#i thin i may get this printed and sent out to my friends and family this year

[drinkthebones]

Hisssss (“happy holidays” in possum. Or possibly “get off my lawn”)

[uwuwriting]

Soulmates w/ Dabi, Shirakumo and Keigo

Request: Hello! I just read a few of your writings &I'd just like to say they're amazing! Anyways, may I request some hc's for a soulmate AU w/ Dabi, Shirakumo, & Hawks?(all separate)- anonymous

Soulmate Aus have a shit ton of tropes so I went for a different trope on each boy bc I love them all. My man Dabi has dipped the last few chapters and I’m getting kinda deprived, although I appreciate him not burning my baby Shoto to a crisp so we good. Love ya.💖💖💖

masterlist II rules

warnings: angst with some fluff

 Dabi/Todoroki Touya II Interchangeable eye color

-Dabi’s outlook on love is really negative. 

-Growing up the way he did and in the environment he did, the possibilities in him believing or cherishing love and soulmates was low. 

-When he got his soulmate sign he was around 12. 

-It was the darkest moments of his life and he hated himself to no end. 

-When he woke up on that fateful Sunday morning he thought that he was hallucinating. 

-Then he imagined that this could be an after affect of his trauma, just like his hair. 

-His mind though drifted to his soulmate. 

 -He didn’t have a mark up until now and your eye color changing was one of the many soulmate signs out there. 

-As he stared at his left eye, the e/c orb staring back at him, he began to cry. 

-Sobs wracked his body as he clutched his eye. 

-This was unfair. 

-He shouldn’t have a soulmate, what good could he be to anyone?

-He is a failure and he is gonna bring down his soulmate as well. 

-So he hides it. 

-Puts a patch over his eye to conceal the new color blooming around his iris and when his family starts questioning it he buys contacts. 

-Natsuo helps him even though he doesn’t understand why his brother doesn’t want a soulmate. 

-Years pass until he finally meets the person that has changed his life. 

-Shigaraki was being a brat as usual, whining about needing new members for his little group. 

-Dabi couldn’t care less.

-This  whole charade with these losers would only aid him reach his ultimate goal. 

-He didn’t care about Shigaraki’s shitty ideologies and otherworldly desires, he just wanted his revenge. 

-His eyes scanned the so-called hide out in utter boredom, his gaze landing once again at the bar’s door left slightly ajar in case someone came looking. 

-He didn’t expect for the door to open though. 

-And as the grease old door creaked open a figure stepped into the room, clad in black from head to toe. 

-A mask was covering half of your face leaving only your eyes visible. 

-You scanned the place before your eyes landed swiftly on him, knocking the breath out of him as you locked gazes, e/c orbs baring into his own. 

-The vibrant blue on your left eye had him gasping for air. 

-It was stunning. 

-You moved to talk to Shigaraki, your voice albeit monotone and cold, sent tingles up his spine making his hairs stand at attention. 

-His eyes were glued on you, one of his hands subconsciously going to the left side of his face where his mark should be visible.

-It felt as if his contact burned his eye and he quickly took it off, not minding about possible infections since he didn’t wash his hands before touching his eYE DAMMIT YA NASTY AF. 

-His body was drawn to you, his mind screaming at him to talk to you to go close to you. 

-You knew he was your soulmate. 

-You had known the moment you stepped into the bar; no one had such a beautiful blue hue in their eyes other than your soulmate. 

-Despite your mutual desire to be close to each other you  held off for months. 

-Months of keeping distance, months of giving each other the cold shoulder. 

-It would all reach a tipping point soon and Dabi would finally understand what it’s like to truly love someone. 

-Until then though, suffer in your mutual pining. 

Shirakumo Oboro II Red string of Fate

-The string around his pinky finger always lay motionless for years. 

-It was slack and lifeless, no sign of his soulmate being remotely alive. 

-It really worried him, he thought that he might be one of the few unfortunate individuals who didn’t have a soulmate. 

-He talked to his friends about it and they all reassured him that his soulmate was just too far away from him so even if they tugged at the string he wouldn’t be able to feel it. 

-This reassured him all throughout middle school. 

-He started getting a little discouraged when he saw all his classmates getting their soulmate signs whether it be names tattooed on their wrists, one of their eyes changing color or a strand of their hair, other could hear faint music if they concentrated hard enough while others were unfortunate enough to feel their soulmate’s pain. 

-Shirakumo was left staring at the red string surrounding his finger. 

-He had thought about tugging at it, making the first step instead of waiting for the person on the receiving end.  

-But on this day, the day when both Aizawa and Hizashi got their respective signs he found himself tugging at the string. 

-At first he pulled lightly watching the string grow taught slowly and then go slack again. 

-He waited for what felt like a century before tugging again and again, more force being put in his pulls every time. 

-After an hour of waiting and tugging he was done. 

-Eyes downcast with a frown on his lips, he was ready to let this whole soulmate thing go. 

-At the end of the day he doesn’t need the universe to tell him who he should fall in love with; who he is destined to be with. 

-Then he felt it. 

-The lightest tug at his finger. 

-His eyes followed the red string as it straightened a few times before going limb again. 

-Aizawa walked in on him pulling the string like crazy, excited giggles leaving his lips when his soulmate responded with their own pulls. 

- “Shota I did it. T-they answered!”

-This whole string communication business lasted until the first day of high school. 

-As Oboro walked through the halls of UA he felt the string shift on his finger. 

-It was as if it was wrapping tighter around his finger, almost to the point that it hurt. 

-Maybe he was about to meet his soulmate that’s why the string was thinning. 

-Wait, meet them??

-He wasn’t ready to meet them!!!

-What if they didn’t like him? What if his hair was a bit too cloudy for their likes? Oh god his hair must be a mess because he flew here. Maybe he can dash into one of the bathrooms and fix it real quick. Will he be too loud for them? What-

-Lost in his own thoughts he completely missed the person standing in front of him and soon he was crashing into them, a small grunt leaving his lips as he maneuvered himself to cushion their fall. 

- “Oh God I’m so sorry, I was totally zoned out. Are you alright?” 

- “Why are you apologizing? I ran into you.” 

-He let out a chuckle as you scrambled off of him, dusting off your skirt before offering him a hand. 

-As he took it he felt his pinky being released from the pressure. 

-Right before your eyes you witnessed the red string that connected you both unwrap for your fingers, illuminating for a moment before completely disappearing leaving a sense of familiarity and warmth in its wake. 

-You both stared wide eyed at each other before awkwardly introducing yourselves. 

-It didn’t take long for you two to actually fall in love and if you’re being honest it’s was so easy to fall for him that you believed that even if you weren’t soulmates you would have loved him. 

-Even after years, even after that fateful summer, the sense of his presence and his warmth never left you; it was as if he wasn’t gone and he was still somewhere out there. 

-You were half wrong in that one….I think. 

Takami Keigo/Hawks II Name tattoos

-He got his tattoo when he was 13. 

-It had really awful timing if he was being honest. 

-The hero commission was isolating him completely, even from the few friends he had made around the facility he trained in.

-He couldn’t even begin to imagine what they might do if they find out he had a soulmate. 

-He truly wished he had a different soulmate sign or no soulmate at all. 

-He did everything in his willpower to hide the calligraphy of your name on his left wrist. 

-Bandaging it up, covering it with a watch even scribbling over it like he used to do when he was 9 and bored. 

-But at some point it became harder to hide it, harder to conceal the beautiful name that was printed on his wrist. 

-So he confided in someone. 

-One of the caretakers at the commission had taken him under their wing ever since he was a wittle toddler, he trusted them with his life. 

-When he approached them frantically grasping his wrist in attempts to hide the letters, they were both delighted and saddened. 

-It was nice knowing that this poor child had someone out there that was meant for him and would make him happy, replace every single one of these awful memories with new ones.

-Memories he would like looking back to. 

-But just like Hawks himself they knew that the commission wouldn’t allow this person to get involved with him, at any costs and they knew how far these people could go in order to guarantee Hawks’s undivided concentration. 

-So they helped him; they bought him some make up to cover it up and taught him how to apply it correctly. 

-By the time he was out of the hands of the commission *at least not in close reach* no one apart from them knew of his soulmate’s name. 

- “Now listen here Keigo, I want you to take good care of them when you finally meet them. And never forget that you deserve nice things, don’t let anyone take your happiness away.” 

-He did find his happiness. 

-It didn’t happen right away but it did come sooner than he expected. 

-He had learned about the new transfer student who began attending UA in the middle of the year. 

-He never heard their name but he knew they existed. 

-Turns out they were quirkless but were determined to become a hero despite their shortcomings. 

-After a few months he bumped into them and oh lord his wings have never been puffier. 

-He was  relaxing on the roof, away from prying eyes and loud people, just him and the birds *he found his people at last*.

-When he heard the door open he almost leaped off the building but paused at the sound of a soft voice. 

- “Oh I’m so sorry I didn’t know someone was up here.” 

-Turning around he came face to face with the most beautiful person he had ever laid his eyes upon. 

-For the first time in his life he stumbled over his words, a swift ‘It’s alright’ escaping his lips and before he knew what he was doing he was inviting you to sit with him. 

- “Wow you can see everything from here.” 

- “The view is better up in the sky if you ask me.”

-After a long pause he added. “I could show you if you want.” 

- “How can I trust you? Hmmm?” you teased. “I don’t even know your name.” 

-He let out a chuckle before continuing. “Could say the same for you but since I’m a gentleman I will grace you with my name. I’m Keigo Takami or Hawks if you wanna go with my hero persona.” 

-He saw your eyes widen as you stared at him, your eyes darting to his covered wrists. 

-Quickly you composed yourself straightening your shirt and extending your hand, the black letters of his name delicately engraved on your smooth skin. 

- “Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N L/N.”  

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[whitehotharlots]

A true story about rehab from 2007

Names and places changed, dates slightly fuzzy, yada yada

This all starts with Chris.  Chris might be a good example of how things are objectively broken.

Two summers ago, Chris and his girlfriend moved from everyone's old hometown, Alton, to everyone's current home, Garden City.  I had known Chris briefly when I still lived in Alton, which was up until about 8 years ago.  In high school he was friends with my sister, a year behind her, I think, only he had some legal trouble and didn't graduate until two years after her.  The first arrest came during his junior year, when police found some marijuana in his car while he was in class.  "Apparently Alton is a utopia," he said years later.  "No robberies need solving, no cars need ticketing, no fences need mending, fuckit nobody's house must've been dirty because if there was anything else even remotely worthwhile that those cocksuckers could have been doing they wouldn't have taken a drug dog through the high school parking lot."  

The ironic part was that he was, honest-to-god, holding it for a friend.  Hadn't touched the stuff until then, hadn't even drank more than a beer or two.  Cops came in and pulled him out of class.  Cuffed him right there in class, in front of everybody.   From what I've been able to piece together that marked a very strong loss of innocence for young Chris.  No rules were worth following, after all, if The Bastards could punish you for nothing.  This was greatly exacerbated by the fact that, according to several of the best lawyers Alton had to offer, the search of Chris' car was unconstitutional as it was not actually parked in the school parking lot, or even on school grounds, at the time of the search.  The juvenile court judge would hear none of it though—all the police had done was break Chris' constitutional right to privacy.  He had committed the much greater crime of having an eighth ounce of marijuana in his glove compartment. 

His claim of having his rights violated incensed the judge, who sentenced our poor Chris to 72 hours in county jail and 12 weeks of rehab.  Were it not for his successful, stable family, he would have been sent to juvie. 

It was his first offense.  He was 16. 

Jail, he said, wasn't that bad.  He got to do it over a weekend. The guard was an old lady and even though she was kind of a bitch she let him bring in his homework.  She said she was surprised to see someone his age in here, with the adults, but whatever he had done it must have been pretty bad or else he wouldn't be here, would he?  They kept him away from the drunks at night and the only other people who came into the "pen" (his word, not mine) were guys who got bailed out within a couple of hours and were too pissed off about their own bad luck to give him any shit for his. 

What really fucked with him was rehab.  It didn’t matter that he'd never smoked a single joint (or even a cigarette) at this time:  he was an addict and by gum he had to admit to being an addict before the obese, shit-smelling overseer would sign the form saying that Chris had attended his sessions.  Every weekend for three months he was legally forced to lie.  Yes, he said, he was an addict.  Yes, even though it made no sense in any grammatical or even symbolic context, he was forced to say "my name is Chris and I'm a narcotic."  His personal habits were picked apart—why was his hair so long (it wasn't that long, really)? Why did he wear the same pants on Sunday that he wore on Saturday?  Who were these "Dead Milkmen" that his T-shirt spoke of?  Ohh… and surely this is a good-tempered, Christian punk band, right?  No?  Well you see right there that's a part of the problem.  Have your mother sign a note saying you've thrown out all of their CDs and any other enabling you might own.  No—you can't sell them, you must throw them out. 

"We had to go in a day and a half every weekend.  All day Saturday and then Sunday from noon until 4.  It took me five weeks, when I was starting to get comfortable, before I asked if I could come in Saturday afternoon and all day Sunday.  It worked out better for me that way, since the place where I worked wasn't open Sundays.  The fat guy just opened his mouth and would not close it.  'When would you go to church?'  he said. By then I knew enough to laugh and say 'oh yeah what was I thinking.'"

A few of the people had actual problems.  One guy got caught with meth, was beating the shit out of his wife and his two little girls, and seemed genuinely remorseful.  Another guy had to drink a sixer every morning or else he'd get the shakes so bad he wouldn't be able to drive to work.  But most of the people there were more or less normal and had either fucked up once or else been fucked over once—got into a bar fight while legally drunk, blew .02 over the legal limit at a roadblock, smoked pot once every few weeks and got narced on by a snitch, that kind of stuff. These people were split over how much they believed the bullshit they were being fed.  Those who believed, as the official literature did, that being hungover once in your lifetime or ever drinking more than 4 beers in a sitting two or more times in a month are both signs of hardcore alcoholism, they became repentant and preachy. 

One such lady was a thin, tan, well-dressed soccer mom who would snitch on the others when they didn't pay close enough attention to the instructional videos or else would appear in any way to not be taking things seriously enough.  If you were bad you got demerits, credit card-sized pieces of construction paper upon which frowny faces and intimidating biblical verses were printed. The overseer would also scribble something down in his notebook, which must have had some kind of official weight because it was on his person at all times.

Most people have an innate desire, however illogical it might often be, to please authority figures, and so Chris and the rest of the doubtful "addicts" thought the embarrassment of getting their reprimand literally handed to them was punishment enough for resting their eyes or letting a stray giggle break loose when the acting in an informational film was especially bad. Chris made only one such mistake.  During a lecture, the overseer kept making the point that it wasn't the drugs that people get addicted to—oh no, it's the high that keeps you coming back.  Chris smiled—remember at this point he still probably hadn't ever been high, not in his whole life—because it seemed like such a stupid, nonsensical thing to say, because even though he was only 16 he could appreciate moments like this, when the moronic essence of a big, scary process could concentrate itself into a single sentence. 

"It's not the drugs:  it's the high," the man said.  He was very clean shaven, dressed like a detective in a 70s cop show, his hair was combed so straight it was like wire, his glasses were round and cruel looking and he had this, this look on his face, this air about him like he thought he was a genius.  He nodded a little bit after the repetition of his idiotic point. Proud—he was actually proud of the things he was saying, proud of his position, proud of getting to fill the heads of desperate or else unfortunate people with nonsense.  And this made Chris smile—not laugh, just smile, and the soccer mom pulled on his ear really hard, so hard it made his eyes water, and then she raised her hand to snitch on him.  The proud overseer was still proud, looked like a king in an old movie, and with the most serious air Chris had ever seen, the fat man called him up before the entire room.  His eyes were still watery from the shock of having his ear nearly yanked up and so he looked down, towards the ground, so people wouldn't think he was crying.

"You ashamed of something," the fat overseer asked.  Chris didn't say anything. "Look up," said the overseer.  Chris kept looking down.  His chest moved in and out heavily and his fists were clenched, and he wasn't sure but he may have been crying normal tears by this point, but they were out of rage, not sadness.  Or—no…really what's the difference between those two, and it's impossible that the immense hopelessness of his situation and the utter retardation of his surroundings hadn't saddened somewhat.  If it were just rage making him cry then he would have also lashed out, punched the overseer or at least called him a name. No. No, the hopelessness must have stung enough to make him sad.  But his tears were out of rage primarily, and out of nothing even close to shame.

"Look up.  Now."

He did.  His jaw was clenched and his eyes were tightened into red little slits but he looked more defeated than mean, more helpless than threatening.

"I want you all to look at this face.  Soak it up.  Take it all in.  Done?  Give you another second.  Okay, now you're done.  This, people, is what failure looks like.  Some of you will see it again, right here.  This is what it looks like when you don't take yourself seriously, when you don't care enough about yourself to appreciate the chances that are being given to you."

He extended a demerit card towards the Chris’ face.  It was accepted without a whimper.

Weeks later, it came time for Chris and the gang to "graduate" from their classes.  By this point, Chris had gotten drunk several times (even puked, once) and tried to smoke pot a few times but it hadn't done anything to him.  Maybe he was just too drunk to feel it or he wasn't inhaling right, who knows.  Anyhow he figured a few bong hits wouldn't hurt before he had to show up to the ceremony, right, since he hadn't felt anything yet.  And, man, it was a blast because he was high as a fucking kite at the graduation, must have shoved 20 inches worth of the party sub into his mouth and downed at least 7 flutes of sparkling grape juice.  

His mother and stepfather—both stinking rich, by the way, disheartened by the lad's sudden fall from grace and more than a little pleased to see him making such a fast and exemplary recovery with the aid of such a caring and competent program—were dressed to the nines.  His mom was making time with the addicts.  This was her wont, the irresistible, flirty friendliness that drove her from the dregs of society (Chris' biological father) all the way to where she was today. While this was going on, Stepfather gracefully let loose to the riffraff around him all those little signs that showed that he was a kind man, but of great consequence.  He'd talk about sports while stretching him arm just so, just far enough to let his fancy watch fall into view.  He'd offer to lift heavy objects as an excuse to show off his bed-made tan, his gym-toned arms and back.  All of your jokes made him smile, but only just long enough for you to get a glimpse of his perfectly straight, snow white teeth. Both of them kept making their way over to Chris, who had stationed himself near the concessions table, to whisper into his ear how proud they were of him for pulling himself around and hint bluntly at him still receiving for his birthday a new car.  All the while, through this bleary, more-or-less with it haze, feeling content and calm with his surroundings and his high, Chris kept thinking about how much he had it made.  Everyone was a sucker, it seemed, but him.  Really, wow.  Everyone is stupid but me.

The soccer mom cut quickly around the room, stopping alongside each cluster of people and telling them that something important was about to happen,  it was time for everyone to walk into the little classroom where they normally met.  "You're not gonna want to miss this" she said, looking right into Chris with a mean little smile on her face that she knew would scare him.  Oh god, Chris though, she knew that he was high.  What was she in here for—ooh shit man, you've heard her talk about it 100 times.  Vicodin, right.  Vicodin and wine, passing out while one of her kids started a fire.  That's right.  Calm down. She wouldn't have known what someone looked like when he was high on pot.  Mom and Stepfather couldn't even tell and they saw Chris every day.  Calm down.

Chris shoved a few more bites of party sub into his mouth.  His mom laughed and said "getting better must make you work up an appetite, huh?"  Stepfather laughed.  Chris couldn't say anything, not even by the time they had walked all the way into the classroom and sat down on little folding chairs, because there was so much sandwich in his mouth.  Things began to quiet down within a couple of minutes. The overseer, smiling, poked his head out of his office and waved to the small crowd.  People clapped a little bit.  Chris noticed that "AWARDS RECEPTION" had been written on the blackboard with colored chalk, the letters alternating blue to red, blue to red.  A stack of certificates sat on the table up front.  The overseer waddled to the table and gestured towards his office and a large, black policeman walked from office to the entrance.  He looked all business.  There was another one who poked his head out from the office and then the overseer was still smiling, like the soccer mom he was wearing big, mean, fake smile and Chris sunk into his chair and moaned a little bit because he knew he was about to get arrested, again.  Arrested in front of his parents. 

