked his time alone, socialising had always come naturally to him. He had no issue with talking to people, getting to know them when their paths somehow managed to cross with his own. He missed this, he missed making new friends. His smile fading somewhat as Willow became serious again, he appreciated her honesty. It made him sad to know what she was saying was probably true, but it also helped him to feel less alone. Sometimes he just needed to be reminded of that fact. “Yeah, I guess you’re right…” He murmured, knowing the sense of relief would be temporary. How long until he convinced himself otherwise? Until his own mind erased Willow’s wisdom? “It’s easy to forget sometimes, you know? Especially when your problems are so… specific.” He admitted, offering her a hesitant shrug.  

A smile tugging at his lips again, the mention of hope was comforting, regardless of the fact that everything felt pretty hopeless right about now. He was more stable than he had been, though still not used to his new life, still close enough to his old one to actively grieve for it. “You really think so?” He asked, knowing his longing would be obvious in his voice. He made no effort to hide it, too distracted by the mention of finding answers, by the sound of Willow’s heartbeat, by the book in his hands still reminding him of his childhood. “I really hope so…” Maybe she was right. Harsh was helping him now, and things were getting better. The progress was slow, but it still counted as progress. “Thank you.” His smile became more genuine as he felt a strange rush of affection for the woman he barely knew. Apparently she believed in him, apparently she was convinced one day he might actually be okay again. “Hm, I think tips on how to survive might be more useful to me than vacation books.” He was only half teasing. “But if you’d be up for the company, I’d love to see some of your favourites.” 

“Well- you’ll just have to send over the prices so I can get a look at them. My sister’s actually better with stuff like that anyway, so I’ll probably pass them on to her,” Willow chuckled. It was true though. Meg had needed to negotiate quite a few contracts along with her manager when it came to her spot as a blossoming celebrity. She’d missed this as well. Even though she’d always been a little more on the quieter side, Willow had always loved seeing a new smile wherever she could find them. Her warm expression shifted into concern another time as Milo continued to speak of his problems. She might not have the abilities to go along with being a proper medium, but she’d still been raised as one, and along with that came a compassion geared towards helping. “Well if you ever need reminding just message me, alright? I’m easy enough to find on the town forums. My full name’s Willow Finch if you want to search me, though.” Maybe she was coming on too strong when it came to being helpful, but it’d always been hard for her to draw that line. If she wanted to help, why shouldn't she make sure the other person knew it without a doubt?  

“Of course I think so,” Willow repeated with another soft smile, already happy to see the smallest flash of hope enter into Milo’s eyes. “I haven’t met a person yet that couldn’t find what they were looking for. Even if it took time. And even if it wasn’t what they were expecting.” The poor guy. She could practically feel the desperate wanting in his voice, could recognize it because she herself was on a seemingly hopeless quest for answers when it came to her own problems with telekinesis. There had to be an end...right? But a smaller voice in her mind reminded Willow that endings weren’t always happy. Nevertheless she brushed it aside, and turned to start on her way towards her favorite section of the store. “Come on- I think we can find some books that fall into both categories,” she finished with a grin over her shoulder. 

Milo continued to smile in response to the joke, leaning into the way this woman seemed able to distract him from his problems, if only for a brief moment in time. He could see she was being genuine, that she actually wanted to help, and he wasn’t used to that. Not anymore.  “I hope she doesn’t take a cut of the check?” He teased, his smile growing as she insisted she was always going to be there if he needed a reminder that all hope wasn’t lost. It was an odd thing for a stranger to offer, but given his life as of late, he didn’t feel as though his gauge on what was normal even functioned anymore. It had been permanently shattered when he woke up as an official member of the undead. Slipping his phone from his pocket, he held it out to her, encouraging her to plug her name and number into his list of contacts. “I might take you up on that, you know…” Why not? What did he have to lose by making another hesitant friend? “Willow Finch… your name has superhero vibes, has anybody ever told you that?” His eyes were shining as he was reminded of who he used to be, the kid who spent his free time split between the comic book store, and the many questionable establishments White Crest had to offer him. He was still very much that person, but nothing felt quite so simple anymore. He only wanted things to be simple.  

His smile fading when Willow insisted he would eventually find what he was looking for, some sense of peace, some way of being content with what he had become, maybe even some level of control when it came to fighting against the bloodlust continually scratching the back of his throat, he was impatient, but he was also happy just to believe that the answers were out there. He would find them, and maybe, just maybe, he would be okay. Surprised when she started to walk away from him, he faltered before hurrying to fall into step beside her, holding his breath as her movement caused the smell of her blood to permeate the air. He didn’t know what she meant by both categories, surely survival books and vacation books were on two very different ends of a spectrum. But he didn’t care, he wanted to understand, he wanted to follow her. Because, for some reason, she made him feel like there was hope, like he existed as more than some miserable outcome, and that was proving to be incredibly rare. 

[phykios]

honesty and promise me, part 3 [read on ao3] [co-written with @darkmagyk]

Several more weeks and hookups later, Annabeth thinks she should probably come clean. Some people might bury it deep, and for sure, Annabeth’s considered it, but, well. It is kind of embarrassing that she didn’t know Percy’s name at first. Stuff like that doesn’t usually bother her--she’s had nameless one night stands in the past, and despite Thalia’s ribbing, she knows that Thalia doesn’t really care either. It’s just that, you know, he’s Thalia’s family, and they’ve seen each other a few more times, and they are planning to continue to see each other a few more times in the future. Or more than a few times. 

Anyway, she kind of feels like she owes it to him. Like he deserves this small nugget of truth, payment for all the times he’s fucked her blind. It’s nagging at her, and she hates feeling like she owes anyone anything. 

Piper certainly seemed to think so, when Annabeth had told her over their monthly brunch date.

“It’s just common courtesy at this point,” she said. “Like, what if you guys end up married and then sell your story to Hollywood, they cast my dad as the male lead, and it comes out in interviews that you didn’t know his name for like a month? He’s gonna get the wrong idea.”

Annabeth wasn’t sure which part was more ridiculous: the movie, Piper’s dad being involved, or them being married.

Anyway, sharing some of her avocado fries, Piper had reminded her that being mean wasn't very punk rock, shutting her up effectively.

She’s out on site in the Lower East Side, taking measurements for plots of land, writing down sun angles and measuring the wind velocity between the brick buildings, when she gets a text from him. 

I’m on a break and I’m starving 😩 Want to grab something to eat?

It’s 2pm on a Thursday and he wants to grab something to eat. If Annabeth didn’t know any better, she’d say that that sounds like a real, honest-to-goodness, bona fide date. (Meeting up at and subsequently leaving bars together does not count as a date, she’s pretty sure. Neither do the booty calls.) He’s been getting a little free with his texts, that boy, sending her selfies and memes and questions about her day, and now this? An invitation to their first, actual date? She should block him on principle, just for the sheer audacity.

sure, wya

520 8th, text me when you get here 😁

That’s another thing: Percy loves his emojis. If this is going to continue, they’re going to need to have a serious talk about that. 

She doesn’t need to text him when she gets there; he’s already outside, leaning on the stone edifice of the building like a particularly jacked rent boy in his tight t-shirt and broody look, cigarette between his fingers. The sweatpants sort of ruin the image, though. He looks particularly comfortable in a way that warms Annabeth right from the inside out. “You know, when Nico said you smoked, I honestly didn’t believe it.” she says, not even bothering to say hi. 

He looks up from his phone and smiles, the sun behind his teeth. “Hey!” 

“Hey, yourself.” She doesn’t even hesitate--she plucks the cigarette out of his hand, taking a drag off it herself. “You been smoking for a long time?”

“Who do you think taught Thalia how?” He raises an eyebrow, bemused. “Is that a problem?”

It is, but it’s not like she can tell him that without losing some of her credibility. “Wouldn’t smoking fuck with your cardio?”

Percy shrugs, conceding. “A little. I used to be a lot worse, but I just can’t quite kick the habit. It’s mostly a stress thing, anyway.” 

“Rough practice?” she asks, putting just enough effort into her lip wobble to make it abundantly clear that she’s making fun of him. “Were the other boys being mean to you because of your tights?”

He grins at her, saucy. “Annabeth Chase, do you really think that NYCB rehearses here? In the Garment District?” But he laughs before she can stammer out an answer (and thank God, she’s lived here three years and can barely keep the boroughs straight, let alone the neighborhoods). “I just wrapped up teaching a class. I don’t have to be at rehearsal until 5, I was thinking we could hang out? Bryant Park?”

A first date at the New York Public Library. She almost hates to admit it, but Percy Jackson might be kind of her dream man. “I believe I was promised food,” she sniffs, but she does hold out her hand, and when he takes it, lacing his fingers through hers, she’s sure that he can feel her heart beating, palm to palm. 

Twenty minutes later they’re settled on a bench in the corner of the green, Annabeth halfway into a ham sandwich and Percy juggling a salad and an iced coffee. He’s been regaling her with tales from the more exciting side of ballet, a side she hadn’t even imagined could actually exist. “So by the time I land in Paris,” he says, taking a sip of coffee, “the guy’s foot has swollen up to, like, twice its original size, and when I finally managed to find some wifi to check my phone, there’s, like, eight missed calls from my mom and my agent, and an email from her that just says ‘READ THIS,’ in all caps, and of course the article is in French, which I didn’t really speak at the time, and I was so stressed that my ADHD made it so I couldn’t even read the Google translation, and I had to ask someone to translate it for me.”

“Oh my god,” she says, struggling to keep it in.

“And that’s how I found out that I’d been moved up to first cast in Le Corsaire, from the poor barista at a coffee shop in Charles de Gaule!” He laughs. 

“That’s insane,” Annabeth says. “And the show was the next day?”

“It was that night! I had to haul ass to the opera house and get warmed up, because I was going on in about four hours. You should have seen the looks on everyone’s faces when I stumbled in, I’m sure that they all wanted to kill me.” Percy chuckles, taking a bite of leafy greens. “Now I wasn’t just the twenty-year-old upstart American, I was the twenty-year-old upstart American who skipped town when I wasn’t supposed to.”

“How did it go?”

“Killed it, of course,” he says, deservedly smug. 

Despite her best efforts, she’s absolutely entranced; he’s a great storyteller. “I bet you break that story out at parties all the time, don’t you.”

He laughs. “Whatever gets the donors to open their checkbooks, right?”

“I can’t believe you lived in Paris. I’ve always wanted to see it.” She’d had a few chances to when she was in college, the semester she’d studied abroad in Rome, but she just never got around to it. Just another item on her long, long list of regrets, placed somewhere between the sketchy burrito from last week and not telling her mom to fuck off earlier when she’d had the chance. “If I were you, I’d never leave.”

Percy shrugs. “It was amazing, I won’t lie. But towards the end I just really, really missed it here. All my family is in NYC, you know? My mom, step-dad, and my sister live here, and Thalia and Nico and Hazel, too. I tried to come back and visit whenever I could, but being away from them was really hard.” There’s something soft and inviting in his expression when he says, “I’m really happy to be back home.”

“What are they like?” Annabeth asks. “Your family. Your non-mob family, I mean.”

He rolls his eyes, but he grins another one of those blinding grins, too. “My mom is the most amazing person you will ever meet. Not only did she support my dance habit, she did it as a single working mother who had to raise an angry, ADHD asshole of a son who didn’t always appreciate her. I don’t even want to know how many hours she had to work or how many scholarships and grants she had to track down in order to pay for me to go to SAB, but somehow she made it work, and managed to write her novel at the same time. She married my step-dad the summer I turned sixteen, and my baby sister was born the next year.” 

Even Annabeth, cynical and black-hearted as she is, has to smile back. The love he has for his mom is so palpable, so tangible, she can practically see him glowing. “And the…” What had Thalia called them? “The ‘Cousin Consortium’?” 

At that, Percy laughs, full-bellied, unrestrained. “The name was Nico’s idea. I didn’t really have many close friends when I was a kid, apart from my buddy Grover--he had to wear this really gnarly leg brace and I liked to dance, so you can imagine how much we got picked on--but we were all really close growing up, since our dads were all assholes. They may have left us emotionally scarred, but at least we had each other’s backs the whole time.”

This is a very Percy thing, she’s starting to realize: he can not and will not hold back on his feelings. He simply refuses to. Where most guys might try to hide or downplay their affection for their friends, Percy’s is written all over his face. Maybe it’s a byproduct of doing ballet, but he’s so unashamed of his love for his friends and his family and his art, that maybe Annabeth kind of wishes she could be included in that love too, if it always feels this warm and joyful. 

“I think it’s amazing that you guys are so close. I only had the one cousin when I was growing up, and we didn’t really talk all that much,” Annabeth says, almost without her permission. Something about him, it’s just so easy to talk to him. He makes it safe to open up.

“The med school guy, right?” 

Annabeth nods. “Magnus. Fifth generation Harvard student. We’re all very proud.” 

Ugh. Even she has to wince at the false cheer in her voice. Percy gives her a half-smile, sympathetic and soft. “Harvard not really for you, then?” he asks, picking up the threads of a long and complicated story, and one that she absolutely does not want to get into right now. Or ever, if she can help it. 

“More like I wasn’t really for Harvard.” Which wasn’t entirely untrue. She had been good enough for the university in Cambridge, Mass--good enough for two degrees and graduation with honors--but she had never been good enough for her mother’s capital-H Harvard. Never good enough for her mother at all, really. 

Percy takes her hand. His fingers are cold from his iced coffee. “Hey. It’s their loss,” he says, with a sincerity and an intensity that makes her blush.

Every part of her wants to pull away. His thumb is rubbing against the joint of her finger, soothing and sweet, and she thinks she may break out in hives from it. “Damn right it is,” she mumbles. 

He is so nice. So nice and hot and sweet. Objectively, what she’s about to do is a terrible idea, and might torpedo a really good thing that they have, but if she doesn’t come clean now her own guilt is going to drive her insane.