Mom asked stepfather what the policemen were hear for the stepfather said—ahh the great rational bastard, it was all Chris could do to stop himself from hugging him—that since this was an official presentation, court mandated and all that, they must have some cops come and witness it.  That's all it was.  Nothing to get too upset about.  Still—gotta stay calm.  If the cops took no notice of Chris then they wouldn't take any notice of his being so incredibly fucking high. 

"Well," the overseer began.  Chris was hyperobservant and noncritical and he realized for the first time how long it took the overseer to get through sentences, because of all of his fat.  He'd pause every few words and take in a deep breath from his gut.  When he spoke it was in these bursts that were effeminately condescending but still bulky and powerful.  Like, if being told you were bad by a sharp-tongued gay man didn't hurt you then maybe being yelled at by an abusive gym coach would. Only he wasn't a gym coach and probably wasn't gay, either.  Talked about his wife and kids all the time.  This was an act.  He had measured out this persona for himself.  This was some kind of cruel professionalism.

Jesus, Chris thought to himself.  Pot fucks up the way you think about things.  How long had it been since they sat down?  How long since he'd been scared by the cops?  When was the guy going to start talking—ohh, wait he's already talking.  Might want to listen:

"And this is what this program is supposed to achieve: smiling faces.  Not just the smiling faces of those who are on roads to recovery—their own personal roads—but of their families and their friends.  The selfishness might end here.  The pain they have caused you, that they are sorry for, might end here.  But it's up to everyone here to make sure that all of these faces keep smiling."

He paused—too long.  Wanted people to clap for him.  They did.  Then they finished.  He continued.  His tone was different.  He had sounded like he was reading off a card.  Now he sounded more like he normally did, during classes.

"But it would be… hypocritical of me to let everyone who came here leave here, especially… if I knew that they would be making people start… to cry sometime soon.  Two of our friends will not be graduating today."

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

"The first… Rup-ERT Donwiddle."

Ahh.  Okay.  That guy—white guy, lots of scars—never even showed up after the first day.  He wasn't even here.  Chris sunk his head into his lap, like he was stretching or about to puke, while the overseer mumbled about how Rubert had squandered his chance for recovery and blah blah blah. 

"Rufus failed… due to lack of initiative.  He didn't come.  But every time we have this course, it seems… there is someone who does come…  but who shows such disrespect that he might as well not have"

The overseer's tone changed, again, abruptly but not in a way that seemed unplanned.  He was talking somewhere in between the rehearsed tone he'd used earlier and the mumbling, jumbled tone he used during regular meetings.  The air shifted around Chris.  It felt like strategy, men moving into position in order to accomplish some kind of task or anticipate some kind of resistance.  The bigger cop stood by the door that led to the outside, blocking it.  Meanwhile the guys who had missed the most class and been handed the most demerits began to shift in their seats a little bit while their wives looked at them in white fear, the sterile blank walls felt like they were closing in—that's what  expression actually meant, when it actually feels like the room you are in just got smaller, more oppressive—and the big fat fuck who ran the place worse the biggest fatfuck smile Chris had ever seen and he if had dropped dead of a heart attack no one with a mind or soul would have gotten up to help him.  In spite of all of this, the synchronization was such that Chris couldn't work up any fear.  He was too busy admiring the evil of the whole process. 

Chris took to talking to the soccer mom, a few months later, as part of some revenge scheme that never quite materialized.  He had first planned on sleeping with the woman and ruining her marriage.  When that didn’t work out he thought about maybe figuring out the vulnerabilities of her home and passing that knowledge on to some unseemly sorts who, god willing, would have raped, robbed, and kill her.  He didn't do that, though, for the same reason he didn't speak up during the meeting when the police were blocking off the door and overseer was smiling the very worst smile the world had ever seen:  because the woman's evil was so immense that he could barely process it, could do little else, in fact, aside from sitting back and admiring it.  What he learned from her, after she had opened up to him and filled him on all the details, was that if you didn't pass the rehab course it counted as either a violation of your parole or else as a violation of your court sentence, so your failure was akin to skipping bail trying to escape from prison.   That's to say it was a Very Serious offense, one that could put you in prison for a long, long time.  And what the overseer hadn't told to anybody but the soccer mom, who was his favorite, was that his policy was that out of every class there had to be at least one addict who failed to pass in spite of showing up, one person who because of this or that reason simply did not deserve to consider his or her self cured of their addiction.  That's what the demerits were for. Whoever got the most failed the course.  You couldn't tell the whole class about this since then the people who got the most demerits early on would have stopped coming all together.  On top of that, if you got into a situation where a few weeks in one guy had racked up 20 or 30 demerits, then that more or less lightens the stakes for everyone else.  They'll start mouthing off or falling asleep since they know they'll never make up enough demerits to catch the worst guy, and then by the end of it you'd have been better off not doing any sort of demerit system at all.  No—no, the trick was to keep it a surprise.  That had two positives:  one, you catch the guy by surprise and make sure he gets what's coming to him.  Two, you put the fear of god into the others who are all sitting around watching.  That's when they got taught what happens if you don't respect the things you should.

All Chris knew at the time of meeting was that the balding factory worker, Hank was his name, was getting pulled up really unnecessarily roughly by the cop, had his arms thrown behind his back, and was getting cuffed and pushed out of the room while his teenage daughter was screaming in abject terror and his wife was burying her head in her hands and then the two women sat there while the smiling overseer berated Hank, talked about how he needed to learn how to accept help and how this was for the good of him and his family and You two ladies should stop crying, it's pointless, what you need right now is strength, loyalty, and conviction.  Hank had blown .02 over the legal limit at a road block.  He insisted he hadn't had a drop to drink in months, not since his first DUI, that he couldn't perform the heel-to-toe sobriety test successfully because of a fully documented injury he had sustained during Desert Storm and that the alcohol on his breath—which came up on only one of the 5 breathalyzers he was given—must have been from gum or mouthwash or cologne or something.  His parole was zero tolerance, though, and so he found himself at the meetings.  Every week he told the overseer that something he had said was bullshit.  He wouldn't say "My name is Hank and I'm a narcotic," he said, because that is just fucking stupid.  He wouldn't apologize for hurting anybody because he hadn't hurt anybody.  He wouldn't lie for the sake of lying because goddamn it that's not what this country is about.

And for that he went to prison.

Coming face-to-face with the reality of just how cruel and unfair the system is can, especially for a teenager, lead to a distrust so strong and all encompassing that it borders on despair.  This distrust can, sometimes, be healthy and inspire you to try and change things.  More often, it can grow into full-blown hatred, a maniacal desire to change things or to right wrongs that leads you to do something rash or destructive.  Still more often, it leads to a sense of defeatism, a feeling that you can't win since the system is so fucked so why the hell should you even try.  At least, that's what I gather from hearing Chris talk about it.  That's probably what I would have done if something like that would have happened to me.  I would have given up and failed.

And for the longest time Chris had given up and had failed. He drank and drugged and destroyed.  This made him a blast to hang out with.  This was when he still lived in Alton and I would see him once every few months, when I was at home visiting my family.  My sister moved to Garden City to attend the university at which I now teach.  Most of her friends soon followed suit.  He was left behind.  As I am self-absorbed to the point where I don't care about my friend's lives except for when their stories are particularly miserable or amusing, I don't know much about this time period except that it saw Chris turning things somewhat around.  Not by much.  He still drinks far too much.  But he's in school now—he's at the school where I teach, actually, although I've never had him for a student. 

[finnyboywolfhard]

Song That The Morning Brings (Chapter Nineteen)

Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader 

catch up here 

summary: The group finds out new information about their problem and face a stepping stone in the right direction.

warnings: cursing, angst-ish, fluff, spoilers ig 

word count: 3.8k 

When she arrived home that night, all she wanted to do was put on some warmer, much drier clothes and to go right to bed. However, Dustin always found a way to change her plans.

“Y/N, we gotta talk.” He said coming into her room after they had both gotten changed. Sighing, she took a seat on her bed and placed herself underneath the covers. She patted a spot on the bed for Dustin and he took that as his cue to say what he wanted to say. “What the hell is happening between you and Steve?”

“What do you mean?!” She exasperatedly said.

“You guys have been different recently. It’s weird.”

“How are we different?” At this point, worry started to flood through her. What if Dustin somehow figured out how she was feeling or even what had happened between the two?

“I mean, you guys have always been close but it seems like you‘re closer. It’s almost like you’re taking your names of Mom and Dad literally. Plus, I saw you guys holding hands on the roof, even if it was for a second. Plus he gave you his sweatshirt after you guys stayed in the car together. So I want to know, what’s going on?”

“Dusty…” Y/N took a second to collect her thoughts. There was a few ways this could go: She could tell him everything; she could tell him some of the truth; or she could tell him nothing. “First off, I had this hoodie from October last year until like a month ago when I returned it to him, he just gave it back to me because I was cold. I hung back earlier in the car, because I’m scared Dustin, and I didn’t know who else to talk to but him, he is my best…he’s my best friend, remember?”

Dustin paused for a few seconds, obviously gathering his thoughts about what she had just said to him. It felt like there was a rubber band being pulled between the two of them threatening to snap.

“But you want to be more than best friends, don’t you?” Dustin said looking down at his hands. Y/N pulled her eyes away from her brother. She knew that he knew, but she couldn’t seem to let herself say yes to him.

“Would you be mad at me if I did?” She said, just barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know. Steve is my best friend and you’re my sister. I care about you both so much, but if something happened, I feel like I’d have to side with you.”  

“Dusty, seriously? You know that I would never make you chose between the two of us if something happened.”

“So there’s my answer. You do want to be more than best friends.” He said, voice edging towards anger. The girls hands started to shake a bit as she reached her hand out towards her brother.

“I don’t want you to be mad at me for that. There’s a lot that has happened between me and Steve that you don’t know about. It’s not like he wants to be more than that either, so it’s okay Dusty. Please don’t be upset.” Wariness laced her voice, as her concern grew stemming from her brother’s silence.

“You have to be stupid to think he doesn’t feel the same way about you, and besides, I’m not upset, I’m just a little scared because I don’t want you guys to lose what makes your relationship so special. You both just care about each other so much, and you’re both so willing to dedicate your time to others. What if that changes if you guys get together?”

“I can pinky promise you it won’t.” She said, reaching her pinky out. Her brothers pinky wrapped around her own. She released her hand and pulled him into a hug. They stayed in that position so long that they eventually dozed off.

The alarm startled them both awake, way earlier than they would have liked to have been woken up. But they still scurried around their house preparing themselves for the day of planning and adventure ahead. The drive to the mall was filled with Dustin’s zany ideas for what they should try to do next, most of which she had shut down as soon as they left his mouth. The only one she agreed to was allowing him to stake out on the roof while they all continued to work back at Scoops, because even though the three ice cream shop employees wanted to focus on the Russians, they still had jobs to fulfill.

Steve was sitting in the back room on his ten minutes off scooping, watching Y/N organize some files and then start to organize some of the toppings so she could restock them in a bit.

“Hey Y/N/N?” He asked, only receiving a hum in response, “Are you feeling any better from last night?”

Memories of her and Dustin’s conversation from last night filled her brain. Although in the moment it stressed her out, she felt at least a bit more relieved to have at least one problem off her chest to her brother. However, the imminent doom of the Russians was still largely at play. She stopped shuffling around to look at Steve, and his eyes were already on her. For some reason, his gaze sent shivers down her spine. She snapped herself back into reality after realizing how silent she had become just staring back at him.

“Um, I guess a little bit. I’m obviously still scared but talking to you helped, and knowing that Dustin always has multiple ideas is also kind of relieving.”

“Your brother is crazy smart. I don’t understand how smart he is sometimes.”

“Hey give me some credit! I’m pretty smart too, I’m not Dustin smart, but the Henderson family isn’t a dumb one.”

“Of course you’re smart Y/N, but Dustin…Dustin’s a full on nerd. Some may even say Dork.”

“I appreciate a good nerd or dork in my life. Don’t say em like it’s a bad thing, and don’t sell yourself short there either Harrington. You’re a dork too.” She smiled at him, noticing his cheeks flush a dimmer hue of red. His breathing became erratic, and he suddenly seemed to have forgotten how to form sentences. “Are you embarrassed Stevie?”

“No…just confused…how am I a dork?”

“You’re pick up lines are so cheesy and dorky, and you also know a lot about the things you are passionate about. You are a dork for things that matter to you. It’s endearing.”  The two kept chatting for a bit until Dustin burst through the doors of Scoops, explaining what he had seen, pulling Robin into the back as well.

“That keycard opens the door, but unfortunately, the Russian with this keycard also has a massive gun. Whatever’s in this room, whatever’s in those boxes, they really don’t want anyone finding it.”

“There’s got to be a way in.” Robin said.

“Well, you know…I can just take him out.” Steve said, leaning cockily against the table.

“Take who out?” Robin and Y/N said in unison.

“The Russian guard.” All three of the other members of the group started to give him confused and concerned looks before he decided to continue explaining his plan. “What? I sneak up behind him, I knock him out, and I take his keycard. It’s easy.”

“Did you not hear the part about the massive gun?” Dustin says, defining the idiocy in his statement.

“Yes, Dustin, I did. And that’s why I would be sneaking.” Y/N was trying desperately to hold back laughter as he continued trying to defend his plan.

“Well, please, tell me this and be honest, have you ever actually…won a fight?”

“Okay, that was one time-“

“Twice, don’t forget Jonathan after the whole Nancy the Slut Wheeler thing.” Y/N interrupted, pulling some angered thoughts from the recesses of her “King Steve” memories.

“Listen, that doesn’t count.”

“And why is that? He beat the shit out of you. You fared far worse that he did.” Y/N said once again.

“It was…” Steve tried to defend and explain how Jonathan didn’t count before Dustin interrupted him this time.

“You got a fat lip, crooked nose, swollen eye, a lot of blood…” Dustin and Steve’s argument started to overlap before Y/N noticed Robin say,

“That just might work.” She stood up from the table and ran out to the front counter. Her hand went into the tip jar to grab the money from it hastily.

“Robin, hey, what’re you doing?” Y/N said, trying to break Robin from her zone however it didn’t work.

“Hey! Robin! Hey! What-What are you doing?”

“I need cash.” She said not fully answering the question asked of her.

“Well, some of that is mine.” Steve said, earning a slap to the arm from Y/N. “Where are you going?”

“To find a way into that room, a safe way. And, in the meantime, sling ice cream, behave and don’t get beat up. I’ll be back in a jiff.”

“God, I really hope she knows what she’s doing.” Y/N said before looking over to see her brother licking Steve’s engraved ice cream scoop.

“Oh, dude! Come on, man, not my scooper.” Steve spun the scooper around his hand a few times before tucking it securely into his side pocket. It was a sight to behold from Y/N’s up close perspective. Their dynamic was hysterical to her.

“Dusty, come back here with me. Stevie, could you please scoop for a bit? I’ll come help you after I finish refilling the toppings.”

“Of course, Y/N/N, I’ve got it.” He flashed a smile, leading her own lips to upturn into one as well.

For the entire time Robin was gone, the three went about their business quietly. Dustin had stolen paper to write out a set of different plans of how to get into the room. Steve stayed out in the store front and scooped ice cream to the oblivious citizens visiting the mall. All the while Y/N was trying to focus on her work, wanting to keep that and the Russians separate. The silence in the backroom was interrupted by Robin pulling Steve into the back room once again, cohesively bringing them together once more. They all shared glances before Robin interrupted the still air.

“It’s fascinating what twenty bucks will get you at the county recorder’s office. “ And with that, she pulled out a set of blue prints for what looked like the mall and set it down onto the table. “Starcourt Mall, the complete blueprints” She said as her hands went across the thin paper to smooth it out onto the surface.

“Not bad.” Dustin said, appreciating her accolades.

“So this is us, Scoops, and this is where we want to get.” Y/N couldn’t quite understand what she was seeing standing across from Robin, so she moved to stand behind Steve, eventually leaning over his chair and shoulder, bringing her face right next to his. She stayed still there for a bit, despite the battling feeling of tension by being in such a close proximity. However, she quickly snapped back up when he began talking.

“I mean, I don’t really see a way in.”

“There’s not if you’re talking exclusively about doors.” She lifted the first set of blueprints up to expose another set.

“The air ducts.” Y/N said, making eye contact with Robin for the first time since she came back. Robin’s smile gleamed when Y/N realized what she had meant.

“Turns out, this secret room needs air just like any old room.” She walked over to grab a marker from the board before continuing what she was saying. “And these air ducts lead all the way here.” As she was talking, she drew connecting circles from the air ducts at scoops to the vent in the room. All four members glanced up to the vent in the room, all knowing exactly what needed to happen now. Steve immediately found a screwdriver and flashlight so he could give access inside the vent, while Dustin explained that he could fit into it to follow them there. Steve climbed up a ladder and unscrewed the vent cover, passing it down to Y/N before asking for the flashlight. He looked in again, scanning the entire surface area in his vision.

“Yeah, I don’t know man. I don’t know if you can fit in here. It’s like…super tight.”

“I’ll fit. Trust me. No collarbones, remember?” Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at her little brothers off handed remark about his condition. Just as Dustin was about to climb up the ladder, Robin remarked at his comment.

“Excuse me?” Before Y/N could even answer Robin’s question, Steve answered first.

“Oh, uh, he’s, yeah, he’s got some disease. Chrydo- uh, It’s Chrydo-something. I dunno.”

“He has Cleidocranial Dysplacia, basically his bones and teeth had developmental problems. Good try though Stevie.”

“Yeah, I don’t really know. But he’s missing bones and stuff. He can bend like Gumbo.” He quipped up once again.

“You mean Gumby?” Robin asked, dumbfounded.

“I’m pretty sure it’s Gumbo.”

“Stevie-“Before Y/N could continue, Dustin’s voice echoed down from the vent.

“Steve, just shut up and push me!” Steve reluctantly agreed to help try to push Dustin further into the vent. Y/N went to stand next to Robin, hopelessly watching the two try and fail to push her brother into the vent.

“Not my feet dumbass, push my ass.” Dustin commanded Steve.

“What?”

“Touch my butt! I don’t care! Come on Harder! Push harder!”

“I’m pushing.”

“Oh my god this is a shit show. Robin, I’m so sorry you have to see this.” The two boys continued to bicker while the girls just sat back and observed, slowly losing their patience for the plight playing out in front of them. The bell obnoxiously started ringing from the front of the store, grabbing both Y/N and Robin’s attention from the boys.

“Ahoy Sailors! All hands on deck!” Erica’s bratty voice resounded to the back room. Both of the workers let out a sigh at the thought of serving her especially as she was continuously ringing the bell. Robin leaned over to Y/N and said, “She is small enough.” Y/N’s eyes widened in shock, although the idea was quite literally the most insane thing she heard all day, she didn’t quite hate it either. It could very well work to her advantage. The girls went out into the store front and asked Erica to come to the back room. The explanation took a little less time than they thought, but they knew it was going to take way longer to convince her to go in for them.  They watched as she climbed up the ladder and peered into the duct. She came back down and turned to face the entire group.

“Yeah, I don’t know.”

“What don’t you know?” Y/N asked first, her brother following a second later.

“You don’t know if you can fit?”

“Oh, I can fit. I just don’t know if I want to.”

“Are you claustrophobic?” Robin inquired from the girl. Steve looked beside him towards Y/N, causing them to make a split second worth of eye contact, both clearly showing annoyance of this situation.

“I don’t have phobias.” Erica laughed off Robin’s question.

“Okay, well what’s the problem?”

“The problem is, I still haven’t heard what’s in this for Erica.” Condescension waded through her tone like ducks in a pond.

“Erica, really?” Y/N asked the brutal little girl.

“Yes really, you’re asking me to risk my life, and for what? You’re the only one getting advantages.”

“Erica, I will literally give you as much free ice cream as you want, Right Now, if you go out there and sit in the booth until we figure out what is in this for you.”

“Thank you, Y/N. You’re the only one who seems to care.” Y/N could hear Steve to start doing his breathy laugh, cluing her in to how angry he was becoming, so she reached her hand over and up, just slightly to place her hand on his arm, this got him to stop, just long enough for Erica to leave the room.  Once the door was completely shut again, Y/N dropped her posture to a slouch and mumbled the words, “Fuck me.” To herself before addressing the group once more.

“I vote we just butter her up until she says yes. The worst thing that can happen is she says no and we have to give up.”

“We can’t just give up Y/N! We are the ones who solved this code; don’t you at least want to find out what it is? We could be heroes!” Her brother quickly defended the plan and its honor.

“Yes Dusty, I know we could be heroes, but there’s only so much we can do safely. We need her help, regardless of how rude she can be, so I think we just try to convince her.” The room went silent for a beat before a voice interrupted the silence.

“Y/N’s right.” Steve agreed with his best friend.

“I’ll go start scooping.” Robin said, showing her agreement. The three workers immediately left to go make all of the treats they could use to bribe Erica. They sat down in the booth and slid each and everyone towards her. As Steve slid the final banana split to her, she looked up into his eyes and uttered the demand for more fudge. It took her demanding twice and for a small plea from Y/N for him to actually stand up to go get the small girl more fudge. Within seconds of Steve leaving the table, Robin immediately picks up and starts explaining the plan to Erica.

“Alright, you see this? This is the route you’re gonna take. Then we just wait until the last delivery goes out tonight. Then you knock out the grate, jump down, open the door.”

“Then you find out what’s in the boxes.”

“Exactly!” Y/N agrees optimistically.

“Mm-hmm. And you say this guard is armed.”

“Yes, but he won’t be there.” Dustin says way softer than he was speaking to Y/N a few minutes prior.

“And booby traps?” Erica asks, causing Robin to repeat it questioning what she meant. “Lasers? Spikes in the wall? You know what this half baked plan of yours sounds like to me? Child Endangerment.” She made sure to pronounce it slowly and articulately.

“We’ll be in radio contact the whole time-“Robin said, trying to make it sound safer and more hashed out.

“Ah, ah, ah! Child Endangerment!”

“Erica? Hi…uh…We think these Russians want to do harm to our country. Great harm, don’t you love your country?”

“You can’t spell America without Erica.” She quipped back in response.

“That’s…actually true.” Y/N said dumbfounded before allowing her brother to continue his attempt to convince her.

“SO, don’t do this for us. Do it for your country. Do it for your fellow man. Do this for America…Erica.” He said, completing in a poetic nature. Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes at her brother’s attempt to be noble. Clearly, this also hit Erica in the same nature.

“Ooh! I just got the chills! Oh yeah, from this float, not your speech. Know what I love most about this country? Capitalism. Do you know what capitalism is?”

“Obviously we know what that is.” Y/N responded.

“It means this is a free market system, which means people get paid for their services depending on how valuable their contributions are. And it seems to me, my ability to fit into that little vent is very, very valuable to you all. So, you want my help? This USS Butterscotch better be the first of many, and I’m talking free ice cream FOR LIFE.” Y/N sat back while Robin just looked the girl up and down. Y/N looked at her little brother who was just starting at all the ice cream laid out in front of him. Her gaze fell back to the counter where Steve was helping some customers. She admired how even though he should have been included in this deal, he would want them to do whatever they could to help out as many people as they could.

“I can’t guarantee for life necessarily, but I can guarantee free ice cream the entire time I work here.” Y/N finally broke the tension filled surface of the table.

“And I can add on for the entire time I work here, which will probably be longer anyways.” Robin backed Y/N’s end of the deal.

“I said FOR LIFE.” Erica leaned back and crossed her arms. Y/N once again rolled her eyes and let out a sigh.

“Fine, how about this, we each tell one new employee that you get free ice cream whenever we get replaced and that it must be honored by everyone but our boss. That way, as long as employees are here, they know that you get free ice cream. Deal?” Erica pondered it for a second before finally agreeing to it. Y/N excused herself from the table while Robin and Dustin stayed with Erica to go over the plan more in depth. Y/N walked up to the front counter just as Steve was wrapping up with the line of customers.

“Hey Stevie, could I talk to you for a sec?”

“Uh, yeah, of course. Did she agree to do it?” He asked as they passed through the doorway into the back room.

“What?” She asked before realizing that she heard what he asked. “Yeah, she agreed, speaking of we have to give her free ice cream when she comes, for life, apparently.  But that’s beside the point. I just…I really need to know if this is something you are truly okay with going through with. I know Dustin and Robin really want to do it, and I’ll do it if I have to, but I don’t want to drag you into Dustin’s mess,  because I really care about you and I don’t want you, or really any of us getting hurt. I care about you so much Stevie and I am so scared that something bad is gonna be in those boxes. So basically what I’m asking is if you are sure that you want to-“

“Y/N/N?”

“What?”

“Come here.” He opened his arms, which she immediately was wrapped in once she laid her head upon his chest. “ Y/N Henderson, I am doing this if you are doing this. I will not let you go into something potentially dangerous alone. You’re the most important person in my life, okay? Don’t worry about me. I’m right here. I’m gonna be right here.” The girl stayed in his arms for a few seconds, taking in his warmth and his smell and his touch. She cherished moments like these, even though they made her feel so much more confused on where their relationship stood. But in those moments, they kinda felt okay. They felt natural, and peaceful. And that’s exactly what she needed.

taglist: 

@mochminnie  @voidnarnia @queen1054 

[if-found-return-to-gusu]

Happy Birthday to Me Pt 7

Knowing it was pointless, I turned away to try and mop up my face. Save a little of my dignity at least.  

“Maybe now the gift will be overkill if that’s his reaction to the cake,” someone… MianMian maybe? Whispered. It was hard to tell with my ears still plugged from my crying session still in progress. 

It worked as a good distraction though! I’d already been given so much I couldn’t accept any more! “No! After all that no one is allowed to give me any gifts! As king I forbid it!” I cried. 

And then Jin Ling, in his best and clearest 3 year old voice, chimed in. 

“No! /I/ am king!” he declared. “Gift for uncle!”

To which SangSang responded with a hearty laugh before stating that Jin Ling was his favorite.

“But you guys!” I protested, but Jiang Cheng cut me off by shoving me back into my chair in front of the cake. 

Everyone sat back down and stared at me.

I looked back at the cake. To the three figures on the pier. The tallest one was me. I could tell she’d spend the most time on that figure. 

I poked it a couple of times, jealous for a moment that it got to live in the past that was forever lost to me, only to be scalded by the candles that were still burning down to the quick. 

I know I was supposed to make a wish but that felt too greedy. What could I have the nerve to wish for after all that had been given to me?

I tried not to start crying again when DaGe suggested I blow out the candles. That was probably a good idea before I burned down the whole establishment or ruined Shijie’s masterpiece. It took me a couple of tries but I managed to get them all out. 

Apparently I’d been watched closer than I thought because Qin Su noticed I hadn’t paused to make a wish. 

“I already have everything I could ever ask for right now. How could I wish for more?” 

I must have said something right because I got a lot of loving smiles instead of looks of admonishment for once.

In a clear attempt to keep me from conveniently forgetting about the present (MianMian said as much. I swear they’re all out to get me.), everyone decided to have me open it before they would cut the cake, which was sure to be as delicious as it was beautiful. 

Jin Ling demanded he be the one to give the gift to me. Jin Zixuan held onto him to keep him steady as he leaned over to try to get the heavy gift while still on his dad’s lap. 

A-Yuan, who is just such a good, sweet boy, asked if he could help when he saw Jin Ling struggling. A-Ling looked at him for a loooong moment before he finally nodded. Lan Zhan moved out of his chair so that A-Yuan could stand on it to reach the bag. Between the two of them they managed to nearly topple it in front of me, but due to my own lightning fast ninja reflexes I managed to catch it and them before they could crash into anything. 

Through the bag I could feel…

“You guys bought me a book?” I asked. I mean I like reading but it’s an odd present. There wasn’t anything I was particularly craving to read and especially not something as thick as this felt. 

 Everyone just grinned and chattered at me excitedly. “Open your gift, Kid,” DaGe said, just as excited as everyone else. 

Well I’m not gonna say no to DaGe. I opened the bag and pulled out what did indeed turn out to be a book. But not just a book. 

“What…. Is this..?” I asked, even though the answer was more than obvious. 

“Open it up, Idiot,” Jiang Cheng said, though I don’t think he’s ever spoken to me in a more gentle tone before. I still stuck my tongue out at him as is my noble duty as the elder brother. 

I opened the cover carefully and was met with a picture of my parents. They were smiling at the camera with a little black-haired baby that could only be me held safely in their arms. 

I’d seen this photo before at Gamby’s house but oh… I wasn’t able to process it fully then. I’m not sure I was able to process it fully now. I’ll have to go through the album again when I’m alone. I’m tired of crying in front of other people. I flipped through the pages.  A timeline of my life. 

In the beginning it showed me slowly getting bigger with my mom and dad and gamby. A few pictures featured other children I didn’t know. We seemed so happy. 

And then, of course, all too soon in the timeline my parents were no longer featured. 

A photo of Gamby with Aunty Yi smiled up at me between the last of the photos that had clearly been supplied by them and the next ones that showed the further progression of my life. 

Of course there was a large gap in between the last photo with Gamby and the first with my siblings. A ten year old me grinned, holding up a large fish while Jiang Cheng pouted next to me with a much smaller catch. Shijie had insisted on the photo even though she hadn’t particularly liked fishing. 

Another picture of the three of us playing on the pier. It must have been a reference photo for the cake because we were all dressed in the same clothing. There was even one Jiang Cheng must have taken once of Shijie brushing my hair for me after a bath. 

I watched the three of us grow up, though through the following 8 years the pictures clearly grew more scarce. 

Then another gap in time. Much more recent pictures now featured me with my new siblings. Wen Qing had insisted on a ‘family photo’ after I learned how to smile again. I hated for Lan Zhan to see me there. I hadn’t quite recovered and even I can tell I was way too thin. Still the Wen siblings were at my sides and A-Yuan was in my lap while Granny Wen stood happily behind us. Uncle Four had taken the photo. I can still see his doofy grins as he tried to get A-Yuan to smile. The best we managed was to get him to look mildly puzzled. Still adorable. It must have been from a birthday of past because there were Halloween decorations all over in the background. 

Oh yes that’s right. I’d let it slip that it was my birthday and was soundly scolded for not telling them sooner. I remember. 

There were more pictures of the Wens. Just us all being silly together. Wen Ning agreeing to drink with me for once. That time I planted A-Yuan in the mud. (Wen Qing scolded me soundly for that too and made me do laundry for a month straight.)

Oh yes. We caught that scolding on camera too. Wen Ning snickered the whole time it’s a miracle he was able to hold the camera steady at all. 

Then came SangSang’s section. Selfies taken from our phone that we then sent to each other. Fake bar fights. Goofy smiles. 

It’s so good to have someone that I can just be silly with. Thank you for giving me that, Huaisang. I know I give you a lot of crap. You helped me out of a dark place by becoming my friend. I can’t thank you enough for that.

Just like Gamby and Aunty Yi’s section, the Nie section ended with a selfie taken of DaGe and SangSang. They’d taped a little note next to it in what must have been DaGe’s handwriting promising that I’d get to know him soon enough. 

When I mentioned how threatening that sounded, DaGe grinned at me and told me to blame Huaisang for that one. “He’s the one who wanted that written.”

I think SangSang stomped on his brother’s foot but it’s hard to tell because DaGe didn’t even flinch. 

I laughed a little and kept going. 

Lan Zhan.

Of course the picture he would have first would be of the bunnies. 

I say first picture.

I mean first couple pages of pictures. 

All bunnies. So. Many. Bunnies. 

I couldn’t help but coo at Suibian though. I know you’re not supposed to have favorites, but she’s my favorite. I can’t help it. She's so cuuuuuuuuuuute.

Eventually I made it through the sea of bunbuns and found people again!

Qin Su and MianMian were pressing their cheeks against mine in a dark room. The theater!

Oh I never told you guys about the theater!! I’ll give you a short rundown

So Lan Zhan had gone out with Nie Huaisang I think and I was apparently moping. So the girls decided that it was time we all went out as friends. We had to wait until closing time so we couldn’t go out until it was rather late. Qin Su had leaned on the counter in front of me and slid her phone over for me to look at. She’d pulled up the showtimes for the theater nearby and told me to pick one. 

I must have looked as confused as I felt because MianMian had told me we were going out for drinks and a movie after work and told me again to pick one. 

“Newbie’s choice,” they’d insisted in sync when I tried to tell them anything was fine. In the end we went with the sappiest looking romantic comedy we could find. (It was the off season so there really weren’t any winners. May as well go for broke right?). 

We grabbed a couple of drinks at the bar while we waited for the time and had a wonderful time getting to know each other. MianMian had told me her actual name again but I still can’t for the life of me ever remember it. Sorry MianMian. I told her she could call me Yuandao to make it even. She looked confused until Qin Su snorted with laughter. She got it then and looked positively aghast. 

“Who yearns for you??

“I am HAPPILY married I’ll have you know!” she said indignantly while firmly grasping Qin Su’s hand. Qin Su just kept laughing. 

After that we spent a grand time watching what turned out to be a gloriously shitty movie while snickering and snarking to each other in careful whispers so as not to disturb the 4 other people in the theater. 

We’d taken a selfie on the way out to commemorate the evening and the formation of new friendships. <3

After that, to my delighted horror, was pictures of Lan Zhan and myself on our spa day. I’m amazed he was willing to show those to others. He even included the one of us with those ridiculous face masks!

“I can’t believe you had them printed!”

“There were no other pictures,” Lan Zhan pointed out. 

Fuck! He was right! I told him we’d have to fix that by spending at least an hour in the photo booth. Lan Zhan looked like he wanted to say something but Jiang Cheng interrupted by telling me to keep going. 

There were a couple of pictures of Qin Su and MianMian looking adorable together. 

And then.

A picture of Xichen smiling at the camera followed by a picture of Lan Zhan staring stoically ahead as he played his guqin. Well not stoic so much as completely absorbed by the music he was playing. It was in a room I didn’t recognize. He looked a bit younger though unfortunately it didn’t have long hair in it so it couldn’t have been from THAT long ago. 

He looked quietly peaceful. 

I nearly traced his face with my finger but caught myself before my hand actually made contact. I covered the movement by turning the page instead. I hope my face wasn’t as red as it felt. 

There wasn’t really anything after that. Just a few empty pages so I could keep adding new photos - something I will absolutely do. I started to close the book but SangSang stopped me. He told me to keep going.

Why? Was there a secret message at the end?

Turns out rather than a secret message, there was an envelope taped to the inside of the back cover. 

Oh fuck I’m still sick just thinking about it. 

It was full of checks. Like the money kind! Lots of them!

And Cash on top of it!

I pulled out the first one and screamed (which I still feel bad for because poor little A-Lian started to cry because I startled her). I didn’t mean to but FUCK!

“$3,000????? Huaisang are you f--CRAZY????” 

I managed to remember just in time that there were, in fact, children present and stopped myself from exploding in expletives.

He said it was also half from DaGe. As if that made it better. 

“Great. Then you’re BOTH crazy! Who gives $3000 as a birthday gift????????”

The golden peacock decided to chirp then and told me to keep counting because there was more. 

I nearly passed out then. More. MORE???

Yes more!

$7.5K more! 

I’m pretty sure my voice reached decibels no human could hear 

“You’re all crazy! I’m NOT keeping this!” I said. How could I possibly? That’s WAY WAY TOO MUCH. 

Ghosty I’m sorry I ever said you were extra after going through this my eyes have been opened to the true meaning of excess. (NO this is NOT an offer to give me more money!!!!!!!!!!)

“Yes you will,” Jiang Cheng said with the most punchable smirk I’d ever seen. “Accept it now with grace or you’ll see it in your bank account tomorrow anyway.”

“You wouldn’t!” I said. He wouldn’t even know how. 

“Oh yes I would. It’s as easy to get into your bank account as it is to get into your bl--”

For the second time in an evening I felt my palm getting viciously licked as I slapped my hand over Jiang Cheng’s mouth to keep him from fucking talking. 

We do NOT need people at that party 

Asking about this blog.

Fuck you JC.

And SangSang, don’t you DARE tell people either!

Let me save SOME face. I don’t know if I’d be able to face anyone again if they read this shit other than you two assholes. 

Rather than risk another slip of the tongue I thanked everyone kindly for their contributions. 

“You really really didn’t have to though! My boss is very generous and pays me quite well!”

I winked at Lan Zhan for fun. 

But I promised to cherish that photo album forever. And I will. I held it to my heart and tried not to cry againnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn.

[azritesx3]

Porcelain Doll - Lucifer & F!Reader

Anon: Hi, could you write a Lucifer x fem|reader fic please, were the girl is younger but they fell in love and then he later finds out that she struggles with a slight form of anorexia, not really a serious one but she sometimes not comfortable with eating however she's actually pretty thin and he tries to help her and he's worried.

Description: How is it that friends you've had for years not realize that something is wrong, but your boyfriend of three months does?

Rating: Teen Warnings: Anorexia, Eating Anxiety

AN: This fic is loosely based on my own personal events. For many, many years I've had difficulty with swallowing food wherever I was, except at home. I used it to my advantage to "lose weight", aka basically starving myself. All that led to was me having an awful stomach ulcer and little to no energy. Thanks to my mom, just last year I finally talked to my doctor about it and she gave me some pills to try. Apparently what I was suffering with was very common. Thanks to these pills I can finally eat out with my friends and family. Though I feel it may have made my depression worse, I'd rather have a few more bad days to being unable to eat. If this sounds like your situation, please talk to your doctor. They're meant to help you, and they won't judge you. AN: Updated August 23, 2020 - Grammar. Reupload!

AO3 / Fanfic Net / Wattpad / DeviantArt

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"So, what's the plan for your 21st birthday girl?!" Your best friend Becky says across the table.

You, along with your group of friends, are eating at a diner not too far from your college. You've all just had a very successful rehearsal for the yearly college play extravaganza, and decided to celebrate with ice cream.

You pick at the straw in your milkshake, "I haven't really thought of anything."

"Oh please!" Jack exaggerates. He points his spoon at you, "There's no way you can't have nothing planned when you're dating that hunk!"

You shrug, "Really, I haven't thought of anything. I haven't had the time to think of a silly birthday with this play."

"A 21st birthday is not silly, it's important!" Jack complains.

"Seriously, Y/N. Tomorrow you'll finally be legal to raid that expensive bar whenever you want!" Becky sighs into her own milkshake, "An alcoholic's dream."

"Really, it's just a waste on her." Viv finishes her banana split, "You don't even drink heavily. I'll never understand why someone like him picked you."

You chuckle slightly. Neither will I.

You and Lucifer Morningstar first met back when you were a senior in high school. The circumstance wasn't ideal. One of the theater teachers was a creep that no one was willing to out. Then, that teacher set his eyes on you and you tore him up. The school's security sent you both to the LAPD station for questioning.

When you arrived you passed by Lucifer, eyes meeting. You remember him looking quizzically between you and the highly beaten up chubby guy next to you. You didn't see him again until after the police let you out of interrogation saying you were free to go [all thanks to your fellow classmates for finally speaking the truth].

Lucifer sat down next to you as you waited for your parents. He was highly impressed that someone of your lithe frame could take down a guy twice, maybe more, your size.

And since then you two have been in contact. The next time you were both face to face with each other was when he asked you to the local park three months ago and asked you out.

But since then, you two haven't spent too much time together. What with you being incredibly busy with this play and him with his club and LAPD job.

"Hellooo! Earth to Y/N!" Becky waved her hand in front of your face.

You blink, "What?"

"You're phone's buzzin'." You quickly dig through your purse and retrieve your phone.

"Speak of the Devil!" Becky laughs when she sees his name as the caller id.

You snort and hush your friends down before answering, "Hello?"

"Hello, darling! I hope I'm not interrupting your rehearsal." Lucifer's beautiful voice, that you love so much, reaches your ear.

"Oh no, you're not! We actually just finished about 15 minutes ago. I'm at a diner now with some friends."

"Lovely! I'll make this quick then so you can get back to socializing."

"I'd much rather listen to you." You whisper but Becky heard you anyways and punched your arm playfully.

Lucifer's laugh makes you smile warmly, "Well, if I remember correctly, tomorrow is your birthday yes?"

"Yup, it is." Your friends are all focused on you now.

"And it's the big 2-1 for you humans correct?"

"Ah, yes. The big adult number. Yup." You laugh.

"Then, if you have nothing planned, I'd like to take you out. Some dinner, then some wonderful dessert back at my place. How does that sound, love?"