“Okay, I have a confession to make.” Percy raises his eyebrows, slurping the last dregs of his drink. “When we met… and then when we hooked up the first time… I may have… thoughtyouwereJason.”

He blinks. “Pardon?” he asks, mumbled around the straw.

Annabeth buries her head in her hands. “Please don’t make me say it again.”

“You… thought I was Jason?”

“Well,” she sputters, glaring at him through her fingers, “you were being all bro-y with Thalia!”

He is valiantly trying to hold in a smile. “You know, I distinctly remember telling you my name that morning.”

“I was really hungover,” she whines, “and you were shirtless and making breakfast so I wasn’t really… paying attention.”

“For a whole week?”

This is so embarrassing, why couldn’t she just keep her stupid mouth shut? “Yeah.” She slumps her shoulders, stuffing her hands into her jacket pocket. “Sorry.”

She’s not entirely sure what she expected: at best a couple of weird looks and a tentative promise to meet up later that would end up not working out, at worst she thinks he’ll just get up and leave her here at Bryant Park. Either way, they’d be doomed to months of awkward interactions, until eventually they wouldn’t be able to be around each other, and Thalia would have to pick a side--and Annabeth’s seen what Thalia does to people who cross her family. She’s seen Thalia beat a dude to pulp for calling Nico the f-slur. Picking Percy over Annabeth? That’s nothing.

So when he starts laughing, Annabeth is completely at a loss. Slowly, at first, then all at once, he’s laughing so hard his shoulders are shaking, and he has to put down his salad so it doesn’t topple over onto the grass. His head is tilted back in joy, the grey, late afternoon light adamant that Annabeth can see all of his features clearly, from his screwed up eyes to his bright, white teeth to the single dimple in his cheek.

Of course, even his laughter is hot. Asshole. 

“You thought I was Jason!” He shrieks.

Annabeth crosses her arms, scowling. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I really don’t mean to laugh,” he giggles. Annabeth can feel her own giggle rising in response, and she ruthlessly quashes it. “I can definitely say I’ve never heard that one before. You do know Jason is blond, right?”

“As a matter of fact, I did not. Besides, you and Thalia look exactly alike.”

He scoffs. “No we don’t.”

“Uh, yeah you do. You, Thalia, and Nico are all basically clones of each other.” 

“Okay, Captain Glasses, whatever you say.” He rolls his eyes, but there’s no heat behind it.

“I’m sorry,” Annabeth feels like she has to say again.

He cocks his head. “For what? For thinking I was Jason? He’s a pretty cool guy.”

“No, for,” she blushes again. All this blood rushing to her head can’t be good for her. “For sleeping with you when I still thought you were Jason.”

Percy scoots closer to her, throwing her a grin and slinging his arm over her shoulders. Without even realizing that she’s doing it, she settles in beside him like she’s been doing it her whole life, slotted up against his torso, tucking her booted feet beneath her legs. “I am choosing to take that as a compliment,” he says, smirking. “You couldn’t resist my charms, even when you thought I was a brogrammer.” 

Annabeth can’t help herself. She kisses him, wiping that smug grin right off his face, and when she finally retreats, after what feels like hours, he looks so dazed she could probably keep calling him by any name she wanted and he wouldn’t even realize it.

After their lunch, they meander for hours, headed in a vaguely southerly direction, holding hands the whole time, a steady, uninterrupted flow that took them all the way from Midtown to Greenwich Village. He tells her about his first day at ballet school; she tells him about her favorite monuments. “There are two architectural environments in America,” she says, ranting, speaking with enough force that she might forget the feeling of his hand in hers, “endless dead suburbia, or cities where every single building is either a concrete or a glass block--and not even Brutalist concrete, just shitty, poorly designed, paint-by-numbers concrete. It is an absolute travesty of modern government that they don’t fund any public works projects anymore.”

“That’s why all the gardens and stuff?” he asks.

“Nowadays everything is built by the lowest bidder. At least I get to add some beauty back into the city.”

“I know what you mean,” Percy says. “Paris is practically overflowing with public works, you almost forget about it sometimes.”

She sighs. “You’re so fucking lucky. Paris is so beautiful and everything in New York is just hideous.”

“Aw, come on,” he says. “Not everything. What about the Empire State Building, or Central Park?”

“Well, obviously, those,” she says, just a teensy bit flustered, but she’s not about to give up the argument without a fight. “I just mean like, normal, every day buildings: offices and apartments and stuff. It’s all so samey and boring.”

He looks to her right, pointing at the building they are passing. “What about this one?”

She turns.

If she had known they were headed this way, she never would have taken them past here.

“It’s… okay, I guess,” she mumbles, staring up at the arched windows, pedimented doors, and Rococo details of Miss Minerva’s Private Pre-College Prep School. A shudder goes down her spine, like someone walking over her grave. “There are better Beaux-Arts buildings.”

Sensing her discomfort, he picks up the pace, and changes the subject.

Finally, he stops outside a nondescript building, turning to face her. “This is me,” he says, a little bit mournfully, squeezing her hand. “Are you okay to get home safely?”

This man is ridiculous; it’s not even dark out. “I think I can manage a few blocks,” she says, lightly swatting him. “Isn’t it kind of early for you, though? It’s only four o’clock.”

He flushes faintly, one hand coming up to rub at his neck. “Uh, well, I always give myself a little extra time--you know, time blindness and everything.”

“You baked in extra time in case I wanted you to walk me home, didn’t you?” She mock-gasps, secretly delighted. “Scandal!”

“Guilty,” he grins. “You’ve been to mine so many times, I was curious.”

She just barely stops herself from laughing out loud at the very idea of Percy coming to her apartment--as if. Thalia hasn’t even been to her apartment. Nobody knows where she lives, none of her neighbors know who she is, and this is entirely by design. “Cut me some slack; a girl’s gotta have some mystery. Can’t make it too easy for you, can I?”

“I have a feeling you’ll never make things easy for me,” he says, white teeth gleaming.

“You better believe it,” she smiles back. “Now that I’ve foiled your plans, are you going to be too bored?”

“Oh, I’ll think of something,” he shrugs. “I’m very resourceful when it comes to boredom.”

Inspiration strikes, and she grasps his hand, pulling him down the alleyway. She almost hates to admit it, but she has something of a Pavlovian response when it comes to hanging out with Percy. Annabeth has come to expect some really excellent sex whenever the two of them meet up, and maybe spending all afternoon with him has made her a little bit horny. 

She presses him up against the brick wall, hidden from the street by the long afternoon shadows, and kisses him. His hands flounder for a second, before coming up to rest on her shoulders, this thumbs tapping against the base of her neck, fingers fluttering on her jacket. It’s an intimate touch, kind of chaste and very respectful, and he holds her with precision and grace. He wouldn’t do anything she wouldn’t want to. This is a date with no expectation of sex on his part. But Annabeth does not want grace right now, spooked by the ghost of her old school. She does not want precision. She just wants him. She just wants to keep him on his toes, keep him interested, blow his mind a little. 

She just wants to blow him, to be honest. 

He squeaks into her mouth as her hands fly to his belt, deft fingers practically ripping it off of him in an increasingly familiar motion. “H-hey,” he says, squeezing her shoulders, “this is--”

“Do you not want me to?” she asks, one hand playing at the top line of his underwear. 

“No--I mean, are you sure? I’m-I’m okay with this, I just want to--”

“I know.” She kisses his cheek, then drops to her knees. “But we’ve got some time to kill, don’t we.” 

Afterwards, when she’s finished with him, Annabeth wipes her mouth, and he whimpers. 

“Ho… holy shit,” he pants, flushed and trembling. 

She tucks him back into his boxers, doing up his fly. “There we go. That was better than being bored, right?”

He nods wordlessly, swallowing, shaking. His eyes are glassy and glazed, stupid like he’s just shot out his brain through his dick.

In the short time they’ve been together (though, honestly, this might be the longest relationship she’s ever been in before… and they haven’t even broached the “dating” conversation yet) Annabeth has been on the receiving end of several different Percy looks. His face will light up with joy when he first lays his eyes on her, so happy to see her (though she can’t really fathom why), glinting like the sun on the water. His eyes will narrow, glaring, even as he furiously tamps down on his growing smile when they start arguing over something stupid, like Annabeth’s affinity for olives. He’ll grin at her, knife sharp and slanted, licking his lips and looming over her after she comes down from yet another orgasm via his mouth or his hands.

Percy looks at her now like someone took a bat to his head, and instead of seeing stars, he sees little miniature Annabeths flying around. 

He pulls her to him and kisses her, entirely too sweet for what she’s just done to him, but that is also a very Percy thing. And when she leaves him with a final kiss on his cheek and squeeze of his ass, she can feel that look burning a hole through her jacket, following her down the alley and around the corner, and she finds that she doesn’t mind the weight of it at all.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Name on a Coffee Cup

Summary: Modern!Tommy has become quite the coffee addict after he stopped smoking. But he didn’t realize he had become a constant in one of the barista’s life. 

//Probably because I really miss my coffeeshop because of this quarantine. Thanks to @justanothershelby​ for helping me beta and finish this. 

         “’Morning, Tommy, the usual?”

         Tommy looked up from his wallet, thoroughly confused. The morning rush at the cafe was typical, even some of the faces in the line he recognized, the sounds of the espresso machines were intermixing with conversation as usual, everything was normal. But there was a slight change in the routine that Tommy took notice to. The moment he’d walked up to the counter, the barista greeted him by name. Sure, maybe it wasn’t so strange. He gave his name every time he ordered, but he figured the people who worked there wouldn’t remember every single person who came into the café.

         Then it hit him. Maybe he was a man of strict habit because he bought coffee from the same café every morning and sometimes got another one in the afternoon if he was having a particularly stressful day.

         But he could only blame Ada and Polly. It started with Ada reprimanding him for smoking so much. His own baby sister had suddenly taken it upon herself to lecture him about the dangers of smoking. As if he didn’t already know. He wasn’t an idiot he just wasn’t…confident about quitting. He wasn’t the type of person who enjoyed failing. And if he failed himself, it would just put him in a worse mood.

         Then Polly started sending him research about lung cancer and other dangers of smoking. She called him one night and asked ‘What would it do to Charlie if he had to come visit you in the hospital while you’re dying?’. Tommy didn’t appreciate his own son being used against him. But it worked.

         And with the help of his family, he managed to go off cigarettes for almost six months. It still wasn’t easy. He felt the urge to smoke every so often, not nearly as much as the first few months where he was basically tearing his hair out because he had no other stress reliever.

         Then he found he could be in a much better mood in the morning when he was sufficiently caffeinated. Thus, starting his routine of going to the café downstairs from his work.

         “Erm, yeah, please.” He nodded.

         The barista, Ava was the pretty brunette who Tommy saw often.  She could often be heard chatting amicably with coworkers or customers. She had a beautiful smile and even prettier eyes. And when their eyes met, Tommy felt a little lost for words.

         “Three-fifty-two.” She rang him up at the till. 

         For a moment, he didn’t register her words. He heard her speak but didn’t seem to pick up on the meaning. “Oh-right, sorry.” He mumbled and pulled out money.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

         That’s when he started to notice her as Ava had noticed him. Every day from then on, she greeted him by name. Sometimes she didn’t even ask whether his order was the same. Sometimes, she started his order when she saw him in line. That way his coffee would be out moments later. Sometimes they chatted if it was quiet enough. If he was reading the paper at one of the tables, she’d come around idly sweeping up or cleaning another table and strike up a conversation. She had an easy way of holding a conversation that made Tommy more relaxed around her. And that was no easy feat.

         On Valentine’s Day, she drew a heart on his paper cup. Tommy thought it was just something they were doing for the holiday, but he noticed no one else’s cup had any decorations. He left smiling that day.

         In April, the company was having a little ‘bring your child to work day’. Tommy was hesitant about the idea. He didn’t think bringing his toddler into the office was such a good idea. But Lizzie coaxed him into it. That morning, he walked hand in hand with Charlie to the café.

         “Let’s get daddy’s coffee, aye? You want something?” Tommy picked up his son so he could view the pastry case.

         Charlie’s eyes widened at the display of cakes and muffins and cookies. “Fin!” He jabbed a pudgy finger at the case.

         “Muffin? That one?” Tommy pointed out a double chocolate chip muffin that Charlie would most likely take a shine too.

         “Yeah!”

         “Alright, let’s go order then.” Tommy walked up to the till.

         “Morning, Tommy.” Ava smiled when she saw him carrying his son. “And who’s this?” She asked.

         “This is me son, Charlie. Charles, say hello.”

         The toddler giggled and shyly buried his face in the crook of Tommy’s neck.

         “Gonna get one of those chocolate muffins as well.” He added since it wasn’t his usual order.

         “Of course. Oh, he’s precious, Tommy. He’s got your eyes and everything.” She remarked with a coo.

         “Got his mother’s hair though.” Tommy chuckled.

         “Well, she’s so lucky to have such a cute little munchkin.” Ava rang up the order.

         “Oh well…” It was always a conflict within Tommy if a stranger or just an acquaintance brought up Grace. Did he correct them and tell them she was deceased? Or did he just let it slide and risk the chance of having them find out later? It was a tricky slope. “We lost her last year. But it’s nice that he looks a lot like her.” He cleared his throat and realized he was getting a bit too personal with her.

         “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Ava replied sincerely. “I can’t imagine it’s easy being a single parent.” She said as she went to the case to retrieve the muffin.

         Tommy dropped his change into the tip jar as he always did. “Well, it isn’t the easiest job in the world but it’s worth it, aye Charlie?”

         The little boy leaned his cheek on Tommy’s shoulder, a little bored with the conversation he didn’t understand.

         Ava beamed. “Of course it is.”

         “Do you have any kids?” Tommy had noticed in the past that she didn’t wear a wedding ring, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have kids or a relationship.

         “No, it’s just my dog and me.” She moved down the bar to start his coffee order. “Do you like dogs, Charlie?”

         “You like dogs, don’t you?” Tommy prompted his son to talk.

         “Ponies,” Charlie whispered shyly.

         “Yeah, that’s right, you like horses best. Just like dad.” He chuckled. “Sorry, he’s usually not this quiet.”

         “Oh, that’s okay.” Ava shrugged it off. “I was a pretty quiet kid too.”

         Tommy set Charlie down as they came to the end of the bar where they would pick up the coffee. The little boy came to the edge of the counter and stood on his tip-toes to see what Ava was doing. When she smiled at him, his face went red and he ducked.  

         “Here’s your muffin, Charlie.” Ava set the bag on the counter near his little fingers.

         “Thank you.” He said so softly it was lost in the ambience of the café. 

         “And here’s your coffee, Tommy.” 

         “Thank you.” He took it and made sure his son had a tight enough grip on the pastry bag. “See you tomorrow, Ava.” He tousled Charlie’s hair and led him back towards the door. 

         The next day, Tommy arrived at the cafe and Ava greeted him as usual. They exchanged pleasantries, Ava asking how Charlie liked going to work with his dad. Tommy explained that the young boy had spent the day drawing and pretending to make phone calls. 

         Before she handed him his regular order, she gave him a pastry bag. Confused, Tommy took it. “I didn’t order this.” 

        “No, I know.” Ava smiled and tucked a piece of hair back behind her ear. “I thought you might want to give it to Charlie. I mean it’ll be cold by the time you get home but if you stick it in the toaster it’ll be nice.” 

         “I didn’t pay for it though.” Tommy knew the amount he paid every morning by heart. She hadn’t added the muffin onto the bill. 

         “That’s okay.” She waved him off and went back to making his coffee. “It’s for Charlie.” 

         He smiled and nodded. “Well, he’ll appreciate it.” 

         The morning after, Tommy arrived again, a bit earlier so he could sit and enjoy his coffee in peace. 

         Ava was cleaning around the cafe so she didn’t take his order. But she did come to say hello once he sat down. 

         “‘Morning, Tommy.” 

         “Nice to see you.” He sat down and popped the lid off his coffee to let it cool down. “I should tell you, Charlie enjoyed the muffin. But I got a bit hungry on the way home so I ate half of it. He wasn’t happy when I arrived with just a half.” 

         Ava laughed. “Oh, poor boy. I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” 

         “Hopefully soon.” Tommy felt the stress of his morning start to slip away. He always got into a different state of mind when he was with Ava. It was almost like being with Grace again. She had the ability of taking him out of his reality and just letting him unwind even for the briefest of moments. He wasn’t sure he’d ever find someone else who could do that. “In the meantime, he drew you a picture as a thanks.” He reached into his briefcase to retrieve the piece of construction paper that Charlie had insisted he bring to Ava that very day. 

         She put down her cleaning cloth. “Really?” She took the paper with a delighted look. “Oh, that’s so sweet.” 

         “I can assure you, that’s the first of many heading your way. Kid loves to draw and once he gets to know you, he’ll draw for you. So I hope you’ve got room on your ‘fridge.”

         Ava laughed softly and examined the crayon work. “So that’s…” She turned it so he could see. 

       “Oh, yeah he’s a bit of an abstract artist. Erm...he explained it to me. I think that’s supposed to be you, the blobby purple bit. I wouldn’t take his depiction personally.” 

       She was beaming. “Oh, no, I adore it. I look forward to more.” She gently folded the paper and tucked it into the pocket of her apron. 

       Tommy realized he was staring a bit. But he couldn’t help himself. Ava was beautiful but she could light up a room with her smile. It was indulgent to watch her eyes twinkle with such genuine emotion. 

       Then she met his eyes and her cheeks went red. Tommy cleared his throat and averted his eyes just to be polite. “Tell him, thank you.” 

         “Of course.” He nodded. “Um...could I see you again?” 

         She tilted her head to the side a bit. “You see me every day.” She reminded him with a coy smile. 

         He chuckled. “No, could I see you outside of work?” 

         Her lips parted a bit in surprise. “I-uh-yeah...yes.” She nodded eagerly before she reminded herself to play it cool. “I’d like that.” 

         “Yeah?” He smiled. “So, coffee maybe...nope I’m sorry.” He winced and shook his head. “You’re around coffee all fucking day you don’t want to go out to coffee.” 

          “Lunch maybe.” She stifled a giggle. Never before had she seen the businessman so flustered. He seemed like the kind of guy who always remained calm and collected. 

         “Yeah, lunch.” He agreed. “Lunch would be good.” 

         “Lunch would be great.”

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla​ @giftofdreams​ @biba3434​ @kimmietea​ @karmezii​ @enrapturedbythemoon​

Masterlist 

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 74 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Previously: Galactica shut down for the holidays, and Bianca turned Courtney’s shitty day around.

This Chapter: Christmas Eve. Fame plays hostess for Juju and Detox’s family, Bianca and Courtney jet off to Puerto Rico, Violet spends the evening with Sutan, Raja and Raven, and Pearl thirsts for Dahlia.

***

“Patrick?” Fame called over her shoulder, a big porcelain vase on the table in front of her.

“Yes darling?” Patrick was sitting in an armchair, his finger holding his place in the crime novel he was reading, Charles curled up on the floor in front of the crackling fireplace.

“What do you think of this?” Fame took a step back, showing off the greenhouse bouquet she had arranged, their gardener bringing them in after his rounds, snow covering the ground outside. “I was hoping they could be the centerpiece for tonight?”

They were upstate, in what Karl had jokingly started to call The Farm one summer. In reality, it was a mansion with several acres of land, the incredible garden the reason for the nickname, though Karl had insisted it was because upstate New York was basically Hicksville.

Fame and Patrick had bought it forever ago, the property supposed to be a real estate investment, but when they had visited it to oversee the remodel during the fall of the year they got it, Fame had fallen in love instantly.

She adored The Farm, loved the open land, loved the space that reminded her of her childhood’s free roam, loved that Charles had all the space in the world, the property so big that no one ever bothered them while they were there.

“I think that’s lovely dear,” Patrick smiled, taking a sip of the spiced eggnog the chef had made. “Juju’s going to love that.”

“Good.” Fame smiled, a moment of happiness washing over her body. Juju and Detox were coming up for Christmas, bringing their children along, the bedrooms already prepared for them.

When Detox and Juju had accepted her invitation to join them upstate, Fame had been overjoyed, spending the holiday with her friends instead of family so much more enjoyable, and best of all, it required absolutely no flying.

Unlike the Manhattan townhouse, The Farm was decorated in a traditional Christmas red and green, a fresh cut actual pine tree set up in the parlor, copious amounts of gifts for Kelly and the twins already under the tree.

“I’ll go check up on the chef.” Fame put down her garden shears, quickly drying her hands on her tea towel, collecting the scraps for the compost out back. “Make sure they’re cooking the Brussels sprouts correctly.”

The night's dinner was a wild lemon and honey salmon, a spinach salad with goat cheese and beets, the dessert spiced tea-poached pears for the adults and a sundae bar for the kids.

“And the mac and cheese?” Patrick raised an eyebrow.

“Of course,” Fame smiled. “I specifically instructed the chef to go for the mega size Kraft. The little ones should know it’s Christmas too.”

In reality, Fame had requested a complete restock of what Patrick lovingly called the kids cupboard, a whole section dedicated to the Sanderson kids, Kelly always going straight there the second she stepped foot inside. Just because she was a teenager who rarely attended family events anymore didn’t mean that Fame would forget about her.

“The sleds are ready to go too.”

Fame had never wanted kids of her own, but she loved and adored her entire chosen family, especially the little ones. Spoiling them had been one of her favorite pastimes since they’d met, when Kelly was still a chubby little baby with a passion for sticking jewelry into her mouth.

Today, she’d planned a lovely afternoon of fun in the snow for when everyone arrived. Fame had even bought a new snow set, the pure white Prada demanding to go home with her, her new mittens lined with rabbit fur so she could truly get down and dirty while building the snowman she hoped they had time for.

It was one of the most liberating things about The Farm, the acres of land meaning that there was a sense of privacy she could never feel in the city.

“And did you go for the wood?”

“Of course I went for the wooden sleds,” Fame rolled her eyes, Patrick so often playing stupid on purpose just to rile her up. “The antique German design.” There was no way Fame was going for anything but the best, and Julia and Owen deserved the best sledding experience money could buy, gourmet marshmallows and Jacques Torres hot chocolate already in the kitchen ready to go.

“Mmh?” Patrick smirked, taking another sip of his egg nog, and Fame went over to kiss him, just to wipe it off his face.

***

“Kelly Sanderson! Don’t you forget your scarf!”

“Yes mom,” Kelly rolled her eyes, but snatched her scarf, putting it around her neck before walking towards the house with her gym bag over her shoulder, and Juju couldn’t help but smile.

They were emptying out the car, the drive upstate a complete pain since she had been nauseous the entire time, Detox driving while Kelly was in the front seat, so Juju had been alone in the back with the twins because someone had to keep an eye on them, and Kelly refused.

“Okay champ,” Detox looked at his son who was still in the car, Julia standing on the snow-covered ground in her Frozen jacket. “I’m going to unbuckle you, but that doesn’t mean that you can-“

“Bye dad!!”

“Fuck!”

Juju laughed as Owen ran as fast as he could towards the front door, his sister right behind him.

“We got them!”

Juju turned to see Patrick call from the door, a big smile on the man's face, Fame right behind him.

“Your death wish!” Detox yelled, and Juju smiled before digging back in, her husband quickly gathering enough suitcases to make his first trip up to the house, Juju taking a moment to enjoy the blessed silence of private property upstate.

She fished her phone out of her handbag, a sense of relief washing over her when she saw that Bianca had texted. They had only spoken once last week, when Juju called her to apologize for the dinner party pile-on, and Bianca said it was okay, but she also seemed a bit rushed and distracted. Juju was hoping that it was just work, that she wasn’t genuinely mad, but she couldn’t be sure, especially since she hadn’t responded to any messages the night before. Looking at the messages today, though, it really did seem like they were good.

JUJU: Hey there. Thinking of you, hope you’re good.

JUJU: To be clear, I was thinking of you because I got up to take a very large dump.

JUJU: :-D

JUJU: Hehe

JUJU: <3

JUJU: OK goodnight! xo

JUJU: Merry Christmas Eve, lady! I love you.

BIANCA: Love you too, kiddo. Sorry for being MIA last night.

BIANCA: I’m taking Courtney to PR for Christmas, we’re heading to JFK right now.

BIANCA: Tell the monsters that I owe them some presents when I get back.

JUJU: Oh wow!! Have fun!!!! (And trust me, they will collect on those presents, lol)

She sighed, slipping the phone back into her bag, thinking that perhaps she should keep Bianca’s vacation plans under wraps for now. She turned towards the house, watching Fame on her knee, unlacing Julia’s shoes. Yes, better not to be the messenger for this particular news.

***

“So...is it everything you imagined?” Bianca asked, a wry grin on her face. She’d been a bit shocked when Courtney revealed in the car that she’d never flown first class before. She thought that surely someone as cute and charming as her had been slipped a free upgrade or two by a flight attendant trying to hit on her.

“It’s perfect.” Courtney tilted her champagne glass towards Bianca for a toast, her eyes taking on that slightly glazed, naughty look as she sipped on her third glass.

“Perfect, huh?” Bianca asked, clinking her glass lightly. “Then I guess you don’t want another present…”

“Wait, no...I do!” Courtney exclaimed, suddenly looking so serious that Bianca couldn’t hold back her cackling laughter.

Drunk Courtney was turning into one of her favorite people, the comically exaggerated faces she made when her defenses were down too cute for words.

“Oh, well in that case…” She reached into her bag and pulled out a box wrapped in sparkling pink and gold.

“How did you fit that in there?” Courtney asked, letting Bianca take her glass so that she had both hands free for the large gift, examining it closely. “Are you Mary Poppins?”

“Yeah, that’s me. A g-rated singing nanny.”

“Hot,” Courtney giggled, and Bianca gave her a stern look. “What, I like sexy nannies. Maria Von Trapp...Fran Fine?!”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Bianca shook her head, amused.

“Oh no, am I being naughty? Are you gonna spank me?” Courtney’s eyes glittered.

Well, this was an unexpected turn. Perhaps something to explore when they weren’t flying thirty thousand feet over an ocean, surrounded by people.

“Open your present.”

“Yes, ma’am…” Courtney said, making Bianca laugh again as she tore into the package, first pulling off the excessive ribbons and bows (Joslyn really shouldn’t be trusted with that kind of thing) and then the glittery paper. She lifted the lid on the box, revealing 5 brand-new designer bathing suits, all from this year’s hottest resort collections. Her eyes lit up. “Ooooh, wow! This is much better than the plan I had.”

“What was your plan?”

“I was just gonna go without a suit,” she said, shrugging a bit as she fluttered her lashes.

“Huh.” Bianca’s brow furrowed in mock disappointment, adding, “Yeah, no, I like your plan better, give these back.”

She reached over and attempted to swipe the box from Courtney’s hand, but Courtney clutched it greedily to her chest.

“No! They’re mine now!”

Bianca laughed, leaning over to press a kiss to her cheek, just as Courtney grabbed her face and went right for her lips.

“Thank you, B. I love them. I love you.”

“I love you too, sunshine.” Bianca rested her forehead against Courtney’s with a happy sigh. “And I can’t wait to see you in them...or out of them.”

***

“Are you sure it’s okay that I’m not helping?” Violet asked. She was sitting on a silver bar stool and feeling absolutely useless, her fingers drumming on the marble breakfast bar.

Raja and Raven’s apartment looked like something from a catalog, big art pieces hung everywhere, fresh flowers in vases even though it was December. Violet had spotted the heavy oak Raja preferred, and the green and gold she gravitated towards, but it was clear that Raven was the main decorator.