Your face immediately heats up as various thoughts run through your mind. All your friends start wooing and giggling, "Y-yeah, no. I mean! No, I haven't planned anything. And that sounds lovely!" You stutter out.

"Wonderful! I'll pick you up around 6pm. Can't wait to see you again, my dear."

You smile, "Same to you, Lucifer. I'll see you then!" You hang up and are immediately bombarded with questions.

"Guys! Chill out!" You hush them down again, "Yes that was him and yes he's taking me out tomorrow for my birthday."

"Thank You oh mighty Lucifer!" Jack says as he and Viv bow their heads.

"Oh stop that!" You say.

"Where's he taking you?!" Becky asks excitedly.

"He just said dinner and...um…" your fierce blush returns.

"Oooh! My girl's finally gonna get laid!" Jack jumps up and down in his seat.

"Probably just a kiss. You know how she is." Viv replies.

"Well come on! Let's hurry back to the dorm! We gotta help you pick out an outfit!" Becky says and pushes everyone out of their seats.

You laugh, nervously.

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

"Seriously?" The old waitress cleans up the table you and your friends were at five minutes prior.

"What is it now, Grace? No tip?" Another waiter comes around.

"No, they gave me a tip. I just don't understand why these youngins' nowadays waste money." She motions to your untouched small size milkshake.

"Maybe they weren’t hungry?" The waiter shrugs and walks away.

"That damn girl never eats." Grace murmurs under her breath as she cleans the table.

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

You're sitting on one of the comfy leather chairs in your dorm lobby. You sit properly in your sparkling dress, hands clenched together on top of your knee, and head held high. An acting technique you learned yourself to quiet the nerves.

You wish you could say you were nervous about the date. You suppose you are, in a way. But not the whole date. Not even about the possible "dessert".

No. You were nervous, maybe more terrified, of the upcoming dinner.

He's going to find out.

No he won't. If your friends of many years couldn't there's no way he will.

He's going to find out. He's going to find out and that'll be the end of it.

Please, you've seen the women on him in his club. He'll love it.

Yeah…

"There's my darling!"

You snap out of it and turn your head to see Lucifer, in a well pressed suit, walking through the entryway to you.

"Lucifer!" You have a genuine surprised smile on your face, momentarily forgetting the nerves, and rush over to him.

He chuckles as you two embrace and he kisses your cheek, "I thought you'd text me when you were outside!"

"And miss you looking positively powerful in that chair? Heaven forbid." He gives you his classic flirtatious smile, making you blush and laugh.

"Come along, darling!" He holds his arm out to you and you take it, "Let the celebration begin!"

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

Lucifer takes you to what has to be the most expensive restaurant in LA.

You're both led to a corner of the vast room. It's pretty dark, lit only by a single candle on the clothed table and a dim lamp on the wall. As you skim through the menu looking for the cheapest, and smallest, meal possible, Lucifer interrupts your searching when he orders an appetizer.

He chuckles slightly at your raised brows, "Yes, I suppose I should have asked you first, but this dish is delectable darling. You'll love it! Plus, it's cut in shared pieces."

You smile back and hope the dim lighting hid your gulp.

The waiter comes back with the large shared appetizer and asks what you two would like for the main course.

Lucifer stops you again before you can answer, "If you don't mind, my dear, I'd love to get this meal here." He points to an item on your menu, and it happened to be the one thing you avoided eye contact with. It's a fairly large dish with various slices of steak and vegetables. In the small print of the description it says that this dish is suggested for parties.

"It happens to be one of their best, and since this is your 21st birthday I believe you deserve the largest and tastiest item here!" Lucifer smiles brightly at you, teeth and all.

You clutch the menu to not show your shaking body. You give him a small smile back, "Oh Lucifer, you know I don't consider myself as one of those people who think they deserve the best of everything."

"Of course and that's one of the many reasons I adore you, but darling," he leans in slightly. His hypnotic eyes and smile are lite beautifully by the candle, "You're the Devil's partner now. You deserve, and will always get the best."

You swallow again, but not from nerves. This time it was completely heat based.

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

The dinner went surprisingly...well!

Lucifer never questioned about your slow eating. Never pushed more food on you. Instead, he made you feel extremely comfortable. He told the waiter to not come back unless he holds his hand up, and you noticed the other tables around you haven't been filled with people.

It was just you and Lucifer, pretty much. Enjoying some amazing food and having wonderful conversations. You felt so at home you ate more than you probably did since...well, freshman year of high school.

Him seeming to work so hard to make you comfortable did make you wonder though…

Currently, you are sitting on Lucifer's stupidly comfortable Italian sofa, watching some mind numbing television. You still wore your dress, but now you had Lucifer's suit jacket over top and shoes off.

"Happy Birthday to you…" You could hear Lucifer's voice faintly coming from his back kitchen. You stretch your neck to look in that direction.

"Happy Birthday to you!" Lucifer comes around the corner. He's carrying a serving tray that holds two wine glasses, a bottle of wine, and a cute little cake.

"Happy Birthday, my darling Y/N!" He sets the tray down in front of you on the coffee table and sits next to you.

"Happy Birthday to you!" He smiles lovingly at you, and your heart is about ready to explode. You give him a hug along with a kiss on his forehead, nose, and cheeks before blowing out your candles.

"What did you wish for, darling?" He asks. You curl into his open arms.

"Can't say, Lucifer. Otherwise it won't come true."

He huffs, but kisses your head, "Silly humans and their superstitions." You both enjoy the comfortable silence before he speaks again.

"Care for a bite, darling? Made it myself this morning."

"Umm…" you froze. Your mind became increasingly aware with just how much food you ate today, "Maybe in the morning. I'm pretty full right now."

Lucifer just hums in response, and that just makes your suspicion about tonight grow.

You lift yourself up, still in his arms but far enough away to look him in the eyes correctly, "Lucifer...I have a question."

He just hums again.

"Do you...um," you swallow and feel the color of embarrassment rise on your cheeks, "Do you...know?"

He hums again before answering, "In part." You instantly deflate and go to move away from him, but he pulls you back just as quick. His hand runs through your hair in a calming motion, "It's nothing to be ashamed about, Y/N."

"How did you figure it out? My friends haven't even realized it."

"Well, when I saw you look just the same after so many years it worried me. Typically I hear from young women the dreaded 'after school 20'. It seems that phase has passed you, dear."

You sigh, "Yeah well, I can't remember exactly when or how it happened, but sometime in sophomore year I started having trouble with eating in a public setting. I couldn't even eat over at friends' homes. Only in my own." You curl your legs up to hold them. Lucifer continues to stroke your hair, "And then I met you and...well…I figured I wouldn't tell anyone and just deal with it. I was a chubby kid, and I was amazed with how much weight I lost so fast."

"Well, I am quite upset to hear that you thought I'd be ok with you starving yourself." Lucifer frowns and you look surprised at him.

"But...a lot of women who are all over you look like me, even less! And you're all over them! I thought-"

"I'm into human women, darling. Not porcelain dolls."

You look away from him. Tears brim your vision, "So, what? Are you disgusted with me now? Or did you just ask me out out of pity?"

"If I was disgusted by you I wouldn't have asked you to be mine, and I don't do pity, darling." Lucifer hears you sniffle.

"My darling Y/N," Lucifer Morningstar becomes incredibly soft. He gently brings his hands to your face and nudges you to look at him, "I've come to care deeply about you, love. And I don't enjoy seeing someone I care that much about in turmoil." He wipes your tears away.

"Allow me to help, darling. You keep going like this...I'm afraid I'll have you for even less time."

You stare into his eyes and can see nothing but truth. Your hands move to hold his face gently. Rubbing his stubble, you slowly bring your face closer. Closing your eyes you and him kiss. Soft, sweet, filled with an unspoken love and promise.

"Ok, Lucifer. Please, help me."

[xserpentlife]

Intrigue

Requested: Anon - If I could make a Malachi x reader request if you write Ghoulies? Reader constantly getting into trouble at Riverdale high so she's sent to Southside High after being expelled. When moving to Southside she starts up her mischief again and catches the eyes of the Ghoulies. She gets taken to Malachai for spray painting Ghoulie terf at school and the reader and Malachai instantly click?

A/N: hope you like this!. I also decided to stop doing mood boards unless I have inspiration, forcing myself to make them for every story is pointless. Also, be sure to send in requests because mine are open. 

Word Count: about 1890

*Flashback*

“Look principle Honey, I didn't mean to…”

“Didn’t mean to what Y/N? Dye Briane’s hair blue with her shampoo?”

“Hey, not my fault she stole it out of my shower bag” In reality, it was your fault you hated Briane, a girl constantly causing trouble for anyone she came into contact with. You wanted payback. Payback for the way she talked about your friends, and family. So you played a helpless prank on her, and you got in trouble.

“You still did it on purpose Ms. Y/N”

“And you are proving that how…”

“Ms. Y/N some respect please”

“Mr. Honey, you are talking about respect here when you have none for me. I did nothing wrong to Briane. You are siding with her because of our past. Because she is from the rich side of the North. Years I have been bullied by her and not once did I punch or cause blood, because I am way more of a decent human being then she is, I did nothing wrong Mr. Honey”

“Fine Ms.Y/N I will call it at a draw and you will both have 2 nights of detention” You smiled to yourself. “However, you are on very, very thin ice considering you were just here a week ago for allegedly replacing the dead frogs with live ones in last weeks biology classes.”

“Mr. Honey…”

“No Ms. Y/N like I said thin ice do you understand”

“Yes sir I do”

“Good now get out of my office”

*Flashback Ended*

“For weeks now you had been warned daily of the thin ice you were on with Mr. Honey, but you kept your distance and your cool. You needed school, needed it to get out of riverdale and not have to deal with the treacherous town. You may have done all those things, but they were innocent pranks to only get back at the ones that wronged you. You needed to defend your turf, it was what you were always taught before your parents passed. Your grandmother engraving into your brain that you needed to protect yourself before protecting others.

School had been a hassle, every teacher constantly watching every move you made. Every student trying to get you out. No one at riverdale ever liked you, they always saw you as the problem child. The one who dressed in dark clothes, and caused trouble, but none of them knew you at all, or had been through or known the things that you have. You went by your day to day after the incident with Mr. Honey, trying to stay out of trouble as possible. You got a detention for not doing homework, but you never got in real trouble. That was until science lab 3rd period two weeks into your thin ice warning. You were paired up with Briane, for an experiment where a cloud of white would rise when the chemicals were combined. You were in charge of the base and she was in charge of the reactant. However, as soon as you looked away to wipe your hands off for safety she poured the entire bottle of reactant in before screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Briane! You are interrupting the other students what is the meaning of this”

“Y/N, Ms. Murphy Y/N put the entire bottle into the mixture” You turned around stunned, you hadn’t even been looking when she did it, and then you saw the bubbles arise and begin to pour over the smoke filling the air”

“Everyone out of the classroom this instant, we will have to have it cleared for safety. Ms. Y/Nand Ms. Briane come to the principal's office with me at once!”

“Mr. Honey before you say anything I didn’t do it, I swear on my life, I was washing my hands when it happened, I wasn't even paying attention”

“Ms. Briane would you like to say your side”

“Oh yes Mr. Honey thank you so much. Well I was minding my business writing down our lab results of the temperature because I had poured the base, and when I looked up Y/N was pouring the whole jar in, I tried to stop her but she just kept pouring and then I screamed because I was scared and Ms. Murphy came over. Oh gosh, I don’t know why she would ever think to do that if we had more harmful chemicals we all could have died!”

“Everything will be fine Ms. Briane, you can leave my office now”

“Thank you, sir”

“Now Ms. Y/N”

“Mr. Honey, I promise I didn’t do it”

“Well it seems there are other stories at play here, and in our previous meeting, I told you, thin ice. I have decided to transfer you to Southside High”

“No Mr. honey please!”

“It is out of my hands Ms. Y/N”

“No it is literally in your hands, you incompetent piece of shit, You know what. I am fucking glad that I am not going to be a part of this pretentious north siders can do no wrong school. Good riddens, asshole!”

“Ms...”

“Shut up, I’m grabbing my stuff and you’ll never see me again, and you know what I am sooo glad I don’t have to look at your stupid face ever again”

You left the school on a bad note but did it really matter when you were going to a school that barely had programs let alone taught the kids what they needed to know. It was as if your entire world crashed down. Your grades would decrease, your barely existent social life would now diminish completely, and most of all your mindset. You gave up on being the girl that was good at school, but bad on the outside.

You started not caring, picked up art. Learned how to tag and make it so your print was known enough to be you but not to be identified in your other works. You praised your art teacher and got very close with her very quickly. You confided in her, she herself was a student at Riverdale high at one point, kicked out because she lived on the southside and they found out. You related with her in a way you hadn’t with anyone else, but that didn’t stop you from doing way worse things than shit Riverdale high could ever fathom.

When you first got to southside high you completely painted your locker, not crazy but definitely not allowed. You took money from people, yeah you never spent any of it, actually put it in for charity collections, not that anyone knew that. Everyone knew you as the new kid, that just did bad shit. No one knew why no one knew your background or history and no one cared to know one bit. You liked it that way, you enjoyed the animosity. You then moved from the school to walk around the town after ditching for the day. You luckily still live in the house your parents had once owned on the northside, now it looked like a rundown abandoned building on the outside, guess that matched the way your life was turning. You tagged the entire gas station, then the park moving up the hills and down the valleys tagging everything in your sight. Art was your outlet and the southside, your canvas. You had no idea you caught the eyes of a gang called the ghoulies. You didn’t know the turfs, or the sides, you were just a visitor in a town with many rules and regulations you had no idea about. You made a mistake tagging the run-down building on the corner, officially in ghoulie territory. But no one had caused you trouble before, so you were not expecting to turn around and find 5 men and women around in black studded jackets.

“Hello…”

“NO bitch tagging our turf who the fuck are you”

“Wait… your turf?”

‘Yes, this is Ghoulie territory and we are taking you to the king” You had no idea what they were talking about, you felt a bang against the back of your head before you were out cold. You woke up slowly words being heard around you your vision slowly clearing from the blurriness

“Spraying our turf huh doll?” You have seen this guy, seen him around the school more often than you like to admit. He always seemed to be where you were, lurking around corners, and tagging his own spots how he would like, but you never said a word to him, your rule of keeping to yourself always in the back of your mind. You knew of the ghoulies enough to know people on the northside were afraid, but in reality, them all standing in front of you, they were no scarier than a group of 3-year-old children.

“What...? Just figured I'd have a little fun, turns out your ghoulies are a lot less scary than people think. Oh, y/n by the way and you are ...”

“Malachai... a lot scarier than people think, nice to meet you doll, boys let her go, and leave the room, I’ll deal with her”

“Deal with me, I like the sound of that” You were let go, dropped to the ground, as Malachai ushered the men out of the room. You got up finding a chair and putting your feet up and onto his desk that resided in the back of the room.

“Off”

“What? The big bad ghoulie is a germaphobe”

“Nah I just like shiny things, and you doll are currently on my radar” He swiped your feet off the desk before plotting on top.

“So what are you gonna do to me dear king?”

“Talk”

“Talk…”

“You are an enigma Y/N, I want to get to know you”

“No one ever does… what do you want from me?”

“Like I said you intrigue me, I just want to get to know who you are. We are… similar”

“I’m not sure we are…”

“Stay here…”

“Alright” Malachai came back with a photobook, a photo book that once we started flipping through you realized it was him, a boy living on the northside. A boy in a big house on cherry street, with a mother and father, and sister. Grandparents, Christmas parties and… then it was taken from you.

“You’re from the northside?

“Like I said we are similar”

“How did you know I am from the northside”

“Lucky guess I’d say”

“And you… lived there?” “There are a lot of things people don’t know about me, like I said we are similar Y/N”

“I wanna know how”

“Guess you’ll have to stay to find out”

“Apparently so”

[maren-as-an-adult]

The 2020 Experience, Part 2

When I flew back to New York a few days later (yes, I braved the airports and a plane) I could not stop crying. What should have been a loving and heartfelt reunion between myself and Graham turned into an awkward situation for him, with me bent double in the front seat of his car sobbing inconsolably.

And suddenly I had to adjust back to life more or less on my own. I couldn’t have friends come over, my family who lived in NYC were too far for me to get to them without public transit, and Graham’s mother was immunocompromised so we couldn’t spend much time together. I was back to sitting at my computer, taking online surveys for the promise of money and sending out application after application. Jena and Julia, my other two roommates, were still not back, so it was just me and Polina.

Things started to get a little better though. I had applied for Medicaid so I had some health coverage again. I scheduled an appointment with my new doctor, I started talking to a therapist again in August, and I stopped budgeting for birth control and got it for free. The after school program was up and running again, this time remotely (only one of my schools was able to host their program though, so my work hours were still cut). I looked forward to every other weekend, where Graham would drive out and pick me up to spend a few nights at his place. Jena came back and announced she was moving out, and our new roommate Michelle moved in. Michelle and I had a lot in common, and I found it easy to talk to and connect with her.

I even got out to see my family. I braved the subway to see my family up in Astoria, and Polina told me about the ferries I could take that brought me to my family on the Upper East Side.

One day in late September, however, I woke up with abdominal pain. It was pretty mild at first, but it kept getting worse. As someone who has periods, I assumed it was just week-early cramps brought on by stress combined with a poor diet that didn’t include much fiber. I tried to assuage the feeling by eating an apple, but after a quick trip to the bathroom it made a reappearance coming back up the way it went down. I decided to do what most people do (and what doctors hate) and look up my symptoms online to try and self-diagnose. The two big contenders for what I was suffering from were IBS or an ulcer. I texted Graham and told him what was up, and he asked what I was going to do. My current plan was to try and wait it out, and if things still felt bad in the morning, I would go to the ER.

If it wasn’t for Graham’s suggestion that I go to an urgent care center (which I had completely forgot existed at this point in time) I may have died.

At 7:12pm I grabbed my bag and walked three blocks to the urgent care center closest to my apartment. Unfortunately, they were no longer taking walk-ins for the day, but told me that another urgent care center was open until 8 and would take walk-ins.

It was 17 blocks away.

I walked 17 blocks with severe abdominal pain to this urgent care center just to be seen and tell a health professional I wasn’t feeling well. I knew there wouldn’t be much they could do, but maybe they could give me a better idea of what was wrong with me. I called Graham and gave him the address of the urgent care center, asking that he come out to be with me. Whatever was happening to me, I did not want to go through it alone.

I made it to the urgent care center fifteen minutes before they closed. I was taken to an observation room where a brusque young Russian woman took down my vitals and information as we waited for the RN to come see me. When he finally did come in and I started telling him what was wrong, I barely finished explaining what happened after I ate and failed to keep down the apple that he interrupted me saying, “You need to go to the ER immediately, because what you described sounds like you have a GI bleed. You’ll need an endoscopy, where they take a camera on a long, thin tube and feed it down in through your stomach and into your intestines to see if you’re bleeding internally.”

It was getting late, I was alone, and I was TERRIFIED.

I was told where the nearest ERs were, was given a printed referral, and then dismissed for the evening. All I could do was wait for Graham and tell him what was going on... and then call my mother and tell her.

I love my mom. I’ll likely never not love my mom for the rest of my life. But sometimes she takes a bad situation and makes me feel even worse. When I told her I had called Graham to come get me, she pointedly asked why I didn’t call any of my family who lived closer than Graham. Well, of my family who live in the greater metropolitan area of New York City, we have:

- My Aunt Barbara and Uncle Danny, currently NOT in NYC and instead staying out in Milford, PA

- My Uncle Brian, Aunt Corinne, and cousin Nikki up in Astoria. My aunt cannot drive and gets panicked easily, my cousin only has her learner’s permit, and my uncle (though I love him) would not be the most comforting presence to me at the moment, being VERY pro-Trump Republican and a FIRM anti-masker

- My Uncle Mike, Aunt Gloria, and cousins Maura (and her husband Andrew), Brendan, and Kevin. Maura, at this point in time, was nine months pregnant and due to give birth any minute, and I was not going to be responsible for pulling my aunt or uncle away from the birth of their first grandchild

With this information presented to my mother, she did concede that calling Graham had not been a terrible idea. Continuing to fret, however, she said I should at least have called them to let them know what was happening. She took it upon herself to do that, and additionally call my father and tell him (dad was on the road at that point and so missed my initial call of “Hey, jsyk, I’m going to the ER, wish me luck!”). Graham pulled up, I ended my mom’s call telling her I’d keep her posted, and headed off to the unknown.