“Of course,” Raven smiled, flashing her teeth over her shoulder. She was standing at the counter, filling up the sink so she could rinse off their dishes.

“Let her have the fantasy,” Sutan grinned, putting the empty tray he was carrying down, Raja right behind him. “This is the one time of year Raven pretends she’s the perfect housewife,”

“Fuck off.” Raven flipped him off, “I’m always perfect.”

When Sutan had told Violet he usually spent Christmas Eve with his sister and Raven, Violet hadn't been surprised. What had surprised her was when Sutan told her that Raven insisted on cooking every year. It had been a simple meal, roasted chicken and potatoes with gravy, but it did really seem like Raven had made it herself, Raja in charge of buying the dessert.

It was the first time Violet had celebrated Christmas Eve with anyone since she was 17, and while it was very different from what she usually did, which was wine and a movie, it was nice.

“You are, Princess,” Raja smiled, pressing a quick kiss against her hair as she dropped their dishes. “Now, does anyone want another drink?”

“Me,” Raven grinned, and Violet had to fight not to show the surprise on her face when Raven just grabbed the dirty dishes. She had never thought Raven would be someone who did chores, who’d willingly get her hands dirty.

“I’m driving tomorrow, so no,” Sutan was leaning against the counter, a smile on his lips. He was wearing a blue turtleneck sweater, and Violet had to admit that he looked stupidly hot in it.

“Actually…” Sutan paused, narrowing his eyes. “Raven, what’s going on with your nose?”

“Her nose?” Raja tilted her head, looking at her fiancée. “What do you mean?”

“It looks different. There.” Sutan pointed with his pinky at the edge of her nose.

“She seems normal to me.”

“Can’t you see it? Here, I’ll adjust- Let me push her head back.“ Sutan was just about to reach for Raven’s chin, when he was cut off.

“Hey!” Raven pulled away, “Crazy agent, I’m in the room.” She raised an eyebrow, her tone sharp, “I’m trying a new makeup technique.” Raven pushed Susn’s hand away from her face. “Is that a problem?”

“Of course not…”

“Good,” Raven rolled her eyes. “Now can we please get this done so we can watch a movie?”

“Sure.” Sutan rolled his eyes too, grabbing a dish towel before bumping his hip against Raven, making her yelp, laughter filling the room.

Violet let out a breath of relief she hadn’t even realized she had been holding, the knot in her stomach slowly releasing. She was probably overreacting, a childhood of tense Christmases just under her skin, but it had almost felt like Raven and Sutan were about to get in a fight.

Violet took her glass, a smile on her face as she took a sip of her wine, the uncomfortable feeling thankfully already fading.

***

Earlier, Courtney had enjoyed a healthy buzz from all the first class champagne, but then she fell asleep for half of the flight, and by the time they got to the resort, she felt refreshingly, deliciously sober, closing her eyes to feel the warm, fragrant ocean breeze blow in through the windows.

As Bianca directed the hotel staff with their suitcases, Courtney wandered over to the glass doors, eyes widening when she peered out at the terrace.

“B! Omigod, is this an infinity pool?” She threw open the doors and stepped outside, where a table was set up with a romantic, candlelit dinner. But even better, what was clearly a private infinity pool, which made her so excited she squealed with glee. “I’ve seen pictures of those but I never thought I’d see one in person!”

Bianca appeared in the doorway, a smirk on her face as she replied, “It’s not an infinity pool. It’s an infinity hot tub. The pool is down those steps.”

Courtney giggled, already slipping off her shoes to feel the heavenly warm water. She sat down at the edge of the hot tub, letting her legs dangle into the water while she gazed out at the gorgeous view, the gentle waves under a night sky sparkling with stars. When she mused last week about wanting to go to the beach, she certainly wasn’t imagining a private beach at this posh resort. But for once, everything in her life had worked out perfectly. All because of Bianca, who was now chatting with the hotel manager about their meal.

“Es esta la comida? Todo es vegano, verdad?”

“Si, of course. I hope everything is to your liking, Señora.”

“Es perfecto. Gracias.” She pressed some bills into his hand, adding, “Feliz Navidad!”

As soon as he left, Bianca turned back to Courtney, head tilting curiously when she took in her enraptured expression. “What?”

“I just think it’s sexy when you speak Spanish,” Courtney explained, biting her lip.

“Oh yeah? That’s what gets you going? My shitty high school Spanish?” Bianca asked, strolling towards her, dimples deep in her cheeks.

“Uh huh. I like the accent. Say more things…” Courtney leaned back, lashes fluttering, as Bianca laughed and pretended to think real hard.

“Hmm…” She settled in beside Courtney at the edge of the hot tub, slipping an arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “Dónde está la biblioteca?”

“Ahh, yeah, that’s it,” Courtney growled, and Bianca laughed some more.

“Tu eres una gringa loca…”

“Uh huh…wait, what does that mean?”

“It means you’re a crazy white girl.”

“Oh. Yeah, fair.” Courtney cupped Bianca’s face in her hands, pulling her in for a kiss. Things were just starting to get a little heated when Courtney’s phone began to ring. She had a brief moment of panic before realizing that it was her personal phone, not her work phone. And since very few people made phone calls anymore, she was fairly certain that it would be her parents.

Coming out to her parents had been strange. She knew already, from how they reacted to Ben’s coming out when he was just 13, that they would be fine with her not being straight. But Ben hadn’t been dating someone nearly 20 years his senior.

So she was nervous, more than she’d have admitted, when she finally told them everything that was going on in her life--that she was dating, or rather in love with, a woman.

A woman who was, incidentally, a famous fashion magazine editor many years older than her.

Turned out, it was even more of an anticlimax than she anticipated, Mum giving her some bland platitudes about how love is love and Dad telling her to make sure she takes her vitamin D.

Which at first seemed like an innuendo, but actually was just him being his usual health-conscious self. Either way, they seemed both unsurprised and unbothered by the whole situation, which was a relief, she supposed. It was strangely reminiscent of when she was 16 and she’d announced that she wanted to graduate from high school early and go to America for University. Measured, unemotional support.

Courtney reached for her bag, pulling out the phone and answering, her family’s face popping up on the screen as she tried to figure out the time difference. It must already be Christmas morning in Brisbane.

“Hi, Mum! Happy Christmas!”

“Hello darling!” her mother cooed, elbowing Dad and Ben on either side of her, who she’d clearly forced into position, sitting on the sofa with the Christmas tree behind them, the picture of suburban bliss. “Happy Christmas!”

“Happy Christmas, love!” said Dad, pretending that he wasn’t thoroughly engrossed in whatever crime novel Courtney could see open on his lap.

Mum poked Ben again with her sharp elbow, and he scoffed.

“Yeah, yeah. Happy Christmas. How’s your rich girlfriend?” Ben asked.

“Great. How’s single life?” Courtney shot back, and Ben opened his mouth in mock offense.

“You fuckin’ cunt-”

“What was that, dickhead-”

“Kids!” Mum interrupted, putting on her best scolding voice as Courtney and Ben both broke out into giggles.

“She knows I’m kidding, Mum. Calm down.”

“I’m perfectly calm,” Mum said, rolling her eyes. “I’m just trying to have a pleasant conversation with my daughter, thanks very much.”

“Thanks Mum,” Courtney said, kicking her feet in the warm water. “It’s fine, though. It wouldn’t be Ben if he wasn’t giving me shit.”

“That’s called love, ya slag! Appreciate it!” Ben cut in, and Courtney blew him a kiss.

“Well darling, we just want you to know that we miss you terribly, but we’re so happy that you’re having a nice vacation. Right?”

“So happy,” Ben echoed, sticking out his tongue.

“And we’ve been talking about it, and-” she patted Dad on the thigh, then hit him harder when he didn’t say anything.

“Oh, yes. Ahem. We’ve been talking about planning a trip to New York next year,” Dad said. “How does that sound?”

“That sounds fantastic!” Courtney exclaimed. She hadn’t seen any of them since a quick trip to Australia last spring, before she moved to New York.

Bianca sat down beside her again, silently handing over a glass filled with ice and some kind of milky liquid along with a sexy wink, just out of camera range.

“Guys, check out the view!” While her family exclaimed over how beautiful it was, Courtney took a small sip of the drink, eyes widening with delight. “Omigod, this is like Bailey’s but better. Cheers!”

“Cheers,” Bianca murmured back.

“Hi, Bianca!” Mum called loudly. “Thank you for the wine!”

Apparently, Bianca had sent a whole case of high-end wine to her family home--and even signed both of their names on the card, although her family knew for damn sure that wasn’t something Courtney could afford.

“Um...hi. You’re welcome,” Bianca grinned, giving a quick, friendly wave and then leaning back out of frame, tilting her head towards the table with their food. Courtney nodded, reaching over to squeeze her thigh.

“Mum, thanks for calling. But we should go, we have dinner here and it’s getting cold.”

“Alright my love,” Mum said, smiling warmly. “Have a wonderful night. So long, Bianca!”

“Bye, Mrs. Jenek. Merry Christmas,” Bianca said, and Courtney giggled behind her hand.

“Mrs. Jenek…” she snickered, and Bianca grimaced, then put a hand on her hip.

“Well...shut up, I’m from the South. That’s just what we do.”

“You could at least say ‘doctor.’ She has a Ph.D.”

Bianca facepalmed, and Courtney laughed again, kissing her on the cheek. It was adorable how much she cared about making a good impression on Courtney’s family. “I’m just kidding, she doesn’t care about that stuff.”

“I care, though.”

“I know.” Courtney nuzzled into Bianca’s face. “And I love you for it.”

***

“Hey! I saw that!” Trixie gasped, pointing at Kim, who had just skipped a square on the Monopoly board.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Kim smirked, leaving her car piece as she took another cookie.

They were all gathered around the coffee table, mugs of hot cocoa and Katya’s Christmas cookies on plates, a crackling fire playing on the TV, music playing from the speakers.

“You’re cheating,” Trixie looked around. “Say something!”

“I didn’t see anything, sugar butt,” Katya smiled, her knitting needles in hand. She was weirdly good at Monopoly, Katya dominating the majority of the board. When Trixie had asked her how, and what her strategy was, Katya had simply grinned and told him it was simply how it was done in Soviet Russia.

“Pearl, what about you?”

“What?” Pearl looked up from her phone. “Oh. Sorry. No.”

“Who are you texting?”

Pearl smiled. “No one.”

“Not again,” Trixie groaned, not even interested in whatever girl had managed to capture his best friend’s attention for more than two seconds. “Pearl please. It’s Christmas.”

“Relax Trix,” Pearl grinned, leaning over so she could press a kiss against his cheek. “You’re the only one for me.”

***

PEARL: Was just thinking about you...so I thought I’d say hey ;)

DAHLIA: Oh yeah?

PEARL: Uh huh

DAHLIA: What were you thinking about?

PEARL: Mostly I was hoping to be suffocated by your thighs real soon.

PEARL: Your thighs are the stuff of dreams

DAHLIA: Right now, my thighs are stuck to the plastic cover on my grandma’s couch...but thanks.

PEARL: Hot

DAHLIA: Lol

PEARL: Can I tempt you to sneak away at some point in the next few days? Without pissing off the fam, of course

DAHLIA: Possibly...I have like 40 cousins, so no one would even notice I’d gone

PEARL: Fan fucking tastic

PEARL: Hey guess what?

DAHLIA: You’re horny and wanna fuck?

PEARL: Yes

DAHLIA: Patience, darling

PEARL: But also...it’s midnight. Merry Christmas.

DAHLIA: Shit, I missed mass again!

DAHLIA: For the 7th year in a row!

PEARL: Hahaha

PEARL: Oh god. My roommates are singing happy birthday to Jesus.

PEARL: With a fucking cake and candles

DAHLIA: LOL, HBDJ

***

[guu]

This will be long and purely for ppl concerned abt my situation who dont already know it. It gets a bit graphic; it is abt abuse afterall

alright, so i feel like for any curious parties i should go ahead and air out my personal laundry regarding my living situation, ya kno, since i’ve already had people telling me i should have just murdered my partner by now,

and i’ve had so-called concerned asks abt my kids in the past that any actual asks in good faith i’m instantly paranoid of (ex: so why do you willingly (yes, willingly) keep your kids in an abusive household) *before i was able to start amassing funds and making solid plans to get us out of here.

abuse looks different everywhere. i can see why people would wonder of the state of my children. i’m not saying “harhar well my situation aint THAT bad i mean he’s not a drunkard beating us on the regular” no no, i am a broken man.

like, mentally and emotionally.

but first, to my sweet children. xander and leon, going on 10 and 2 respectively. i bat heads with charles (my partner) when the need arises to keep them safe physically, emotionally, and mentally. perhaps i’ve been more battered because of, but i can take it for them. so no, i haven’t been a wimp who simply hasn’t learned karate to protect us (wtf? yes i was told that)

xander is a lively and enthusiastic kid, very empathetic and funny. he loves school, undertale, baldi’s basics, animal crossing, writing stories, making art, playing with his lil sibling, you name it. he’s inspiring. and yes, he loves his father very much.

previously when it seemed i would be able to get us in to live with my mom, unbeknownst that her situation wouldn’t allow for it, and she simply told me far too late bc she didn’t wanna hurt me. xander made it very clear he didn’t want us to split. he cried. he would ask not to talk about the subject.

all this has put indecision in me. i mean, he would be hurt, even if i could explain why it needs to be done. but staying with charles hurts him, in ways i don’t think he understands bc no, his spirit remains shining, unbroken. and i’m thankful for that and want to keep things that way.

at some point when he was younger i’d found out that charles had decided suddenly that xander was old enough to spank. he has it pretty solid in his mind that some level of physical discipline is needed to avoid “what happened with (me)” ie, my parents “spoiling” me. (even tho my actual at one point drunken bastard dad spanked me and it didn’t help.

i had to actually link him to articles on why, no, hitting ur kids isn’t doing what u want it to do, and could even do the opposite, but above all else tf is wrong with u? stop it, and hammer it in at every turn to chip him down till he finally agreed to stop.

i breathed a sigh of relief, now leon would be spared that once the bastard decided they were old enough.

that’s that part outta the way. as for me physically it doesn’t happen anymore but i have been smacked, punched in the stomach, choked, thrown down, raped at gunpoint, and put into submission holds.

he’s still a felon for one of those!

presently, he’s mostly just a fucking grump and a constant downer, a stressor on me greatly. he’s out of work and still sits on his ass playing video games making me do everything. bc he gaslights me that i put it upon myself to do everything bc i “dont like the way he does it” which is either far far too late or not at all unless i remind him 50 times, which ofc pisses him off and makes me a nag.

he’s cheated on me, repeatedly flirted with women, forced me off HRT and i’m currently pretending not to be a man to keep the peace, as he has stated he’s straight and could not continue to love me if i kept on my transition.

i’ll know more tomorrow abt solid PLANS but I've had to tell myself the reason why things will work this time is bc I've got my own source of income now. And with a car I won't lose it.