As we were driving to the closest ER, my dad called. Thankfully, he gave advice that calmed me down. He listened to my symptoms, told me it was likely an ulcer, and told me what would happen when I went in: I’d be admitted to the ER, they’d take my vitals, I’d explain my symptoms over and over and over to multiple people, they’d probably admit me overnight, knock me out and do an endoscopy, and in the morning I’d be sent home with a prescription to help with the ulcer. I felt better.

Graham and I made it to the ER at about 8:45pm. I was admitted immediately, my vitals were taken, I was given a cup to pee in, an IV was placed in my arm, my blood was taken, and I told my story to two different doctors and a few different nurses. I went in for an ultrasound to rule out pregnancy, endometriosis, and ovarian cysts. I waited, with Graham by my side.

The doctor came back at about 11:30pm and told me my urinalysis and ultrasound came back unremarkable, but my bloodwork showed a high white blood cell count, which meant my body was fighting off an infection somewhere. This is absolutely something I did and did not want to hear in the middle of a global pandemic. On the one hand, go immune system! Keep me safe, you beautiful, hard-working bitch! On the other hand, what was it my body was fighting off?

The doctor said if I wanted to leave at that point, I could, because nothing obvious was found. “But,” she said, “I would strongly recommend we do a CT scan just to be safe.”

It was late, both Graham and I were tired, and my abdominal pain wasn’t awful to the point where I was bent double anymore. I could stand and walk around with only a slight discomfort. The thought of getting out of the ER, a frankly dangerous place to be in these COVID times, was deliciously appealing.

“What the hell, lets do the CT scan.”

I was given almost two liters of fluid to drink to prep for the scan. It didn’t taste bad, actually, kind of like a flat lemon La Croix that had been left in its aluminum can too long. At 12:30am I went in for the scan. Two hours later, Graham and I were still waiting for the results. At around 2:30am Graham turned to me and said, “Honestly, I’m ready to go. I won’t leave you here alone, but I’m exhausted and ready to get out of here.” I responded, “Honestly, I am too.”

At that moment, a doctor walked around the corner into our area and said, in a too cheery voice, “Hi there! You have appendicitis.”

I swear in that moment I could feel the cosmic force of the universe tremble with suppressed laughter at this finely crafted moment of ironic timing. My only response to the doctor and Graham was, “Well... I guess I’m staying here for the night?” Remember when I thought it was IBS? Couldn’t we go back to that?

I’ve mentioned before the idea of surgery scares me. I’d hoped I’d only have to experience anesthesia from getting my wisdom teeth removed. I fully expected to break down in hysterics then, but I guess I was just too tired and overwhelmed to react in such a big way. I called my mom and told her what was happening, and the first suggestion she made was for me to come home and heal in Chicago.

...mom, I love you, but getting on a plane immediately after major surgery in the MIDDLE OF A GLOBAL PANDEMIC FROM AN AIRBORNE VIRUS is frankly the DUMBEST IDEA EVER.

After realizing that would be a bad move, she suggested she come out to be with me while I heal. While an appealing process, it ultimately wouldn’t be of much use, because she’d have to quarantine for two weeks before seeing anyone at that point. Eventually, she offered to book a hotel room for me and Graham for a long, extended weekend to help me recover. It was extremely generous of her, and I’ll forever be grateful she did it.

I was hooked up to antibiotics to prep for surgery, and the attending surgeon explained the procedure to me. Everyone was so calm and sure of themselves that I felt okay, and the inevitable wave of panic was held off. At 4:30am, I was wheeled up to the operating room. Graham stayed by my side as long as he could and walked all the way to the doors of the OR hallway with me and the attending. I made sure he and my mom had each others’ phone numbers so he could give updates. I was wheeled through the doors, and met with my operating team.

The anesthesiologist and practicing surgeon assured me that they felt fine, well-rested, and at the top of their game, and I was able to relax some as I moved off of my gurney onto the operating table. Once I was on the table, clad only in a thin hospital gown and gripper socks, my body started to shake. Whether it was from the cold or the panic had finally set in I wasn’t sure, but I calmly told the doctors that I thought my fight or flight response was kicking in, and they might need to consider restraining my shaking limbs.

They did, and they also put a heated (and somewhat weighted) blanket over me which relaxed me so my limbs weren’t shaking so violently. An oxygen mask was placed on my face, sealing my nose and mouth into a thick plastic chamber. I tried to breathe deeply and evenly, forcing myself to think of pleasant thoughts and not spiral into a headspace of worst case scenarios. I think what helped most was actually an attending nurse reading out loud my patient chart for posterity and recording’s sake, and he said, “Patient is a twenty-seven year old female named Maureen Ford.”

The annoyance I felt at being misnamed (again as Maureen) cut through the second wave of panic buildup, and my only goal was to correct him. The oxygen mask muffled my voice, but I like to think if you were to listen to the audio recording of my surgery, you would hear, very faintly in the background, me indignantly stating, “It’s pronounced MAREN!”

My last thought before I went under was that I need to make sure that nurse was corrected.

When I woke up, I felt more comfortable than I had in a very long time. The only thing that kept me from being in a total state of comfortable bliss was the slowly incoming knowledge that my mouth was drier than the Sahara desert at noon in July. Despite this, and the residual effects of the anesthesia still in effect, I was pleased to find that not only could I clearly hear and understand the conversations happening around me, I could also coherently speak and communicate with people. I asked for water as soon as I could, and the nurse told me that they’d have to work me up to water. We’d start with a lemon swab in my mouth, followed by ice chips, and then I could get water. The attending surgeon came in to tell me the surgery went smoothly without complications, and I asked her if she could make sure whoever called me Maureen was corrected on my name pronunciation.

I really hope it wasn’t written off as a sleepy patient’s delirious request, because I was absolutely serious about it.

After eating some very powdery eggs and drinking an apple juice, I was discharged and told to get my medications, rest up, avoid lifting anything over 15 pounds, stay away from submerging my sutures in water, and to schedule a one week post-op follow up with my primary care provider and a two week post-op follow up with the attending surgeon.

Graham drove us back to Bay Ridge, and I gave him my keys to go grab some essentials from my apartment. I gave Michelle and Polina a heads up that he was coming up (and I had let them know what was happening before I went into surgery) and that I’d be gone recovering through the weekend and partway into the week. They both wished me a speedy recovery, Graham grabbed a few essentials for me, and we drove up the street to pick up my meds from Rite Aid.

For some reason, they had only filled two of the four prescriptions. One they didn’t fill because it was a controlled substance and the hospital hadn’t submitted the proper authorization for it, and the other prescription (one of two laxatives) I have no idea why it wasn’t filled. Eventually, I got both my pain medications and one of the laxatives, with the other laxative to be filled and picked up at a different Rite Aid, closer to Graham’s work.

Exhausted, sore, hungry, and (in my case) in desperate need of a shower, we made it back to Graham’s to spend one more day there before going off to the hotel my mom had booked us. Graham had been scheduled to work that day, but after calling into the office was told he should only come in if he thought it was absolutely necessary. He ended up catching a few hours of sleep before going in for the late shift at work. I managed to take a shower and fell asleep on his couch as his bed was too soft and sent my abdomen into absolute agony. I blinked in and out of consciousness for the next few hours, waiting for Graham to come home with my last bit of medication. In that time, my dad called to check on me and ask how I felt, what I was prescribed, and what was expected of me. As we were talking Graham called, and I excused myself so I could answer the call. Nothing could have prepared me for what Graham was going to say to me.

“I was just hit by a truck.”

*click*

[profiler-in-courage]

I am humbled 16 people have read my Claes Bang detective bullshit lol. Here is Ch. 2 & 3. Long af as always.

(I have yet to think of a title. Someone send me suggestions plz)

Chapter 2. 

The 7th Precinct was a media frenzy when Emerson pulled up. By 8 am, all the local news outlets had received some tip about the latest murders and it looked like all of them had sent a reporter. 

Emerson scanned the outside of the building, trying to find an entrance that wasn’t guarded by media. He stuffed case files he had taken home into his messenger bag and slung it over his shoulder, ready to walk-sprint. 

He lowered his gaze to the ground. Eye contact was what got you. 

As he reached the sanctuary of a door, he mentally congratulated himself on  avoiding the bombardment of questions he quite frankly, wasn’t prepared to answer. 

He sat his bag on his desk and headed over to Burnham. His sarcastic best friend of seven years always made the morning after a murder less dark.

“Hey Emerson,” Burnham sipped through a mug of milk. 

An unusual quirk about him was that Jacob Burnham simply drank plain milk. Never coffee. 

Whole, 2 percent, 1 percent, nonfat, whatever was in the back office fridge was good enough for him. 

Forty or seven-years-old? Nobody knew Burnham’s true age.

“Forensics came in,” he waved a file at Emerson. “No prints or DNA of any kind, same as always. Christ.”

Burnham shook his dirty blonde head and handed the papers over.

“Fuck Em, we are never going to catch this guy unless he leaves us something.”

Emerson flipped through the forensics report. Like Burnham had described there was nothing of significance. 

“He will eventually slip up, they always do,” he said, trying to be the positive one.

“Did the families have anything to offer?” 

His friend shook his head, “Just the usual. Victims never got into any trouble, well behaved, no enemies. Nothing out of the ordinary. Can’t imagine why anyone would want two 15-year-old girls dead.” 

Emerson’s mind flashed to Abigail. He was afraid for her. She was smart, but he was sure Halley Reece and Melanie Myers had been smart too. Hell, they may have even known his niece. Same high school. 

The image of Abigail lying in a ditch somewhere creeped across his mind. He shut his eyes.

The feeling of dread was slowly worming its way back into his stomach. 

He went back to his desk, dropping the very thin report onto it. 

It barely made a sound. 

He pulled his phone out of his bag. It was the first time he was checking it this morning. 

He was bad at that. 

One text from his sister and one message from Gwyn. 

He opened his sister’s first.

Emerson, the girls they found last night went to Abigail’s school….this just became a little too close for comfort. I almost made her stay home today.

He sighed, not knowing what to say to Eve. Obviously she couldn’t lock Abigail up in the house, the girl had to go to school and have a life. 

You can’t stop living just because of horrors, he thought.

He sympathized with his sister though, he was just as worried for his niece as she was. 

He scratched his eyebrow and opened up Gwyn’s message next. 

G: 203-637-1366

Was that her phone number? He scrolled to see if she had said anything either before or after, but she had not. It was just her phone number. Or so he assumed. 

Quite bold, he thought. But he oddly liked the cut to the chase showing.

“Any luck in that department?” 

Burnham was standing over his shoulder looking down at the open Tinder app.

Emerson slipped the phone into his front pocket, “Not really.”

“I told you to go on that date with Kate’s sister. Who knows, you could be getting laid every night.” Burnham shrugged. 

Emerson scoffed, “Your wife’s sister is 59 remember?”

A stupid smile flashed across Burnham’s face, “Hey but she’s single! And how do you know you don’t like older women?” 

Emerson blinked, at a loss for words. 

“All I’m saying is we could be brother in laws. Take one for the team Em!”

Emerson swiveled to his computer screen.

“I see you enough already,” he grumbled.

Burnham slapped him on the back, laughing softly. 

Emerson poured over the photos on his desk. One of a woman with the soles of her feet skinned to the point where you could see the bone, another with such horrendous strangulation marks around the neck the purple coloration was almost black. Both were women who had been killed by the Creekmore Serial Killer. 

He was deep in thought, trying to see some connection between all the victims, something he did routinely with no success for this case. 

It was like looking at a math problem he didn’t have the formula for. 

The pocket of his dark blue wool button-up buzzed. It was a text from Gwyn. 

G: So what are you looking to get out of a dating app?

Emerson paused before answering, trying to find sufficient words to make “looking to date” sound less horrendous. 

E: Looking to date. What about you?

He figured he may as well just tell the truth. 

G: I’m looking to get absolutely wild in the bedroom. Nothing more, nothing less.

Emerson’s eyebrows sprung up. Maybe he had misjudged Gwyn. He wasn’t looking for just sex. 

Burnham always joked that Emerson should be a priest.

He figured he would wait to respond if he responded at all. The excitement about his new match had been all but snuffed out after her proclamation. 

He pushed his glasses up so they rested on the top of his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He felt the pang of loneliness he sometimes felt when thinking about his love life. 

He missed his wife. He missed having someone to come home to, talk to, feel beside him as he slept. He missed how he was before. 

Ever since Lyla had passed he had been different. Not as cheerful, not as funny, he actually used to be somewhat of a practical joker. 

He had thought his old self would return after the grieving process was done, yet here he was years later and no relief. 

Lack of female interaction certainly wasn’t helping either. 

Emerson sighed. Maybe he should try the one-night-stand thing. Though the thought of it had always felt awkward. 

Why have sex with someone you hardly know? 

His phone vibrated, pulling him out of his thoughts. 

G: Did I scare you off? I was joking btw. 

He let out a small sigh of relief. Ashamed that he was so bad at the whole dating thing that this one match seemed to be the end all be all. 

E: Sorry, was working. He fibbed. But I am glad to see you won’t objectify me for my body.

G: Well, that’s only because I haven’t seen your body. 

Emerson chuckled. He liked her witty remarks. 

How soon was too soon to ask someone on a date? Were there Tinder rules? Did he care? 

Not really. 

E: How would you like to see it? Fully clothed of course. 

He felt his heart rate pick up. He hadn’t felt excited like this in a long time. 

Of course, that’s when Burnham decided to interrupt.

“Those photos telling you anything yet?” he asked. 

Emerson shook his head, “No unfortunately.” 

His friend sat on the edge of the desk, “This fucking bastard leaves no trace. No DNA. Nothing.”

With the lack of info they had that was all Burnham really ever said about it.

Hard to do, thought Emerson. 

He saw his phone vibrate on the desk.

Burnham’s eyes followed his friend’s. 

“So…you sure Tinder isn’t working out for you?”

Emerson rolled his eyes, “Oh Christ.”

After enduring more teasing from Burnham than he would’ve liked, his fellow detective finally left to go bother someone else. 

Despite the torture that had felt like he was being waterboarded, Emerson had not let anything slip about his potential date. 

Not all things were meant to be shared among friends, not yet anyway. Besides, he had only started talking to her last night. Everyone needed to relax, him included. 

He opened her message. 

G: I would love to. Name a time and place and I’m there.

Chapter 3. 

Coffee. That wasn’t too casual and not too formal right? Or so Emerson hoped. 

So here he sat at some local place downtown. Waiting and a bit nervous. 

He heard the door open and he saw her. His eyes followed hers as she looked around for her date. 

He lifted his finger slightly. 

“Well isn’t this a pleasant surprise,” she said as she sat down across from him. 

Emerson tilted his head in confusion, “What do you mean?” 

She smirked, “That you look exactly like your photos.” 

“Oh,” he chuckled. “Have you been on many dates where that wasn’t the case?” 

She ran a hand through her long hickory colored hair, “More than I’d like.” 

Gwyn looked exactly as she had in her photos too. Emerson hadn’t even considered the possibility that she wouldn’t. 

Which he probably should have considering he met her online. 

He studied her. She was staring at him, looking him up and down. He smiled, amused. 

“Would you like a drink?” he asked. 

“I would,” she said. 

Emerson waited for her to say what she wanted. A few seconds went by. 

This is awkward, he thought as his eyes darted from side to side. 

He cleared his throat. 

“What would you like?...” he asked.

Gwyn smiled mischievously, “You're a detective. Read me. What do you think my order is?”

Interesting, he thought. 

He tilted his head slightly, finally drinking in everything about the woman who was across from him. 

She was wearing a tight black turtleneck, dark blue jeans, and a silver chain-linked bracelet. 

Her makeup was simple, she didn’t need much of it. She was naturally beautiful. Her hair had a shine to it and it curled into a slight wave. 

She had with her a plain black satchel. Big enough to fit only a wallet and a phone and possibly a few other womanly essentials. 

She was simple. But, sophisticated. At least that is what her appearance told him. 

Emerson remembered that her bio had said she was an artist. Which must mean she was somewhat serious about coffee. Not the frappuccino type. 

But, there was a softness to her. She didn’t appear to take herself too seriously, judging from her text messages. 

So probably not black coffee. 

Gwyn waited patiently for him to finish his assessment. A hint of a smile on her lips. 

“I think I got it,” Emerson said as he turned to walk towards the counter. 

“Hi, can I get one iced hazelnut latte and one hot Americano with cream please,” he told the barista. 

Emerson turned to look back at Gwyn. She was far enough away so she wouldn't have heard the order. 

He wanted to see her shock when she found out he was right. He was certain he was. 

He smiled to himself. 

He walked back to their table with the drinks. Gwyn was sitting looking bemused. Her legs crossed, her eyes following his every move.

“So, what did you decide for me?” she asked. 

Her voice was soft. He liked it. It reminded him of the way a stream sounds in a quiet forest.

Emerson said nothing. Just simply handed her the drink. 

Her eyes sparkled as she took it from his hand. Her gaze holding his. 

For a moment, he thought he might have gotten her wrong. 

Gwyn took a sip of the Americano and raised her eyebrows. 

He could tell she was trying to hide her amazement. She didn’t want to give him complete satisfaction and he liked that. She was fun.  

“Well Detective Woods, I suppose you are very good at your job then,” she smiled. 

Emerson beamed.

“Only a little,” he said as he took a sip of his latte. 

Gwyn let out a small laugh, shaking her head, “Is it too soon to say I already want to see you again and this date has been what, 10 minutes?” 

He looked at her over his straw. He felt the same. 

He felt something. For the first time since his wife.

“Now let me do you,” she said. 

Emerson paused, “What…”

“Let me read you,” said Gwyn, sipping her coffee. 

He sat back, trying to hide a smile, “Alright.”

Gwyn rubbed the bottom of her chin with her thumb as she studied the man across from her. 

He was handsome, that much was obvious. Rugged around the edges but not sharp, which was good. It made him look kind. 

He was wearing a grey quarter-zip pullover sweater, the beginnings of a burgundy collared shirt peeking out. His tortoise shell glasses made him look like he could be walking the halls of Oxford and be at home. 

Faded dark green pants with...were those cowboy boots? Interesting. 

So he wasn’t from Connecticut. 

The eyes behind the glasses were dark yet welcoming. A few days old stubble coated his face. 

His hair, thank god he had a full head of it, was dark. Perfectly styled in the ever popular comb over. 

It was too long for him to be ex-military but short enough that she could tell he liked things neat. Gwyn couldn’t quite tell if it was black or just a very dark shade of brown. 

Luckily they were seated by a window and he moved ever so slightly so that a ray of sunshine hit him. 

Midnight brown, was that a color? It was now. Silver bits were beginning to show their glint throughout Emerson’s hair.

If she was being honest he didn’t look like a police detective. They usually were only this good looking in movies. He could have been a writer or a professor that female students day dreamed about. 

The cowboy boots were throwing her off. 

Was he Texan? 

She didn’t remember hearing an accent, but then again they had only said a few sentences to each other. 

And yet, she knew she wanted a second date. She needed to impress him. She didn’t know she already had.

“Judging from your boots you aren’t from here, I’ll be generic and guess Texas?”

He nodded, waiting for Gwyn to continue. 

“You’re smart, otherwise you wouldn’t be a detective and you most certainly would not have gotten my order right. You're patient, you would have to be to be willing to sit here right now and listen to me.” 

Emerson chuckled, taking another sip of his latte. 

Gwyn continued, “Your eyes are hard but your face is gentle. You have seen and been through monstrous things but you don’t let it affect your character. You’re quiet, which leads me to believe you’re polite. Which is good because I can’t stand loud boisterous men.” 

Emerson leaned forward. He hadn’t expected her to be this good. 

“Between the way you look and my expectation that you are a good man, you must be single for a reason. So, I am guessing your ex either was unfaithful or died.” 

Gwyn was blunt. Emerson didn’t know how he felt about that. 

He scratched his cheek, “She passed away.”

Gwyn looked down at the table, confidence leaving her for only a moment. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. 

Emerson shrugged, “But you were right.” 

Gwyn smiled softly. 

He could tell she enjoyed being right. Though not with a haughty arrogance. He respected that. 

“And how did you learn to read people so well? Are you an ex detective?” he asked, amused. 

Gwyn twirled a strand of hair in her fingers, “It’s not hard to see what people project.” 

Emerson smirked, nodding. 

Oh she’s very smart, he thought. 

They talked for hours after conducting their own way of breaking the ice. Gwyn could now hear the hint of an accent. 

They discussed movies, music, food, books, especially books. 

She liked nonfiction. He preferred fiction. 

Emerson was entranced with the way Gwyn spoke. Her words were light but intelligent. And she held eye contact. 

She had already assessed why he was single. So why was she?

He continued to study her. 

Her posture was welcoming, her sentences were flirtatious, but her expressions were guarded. 

Guarded meant she had been hurt before. Most likely multiple times. 

Though with an open posture, not physically. 

He couldn’t detect anything to signify she was nervous. She hadn’t been the entire date. She was confident. She could have anyone she wanted. 

So why didn’t she? 

“Figured me out yet?” she asked, pulling Emerson out of his thoughts. 

He looked down, embarrassed. 

“Not quite,” he smiled.

“Good. I need you at least intrigued enough for a second date,” she said. 

“Possibly more,” said Emerson, playfully reaching.

“Possibly,” Gywn responded, her eyes dancing.

She leaned forward on the small circular table. 

“Emerson Woods you are something.”

He winked. It made her laugh. 

“As much as I would love to talk with you all day, I should be going,” she said. 

Emerson nodded. He probably should too. They had spent nearly three hours in this coffee shop. 

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he said, wanting every second he could with her. 

She turned to him, placing her hand lightly on his shoulder. 

“Oh there is no need. I took an Uber, car’s in the shop after a very nasty old woman felt the need to rear end me.” 

Emerson laughed. He could offer her a ride. Should he?

“Would you like me to track her down for you? I could probably find something to pin on her,” he said, glancing down at where her hand had just been. 

She giggled, rolling her eyes, “Could you please? She’s costing me 400 dollars.”

They walked outside. It was overcast and there was a slight breeze. Emerson watched her hair lift in the wind. 

Before she could take out her phone to call an Uber, Emerson walked over to the passenger side of his car that was parked along the curb. He opened it. 

“I promise you’ll have a more enjoyable experience with me rather than someone you don’t know. If you’ll allow me.”

Gwyn bit her bottom lip, raising her eyebrows, “But I don’t know you. Not really.” 

Emerson paused. She was right. Three hours of conversation didn’t exactly mean they knew each other. And with the Creekmore Serial Killer making headlines for months, she was probably wise to refuse him. 

“I suppose that’s true,” he said. “Though I am a policeman,” he kept his hand on the door handle. 

She bopped her head from side to side, feigning weighing her options. 

“Can I rate you if you're a bad driver?” she joked, stepping over to the car.

Emerson chuckled, “I promise to be extra careful with you.”

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Every family pet should have to be a little spoiled from time to time with a custom pet blanket. Whether you’re buying your own four-legged member of the family or somebody else’s family pet, you can’t fail with these present concepts for every pet character. Whether the family pet in your life is furry, scaly, feathered or wooly, you’re sure to discover a personalized present that has their name composed all over it.

For the family pet who tends to take up too much of your custom pet blanket at bedtime, provide their own custom dog blanket (or style one to share). Honor the memory of a cherished pet who has passed away with heartfelt custom-made pet memorials. If it’s a family pet enthusiast you’re buying, custom dog blankets are a gorgeous and sincere present.

Custom canvas, mousepads, and custom pet blankets bring a touch of house and furry cuteness to the workplace. Make sensational wall art and other decor utilizing your preferred animal photos. With these family pet gift concepts and more, it’s simple to reveal your favorite four-legged good friends (and their owners) just how much you enjoy them.

Whether you’re looking for the best present for a pet fan or merely want to beautify your life with some house design and accessories that look like your pet or feline, you’re in luck. We assembled some of the coolest custom pet blankets you can purchase that look just like your family pet.

So How Exactly Does It Work?

Simply send a photo and their illustrators handle everything else. When they’re finished you’ll get a masterpiece that’s unique and created by genuine illustrators.

STEP 1: Upload a picture of your animal

STEP 2: Review your illustration (they’ll send a message in one to two days)

STEP 3: When you agree they’ll ship your unique animal gift

Their most popular gift may be the Custom Pet Blanket which includes many reviews that are positive on the website. This is a keepsake that fits in any house – ideal for snuggling & cuddling perfectly! The custom dog blanket is durable & simple to clean and it’s got finished edges to avoid fraying.

Additionally, there are pet memorial blankets if you lost your beloved pet and would like something to keep in mind them by, or close friends blankets if you would like to celebrate the friendship that you have together with your furry pal.

Other best-sellers are the Custom Pet Canvas which is a full wrap-around print premium framed canvas. This can be a kind of quality you will be proud to hold on your own wall.

The Custom Pet Pillow makes a great companion to the custom dog blanket – your furry buddy illustration is printed on the pillow cover and includes a filling inside.

There is also a range of custom cat stickers however the most popular is the custom pet car decal – its created from durable outdoor vinyl so it’s sun resistant and 100 percent water-proof. So the stickers are great for vehicle bumpers like your vehicle, scooter, motorbike, or boat. Plus you need to use them as window stickers – exquisite for showing off your pet!

I loved that they emailed me the artwork so I could approve the artwork before they made my product. So when a change was had by me, they fixed it without any issues but still sent it out quickly – extremely swift turn around. Truthfully, the likeness is indeed good (and my dog blanket is way softer than I expected) that I’m hoping to get another custom dog blanket of my other furry pal too.

Also, it’s great to discover that all their custom dog blankets are printed & shipped in the USA (I love to understand that I’m buying from local businesses).

Very last thing – if you are still on the fence about purchasing from Furbaby Prints then not to worry almost all their custom dog blankets have a 100 percent guarantee, so you can rest assured that your expectations will be met. Their customer support is excellent – their employees communicated with to my satisfaction & responded to my questions within a day of asking.

Below are a few comments from happy buyers:

I am really pleased with this! Unfortunately my cam does not do it justice, the colours are so dynamic and they did a fantastic job with my dog. It’s extremely soft and will absolutely be utilized this winter season I have actually acquired 5 custom pet blankets over the last year as gifts.

This custom dog blanket seems like a huge hug (and snuggle) from him and I enjoy it so much!!! Thank you my experience was so so great! They caught him how i desired it exactly. somebody who assisted me choose the best picture likewise sent me a totally free mug with the same art on it! She felt truly bad that my fur child crossed the rainbow bridge so she she sent it totally free.

It is so soft! thank you. I shed tears of delight opening my bundle and seeing my gorgeous kids deal with. This item has brought me closure with my pets passing and offers me convenience. Thank you for the stunning piece to keep in mind my dog by. Bought it for my 23 years of age niece’s birthday.

Here are several questions & answers about custom pet blankets:

What is the best material for a custom pet blanket? Dog blankets targeted at comfort and softness are usually created from fleece, which provides warmth also, or velour, that is a plush material. pet blankets made for protection are made from microfiber, a durable synthetic material, and this can be quite thin.

Why do cats love soft pet blankets? Like human children, for cats, the feeling of being tightly wrapped in a warm & soft dog blanket provides a great sense of security. Like a set of armor around you, perfectly molded to your form.

At night should I cover my dog with a pet blanket? Yes, it’s okay to cover your pet with a dog blanket. The dog blanket is a source of warmth, comfort, and can add value to your dog’s life immediately. Just the same as humans, dogs don’t mind having something warm wrapped around their bodies during the night. … Utilizing a dog dog blanket to keep your pet warm is a no-brainer.

Why do dogs like custom pet blankets? There probably is a reason. Animals have a very strong sense of smell. So, if they curl up with among your pet blankets, they could also like this it has your smell on it actually. Another dog owner recalled having a puppy with separation anxiety.  

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[customdogblke]

via Custom Dog Blanket,

Furbaby Prints is the best site for animal lovers! They’ll assist you to make an incredible enduring keepsake of your pet.

Every family pet should have to be a little spoiled from time to time with a custom pet blanket. Whether you’re buying your own four-legged member of the family or somebody else’s family pet, you can’t fail with these present concepts for every pet character. Whether the family pet in your life is furry, scaly, feathered or wooly, you’re sure to discover a personalized present that has their name composed all over it.

For the family pet who tends to take up too much of your custom pet blanket at bedtime, provide their own custom dog blanket (or style one to share). Honor the memory of a cherished pet who has passed away with heartfelt custom-made pet memorials. If it’s a family pet enthusiast you’re buying, custom dog blankets are a gorgeous and sincere present.

Custom canvas, mousepads, and custom pet blankets bring a touch of house and furry cuteness to the workplace. Make sensational wall art and other decor utilizing your preferred animal photos. With these family pet gift concepts and more, it’s simple to reveal your favorite four-legged good friends (and their owners) just how much you enjoy them.

Whether you’re looking for the best present for a pet fan or merely want to beautify your life with some house design and accessories that look like your pet or feline, you’re in luck. We assembled some of the coolest custom pet blankets you can purchase that look just like your family pet.

So How Exactly Does It Work?

Simply send a photo and their illustrators handle everything else. When they’re finished you’ll get a masterpiece that’s unique and created by genuine illustrators.

STEP 1: Upload a picture of your animal

STEP 2: Review your illustration (they’ll send a message in one to two days)

STEP 3: When you agree they’ll ship your unique animal gift

Their most popular gift may be the Custom Pet Blanket which includes many reviews that are positive on the website. This is a keepsake that fits in any house – ideal for snuggling & cuddling perfectly! The custom dog blanket is durable & simple to clean and it’s got finished edges to avoid fraying.

Additionally, there are pet memorial blankets if you lost your beloved pet and would like something to keep in mind them by, or close friends blankets if you would like to celebrate the friendship that you have together with your furry pal.

Other best-sellers are the Custom Pet Canvas which is a full wrap-around print premium framed canvas. This can be a kind of quality you will be proud to hold on your own wall.

The Custom Pet Pillow makes a great companion to the custom dog blanket – your furry buddy illustration is printed on the pillow cover and includes a filling inside.

There is also a range of custom cat stickers however the most popular is the custom pet car decal – its created from durable outdoor vinyl so it’s sun resistant and 100 percent water-proof. So the stickers are great for vehicle bumpers like your vehicle, scooter, motorbike, or boat. Plus you need to use them as window stickers – exquisite for showing off your pet!

I loved that they emailed me the artwork so I could approve the artwork before they made my product. So when a change was had by me, they fixed it without any issues but still sent it out quickly – extremely swift turn around. Truthfully, the likeness is indeed good (and my dog blanket is way softer than I expected) that I’m hoping to get another custom dog blanket of my other furry pal too.

Also, it’s great to discover that all their custom dog blankets are printed & shipped in the USA (I love to understand that I’m buying from local businesses).

Very last thing – if you are still on the fence about purchasing from Furbaby Prints then not to worry almost all their custom dog blankets have a 100 percent guarantee, so you can rest assured that your expectations will be met. Their customer support is excellent – their employees communicated with to my satisfaction & responded to my questions within a day of asking.

Below are a few comments from happy buyers:

I am really pleased with this! Unfortunately my cam does not do it justice, the colours are so dynamic and they did a fantastic job with my dog. It’s extremely soft and will absolutely be utilized this winter season I have actually acquired 5 custom pet blankets over the last year as gifts.

This custom dog blanket seems like a huge hug (and snuggle) from him and I enjoy it so much!!! Thank you my experience was so so great! They caught him how i desired it exactly. somebody who assisted me choose the best picture likewise sent me a totally free mug with the same art on it! She felt truly bad that my fur child crossed the rainbow bridge so she she sent it totally free.

It is so soft! thank you. I shed tears of delight opening my bundle and seeing my gorgeous kids deal with. This item has brought me closure with my pets passing and offers me convenience. Thank you for the stunning piece to keep in mind my dog by. Bought it for my 23 years of age niece’s birthday.

Here are several questions & answers about custom pet blankets:

What is the best material for a custom pet blanket? Dog blankets targeted at comfort and softness are usually created from fleece, which provides warmth also, or velour, that is a plush material. pet blankets made for protection are made from microfiber, a durable synthetic material, and this can be quite thin.

Why do cats love soft pet blankets? Like human children, for cats, the feeling of being tightly wrapped in a warm & soft dog blanket provides a great sense of security. Like a set of armor around you, perfectly molded to your form.

At night should I cover my dog with a pet blanket? Yes, it’s okay to cover your pet with a dog blanket. The dog blanket is a source of warmth, comfort, and can add value to your dog’s life immediately. Just the same as humans, dogs don’t mind having something warm wrapped around their bodies during the night. … Utilizing a dog dog blanket to keep your pet warm is a no-brainer.

Why do dogs like custom pet blankets? There probably is a reason. Animals have a very strong sense of smell. So, if they curl up with among your pet blankets, they could also like this it has your smell on it actually. Another dog owner recalled having a puppy with separation anxiety.  

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[superfreakerz]

TDDUP 30

“Til Death Do Us Part”

Rated M for smut and heavy themes.

Reincarnation/Immortality AU

Summary: There are immortals and there are those who reincarnate, but it’s best to keep these things hidden. Lucy is attending college and meets Natsu, a boy with pink hair, a devilish smile, and a body that never ages.

TW: SUICIDE

Chapter 30

Trip Down Memory Lane

Lucy poured herself some hot chocolate, the liquid sloshing around in her mug as she carried it over to the dining room table. Setting the drink aside so that it could cool down, the girl opened her laptop, quickly signing into her email account.

Three days had passed since she had visited Fairy Tail's basement and learned the history behind reincarnation. Since then, she was wary of leaving the house. Natsu hadn't even visited her once, obviously aware of her mood- for which she was thankful for. All she wanted was to be alone for a bit.

Lucy knew her thoughts were crazy. She knew that her friends, despite their overbearing skepticism, were good people. She knew that they would never hurt her.

And yet, a shiver ran up her spine every time she thought of Acnologia's mindset, wondering if her friends just so happened to feel the same way.

Ever since she learned about the connection between reincarnates and immortals, she couldn't help but be on edge around them. They had already proven themselves to be prejudiced against mortals, could anyone blame her for being worried? And if it wasn't her friends that were plotting to kill her, then perhaps the other immortals in the basement were.

The thought left her terrified of leaving the house. But after three days, she was starting to go crazy without seeing anyone, especially Natsu. She was grateful that he was kind enough to give her space when she needed. He sent her good morning and goodnight texts, but other than that, he left her alone to mull over her thoughts.

"I should go see him today," Lucy thought, bringing the mug to her lips and sipping on the chocolatey goodness. "It's not his fault that other immortals went crazy."

Natsu had been there for her through everything. He was there when she was sad, he was there when she was stressing over finals, and he was there when nobody else believed her about reincarnation. Through thick and thin, he was the one always at her side.

"I'll go to Fairy Tail later."

The only way to get over her irrational fear was to just deal with it headon. She had to get to know the others and make sure that they weren't like Acnologia. That was the only way she could put her negative thoughts to rest. But first, she had something else to do.

Lucy opened her thread of emails with Yukino. After learning that Fairy Tail was an organization built to support mortals, she had asked Natsu on her way home from the pub if there were other places like it. To her surprise, there were quite a few all over Fiore. If Yukino was like her, then she was tired of being alone with her secrets. She needed a group of people she could talk to. People who would somewhat understand.

Luckily, she had found out that there was an organization in Crocus where Yukino lived. It was a popular pub named Sabertooth, which must've brought in a lot of money for the immortals it housed.

Lucy's fingers moved hastily as she typed out a long explanation. She made sure not to leave a single detail out. She went on about the existence of immortals, the organizations, and the history behind Acnologia so that Yukino could decide for herself if she wanted to associate with the immortals. After re-reading the email to make sure she didn't forget anything, she pressed send before shutting the laptop. Chugging down the rest of her hot chocolate, she heaved a long sigh. It was time to get ready.

After throwing on a sweater and some leggings, Lucy shoved her feet into some knee-high boots before grabbing her keys and heading out the door. With winter's chill among her, the wind broke through the fabric of her sweater and chilled her to the bone. Quickening her pace, the girl practically jogged the rest of the way to Fairy Tail.

Once she arrived, she looked up at the grand double-doors. Her stomach churned, her fears of being around the immortals starting to kick in. Taking a deep breath, Lucy pictured Natsu's smiling face before swinging the doors open.

Heading over to the bar, she gave an uneasy smile to the familiar, purple-haired waitress, Kinana. She had learned from Natsu that she was also an immortal.

"Hi. Can I go see Natsu?" Lucy asked.

Kinana nodded, giving her a smile that helped calm her nerves. "Of course. You know where to find him."

Lucy thanked the other girl before stepping behind the counter and heading down the steps to the basement. Reaching the bottom, she nervously scanned the lounge for any of her friends. To her surprise, it was empty.

"Lucy?" a familiar voice called out. Turning to her left, she found Cana- the brunette who offered her a drink last time- sitting at the bar. The same bartender from before, the pretty silver-haired girl, was also there.

"Oh, uhh, hi," Lucy said with a small wave.

"Whatcha doin' here?" Cana asked, her eyes darting towards Mira. The bartender's hand slid over her own neck. Cana could hear her breathing grow heavy. She wondered if her friend would ever be able to be in the same room as an immortal without feeling suffocated. She doubted it. The scars of an immortal may heal on the outside, but they never do on the inside.

"I'm looking for Natsu and the others," Lucy answered, wringing her arms together. "Do you know where they are?"

"They're probably all in their rooms. I'll take ya to Natsu's room. C'mon."

Lucy thanked the brunette and nodded her head in goodbye to the bartender. The silver-haired girl gave her a weak smile, one that didn't reach her beautiful blue orbs.

Following Cana down a narrow hallway, Lucy took in every detail she could. The hallway was lined with doors on both sides.

"I don't know if Natsu explained our living situation to you," Cana said, catching the blonde's attention.

"He hasn't," Lucy replied. She was glad Cana was explaining things to her as they went.

"Well, boys and girls are split up. Boys are on the left, girls on the right. We have to share our rooms because there's limited space. Though, Gajeel's lucky and doesn't have to share until a newcomer comes along. I share a room with Juvia." She stopped just outside a door. "Anyways, tours over. This is Natsu's room."

"Oh. Thank you, Cana. You've been really kind to me."

"Don't mention it," the other girl said, taking a swig of alcohol. Rubbing the back of her head, she continued, "And I'm sorry if I came off kinda on-edge the other night. I didn't know that you're sorta kinda like us."

"Don't worry. Like I said, you've been really kind to me!"

With a smile, Lucy waved to the brunette before knocking on Natsu's door. In seconds, it swung open to reveal Gray, only in his boxers.

"Lucy?" he said.

"Did you say Lucy!?"

In the blink of an eye, Gray was shoved to the side, Natsu pushing his way to see her. Lucy giggled at his excitement, though a twinge of guilt ebbed at her knowing that he was only so excited to see her because she had been avoiding him the past few days.

"Hi, Natsu," she greeted.

"W-What are you doing here?" Natsu asked, his mouth parted. He wasn't expecting to see her so soon. After everything they learned, he figured she would never set foot in the home of the immortals again.

Lucy nudged him. "What? I'm not allowed to visit my boyfriend? You invite yourself into my home, it's time to return the favor."

Walking past him, Lucy studied the room, her cheeks dusted pink. It was her first time in a boy's room before. To her surprise, the place was a lot cleaner than she'd expect considering it was Natsu's. There were two beds pushed on opposite corners of the room. On one half of the room, there were band posters tacked to the wall and random mementos and picture frames. It was easy to tell it was Natsu's side. On the other side were only a couple of pictures of Gray and Juvia and people who resembled Gray. She had a feeling it was his family.

"So this is where you live," Lucy said, making her way to his bed. Plopping onto it, she grinned at her boyfriend. "It's a lot cleaner than I thought it would be."

"That's because of Erza," Natsu replied, a shiver running down his back. "She does random room checks to make sure everyone's rooms are in order. If they aren't…"

"I think I have a feeling what happens."

Lucy glanced at Natsu's nightstand, finding picture frames sitting on top. Grabbing one, a wide smile settled over her face as she quickly recognized it. It was the first picture they took together downtown, the one that she had set as his contact photo. She never knew that he had it printed out and framed by his bed.