I'm not scared of the powerlessness of living off someone else and the constant threat of homelessness. Honestly Charles is so bad with money I'm quite optimistic. Itll be a relief actually having all the bill's only in my name. Last year's tax returns he nearly gave me an ulcer spending 1k on a gacha game.

I've heard p much everything someone's 2 cents have been in my 11 years with this man, and yes I shoulda booked it a longgg time ago but the past is outta my hands. What matters is I'm doing it now.

I'm tired. So tired. But I'm fighting back still. My kids are ok and I'll do whatever it takes to see to it that it stays that way under my care.

[harry-leroy]

OK. I've got to ask--Henry VI? I think you're the first person I've met who claims those as their favorite Shakespeare. I'll admit that I've read and seen a fair bit of Shakespeare, but I'm not familiar with them at all. What's the appeal? Why do you love them? Sell them to me. ;)

Oh boy, here we go :))))) (Thank you for giving me permission to scream - I also think I’m the only person I’ve ever met who has those as their favorite Shakespeare plays). Also, as we’ve talked opera - I think these plays could make a great Wagnerian style opera cycle. 

First off, little disclaimer: I’m not a medievalist, so I can’t say that I’ve definitely got the best interpretation of the Wars of the Roses and the history that the H6 cycle covers. I know I do not - so you may read these plays and have totally different interpretations, and that’s great! This will kind of be how I came to love the plays and why they were (and still are) exciting for me to read. 

I will admit, these plays are a bit of a minefield (as my Shakespeare professor said during a lecture on the histories and I don’t think I’ll ever forget that descriptor). Some of these scenes are not as well written, and many of them are almost irrelevant to telling a tight-knit story, so things get cut. Sometimes 1H6 is just cut entirely from productions, and I might venture to say that it is probably the least performed Shakespeare play. We get lines like “O, were mine eyeballs into bullets turn’d, / That I in a rage might shoot them at your faces” (1H6.4.4.79-80), which I might say is nearly on par with “a little touch of Harry in the night” from Henry V. But despite the unevenness, there is so much from these plays that are meaningful, heartbreaking, and that continue to fascinate me. There’s so much about power and leadership that we can learn from these plays - and perhaps that’s why I took an interest in 1990s British politics because there are actually some very interesting similarities happening - but also a lot we can learn about empathy, hope, and love. 

These plays have a lot of fascinating key players - it would honestly be a privilege to play any of them - and most (if not all) of these key players have some claim to power, just in the family lines they were born into. And this conflict is one that’s been building up since Richard II. With the Wars of the Roses we have a man who is unwilling, and sometimes unable to lead because of various circumstances, some of which having to do with his mental health, which was generally poor, and some of which have to do with the various times he was dethroned, captured, etc. - and I say unable for lack of a better word. Essentially, politics in these plays are caving in, and at a very rapid pace. There’s a hole at the center of government and people are ambitious to fill it. We also have a lot of people who could potentially fill that role, people who on principle, have a lot of political enemies. The nobles in these plays are having to assure that they themselves are in power or that their ally is in power, otherwise it is their livelihood at stake. 

We have Henry VI, who was made king at nine months old after the untimely death of his father, the famous Henry V, and basically has people swarming him since birth claiming that they’re working in his best interest. He’s a bit of a self-preservationist to start, but by the end we see a man completely transformed by the horrors of war and ruthless politics. I also think he might be the only Shakespeare character who gets his entire life played out on stage. We see him at every stage of his life, which makes his descent all the more bitter. (One cannot help but see the broken man he is at forty-nine and be forced to remember the spritely, kind boy he was at ten). He’s a man who clings closely to God in an environment where God seems to be absent. He desires peace, if nothing else, and he wants to achieve this by talking things through. He’s an excellent orator (one only needs to look at the “Ay Margaret; my heart is drown’d with grief” monologue from 2H6, but there are countless other examples), but there’s a point where even he realizes that his talking will achieve nothing, and his alternative is heartbreaking. 

We have his wife, Queen Margaret, otherwise known as Margaret of Anjou, or the “she-wolf of France”. I advertise her as “if you like Lady Macbeth, you’ll love Margaret of Anjou”. Sometimes Shakespeare can portray her as wanting power for herself, but I genuinely think she wanted a good life for her husband and her child, otherwise the alternative is begging at her uncle’s feet for protection in France (her uncle was Charles VII of France) while separated from her husband, having her or a member of her immediate family be killed, or worse. I think it’s important to remember with Margaret that historically she came from a family where women took power if their husbands were unable to. Her assumption of power in these plays is something that’s natural to her, even if it’s not reflected very well in Shakespeare’s language. You also see some fantastically thrilling monologues from Margaret as well, especially her molehill speech (one of two molehill speeches in 3H6, totally different in nature - the other one is from a heartbroken and forlorn Henry after the Battle of Towton) - Margaret’s monologue has got the energy of a hungry cat holding a mouse by the tail. 

Also Henry and Margaret have a fascinating relationship. Because they’re so different in how they resolve conflicts, they grow somewhat disenchanted with each other at times, and can actually be mean to one another, despite their love. My favorite scene might be at the start of 3H6, where Margaret has come in with their seven year old son, Edward, and starts berating Henry for giving the line of succession to the Yorkists. What strikes me there is that we have a little boy having to choose between staying with his mom, or going with his dad - it’s something very domestic, and I think the emotional accessibility of that scene is what makes it memorable. It’s not about politics for me at that moment, it’s about a boy having to choose between his very estranged parents. Here’s a little taste from 1.1. in 3H6 - lines 255-261: 

QUEEN MARGARET: Come son, let’s away. / Our army is ready; come, we’ll after them. 

KING HENRY: Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me speak. 

QUEEN MARGARET: Thou hast spoke too much already. Get thee gone. 

KING HENRY: Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay with me? 

QUEEN MARGARET: Ay, to be murdered by his enemies. 

We also have Richard, Duke of York, who is Henry’s cousin and leader of the Yorkist faction. If you’re at all familiar with 1990s British politics, as I have grown close to over the past month, York reminds me very much of Michael Heseltine (filthy rich and constantly vying for power) - and I would love to stage some kind of modern H6 cycle production just so I could make that connection. York’s father is one of the three traitors executed by Henry V at the start of H5, leaving him an orphan at four years old (historically). He is also Aumerle’s (from R2) nephew, and so when Aumerle dies at the Battle of Agincourt, little four year old Richard inherits both his father’s money and titles, and his uncle’s money and titles, making him the second richest nobleman in England behind the King. All this information is historical and doesn’t really show up in the play, but I think that kind of background would give a man some entitlement. He’s also next in line for the throne if something were to happen to Henry (until Henry has a son), so he feels it is his duty as heir to the throne to protect Henry (or in better words, he feels that he should be running the show) - Margaret feels that it is her duty to protect Henry as she is his wife and mother of Edward of Westminster, the Lancastrian heir, and so you can see where these two are going to disagree. 

More fascinating are York’s sons, Edward, George, and Richard. Edward is this (for lack of better words) “hip” eighteen year old who comes and shreds things up at the Battle of Towton - becoming Edward IV in the process and chasing Henry off the throne. He is incredibly problematic, but I might venture to say that he’s the least problematic of the trio of York brothers. George of Clarence is (also for lack of better words) “a hot mess” and feels entitled to power, even though he may not readily give his motivations for it. I think he just wants it, and so he actually ends up switching sides mid-3H6 because he would actually be in a better position in government with those new allies. And finally, we have Richard of Gloucester (future Richard III), and in 3H6, you just get to see him sparkle. It puzzles me a bit how people can just jump into Richard III without getting any of the lead up that Shakespeare gave in the H6 cycle, and I think 3H6 is the perfect play to see that. I think it clears up a lot of his motivation, which Shakespeare didn’t get perfectly either, because there are some ableist things going on with these plays. He’s just as bloodthirsty, just as cynical, but in this play, he wins out the day. 

These are just a few of the main characters. We’ve also got Richard Neville, Earl of Warwick (known to history as “The Kingmaker”), who is this incredibly powerful nobleman who is wicked skilled in battle and seems to have a lot of luck in that area (until he doesn’t). We’ve got Clifford, who is just as bloodthirsty as Richard III (if not more so). We’ve also got Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester - Henry’s uncle and quite unpopular with his fellow noblemen, and Eleanor Cobham, his wife who gets caught in the act of witchcraft. (Talk to my lovely friend @nuingiliath if you want to hear about Humphrey or Eleanor). Joan of Arc also makes an appearance in 1H6, and often she’s the only reason that 1H6 gets performed. 

There are so many ways to latch onto this cycle, and it can be for the huge arcs that these characters go on, or it can be for the very small reasons, like in the first scene of 3H6, like I mentioned earlier. It’s very much akin to Titus Andronicus in the language (I did a bit of research a while ago about the use of animal-focused language in Shakespeare’s plays, and the H6 cycle and Titus Andronicus lead the charts just in terms of frequency of people being referred to metaphorically as animals- they’re also chronological neighbors, all written very early in Shakespeare’s career). Also, these plays held a huge amount of weight at the time they were written - the effects of the Wars of the Roses were still pressing over the political climate of the 1590s. 

I think these plays are great to read just in being able to contextualize the histories as a whole - you get to know how things fared after Henry V (spoiler: not well), and you also get the lead up to Richard III. The ghosts in Richard’s dream make sense after reading the H6 cycle - because those ghosts lived in the H6 cycle, and (spoiler: Richard wronged them in the H6 cycle). They were also the first of Shakespeare’s history plays, so you read subsequent histories plays that make subtle references to the H6 cycle, and I think you can take so much more out of the rest of the histories plays once you’ve read these. 

I hope this was a little informative, and perhaps persuaded you to check them out! 

Productions I recommend (you can click on the bold titles and it’ll take you to where you can access these productions): 

Shakespeare’s Globe at Barnet (2013) // Graham Butler (Henry VI), Mary Doherty (Margaret of Anjou), Brendan O’Hea (Richard, Duke of York), Simon Harrison (Richard of Gloucester) - filmed at Barnet, location of the Battle of Barnet, where Warwick was killed in 1471. 

ESC Production (1990) // Paul Brennen (Henry VI), June Watson (Margaret of Anjou), Barry Stanton (Richard, Duke of York), Andrew Jarvis (Richard of Gloucester) - a more modern production, one cast put together all seven major Plantagenet history plays (1H6 and 2H6 are combined into one play - a normal practice). Sometimes this footage can be a bit fuzzy, but I loved this production. 

The Hollow Crown Season 2 // Tom Sturridge (Henry VI), Sophie Okonedo (Margaret of Anjou), Adrian Dunbar (Richard, Duke of York), Benedict Cumberbatch (Richard of Gloucester) - done in a film-like style, also with some pretty big name actors as you can see. Season 1 stars Ben Whishaw as Richard II, Jeremy Irons as Henry IV, Simon Russell Beale as Falstaff, and Tom Hiddleston as Hal/Henry V. (also available on iTunes) 

RSC Wars of the Roses (1965) // David Warner (Henry VI), Peggy Ashcroft (Margaret of Anjou), Donald Sinden (Richard, Duke of York), Ian Holm (Richard of Gloucester) - black and white film, done in parts on YouTube. 

BBC Henry VI Plays (1983) // Peter Benson (Henry VI), Julia Foster (Margaret of Anjou), Bernard Hill (Richard, Duke of York), Ron Cook (Richard of Gloucester) - features my favorite filmed performance of Edward IV (played by Brian Protheroe), and my favorite filmed performance of Warwick (played by Mark Wing-Davey). 

Also if you ever get to see Rosa Joshi’s production of an all female H6 cycle... *like every time I see photos my immediate reaction is *heart eyes* I haven’t seen it yet, but my amazing friend and fellow Shakespearean @princess-of-france has - I’m sure she’d love to talk more about it sometime! I’ll leave a picture I found on the internet... 

Also tagging @suits-of-woe because we could cry about these plays all day. 

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

Andie Barnes

This is going to be a series of one-shots following Andie’s life as she grows up. Those little things she threw in Evan’s face? We’re going to see Bucky step up and be that parental role for her. He’s going to be what she always needed - a father.

And I mean...I really love writing for Andie. XD

Each one-shot is going to have a mini summary about what’s happening, but just know it follows the course of her life. (Not to say that it will be in any particular order)

Summary: A visitor comes to Bucky and Y/N, wanting to provide a new opportunity for Andie. 

Word Count: 1122 words

Mutant and Proud - 14

Bucky’s fingers ran over Y/N’s knuckles as they listened to everything the man before them said. He wasn’t entirely sure why this guy was here. Well, his purpose was clear. This was a personal invitation for Andie.

The question was – would this be the best opportunity for her?

“Can we talk about this? Just…me and my husband.”

Bucky was pulled from his thoughts, shifting his gaze to the love of his life. She was clinging to his hand, letting him be the anchor that she so desperately needed. He knew this was terrifying for her. Andie was getting older and though her powers weren’t dangerous to the world around her, finding control was proving to be difficult.

“Of course. In the end, the choice is yours. I am only providing an option you might not have been aware of.”

“Thank you, Professor – “

“Xavier. But you can absolutely call me Charles.”

-

Y/N sat out on the balcony, a beer in hand and eyes fixated on the buildings across the street. She was lost in her thoughts and needed a moment alone. How had she not known this exists? A boarding school for mutants. They would help her control her powers. They could provide her with the safety Y/N never could.

“You’re dwelling, Doll.”

She blinked, the cool metal of his arm helping her relax. Y/N turned to face him as the smallest smile curled her lips. Kissing his forehead, her fingers lightly traced his jaw. “Always pulling me out of my own blackholes, huh?”

“It’s what I’m here for.” His thumb lightly stroked her jaw, searching her face for answers, clues as to what she could possibly have tucked away in her mind. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Y/N looked down, focusing on the space between them. “I feel like I should’ve done more research. It shouldn’t have taken that guy a personal visit for me to know a school like that exists for her.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m not even sure if the Avengers knew about it. Tony never mentioned it to us. And if Steve knew, I would’ve been the first to find out.”

Y/N ran a hand through her hair, knocking it out of her face as she rest her elbow on her knee. “This is what she needs…Isn’t it?”

Bucky nodded. “I think so.” 

---

“Holy –“

“Andie.”

Andie’s wide eyes turned away from the window as a sheepish smile curled her lips. She scratched the back of her head. “Sorry, Mom.”

Y/N rolled her eyes as Bucky chuckled. He had to admit, he could see why Andie was so amazed. As they pulled up to the building, the old stone architecture reminded him of something closer to a castle instead of a school. The sign, “Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters” greeted them as they entered the school’s grounds.

It was weird to see so many young faces and yet they were all powerful. Glimpses came quick as they caught sight of two people flying in the air. One had the wings of an angel and the other, those of a pixie.

A group of kids, all identical in appearance, were chasing after a pack of five wolves who seemed to be in control of the soccer ball. The wolves transformed before their very eyes, turning into one girl.

“What is this place,” Bucky muttered as Andie grinned from ear to ear.

“They’re like me.”

Bucky and Y/N glanced at Andie, noting the sheer wonder and excitement on her face. They knew in that moment that they had made the right decision. This was where she needed to be.

Pulling up in front of the building, Bucky and Y/N were not the first to get out. Andie beat them to it, wanting to get a better look around.

“Watch out!”

Y/N and Bucky looked up to see what a burst of what looked to be…fireworks? Andie yelped as she jumped in front of the car, her body shimmering before turning completely diamond. The fireworks deflected off her skin and back to their owner.

A cute girl with spiky black hair and yellow gloves.

“You just turned diamond,” she said, grinning from ear to ear as Andie’s eyes widened.

“I – Sorry.”

“Why?” She giggled, showing Andie that she wasn’t upset, but in fact impressed. “That was so cool!”

Bucky came up behind Y/N, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as the two teenagers conversed. He kissed the top of her head, pride swelling in his chest as he saw how easily Andie was starting to fit in. “You really made the right choice, Y/N.”

“No, Buck,” Y/N whispered, leaning against his shoulder. “We did. You’re her family too and this wasn’t just my choice. We made it together.”

“Hey, Mom! Dad!”

The pair looked up and Y/N couldn’t hide the amusement she saw at Bucky’s grin. It had grown twice as big just from hearing that word. Dad. She remembered the first time he had heard it and since then, his reaction has never changed. He loved it.

“Is it okay if Jubilee introduces me to some of the other students?” That utter glee in her eyes was practically sparkling. Andie had never looked so happy. So at ease.

“Go on.”

Andie didn’t need to be told twice. She took off running with the girl in yellow. Jubilee. “See, she’s already making friends.”

“And Jubilee is one of our school’s best.”

The two turned to see an African woman standing on the steps. Her hair was a brilliant white, and eyes so warm and gentle. “I’m Orroro Monroe. One of the teachers here at Xavier’s.”

“You’re a mutant,” Bucky asked, brow furrowing.

“My students have come to nickname me ‘Storm’. Take from that what you will.”

Y/N smiled as they walked up the steps, shaking her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“And it’s nice to meet you. It isn’t every day we meet parents quite like you. Seeing Andie have such loving role models in her life warms my heart.” She smiled and shook Bucky’s hand as well. “I promise your daughter will fit in well here. We have a saying that we encourage them to believe. Something to remind them never to be ashamed of who they are.”

“Yeah?” Bucky raised a brow, curious and appreciative of how this school seemed to work.

Storm smiled. “Mutant and proud.”

It fit so undeniably well, describing their baby girl to a T. Except she wasn’t much of a baby anymore. Andie was a lot of things now. She was growing up. And all they could hope was that she would find a way to stay true to that phrase.

Mutant and proud.

[spacecakes20]

Begin Again

(Chapter 4)

Chapter 5: Luna, Pool Night

Friday came so quickly; Luna barely had any time to even notice. All her days were starting to blur together now that she wasn’t in charge of scheduling meetings and appointments. Looking through her planer, she had nearly forgotten about the plans she made to meet Sam and his friends at the Stardrop Saloon. Well, she didn’t make any promises, but she was still planning to go. She just didn’t want to commit just in case she chickened out and didn’t show. First things first; she needed to wash up and change. She wanted to look more presentable; her current mud crusted overalls didn’t exactly scream “Friday Night Out with Friends.”

     Friends. Would she consider them friends? Acquaintances perhaps. She’d only been living here since the start of spring, and summer was fast approaching. But despite her short amount of time in Pelican Town, everyone seemed to welcome her with open arms. Well, almost everyone. Some were warmer than others, but Luna didn’t really blame them. She still considered herself a stranger here, and it’ll probably take a while for her to find her footing.

     After a nice warm shower, Luna went through her fresh clothes. It was surprisingly hard for her to find anything casual that didn’t scream “business party” or “important meeting.” Most of her wardrobe consisted of dress suits and cocktail dresses. Only at the very bottom of her unpacked boxes of clothes did she find her more casual wear. Zuzu University shirts that were way too big for her, sweats, and short-shorts that were way too short. Luna made a mental note to go shopping in the city sometime soon for more casual wear.

     Don’t overthink it, Luna. I’m sure no one’s going to pay attention to how you’re dressed. Unfortunately for her, overthinking seemed to be one of Luna’s hidden talents. Working with the higher-ups at Joja HQ, she had no choice but to be self-conscious about how she was dressed around other people. Especially if she was with Charles...

     Luna shook those thoughts away, and decided fuck it, she’ll wear what she wanted; and decided to put on the tee-shirt and shorts. It was supposed to be a relaxing and fun night after all, and Luna was tired of overthinking herself into oblivion. Throwing on some socks and her favorite pair of high tops, she grabbed her keys and was off to the saloon.

     The sun was still up, but it was still comfortable outside, despite summer being just around the corner. Her stroll wasn’t too long, but she took her time to enjoy the soothing sounds of spring. She made it to the saloon, already able to hear the music and chatter from outside. Upon entering, scanning the inside, she noticed there was more than just a few people in here.

     She noticed Leah off at her own table. She had a glass of wine in hand, tapping her foot to the beat of the music playing on the jukebox. Pam was seated at one of the bar stools, nursing an ale while holding a conversation with the bartender, Gus. Next to Gus was a blue-haired woman. Emily, if Luna remembered correctly. She was conversing with a man in a worn-out blue jacket with a five o’clock shadow. Shane, right? Marnie’s nephew? Before she even had time to think about it any further, she heard her name being called. Searching the room for the source of the voice, she saw Mayor Lewis seated at one of the tables near the entrance. She smiled and made her way over to him with a small wave.

     “It’s nice to see you out and about Luna.” Lewis smiled kindly, “Your grandfather could be quite stubborn, I feel like he rarely ever took breaks.” His smile turned bittersweet.

     Luna couldn’t help her own sad smile gracing her features. She remembered how hard-working her grandfather was. Remembered the pride and joy that always decorated his face whenever he spoke about his farm. How frustrated and heartbroken he was when his old age started to slow him down and keep him from his work… Shaking those sad thoughts away, she decided to try and lighten the mood, “You’re speaking too soon!” She chuckled, “According to my dad, I’m just as stubborn as my grandpa. I just haven’t shown you my fullest potential yet.”

     That got the amused response she was hoping for. Lewis simply shook his head, a light laugh escaping him, “Of course. Just be sure not to overwork yourself, okay? Your grandfather would haunt me for the rest of my days if I let anything happen to his granddaughter.”

     Luna smiled warmly at that, “Don’t worry sir, I’ll take care of myself.”

     Lewis took another sip of his drink before shooing her off, “Don’t let me keep you. Grab a drink and relax.”

     “Will do,” Luna nodded. She did another quick scan of the saloon before she noticed the game room that was off to the side of the building. She made her way over to one of the arcade machines. Reading the cabinet, she realized it was Journey of the Prairie King. Luna was suddenly hit with a strong wave of nostalgia. She remembered she used to play that game with her dad. Lola wasn’t too good at video games, so she’d usually just watch. It was how the three of them would spend time together on the rare occasion their dad wasn’t too busy with work. Before her parent’s split…

     She was mercifully brought out of her thoughts by the sound of someone clearing their throat. She froze for a second, unaware someone else was here too. Turning to the source of the noise, her heart stopped at the site. A familiar tall man in black high-tops ripped skinny jeans and a black hoodie. But what caught her most off guard were his eyes. Of course, she wouldn’t forget those eyes. They reminded her of quartz. So cloudy, like a rainstorm, yet crystal clear and cool, like filtered water. And they were looking right at her.

     Sebastian mumbled out a, “Hey.” Before getting back to chalking the end of a cue stick. That was when Luna noticed there was a pool table in the middle of the room. 

     “Hey.” Luna returned the greeting, slowly making her way to the said pool table. “I’m sorry, did I show up too late?”

     He shook his head, eyes never leaving the table, “Early, actually.”

     That did make her feel relieved, but also a bit nervous. This would be the first time Luna and Sebastian were truly alone together since the door incident. Sure, they made amends at the Flower Dance, but they had Sam and Abigail there with them as a sort of buffer. Come to think of it, had she ever been alone with Sebastian before? There was their first meeting at the docks, but she hadn’t even known his name and they were only together for a second. Did that even count?

      “Do you play?” His question caught her off guard.

      “Huh?”

      “Pool.” He finally looked at her, “Do you play pool?”

      “Oh.” She was a little surprised at the fact that he was the one trying to start the conversation. Was he trying to make her feel more comfortable? This was probably awkward for him too, so perhaps this was just his way of breaking the ice? “No, I’m afraid I haven’t.”

       He hummed out as a response, and the room filled with silence again.

       “What about you?” Luna asked, trying her best to fill the stillness, “Do you play?”

       His eyes never left the pool table as he smirked to himself. Something about it looked cocky and she had to admit; it looked good on him. “Yeah, I play. Me and Sam play every Friday. He still hasn’t managed to beat me.”

       Luna hummed, amused by his slight change in demeanor. She decided to humor him. “How do you play?”

       “Huh?” He blinked at her, the confidant gleam in his eyes now replaced with genuine surprise.

       She smiled up at him and asked again, “How do you play?”

       He stood there a while, still as a statue. For a minute, she wondered if she might have said something wrong. Her mind was set at ease however when he grabbed the other cue stick and handed it to her. She graciously took it and watched as he took the balls from the table and organized them in a triangular rack.

       “The goal,” He said, giving the rack a light shake, “Is to pocket all of your designated balls, and then the eight ball.” He pointed out the round black orb with an “8” written on it in the middle of a white circle. 

         Luna nodded in understanding, but her brows were furrowed, “That sounds… simple…”

         Sebastian just chuckled. What a wonderful sound. She wouldn’t mind hearing that again.

         “Simple huh?”

         “I mean…” She looked away, distracting herself by looking at the pool table, “What’s to stop me from just, getting the eight-ball pocketed on my first try?”

         “You’re not allowed to do that.” He said, “You’ll have to sink all of your designated balls first,” He explained simply, “I’ll go first.”

         “Okay…” She fiddled with her cue stick and watched Sebastian’s form closely. He gracefully knocked the white ball, crashing it into the other colorful round orbs. They rolled around the pool table easily, but none fell into any of the pockets. He bit his lip, eyes focused, brow set in concentration before looking over to her.

         “Your turn,” Sebastian said simply.

         “Huh?” Luna looked to him and the pool table in confusion, “Wait, how do I know which balls mine are?”

         He gave a soft lazy smile, “Just pick stripes or solids. I’ll take whichever you don’t.”

         She nodded silently, walking around the ends of the table, searching for an advantage. Finally, she decided on solid colors, leaning over the table and knocking the cue ball into a red one. She missed the pocked by a mere inch.

         “Close.” Sebastian sounded almost impressed, and Luna couldn’t help but feel a little proud. The two went back and forth like this; analyzing their moves, looking for strengths and weaknesses. It was a surprisingly strategic game, and Luna felt a little silly for underestimating it.

         It was nice seeing Sebastian look so relaxed. Which was an amusing thought, because Luna also noticed he seemed to have a bit of a competitive streak. But it wasn’t like she didn’t have one herself. She did enjoy problem solving and challenges, and he felt like the perfect opponent. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was holding back.

         “Not bad.” Sebastian’s voice took on an almost teasing tone, as he hit the eight ball into the closest pocket, “But looks like I win this round.”

         Luna shook her head with a hum, “I can’t help but feel like you went easy on me though.”

         He gave her a half-smile, and she could have sworn he had a dimple, “Do I seem like the type who does that?”

         She didn’t know if she could believe him or not. Sure, he really didn’t seem like the type that would hold back in a game, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was showing some restraint.