Gently placing the picture frame back, she picked up another. This one was full of the Fairy Tail immortals, along with Makarov. There was also a young girl standing in the front, her hair long enough to reach her ankles and falling in blonde waves. Lucy couldn't recognize her.

"That's Mavis," Natsu said, following her gaze. "She's the one that made Fairy Tail!"

"And one of the oldest known immortals, right?"

"Yep! I'm sure you'll meet her one day!"

"I hope so." Lucy placed the frame back, grabbing the last one from the nightstand. It was one of Natsu when he was younger, in his teens it appeared. His hair was a bit shorter back then and his face had some more weight to it, but it was the same Natsu she knew and loved. Next to him was a man with red hair darker than Erza's. His eyes were a light brown, almost appearing golden in the sun.

"That's my dad," Natsu said, a small smile gracing his face. His hand tugged on the ends of his scarf.

"I can tell just from this picture how great of a father he was," Lucy replied. She reached out towards him and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

"Yeah, he was."

"Did he know that you're an immortal?"

"Nah, he died before I even found out. What about you? Does your dad know that you reincarnate?"

"Oh hell no," Lucy replied quickly, shaking her head. "None of my parents in any lifetime know that I reincarnate."

Natsu cocked his head to the side. "How many parents have you had?"

"I'm on my fourth lifetime, so four different sets."

A wide grin settled over the boy's face. "I still can't believe you reincarnate! That's crazy!"

"I can't believe it either," Gray said from over on his bed. Admittedly, Lucy had forgotten he was there.

"You're telling me. I still can't believe you guys are immortal! I have had so many questions floating around in my head ever since I found out!" Lucy exclaimed.

"Then ask away. I promised I would answer all of your questions the night Natsu was shot," Gray replied.

Natsu jumped up from the bed. "Let me go get everyone first! I know they all wanna see you. Especially Levy. She's been mopin' around the past three days."

"Oh like you haven't been?" Gray teased.

Natsu glared at him before heading out the room to gather the rest of the immortals. Meanwhile, Gray turned his attention back towards Lucy.

"So, how ya holdin' up?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you've been avoiding us ever since you found out about Acnologia. I take it you're scared?"

"Can you blame me?"

"Nah, I can't. But don't worry, we won't let that happen to you."

The corners of Lucy's lips tugged upwards into a smile. "Yeah, I know. Thank you."

Gray opened his mouth to reply when suddenly, a flash of blue crossed Lucy's face and she found herself tackled back onto the bed. She didn't have to lift her head to know who it was clutching at her as if life depended on it.

"Hi, Levy-chan," Lucy greeted, smoothing a hand over the other girl's head.

"I missed you, Lu-chan! You didn't return any of my texts!" Levy replied, lifting herself off the blonde so that she could get up.

"Yeah, I know. A lot of stuff was on my mind. But I'm here now, right?"

"Right!"

Lucy glanced towards the door as she heard Natsu and the others stepping inside. She was surprised to find Cana and Mira among them.

"Heard you wanna learn about the immortals," Cana said, leaning against the wall beside Mira. "That's good, 'cos I wanna know about reincarnation. Ask away!"

Lucy cupped her chin in thought. She had so many questions she wanted to ask, but now that she was put on the spot, she was having trouble remembering all of them.

"Oh, okay," she said as one question popped into her head. "Were you guys always immortal? Or did you do some ritual?"

"Believe me, nobody would do a ritual for this curse if they knew what it meant," Cana answered. "Really, nobody knows the real answer. At the beginning of our lives, we grew and aged, so maybe we weren't an immortal then. Or, maybe we were born immortal and it just didn't kick in until our death day. Nobody knows for sure."

"Death day? What's that?"

Levy chimed in, "It's the approximate age in which we assume we stopped aging. So for us, our death day is in our early twenties. For our first Master, Mavis, she stopped aging in her mid-teens, so that's when her death day is."

Lucy's mouth parted as she took in the information. She was horrified while learning about reincarnation, but the lore of immortality was interesting.

"So if Cana is the oldest of all you, who is the youngest?"

"That would be me," Levy answered with a laugh. "It goes Cana, Gray, Erza and Jellal, Gajeel, Juvia, Natsu, Mira, then me."

Lucy gave a smug grin, playfully nudging Natsu. "Aww, you're one of the babies of the group!"

He crossed his arms with a glare. "Shut up."

A laugh bubbled up to her lips before she returned her attention to Levy. "So, how did you guys find out about Fairy Tail?"

"We were all recruited," Levy answered. "Last time you were here, Master brought up that there are government officials affiliated with immortals. Their presence is top secret and only known by higher-ups. They are how organizations like Fairy Tail exist, and they're also the reason immortals get a small allowance from the government. Beyond that, they also do extensive research to find more immortals. There have been times when they found out who was immortal before the immortal themself was fully aware."

"That happened with me," Natsu added. "I knew somethin' was up, but I didn't know it was immortality until Gramps found me and told me about it."

"Exactly. So, the affiliates send us the information on the immortal and we go recruit them. That, or we somehow stumble upon them ourselves." Lucy nodded slowly, still trying to process everything. It was a lot to take in. Recruitment, government affiliates, immortality. Who knew all of this was happening and the rest of the world had no idea?

There was one question left that was still bugging Lucy, but she didn't know if it was insensitive to ask.

"You want to ask us something, don't you?" Erza asked, a knowing smile planted on her face. "I can see the curiosity written all over your face."

Lucy rubbed the back of her head with an awkward chuckle. "Oh, yeah. But it's okay! I don't need to know!"

"No, no, c'mon," Gray insisted. "I said I would answer your questions. What is it?"

"Well, I guess I was just wondering if there was an extent to your immortality. Like, what happens if an immortal cuts off their own head?"

A shiver ran up the group's spines just picturing it.

"Well, believe it or not, that sort of thing has happened many times," Jellal answered for the group. "Most immortals discovering their immortality get curious to see the limits. Or sometimes, they really want their life to end so that they can be reunited with the loved ones they lost throughout the years. Either way, there is always an experimentation phase. Whether it is a simple prick on the finger or decapitation, people are always trying to figure it out. I don't think you really want to know what happens if someone cuts off their own head, but I can assure you that they will live."

"You wanna see it?" Natsu asked.

Lucy whipped her head towards the boy. "What?"

"Do you wanna see it?" he repeated as if it were normal. "The healing process, I mean."

Without waiting for her to answer, he grabbed his lighter. He held his hand out in front of him, the fire dancing just below his fingertips. Keeping his eyes trained on Lucy, he slowly moved the fire up to his hand, allowing it to wash over his skin. At first it didn't hurt. It was a comforting warmth that he had gotten used to over the many accidents he had playing with fire. But ten seconds in, the warmth turned to scorching pain.

Lucy's hands flew up to her mouth as she forced herself to watch. Natsu's fingertips were blackened by the fire. Glancing up at him, she found tears in the corners of his eyes. The hand he used to hold the lighter was trembling.

"O-Okay! I get it, you can stop now, Natsu!" Lucy said, snatching the lighter away from him. Jellal's explanation of the experimentation phase that immortals went through rang in Lucy's mind. She had a feeling that fire was how Natsu proved his immortality to himself.

"Watch," Natsu said, holding his damaged fingers in front of Lucy's face. His skin was cracked and raw, but within seconds, the regeneration began.

Lucy gasped as the cracks in Natsu's fingers began to smoothen out and the normal color in his fingers returned. It was a much faster process than when Natsu was shot. It must've been because his body had to reject the bullet before it could start healing.

"See?" Natsu said, a wide grin on his face as he shook his fully-healed hand.

Lucy slapped him upside the head. "Yes, I see it! Don't do that again! Even though I know you can heal, I still don't like seeing you hurt!"

Natsu nodded, but the smile on his face remained. It felt nice showing Lucy all of this, and telling her about immortality. As close as he was to Lucy before, it was nowhere near how close he felt to her now. It was like he could finally open up completely to her.

Lucy smiled, her eyes glazing over her friends. It felt nice to hang out with them again. There weren't any secrets or lies, just people hanging out.

Her gaze then landed on Mira. The girl hadn't said a thing since coming into the room. Her lips were pulled into a small smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. As if feeling her stare, Mira glanced at her.

And that was when Lucy finally saw it.

Horror etched the other girl's face in the second that they shared eye contact before Mira pointed her gaze at the floor and brought a shaky hand up to her neck. She was scared of her. But why?

"Enough about all this crap," Gajeel said, catching her attention. "It's your turn to explain reincarnation."

"Yes!" Levy exclaimed. "I've been dying to ask you about it!"

Lucy shrugged. "Okay. Then ask away!"

Immediately, they all voiced the same question.

"What's death like?"

Clearly it was something on their mind considering it was something they couldn't experience no matter how hard they tried. Hell, even normal mortals wondered what death was like.

Lucy shrugged again. "I don't know what it's like for normal mortals, but for me, there's not much to discuss. There's no pearly white gates of Heaven or walking around as a ghost. There's the event that causes death, a moment where everything goes black, and then a flash of bright light as I'm being reborn in a hospital room."

"And you retain all of your memories?" Erza questioned.

"Yep. Which is what makes it horrible."

"Horrible?" Gajeel asked. "Hell, reincarnating sounds like a walk in the park compared to immortality! You get to die and be reborn with a fresh start every time! It's easy!"

Lucy's hands fumbled with the hem of her sweater. "I wouldn't say it's easy… Think of it this way. You're a normal kid in a loving family. You have lots of friends, a nice job lined up, and then all of the sudden you die."

"Still sounds better than having to live forever and watching your family die."

"Okay, well imagine being reborn into a new family. You have no idea what's going on, you have no idea who these people are, all you know is that you can't stop thinking about your old family. You wonder what happened. You look them up and find out that they're still alive, but you can't do anything about it because you're born in the same body every time. Everyone would recognize you and probably burn you at the stake. So, you're stuck in a house of strangers that are supposed to be your parents. Except they aren't. Not to you. You can't love them the way you're supposed to because you feel like you're betraying your first family."

Natsu's brows twitched upwards, his eyes narrowing in thought. There was something about those words that seemed so familiar. His eyes darted to Lucy's hands, which were balled into tight fists trembling in her lap. Then it hit him.

"Is that what you were talking about that time at your apartment?" Natsu asked.

Lucy faced him, tilting her head innocently to the side. "When?"

"The first time we came over. We were playing truth or dare and Gajeel asked you what the worst thing you ever did was. You said you isolated yourself from your parents and your mom got sick."

Lucy took a sharp breath, the memories of her second life playing in her head. "Oh. Yeah. That's what happened with my second set of parents. After that, I felt so bad that I at least tried to pretend to love them."

Gajeel scratched the back of his head. "I guess when you put it that way, reincarnation ain't all that fun either."

Lucy shook her head, a dry laugh escaping her lips. "No, no it isn't. But that's why I'm glad I met you guys. You might not understand reincarnation, and I might not understand immortality, but we all know what it's like trying to hide who you are from everyone else. And I am so tired of hiding it."

Levy wrapped her arms around the blonde. A warm smile graced her face as she said, "You'll never have to hide around us anymore!"

As the group went silent, Lucy thought that the questioning was over. That is, until Cana spoke.

"I have a question," the brunette stated. "You don't hafta answer or anything, I was just kinda curious."

"What is it?" Lucy asked.

"You said that you're on your fourth lifetime right now, so that means you've died three times. How did you die?"

Lucy's stomach immediately dropped to the floor as panic washed over her. She really should've known that someone was going to ask that question. Who wouldn't?

Swallowing thickly, the girl tried to calm her nerves. Her stomach continued to do flips while her hands shook in her lap. It wasn't until a warm hand slid into hers that she was able to slow her breathing down to a steady pace.

Glancing up at Natsu, she found him staring right back at her, concern lacing his onyx orbs. She could tell by the look he was giving her that she didn't need to answer if she didn't want to. And yet, her mouth opened to speak.

"Well, two of the three were car accidents. I guess I wasn't the best driver," Lucy answered, followed by a weak chuckle. "That's why I'm not too big on driving anymore. In case you're wondering, it didn't hurt at all. It happened so fast that I didn't even know I died until I was born again."

"What about the other time?" Juvia asked.

Lucy's hand slowly moved up to her neck, softly grazing the sensitive skin as she recalled what happened. The memory was so vivid in her mind it was like it happened only yesterday.

She took a deep breath, followed by another. It was an innocent question. Lucy knew that. They were only curious, they didn't mean to bring up any bad memories.

"W-Well…" she choked out. Her throat tightened as if trying to snuff out the words that were on the tip of her tongue. "My second lifetime was kind of rough. It was my first time reincarnating. I was confused, angry… I told you how I felt about my parents and friends. I was alone. All I wanted was to forget the past that I couldn't have anymore." Hot tears pricked the backs of Lucy's eyes but she blinked them back. "I didn't want to be alive. I didn't want to be reincarnated. I just…"

A gasp caught Lucy's attention. Turning towards the source, she found Levy with her hands covering her mouth.

"Oh, Lu-chan… Tell me you didn't." she whispered.

Lucy nodded weakly. "Yeah, I did. I figured that my reincarnation was a fluke. A one time mistake. I figured that if I died again, it would be for real this time. I got back home from school one day. I'd been planning it for a while. I don't know what made me choose that day specifically, but it seemed right. My parents were still at work. I went to my room, grabbed the rope that I stole from the shed, and... And tied it to the ceiling fan. I-I'm sure you can figure out how I died from there."

Her hands brushed against her neck again. It was like she could still feel the loose threads of the rope scratching her throat. She could still remember what it felt like when her lungs started to burn. She could remember kicking, trying to relieve some of her body's pain. And she could still remember when her eyes finally started to droop closed, the energy in her body drained as she dangled there alone before succumbing to the darkness.

Lucy kept her gaze trained on the bed. She could feel everyone's stares on her, but she ignored them, too scared to make eye contact. Her stomach was doing flips, and she felt like she could vomit at any second.

It wasn't until Gray cleared his throat that Lucy finally glanced up.

Cana rubbed the back of her head. "I'm sorry for makin' you relive that experience. It was insensitive of me to ask that."

Lucy shook her head. "No, don't worry. I know that you were just curious. I'm the one who made the mistake."

"Well… maybe we should take a break from all the questions," Gray said. "We've been sitting here for a while. And it's not like we don't have time to ask questions later."

"Gray's right," Erza agreed, nodding her head. She could see through his attempt at lightening the mood and wanted nothing more than to help. "Shall we go get some food?"

"You guys go ahead," Natsu said. "We'll catch up with you."

Lucy glanced towards the boy. His usual carefree grin was nowhere to be found, instead in its place a blank expression. Squirming uncomfortably in her seat, she watched as the rest of their friends filed out of the room, leaving them all alone.

At first, they just sat there. They didn't look at each other, they didn't say a word. Lucy stared at Natsu, waiting for him to speak. She could practically see the cogs turning in his head as he thought of what to say, as if choosing his words carefully. Finally, it seemed he found the words to say as he whipped his head towards her.

"I'm not gonna ask you about it," Natsu said, his expression serious. Gently squeezing her hand, he continued, "When you're ready to talk about it, I'm right here. But you should know I'm gonna spend the rest of eternity makin' sure that you never feel like you hafta do that again."

Lucy gave a weak chuckle. "Rest of eternity? Do I need to remind you you're an immortal? You'll actually be alive for the rest of eternity, so you probably shouldn't joke-"

"I mean it, Lucy. I'll be there the rest of eternity."

And just like that, the dam broke.

Hot tears welled in Lucy's eyes and spilled down her cheeks before she even had the chance to blink them back. Throwing herself against Natsu, she buried her face in his chest. She didn't know how loud she was as she wailed and she didn't care. All she cared about was holding Natsu close because she knew that in the many lifetimes to come, she would never find someone as important to her as Natsu was.

Natsu ran his fingers through her golden locks. Every strand felt like silk against his skin. With his other hand, he softly rubbed her back until she eventually stopped crying.

Sniffling, Lucy pulled away from him and wiped her face with the back of her sleeve.

"I love you, Natsu," she said, only able to muster up a whisper.

Natsu smiled down at her and wiped a stray tear from her face that she missed. "I love you too, Luce."

[seasonofthegeek]

To Save and to Sacrifice, Part 3

Sending a huge thank you out to @rainbow-moonbeam for the ko-fi donation to do another part of this story. Thanks for your support!

Parts 1, 2, 3:

When one grew up poor, it was hard to ever truly forget the feeling. The land Nathalie was raised in, the one she would later care for and then lose in a sense, had always been poor in relation to most other kingdoms. Even as a young royal when her aunt and uncle were on the throne, she wore secondhand clothes and worked alongside everyone else. Things had grown a bit better for a time under her reign, until the climate began to decline again and the farms most of her people worked died away and she’d sought out an alliance to save them all.

She wrung her hands together as the taxi carried her further away from the palace and deeper into the lower income districts. She doubted many would be able to recognize her, but she kept her hood pulled up anyway, just in case. The driver eyed her in the rearview mirror as they passed under a street light. “You sure this is where you wanna go, ma’am? Not the safest place at night, especially not this hour.”

“I’ll be fine,” she replied tersely. “I have family here.”

He nodded and they made the rest of the drive in silence. She thanked her foresight of keeping a small stash of money to herself during the merger and paid him before watching him drive off. The street was dim, and the cramped buildings along the drive, while not decrepit, had seen much better days. Nathalie took in a deep breath, expecting to smell something familiar, but there was nothing to remind her of home here. Not on the streets anyway. 

While there was technology put to use on the estate, Gabriel was old-fashioned in the way he liked to run things and liked to have a hard copy of everything. They went over the accounts together that were held in large leather binders he’d obviously ordered to be specially made and she’d seen him reading printed emails more than once. She thought it odd when he had so many luxuries at his disposal but now she was thankful. She’d been able to find a large set of binders with the new citizens addresses and information without trying to go through the hassle of using the computer system.

Nathalie checked the hastily scribbled address on the note in her hand once more under a streetlamp before ascending up the cracked stairs of a brick building. She knew it was late for guests but she also knew the people she sought out were most likely awake. She went to the door of the apartment and saw a beautifully designed monogram of “DC” painted on the weathered wood  and knew she had the right place. She knocked softly and listened. After half a minute, there was the sound of multiple locks working and then a whoosh of air as the door was pulled inward.

“Well, we must’ve done something really good or really bad to warrant a visit from the queen herself.” Tom Dupain opened the door with a wide smile as he looked down on Nathalie.

She felt a warmth she hadn’t realized she was missing fill her as the big man pulled her into a hug. She laughed softly and hugged him back before taking a step just outside the door again. She glanced down the hall to be sure no one had seen or heard them before returning her attention to him. “May I come in?”

“Of course.” He stepped aside. “Sabby! Guess who finally came to see us?”

Embarrassment ran hot against her skin and Nathalie ducked her head. “I’m sorry it’s taken so long. I--”

“Nonsense.” Tom waved a hand. “I’m sure you’re very busy. There must be a lot of work to do.” He lumbered through the small living room that opened up into a kitchen and Sabine appeared with a young boy on her hip.

Nathalie blinked. “I know it’s been a while, but surely...”

Sabine laughed and hefted the child up a little higher. “Only babysitting. His mother works nights. Tom, honey, can you get Chris a glass of water? He had a nightmare.”

“Come here, Chris, my boy.” Tom gathered up the sleepy child in his arms and walked him to the sink.

“Let’s go in the living room,” Sabine offered with a gesture to the couch.  

Nathalie thought she looked tired but still beautiful. She’d grown up admiring Sabine when the other woman’s uncle married Nathalie’s aunt and became the king and queen of their lands. Sabine was older and looked out for Nathalie when she could. Nathalie cried on her shoulder after her first heartbreak and was there the day Sabine found out she was pregnant with her daughter. Instant regret flooded her for waiting so long to visit. 

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, looking down at her lap. “I should’ve come sooner.”

“Hush now. How are you? Is he treating you all right?”

Nathalie smiled down at her hands. “Gabriel has been a perfect gentleman. If anything, he’s treated me a little too well. I’m trying to take a more active role in things now.”

Sabine’s expression softened. “I hope that means you’ve had time to rest and relax for a bit then. I’ve been worried about you.”

“I don’t want to talk about me.” She looked around the small living room. “How are you? This is the housing you were placed in?”