         “You don’t look so sure.” His expression was unreadable, “Want to play another round?”

         She agreed to it without a second thought. She watched him closely this time around. He seemed to be in his element; much more at ease here then he seemed to be at the Flower Dance. Perhaps if they had met someplace as relaxed as the saloon, their first meeting might have gone a lot smoother.

         “Hey, Seb!” The new familiar voice caused Sebastian to lose his focus, making him overshoot his target. The cue ball missed the pocket, deciding instead to roll off the table, hitting the floor with a thud and a roll. Sebastian sucked the air between his teeth, eyes darting in the direction of the new voice.

         Sam and Abigail had finally made their way to the saloon, entering the game room with a tray of drinks at hand and a pizza. Sam had seen Sebastian’s missed shot, and gave him a sheepish look, mouthing “sorry” under his breath.

         Luna tried to stifle a giggle, drawing the attention of Sam in the process. “Luna!” He sounded surprised, “You made it!”

         “Yeah,” She smiled a bit sheepishly. “I did.”

         Sebastian had picked up the fallen cue ball, placing it on the table. He gave Luna an embarrassed smile, “Looks like you win by a technicality.”

         Luna wrinkled her nose, “That’s an anti-climactic win.”

         He simply shrugged, “Wanna play another round?” He offered.

         “Wait!” Sam interrupted before Luna could give her answer, “You two were playing pool together?” His eyes looked almost pleading, “Please tell me you won, Luna?”

         She shook her head with a grimace, “Nope. He’s just too good.”

         This answer must have amused Sebastian because he let out a very light chuckle.

         “Don’t encourage him, Luna!” Sam said dramatically, “His ego’s already big enough as it is!”

         Luna just shook her head with a giggle. Looking up to Sebastian, she said, “I’d take you up on your offer, but I know when I’ve been beat.” She smiled simply. Her innocent smile seamlessly morphed into a teasing one, “But I promise, I won’t lose next time.”

         That got her the reaction she was looking for. His lazy smile melted into a smug smirk, “Don’t get too cocky.”

         Abigail cleared her throat, interrupting the playful banter. She grabbed Luna by the arm, surprising her in the process, “Alright,” Abigail said, “You guys can finish this later. I want to get to know our new farmer.”

         Come to think of it, out of the three here, Luna did feel like she interacted with Abigail the lest. They had run into each other a few times in town, only to give out a “hello” in passing. She hadn’t even realized she was a friend of Sam’s, until the Flower Dance.

         Abigail’s bright blue eyes looked over to Luna’s green ones, “Have you ever played Journey of the Prairie King?”

         That earned her a lopsided smile from Luna, “I used to play it a lot as a kid.”

         Abigail’s smile seemed to have brightened upon hearing this. “Think you could help me out than? I’ve been stuck on this one level, and this game is so much easier with two people.”

         Luna looked over to Sebastian and Sam with an apologetic smile, but Sam just waved her off. “No worries Luna.” He said, “I’ll avenge you in pool!”

         Sebastian let out a snort at that, “I highly doubt you can.”

         “Wanna bet?”

         “Sure,” Sebastian answered dryly, without missing a beat, “I could use the extra cash.”

         Luna couldn’t help but giggle at their banter.

         “Try not to lose all of your money, Sam,” Abigail added while placing some change into the arcade machine. The screen blinked to life, and Abigail stepped aside to make room for Luna.

         “You two have no faith in me.” Sam whined dramatically, before pouting at Luna, “You’ll root for me, right?”

         Luna bit back a laugh, “Sure. I’ll cheer you on.”

         Luna was happy she didn’t place any bets by the end of the night. It turned out Abigail and Sebastian weren’t joking; Sam truly was just that bad at pool.

(Chapter 6)

[amyscascadingtabs]

just know that i’m already home

Amy and Jake bring their son home for the first time.

read on ao3 ✨

It doesn't feel real to Amy until they're home.

   At that point, she’s nearing forty-eight hours of having a baby. Nearly two days now, she’s been a mom to someone who now exists outside of her body, but it still doesn't feel real until she walks over the doorstep of their apartment.

    The days at the hospital were a beautiful, exhausted blur, made up of trying to recover from an intense and painful event and learn her son’s signals while also seeing visitors and remembering to do other, suddenly deprioritized, things like eating and showering. Amy's certain she’ll never forget the nervosity and magic of those hours and hours spent curled up in her hospital bed just staring at their son, but at the same time, they seemed like something happening inside of a dream. Although she knows for a fact that Mac is very much theirs, that he lived inside and came out of her - she's reminded of that every time she stands up - she can’t shake the feeling that they're just borrowing him, and the hospital will make them give him back any second. When the doctor confirms that yes, everything looks perfectly on track for them to go home with their son today, Amy doesn't understand how they can just let them walk out of there.

  Still, they do. No one even stops them on the way to their car to say they don't know what they're doing, and together, Jake and Amy make it through the most nerve-wracking car ride of their lives. Not that it’s especially dramatic, or because traffic is any crazier than usual, but because in the backseat next to Amy, sleeping in the safest baby car seat all of New York had to offer, is their son. He's dressed in his fuzzy white jumpsuit with ears and he keeps pulling up his fists to cover his face even as Amy tries to adjust them, and he’s the most precious cargo either of them has ever been in charge of transporting.

They're silent for most of the car ride, stunned with shock and disbelief that this is at all happening, but at every red light, Jake glances back to exchange a smile with her, and each time, it brings the happy tears a little closer.

  They take the car seat first, anxious to get their baby home and not force him to be stuck in there any longer than he has to. Mac starts squirming in discomfort the second the vehicle stops moving, and by the time they've reached their door, he's close to crying. It physically pains Amy to hear - she gets that it’s related to the overflowing hormones, but she still wonders how the tiniest of cries can feel like a knife being twisted in her heart - and it's with some sort of supernatural speed that she kneels down the moment they're inside, unbuckling her baby from the seat and holding him close, close.

“It’s okay,” she tells him, rocking slowly back and forth when the whimpers don't immediately cease. “You’re home, baby. We’re home.”

   That's when it finally, truly, hits her.

   They are home. The three of them, a family, and from this day on, they are going to live here together. They will sleep in the same room tonight, Mac hopefully in his crib at arm’s length away from her, and tomorrow, they will wake up together. They will have breakfast, probably take-away from the nearest bakery to celebrate, and maybe eat it in bed if they're tired. Jake will go buy it while Amy feeds their son, maybe listening to NPR in the background like she loves to do on lazy mornings. They will spend their day together, packing up their things and eating ready meals from the freezer, forgetting every priority except sitting on the couch and being mesmerised by their son’s every move. Maybe Jake will put on Die Hard and insist his son needs to get familiar with his namesake from a young age, maybe they won't be able to fend off another visit from Charles and they’ll spend an hour listening to more arguments for why his nickname should be Uncle Chi-Chi, and maybe they'll fall asleep on the couch all together in the afternoon when Mac naps. In the evening, they're going to go to sleep in their bedroom all together, and the day after that, they'll get to do it all over again.

   This is their home. This is where they will start their life together.

They’re a family, and now they’re home.

   Mac still doesn't seem too happy, though. Amy unzips her jacket, trying to hold him as close to her skin as she can and rock him to calm him down, but it's clear from the flailing fists and repeated cries that something is still bothering him.

“Do you think maybe he just wants to eat?” Jake asks her, and when she looks at him a little surprised, he shrugs and says, “All the books I read said to try that first when they’re upset.”

“He fed for forever before we left, though,” Amy mumbles, feeling the tears burn behind her eyelids just from listening to Mac’s clear unhappiness. “It just seems too soon. But I guess we could try.”

   She makes herself comfortable in the living room armchair, and Jake gets her the nursing pillow from the bedroom as she tries to manoeuvre the situation, still not totally used to the motions of handling a crying baby and unclasping the hook of her nursing bra at the same time. She's still skeptical, thinking that it feels way too short from when he last ate, but it only takes a minute of slight confusion for Mac before he latches on decisively and the fussy crying is replaced by the sweet sound of a slow, content, suckling.

   “You were right,” Amy whispers to Jake as he hands her a glass of water. “He was just hungry.”

“Of course I was,” he blushes. “Or, I mean. I took a chance. I guess it was mostly a lucky guess. But, I was right, so, y’know - bragging rights.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying, do you?”

“Nope, I don’t remember what sleep feels like. How are you still sitting up?”

“Hormones,” she mumbles. “God, I’m so tired. I must look like a mess.”

“You look badass,” Jake insists so quickly Amy wonders if it’s instinctive. She’s currently wearing maternity sweatpants and a stolen hoodie from her husband, she has one boob out trying to feed a baby and she knows from looking into the mirror this morning at the hospital that her nights of minimal sleep are showing. She’s certainly felt less badass, and yet Jake is looking at her with the same amount of love in his eyes as he had the night she agreed to name their son McClane. “You are badass.”

“I am?”

“I don’t know anyone else in this room who could give birth to a baby, without any drugs or medication, in a police precinct during a city-wide blackout. So, yeah. But it didn’t surprise me,” he grins. “You’re just that awesome.”

“The craziest birth story.” Amy smiles, putting down the glass of water so she can use her free hand to stroke the back of Mac’s head. “I guess it makes sense. I mean, if you think about our history as a couple. We had our first kiss undercover, we broke all the rules and slept together on our first date, and we gave a man a fatal heart attack from making out at work only in our first day as a couple. You proposed to me during a Halloween Heist. There was a bomb threat at our wedding and we ended up getting married outside the precinct. Mac just wanted to catch up.”

“For sure.” Jake laughs, reaching over to wiggle his son’s feet the way he’s done about a hundred times in the last few days. “I get it, buddy. You wanted to have a crazy-ass story, too. You know, we would still have taken you in even if you were born at a hospital under normal circumstances, but I get it.”

Amy giggles. “He just wanted to start in time. It’s okay. It makes for a fun story,” she yawns. “But the next time better be a hospital birth.”

She doesn’t realize what she’s said until she notices Jake freezing, staring at her in disbelief. “You’re thinking about the next one?”

“No! Maybe?” She grimaces. “Yes? A little. I’m just saying - some time in the future -”

“You’re insane, you know that?”

“I’m too tired to know what I’m saying!”

“We’ll see how we do with the first one,” Jake says, shaking his head. “And then we’ll decide. Either way, we are not talking about it tonight, that's for sure.”

“That’s fair,” Amy says, booping Mac’s nose. “Let’s start with focusing on our first perfect baby.”

“That I could do forever. Have you noticed how cute his cheeks are?”

“Every time I’ve looked at him in the past two days, and then again every time you or someone else have mentioned them, and then again every time I’ve taken a picture of him, and another time when I’ve looked at the picture.”

“They’re so good. I keep thinking I’ve settled on the cutest thing about him, but I keep changing my mind, because every single thing about him is just so perfect.”

“Yeah.” Amy strokes her index finger over Mac’s soft cheeks as he starts to pull away from her breast, stretching his hands out the way she’s noticed he will do whenever he’s full. “I think he’s done. How do you feel about being burped in the face by a two-day-old human?”

“Oh, it would be the greatest honor of my life, thank you.”

  Amy passes their son over to Jake, clasping the hooks of her bra back together and folding down her shirt while Jake holds their son in an already well-practiced grip, patting his back to help him get rid of the air he’s swallowed. She finishes the last sips of her water as she watches Jake snuggle his nose into Mac’s neck, breathing in the oh-so-addictive baby scent. Then it seems like he can't get enough, because he holds Mac so they're face-to-face while he presses kisses all over his son's face. Mac opens his mouth in what looks to be a yawn, and then, true to the words that were intended to be just a joke, he burps his dad in the face.

“Charming,” Jake mutters while Amy keeps laughing at his shocked expression.

“Well, I did warn you, babe.”

   Mac still doesn't seem content afterwards, though. He’s fussy, cranky, and not even being bounced in his father's arms seems to relax him as he makes tiny, jerking moments before letting out yet another upset cry. They try to see if he's still hungry, if he didn't actually eat until fullness, but that just makes him pull away his head and get even angrier. His little mouth twists in discontentment, making the saddest little upside-down U, and he manages to shatter Amy's heart with just one devastated look.

   Then she gets an idea, or maybe it’s instinct, but it feels more like a lucky guess. She adjusts Mac so that he’s laying upright on her chest, his nose against her neck and his heart beating against hers, and after one final shaking cry, it looks like Mac draws a breath of relief. Amy's hand strokes gently over his back, unbuttoning the top buttons of his little jumpsuit with green dots to maximize the skin-to-skin contact, and feels her son relax against her. The tension in their seems to melt away at the same time, and Amy feels like she could cry again from how natural, how fragile yet unbreakable, and how special it feels.

   Her son just wants to be close to her. Her heartbeat, her simple presence, is calming to him. This child knows he is safe with her, and his sudden calm in contrast to the earlier panic is the most beautiful love-letter Amy has ever received. She feels his exhales against the skin of her neck, warm and smelling like sweet milk, and for the one-thousandth time in the last two days, she falls in love.

She is Mac’s safe place, and when he lays on her chest, he is home.

“Is it nice to be home?” Jake asks her as she carefully moves to the couch with Mac, letting her husband throw her favorite soft blanket over the three of them before he rests his head on her free shoulder.

“Are you asking me or Mac?”

“Can it be both of you?”

“Yeah,” she smiles. “I think we're both enjoying it.”

Mac grunts like he’s trying to get involved in the conversation, and they both laugh.

“He definitely is,” says Jake, kissing the top of Mac’s head. “Welcome home, Mac. And you too, Ames.”

“Welcome home, Jake,” she whispers, watching him light up in an exhausted, but nevertheless incomparably bright, smile. “It's really, really good to be home.”

   Five minutes later, Jake falls asleep on her shoulder, holding his son's fist in one of his hands and drooling slightly with his mouth open. Amy sighs to herself, instantly realizing that she’ll have to wake him soon unless she wants to be stuck in this impractical position forever, but then she looks at the sight of her husband and son and feels her annoyance melt away.

   Her two favorite people in the world, sleeping on her because she's their ultimate safe place and home, and they're hers. She's home with them, and they're home with her, and they're all home in the apartment where they will begin their life together. Tomorrow, and the day after that, and then for many more days to come.

   Together, they're finally home.

[girl-with-cat-eyes]

Tale As Old As Time (2/?)

Years ago, an unlucky prince fell victim to fate and was cursed to spend forever as a beast. He hid away in fear of what he'd become. In a nearby town, a young man struggles to care for his ailing father. In the ultimate sacrifice, he agrees to live with beastly prince. Can our anxious beauty melt this beast's heart? AKA Thvi beauty and the beast au.

Ships: Thvi, Logicality, Demus, Romile

Chapter Summary: When we last left the boys Virgil had agreed to live with Thomad in order to heal his father. Now he will get to meet his new roommates and we see Thomas' reaction to all of this.

A/N: This took forever for chapter 2 but I'm happy with how it came out. We were originally going to have the kusoc incorporated but that proved beyond our talents. And remember prompts are open!Remember R&R and enjoy!

Love, @girl-with-cat-eyes & @forever-forgotten-angel

~~

Thomas tried not to stare as he led Virgil into his home, well it was theirs now. He couldn't believe that he'd agreed to live with him until the flos insidias magicae fabrica bloomed again. That a beautiful man such as this would willingly choose to live with a beast like him. 

He shook those thoughts away, swallowing before turning towards the other. "I can show you to your room and then I could introduce you to the others if you'd like." 

"Others?" 

He chuckled. "Yes. Did you think I lived here all by myself?" 

Virgil shrugged. "Truthfully I thought this place was abandoned until I saw you. That's why I didn't just knock on the front door."  

Thomas led him through the hallways, a room already picked for him. "I prefer it if people think the castle is abandoned. Keeps away unwanted visitors."

Truthfully it kept everyone away, as sad as that was. But it for the best. Sure Thomas hated being alone like this, but he'd hate it even more if people came just to stare at him. Or even worse formed a mob. It was the only possible outcome surely; he was a monster. 

Finally they were at the doorway Thomas had in mind. "Here's your room." He turned towards the other. "I'll let you get settled in, and I can introduce you to everyone later. And maybe we could have a late dinner? If you want to of course. Or I could have dinner sent up here for you. " He probably would want to dine alone. God knows why anyone would want to eat dinner with a beast like him, let alone this beautiful, kind man. 

Surprisingly, Virgil nodded eagerly at the mention of dinner. "Yes. I'd love to have dinner with you. And to meet everyone of course. Are they your family or friends or...?" 

"Technically they work for me. But they're like my family. Or friends at the very least." He smiled at the thought of his friends. He didn't know what he would do without them. He'd had to stop talking to everyone after he was cursed. Of course, Thomas felt guilty that they had been cursed for his mistake. They didn't deserve to spend their lives the way that they now did because he'd accidentally insulted that enchantress. 

He shook his head, trying to clear those thoughts. They didn't deserve it but it was too late now. "Right. Well I will let them know that you are living with us now and to start preparing a late dinner. I'll be back in a bit to show you to the dining room. This place can be confusing if you don't know the lay out." 

He nodded up at Thomas. "Alright. I'll um.. unpack my things." That's when Thomas saw the small grocery bag of clothes and toiletries that Virgil held. It wasn't much. Clearly he hadn't intended on being gone long. He made a mental note to get him some new clothes. 

He watched his new houseguest enter his room, giving a soft wave as he shut the door. Thomas sighed. He was adorable! He had a handsome, adorable roommate for the next 6 months at least.

Giving himself one more moment to compose himself, Thomas made his way down to the kitchens to tell everyone of their new roommate. 

Thankfully, Logan was still awake when he got there, the clock holding his family close. "Well?" He asked. 

Thomas clicked on the lights, hearing soft groans. "Everyone." He said. "I have news." 

~

Virgil looked at his new room. It was bigger than his one at home, and far nicer too. Up front near the door was a small couch with a chair and a coffee table in front of a fireplace. Clearly meant for visitors. Then in the back was the more 'bedroom' area. There was a simple vanity sitting across from a wardrobe. And sitting along the back wall was a four poster bed with a canopy and a footrest in front of that. Yes the room was nicer than anything Virgil had ever stayed in before. 

He sat his bag down on the footrest before laying down on the bed with a sigh. Getting a thought, the man pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to his father telling him he loved him and to remember to take his medicine. 

He already missed his father so much. Virgil had never been away from Dee for long periods of time and 6 months felt like an eternity. But he reminded himself that this was all worth it. Virgil would get the flower and get it back to him. And possibly get to flirt with that cute beast in the process. 

Thomas seemed nice enough: he'd not only offered to let Virgil have the flower for free come spring, but he was letting him stay here free of charge until it bloomed. Not to mention he looked like a cuddly teddy bear. 

Virgil was shaken from his thoughts by a knock on the door. He rolled off the bed, going to answer the door. Thomas stood on the other side with a sheepish grin. "I told everyone. And they all want to meet you… And afterwards we could have dinner?" 

Virgil nodded. "Ok." He followed the taller man…beast..whatever. He followed the other out and downstairs. "You said they worked for you?" 

"Yes. And they're.. Well they're like me. I figured I should warn you now so you aren't shocked." He nodded at that. Alright he was living with multiple beasts it for the time being. 

Thomas lead him into what seemed to be a kitchen, giving him a nervous smile as they entered. To Virgil's shock, the room was empty, only a few household items sitting around. "Where is everyone?"

"We're right here, kiddo!" 

Virgil jumped and looked down. There was a teapot looking at him. And the teapot could speak. Oh boy. Suddenly a clock moved to beside the teapot and spoke. "Patton, dearheart, please be careful. You could have shattered getting off of the trolley!" 

The teapot turned towards the clock with a sweet smile. "Oh sweetie pie, I am being careful. But you can't expect me to stay on the trolley my entire life." They were both talking. The furniture could talk. These were the people Thomas had been referring to. 

Virgil swallowed. "You can all talk." 

A candelabra moved forward, grinning and bowing. "Of course we can talk!" Virgil starred as the talking candelabra tucked one of it's candles under its base in what he could only assume was a rather dramatic bow. "I am Roman, at your service. The brightest star of this household and master of romanc-" 

"And I am Remus. King of Trash and far superior to my flames for brains brother up there." Virgil looked down to see a fancy trash can give him a somewhat salacious wink. Strangely this was not the oddest thing to happen to him tonight. 

"Well.. This was unexpected but it's nice to meet both of you." He was going to ask for the names of the others when a little chipped teacup bounces into view. The clock scrambled forward to steady the cup.  

"Hi! I'm Chip. Uncle Thomas says you live here with us now. Are you going to be my new uncle?" He gave a big grin. Virgil felt a smile grow on his own face at how adorable this little guy was.  

The clock moved closer. "Charles it's not po-" 

"Absolutely. I'm your uncle Virgil now." He locked over to the clock and teapot. "I didn't catch your names. I'm Virgil. And you are?" He prompted. 

The teapot spoke first. "Well, kiddo, I'm Patton but most folks call me Pat or Dad." He smiled up at Virgil. He found himself returning the gesture and meaning it. 

The clock besides Patton sighed. "The only person who calls you 'Dad' is Charles. Which makes sense since he is our son." Patton shrugged and the clock turned to face Virgil. "I am Logan. Patton's husband and Charles' father." 

Virgil was about to speak when he heard some clanging come from the entrance. Before he could ask what was making that sound a feather duster appeared in the doorway, followed by an armoire. “We’re here.” The feather duster exclaimed. “Oh! Is this him? Hello. I’m Emile! Gosh, what you did for your father is truly brave.” 

The wardrobe rolled its eyes. “Gurl stop. You’re overwhelming him.” He gave a smirk. “I’m Remy. The most fashionable bitch around here.”

Virgil gave a short nod, trying to come to terms with everything. He would be living with a beast and living furniture until the flower bloomed. Ok. He’d dealt with weirder. And this couldn’t be too bad; they all seemed nice enough considering that he had broken in. Besides they could all be awful and he still wouldn’t leave until spring. He would put up with anything to cure his father. He ran a hand through his hair before speaking. “Right.” He sighed. “Well, I’m Virgil, um he/him pronouns.I’m going to be staying here for a while, until I can cure my father. But I’m sure you were already knew that. It’s nice to meet all of you. I hope you won’t mind my staying here.” 

They all smiled at him and Virgil felt relieved that they didn’t seem too mad at his intrusion. This could certainly work. Come spring, he’d have the cure for his father and maybe some acquaintances. Or maybe even friends? He felt warm and happy just thinking about it. “Well, have you eaten yet? We could make some dinner for you if you’d like. And maybe you could tell us about yourself.” Said Patton. 

Virgil nodded. “That sounds great.” He looked at Thomas. “You said you wanted to give me tour?” He nodded and offered out his hand. Virgil took it with a soft smile. It was so soft. 

“Yes. I’ll show you around while dinner is cooking.” He returned Virgil’s smile. “Shall we?”

~

Thomas tried to focus on showing Virgil the rooms, but it was hard when his reactions were so adorable. He couldn’t help but watch the awe on the other man’s face as he lead him through the castle. His face lit up as they moved through the rooms, eyes widening at the size of his new home. 

“It’s not much.” He explained. “But it’s my home.” 

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him, clearly disagreeing. “Not much? This place is easily as big as my home village!” 

Thomas shrugged. “I guess I just haven’t thought about it like that. I grew up here; it’s all I know.” He turned to look at the next room. “This is the library. I spend a lot of time in here, if you ever need me come here.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You’re welcome to use the library as much as you want. I mean the entire castle is free for your use of course.” 

Virgil looked at the room in awe. “There’s so many books here, it’s amazing. I work at a bookstore and we don’t have anywhere near the number of books that are in here.” He turned back towards Thomas. “You mean it? That I can come in here whenever I’d like?”

Thomas smiled. “Of course. There’s quite a few books in here I could recommend for you if you’d like?” Virgil nodded. “Alright. Dinner should be ready by now, shall we head back? You must be starving by now, I’m sure.” 

He shrugged. “I mean I guess? I haven’t eaten today if that’s what you mean.” Thomas stopped to look at him.

The response threw him through a loop. He felt worry course through him, but tried to hold it back. There had to be a logical reason for this. “Why not? Too busy driving?” He was met with another shrug.

“Ehh.. More like I was rationing out the food. I needed to make sure my dad was able to eat. God knows he needs to keep his strength up.” And the worry was back stronger than before. Virgil must be starving if he had be rationing out their food. 

“Oh. Well you must be starving then. We should definitely eat.” Thomas began moving again with a quicker pace. The faster they got to the dining room, the faster this poor man could eat.

“I mean it’s not the first time I’ve skipped a meal. I do it all the time back home.”

“What?” 

“I’ve skipped meals before. Saves money that way. Then we can afford my dad’s medical treatments and he can still get 3 meals a day. It’s a huge load off my shoulders to know that he’s getting enough food. He really needs it with him being so sick; it’ll help him keep his energy up.”

Thomas blinked. Virgil had been ... starving himself so that his father had enough food. This hadn’t just been a one-time thing since they were traveling. He apparently did this often. Worry coursed through Thomas’ veins and burned like acid. He swallowed. Virgil needed to eat right away. The poor thing, god knows how long it had been since he’d had a real meal. Thomas was determined to change that.  “Well, I can promise you, Virgil, that you will never have to miss a meal while you’re here. You won’t have to worry about that.” He gave a soft smile before leading Virgil to the dining room. 

~

Thankfully it was a short walk from the library to the dining room. Thomas had wanted to carry Virgil there, but he was unsure if the shorter man would be ok with it. Instead he chose to guide him there, hand on the small of his back. 

Virgil had been just as impressed with the dining room as he was with the rest of the castle, his eyes lighting up at its sheer size. Thomas had to resist a smile as he took it all in. He shook his head slightly; Virgil needed to eat. "Please sit down. I'm going to see how dinner is coming." 

Virgil sat and he went back to the kitchen. He needed to make sure everything was done. "Is dinner ready?" The others all turned to look at him. 

Roman spoke first. "But of course. I was thinking that I could perform something first-" 

"You can perform while Virgil eats. He hasn't eaten a proper meal in almost 3 days." Patton gasped at that.  

"The poor kiddo. He must be starving at this point." Thomas nodded in agreement. 

"And apparently he goes without food all the time. He needs a proper meal. So food first." With that he went back into the dining room. 

"Dinner is almost ready." He announced as he sat down, trying not to stare at Virgil's pink tinged cheeks. Alas it did not work too well for Thomas. He was but a simple gay. And the panic was starting to set in. He would be living with this cute guy for the 6 months? There was no way he'd survive it. 

He had just sat down when the others brought out dishes of food as well as two place settings. Thomas sent them a thankful look as they set down the trays of food before going back into the kitchen. Reaching forward, Thomas served both himself and Virgi trying to keep in mind that he would most likely want less. 

Virgil smiled and gave a soft thanks. “Thank you.” He swallowed. “For everything. This… It means everything to me. This flower is the only thing I’ve found that could cure my father. He’s all I have.”

Thomas nodded thinking of his own parents. They’d been so close before everything. He could still remember his mother tucking him in at night. It had been so long ago. He quickly shook those thoughts away and turned his attention back to the conversation at hand. "Well I'm glad to help." He paused. "So tell me about your life before now. I really don't get to go outside much." 

Virgil seemed to grow more comfortable as he talked about his job at a bookstore and how he used to love to write and wanted to become a writer before his father became ill. Thomas sighed. He could do this. He could spend the next year living with this sweet and cute man. He just had to remember that it was to save his father's life and not get attached. 

~~

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