“They said it’s temporary. We’re a little cramped, but we’re okay. Marinette’s been staying with a friend a good bit which gives Chris some space. His family lives upstairs, but he’s here most nights.”

“You said his mother works nights? I don’t think I recognize him. What’s the family name?”

“The Lahiffes. They moved closeby a few months before we came here. She’s a waitress at an all-night diner now. There’s also a son Mari’s age but he’s got a job at the car plant and his hours vary.” She caught the other woman’s distressed look and grabbed her hand. “We’re crammed in tighter than we’re used to but people have jobs and families are being fed. This was a good move.”

“I’ve heard reports of protests and fights.”

“There have been,” Sabine answered, her voice careful. “I think with time things will die down, but we all try to look out for each other.” 

“Is it more our people or Gabriel’s?”

“That kind of thinking is why there are fights,” she said gently. 

Nathalie scowled. “I’m sorry. I just--”

“I know. You don’t have to apologize to me.” Sabine sighed and leaned back against the couch. “Most of the people we know were farmers or handcrafters but this land isn’t made for that. There’s more technology here and it’s more fast-paced. I think some people are just feeling out of place and out of touch on top of everything else.”

“I don’t know how to fix that.”

“I’m not sure you can. I believe you made the right move in bringing us here. I think people will flourish but it’s going to take time. Healing always does.”

Nathalie tried to believe that but her need to immediately fix things worried at the edges of her mind. “What are you two doing for work? Maybe I can find a way to bring you to the palace.”

“As much as I appreciate that, dear, we’re just fine where we are. Tom was able to find work at a bakery and even though it chaffes not to be in charge, he’s content to be doing what he loves.”

“And you?”

“Marinette and I have been picking up seamstress jobs here and there. We have an ad in the city paper that has helped.” She looked back towards the kitchen.  “And we’re in a good spot to help people here. As much as I would love to get to see you more often, and I would, I think we were placed here for a reason. Things are working out.” She squeezed Nathalie’s hand. “Don’t worry about us.”

“Easier said than done.”

“You are your mother’s child.”

Sadness crept into her heart and Nathalie shut it down. She was getting a whiplash of emotions from this visit and wasn’t sure how much more she could take. She stood and hugged Sabine once the other woman stood with her. “Please let me know if I can do more,” she whispered as she leaned down in the embrace.

“You’ve done plenty already.” Sabine released her and smiled. “But please come visit again soon. It’s done my heart well to see you.”

“It’s a promise.”

___

Gabriel watched Nathalie slowly make her way down the stairs of the brick building. She stopped at the bottom and seemed to be trying to collect herself. He would have to find out who lived in this building and what relation they had to his new wife. The thought of a past lover sent a flash of jealousy through his mind that shocked him out of his thoughts. Their marriage wasn’t one of passion or love; there was no reason to think otherwise.

He stayed hidden in the shadows and saw her make a call on her phone. He was hoping she was calling for a cab to take her back home. He didn’t like her being out like this. There’d been too much unrest as of late.

As if his thoughts had brought forth trouble, a loud group rounded the far corner of the block and Gabriel could see the exact moment they noticed Nathalie. Catcalls and whistles rose up and he watched her stiffen. He was already moving out of his hiding place when another dark figure appeared from a thin alleyway between the group and Nathalie and took an obvious protective yet casual stance.

“Now, that is no way to get a lady’s attention, guys,” the newcomer quipped, voice muffled behind the dark cloth covering most of his face. When one broke off from the group to move closer, the man quickly produced a metal rod that elongated with such grace and speed that it was almost too fast to see in the night. “Ah, I wouldn’t do that.”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. The newcomer was undoubtedly Adrien. He pursed his lips, trying to decide if he should intervene or take the chance to watch his son in action. It was quite a different thing than seeing him on the grainy security footage he’d seen before. His head swiveled around. Adrien was rarely spotted in this get-up alone and then he saw the smaller figure appearing behind the group.

“There’s always one in the bunch.” Her voice was high and feminine and completely unwavering. “It’s late and I’m tired so you have to the count of three to move along with no trouble.”

The air was thick with tension and then there was an unspoken communication between the previously ruckus men and they moved past Adrien and Nathalie without further incident. Gabriel let out a sigh of relief and settled back into a more comfortable position to continue watching.

___

“Sorry you were caught in the middle of that, but I did try to warn you.” 

Nathalie’s retort died on her tongue when the man pulled away the cloth covering his face and Adrien grinned at her. She straightened and lifted her chin. “All’s well that ends well, I suppose.”

“If only that was the end.” Adrien’s partner joined them, but unlike him, she left the red bandana covering everything but bright blue eyes. 

“My lady, let me introduce you to Queen Nathalie.”

“That won’t be necessary; we know each other quite well actually.” She pulled the cloth away and Nathalie gasped in surprise as Marinette Dupain-Cheng pulled her into a hug. “I’ve missed you! Were you visiting Mom and Dad?”

“I was.” Nathalie stepped back to take in her appearance. Marinette wore what seemed to be a dark red jumpsuit with elbow and knee pads and a hood over her head. “What...”

Marinette’s cheeks darkened and she waved her hand. “It’s a long story.” Adrien stepped closer to her and wound his arm around her waist. Nathalie watched the action and knew it wasn’t the first time he’d done it.

“I see.”

“Looks like your taxi is almost here.” Adrien nodded to the oncoming headlights. “Make sure to go straight back, okay? I think we’re calling it a night ourselves.”

“Oh, did you want to ride back with me?” Nathalie stepped closer to the curb as the car slowed.

Adrien grinned again and scratched the back of his neck as Marinette ducked her head shyly. “No, thanks though.”

She decided it was best to not say another word but waved as she stepped into the car. She wondered if Gabriel had any idea that his son didn’t spend his nights at home and was moonlighting as some kind of vigilante.

A yawn caught her off guard and she let herself sink a little lower in the backseat. And if she missed the motorcycle that rode just a little behind the taxi the whole way back, well, it had been a rather busy night after all.

Buy me a cherry coke?

[poli9048]

Part 2

"Righteous Christian"

It was after ten when Chris returned from Oprah's party. This time was especially pleasant to the young man: the foggy empty streets, filled with the echoing silence of the night, opened up space for thoughts and feelings. He couldn't get the image of the girl sitting on that small wooden nightstand out of the mind, how she's looking at Chris's face, scared from sudden and completely incomprehensible feelings, with a fervor in her eyes. The young man right now wanted to turn around, go into that house and press Leia to that hated for a few seconds nightstand, kiss so that the lipstick smeared the face, smears lay on the neck area. It was like she was a canvas and Chris was an artist, but it was just the opposite. This Frenchwoman made him change his emotions like the colors of a palette, mixing shades that had never been seen before. Sarah quickly faded into the background, the captivating scent of her perfume Chris no longer felt near, rather, did not want to feel near. In his mind's eye, he could smell the familiar scent of French lavender shampoo.

The Windows of his house were always warm with chandeliers with beautiful antique shades - mother loved things from flea markets and antique stores, so all the rooms were filled with old decor items bought for a few dollars. The front door was slightly ajar. Quite unusual at this hour of the night. He entered the house and smelled the sharp smell of alcohol.

-Mom, dad, I'm home!"

Chris walked down the hall. His father, Mr. Morris, was sitting in the living room watching TV, paying no attention to the images that flickered on the screen. His eyes were fixed blankly in front of him, his lips were muttering involuntarily, and with an exhausted hand he was furiously pulling back his hair.

-What's wrong, dad?-Chris asked carefully. At the sight of his father, something inside him shrank and sank-obviously nothing good was to be expected.

-Your mother... She... She's - " Mr. Morris gasped, his throat constricting. His speech was incoherent, his eyes wild, and his hands were shaking. - She got sick... Badly... With heart..."

-Where is she?-Chris could hardly believe his ears.

-In the hospital-having drained already not the first in a row a glass with alcohol, the father began to sob hysterically.

There was no point in asking him what hospital his mother was in, just as there was no point in running to it. The only facility that Mrs. Morris could have been in was Blackpaines, a hospital on the outskirts of Blackpain, a suburb of Seattle. The hour was late, and of course no one would let Chris into the room, and the attending doctor would not come until the morning.

After such news, the native bed seemed like a lot of small needles, digging into the body with every movement and thought. Chris didn't sleep a wink, trying all night to figure out if what he'd heard in the living room was a figment of his imagination after a cocktail, or a new problem in the Morris family's life. He stared ahead with slow, suffering eyes, letting his thoughts and images take him deep into his subconscious.

The boy remembered the taste of lipstick on his lips, hot breath in the area of the chin. A white cloud of smoke that had something in common between them faded into the darkness of his hair and fell over his lush lashes that covered his emerald eyes. After a little digging in the back of his mind, he remembered where the insolent neighbor had left a pack of thin cigarettes. His hand found a thin dark box with nicotine bundles inside. She didn't smoke American cigarettes; her brother sent her several blocks of French Marlboros. His gaze skimmed over the inscription; Chris had not studied French, and the young man simply could not hear this speech from someone other than a girl. The lighter was carefully placed in the same pack, so it was not difficult to smoke.Opening the window wide, Chris exhaled clouds of white smoke that disappeared into the night. The sky was surprisingly starry - the next day promised to be warm. His father was probably still sitting in the living room; there was no slamming of the door, no heavy footsteps. It's amazing how the absence of one person can turn a house into such an apathetic and dreary place.

Night gradually gave way to morning. The sky was lit up with timid sunlight, the ground was covered with a semi-transparent fog, and the air smelled fresh. The neighbor has already gone for a walk with the dogs, and the rest of the residents have started to get ready for work. It wasn't a very long walk to the hospital: ten minutes and you were there. Chris couldn't wait any longer and went to his mother.He saw streets that smelled of autumn rain, a few sluggish stray dogs, and houses where people were gradually leaving. Does this city wake up so early? The lights were on in the hospital, and a pleasant woman in the waiting room quickly ushered the young man into the cardiovascular surgery Department.

The room smelled of medicine and hope for the recovery of a loved one. His mother was sleeping, breathing steadily. Chris stared at his own face, and fragments of memories flashed through his mind: how she had taught him to ride a bike, carefully treating endless abrasions; how she had read him bedtime stories as a child - he loved the mysterious, fairy-tale, fascinating sound of her voice; tender warm hands stroking his head during a difficult school period; the way she gathered the whole family to spend an evening playing board games, invited neighbors to her birthday, which coincided with Independence day in a pleasant way. Chris found it hard to believe that this could be happening to her. Even more difficult was the thought that he was in danger of losing her. Forever.

The idyll of mother and son was disturbed by the creaking of the door, and a heavy man in a white coat entered the room.

-Good morning,-he greeted Chris and hurried to introduce himself.- I'm Dr. green, the attending physician, Mrs. Morris. Who am I dealing with?

-Kristoffer Morris, her son,-the young man said shortly. After a sleepless night, there was no strength to go into lengthy explanations.

-Nice to meet you,-Mr. green said, giving Chris a quick handshake while commenting on what had happened. "This is her second heart attack - not as severe or devastating, but you know, her body is already weakened.

Chris frowned.

-What are you implying?

-I mean, everything is stable now, but the medications that keep her stable need to be bought, and they are expensive. There may not be a strong need for them, but this is not guaranteed. Who knows what will happen next month, right?- Mr. green patted Chris gently on the shoulder and, after checking the readings on the device monitors, left for his morning rounds with his patients.

***

"Lord Jesus Christ, our God, bless us with food and drink through the prayers of Your most pure Mother and all your saints, for you are blessed forever and ever. Amen" the father's lips quickly whispered the usual prayer, after which the Brossard family members let go of each other's hands and began to eat. The dining room was filled with the head-spinning aroma of French cuisine, which Leia's mother adhered to, despite the fact that they had long left their native country. Mrs. Brossard sliced the chicken in a smooth motion and spread it out on the plates to match the clock on the wall.

-Lea, my mother and I have a favor to ask of you,-Mr. Brossard said, slowly turning his mirrored gaze on his daughter. It was probably only because Leia's father was a clergyman that she was tolerated by the school administration, because no one wanted to quarrel with the Confessor - especially the religious people, who were most of the older population of Seattle.

-I listening to you- Leah looked questioningly at his father.

-Our neighbors, the Morrisons, have family problems. Emily is in the hospital, and we have to help Chris while his father is away. Therefore, if he needs help, never refuse, you are a good girl, a good Christian-the father smiled gently from the corner of his lips.

***

The need for money for his mother's recovery made Chris think about work. The only thing he was good at was photography, so he decided to try to get a job at a local newspaper and went to the office the next day. Outside, the rain continued to fall, as if responding to the anguish that was tearing at Chris's soul.

The young man fidgeted with a battered portfolio - an old folder of his father, in which he had pasted several printed photos.

-May I come in?-he tapped steadily on the office door and went in after a soft "come in".The young editor-in-chief stood at his Desk, his black tie stretched at the neck, the collar of his ironed shirt unbuttoned, and a loose jacket over his broad shoulders. He was Smoking a cigarette, studying the latest issue of the newspaper. -Hello, Mr. Blythe.

-I'm listening- he said, looking Chris up and down, then stubbed out his cigarette and abruptly folded the newspaper.

- My name is Christopher Morris,-the young man began.-I'm a photographer, I'm looking for a job and I would like to get a job at your newspaper.-He handed the folder to the editor, but the editor did not move to take it, and only sneered.

-I'm sorry, friend, but we don't have a Union or a job center, and we don't need workers,- Mr. Blythe said, squinting and pulling a smug smile.

-At least, take a look at my work poi o-Losing his composure and completely forgetting about the need to make a good impression on the employer, Chris shoved the portfolio directly into the hands of the editor. He looked at Chris's work arrogantly for a while, turning the pages quickly and clearly trying to get rid of the annoying young man as soon as possible.

-The work is completely mediocre,-Mr. Blythe said at last.-I don't have instagram with a selection of aesthetic images for teenage girls. But as compensation for the time spent, I will take one photo from you.- he put one photo back in the Desk and handed the folder back.

Chris was filled with anger and resentment, but at himself, only at himself for the fact that the person closest to him needed help more than ever, and he could only imagine the rustle of bills in his hands, no more. Flipping through the portfolio, which now seemed like a useless collection of pictures, Chris discovered that Mr. Blythe had taken one of his favorite photos. A typical image of Leia from behind - it was one of the usual evenings when She came to smoke with him. Her hair was a little longer then, and she was facing the window, and the full moon shone on the curve of her back, the thinness of her shoulders, and the sheen of her hair.

[lovehugsandcandy]

Four Words, One Reply (Colt x MC)

A/N: I haven’t written anything recently because my muse was GONE after prom on Friday. Muse said that she needed a break because she got everything she wanted. Back now, for better or worse. Here’s a bit of fluff, a bit of wish fulfillment for me and PLEASE let this offering of fluff atone for the angst I posted earlier.

Pairing: Colt x MC, ROD

Length: 1556 words

Rating: PG-13 (Swearing, probably, because I swear a lot.)

Summary: Ellie graduates from Langston.

Tags:  @deimosensblog @alegria1580  @choicesarehard @thefarrari @client-327 @moonlit-girl-wonder @going-down-downtown@soniadotalves@jolietmaraud @hazah @flowerpowell@poeticscolt @powdesiree1986

Ellie dreaded the day that the letters stopped coming. The worst of it was the terror, deep in her soul, that she would never know. Would he stop writing when he fell out of love? When he was sentenced to jail? Worse?

Her roommate thought it was romantic. "No one writes letters anymore, Ellie. It's sweet." Little did she know that it was likely a necessity, a way to avoid being tracked. Electronic communication could be dangerous and she was certain she didn't even have Colt’s current phone number. All she had were the letters.

They came unexpectedly, with no rhythm. Some months, she would get a letter a week, with varying return addresses, some with stamped return envelopes, to varying cities, so she could write back if she wanted. She always did.

Some months, there were no letters. The worst was four months, spanning the summer and start of fall semester of junior year. Ellie was in a panic, barely able to sleep until, finally, a thin envelope in her mailbox, no details, no explanation, only an "I love you, Ellie." She cried, sobs in the middle of the campus center, oblivious to the stares around her.

Sometimes they came with money, always cash. Never a ton, but enough to make her worried about what he was doing. Always earmarked for something, $400 for new school books, $100 for her "first legal drink at Flanagan's and a cab back home." At first, she sent it back; she didn't want his money (she wanted him) and felt bad taking it. He would return it to her, quickly, with a gentle admonishment that it was his way of feeling connected, a way of being there with her in spirit. She took it more often than not now but, when the nights were long and the nightmares were strong and the terror wouldn’t subside, she would send his money back, knowing it was the fastest way to get letter in return, to know that he was still ok. And, though it made her uneasy, she did let him buy her first legal drink.

She knew, with their last conversation in LA, that she was signing herself up for a bit of loneliness. He told her that he needed time, he couldn’t be in LA, he needed to get away. She understood, she got it. She knew the memories this place had for him. She asked him to come with her; wasn’t Boston far enough away? She still remembered his sad eyes, the last kiss. He told her he would wait for her, but he didn’t expect anything, said he didn’t know when he would see her next, but he would, one day. She didn’t know if he was trying to outrun his grief or hide from it, but she prayed he succeeded.

And now this, a month before her graduation, a cryptic note, barely a letter, on the back of a photograph. She could recognize the image, the Bean (he was in Chicago?) and pored over the picture, looking for a hint of him. She couldn't find Colt, no smirk, no leather jacket but, in the corner of the reflecting mirror, warped in the curve of the monument, she finally spied what he wanted her to see. A sleek bright pink European import, looking amazingly like her car back in LA. And on the back, four words and a return envelope, addressed to PO Box in Pittsburgh. She read those words, over and over and over again, in class, in bed, memorizing Colt’s scrawl as if it would bring him back to her, in the flesh. Finally, three days later, she printed a picture of herself, a selfie in front of the magnolias blooming by the library, her fiercest look on her face, graduation cap in her hand. She wrote one word, on the back, and sent it, kissing the envelope as if it would make it travel faster.

In the meantime, she finished classes, hung out with friends, and went on with her life, trying to live enough for both of them.

~~~~~

It was ungodly hot for Boston in May and Detective Wheeler shifted in the shitty folding chairs the university had rented for graduation. He was nothing but grateful to be here and so happy for his ambitious daughter, graduating Summa Cum Laude from her dream school. He was just so proud and had told her as much at breakfast this morning, with her and her roommate and some friends, all celebrating their achievements and simultaneously scared of what was ahead. He was just ecstatic that they all made it this far, intact and whole, willing to take nothing for granted.

He remembered being terrified, after the months senior year when she was lost to him, terrified she was gone, terrified he had failed her, his wife, himself. He still remembered the relief when he opened the door that morning and she was there, two kids in tow, asking for help from a horror they never should have been involved in. Who would have thought the crew he was supposed to be hunting was more Lost Boys than Mafia? And who would have thought they would have been influential in bringing down an actual, organized crime unit in the LAPD?

After, his prodigal daughter had returned, and then gone to school, and things had generally returned to normal. She studied hard, came back for breaks, and confided in him, every detail of college. The all-night studying sessions, the boys who seemingly had their eye on her, even a few snippets about the parties she attended. There was only one thing she didn’t share with him, one thing too personal, too close for her to divulge to her old man. He saw the letters, sometimes, and ached to read them, but he trusted her. Giving her this space was important to him, a way of redeeming himself for watching too closely for years. She had earned her freedom.

And that freedom brought him here, to graduation, from one of the best universities on the East Coast, sitting in the heat and fiddling with a program. Riya would have come but her graduation was the same day so he was here, alone, bringing best wishes from LA.

Well, almost alone. A shadow fell over him, a soft clearing of a throat and, when he looked up, he dropped the leaflet, turning back to watch it sway to the ground.

“Is this seat taken?”

He stood, eye to eye with the boy, no, the man, next to him. He hadn’t seen him in four years and stared; his shoulders had broadened, visible in the short-sleeved dress shirt, eyes still intense, jawline and cheekbones seemingly sharper with age. The last time he had seen Colt Kaneko, he was broken, mourning a father he barely knew and a life he never would live. Now, he seemed more at ease, as if time didn’t erase all wounds, but made them easier to deal with. He still looked like he would never truly relax but that he was, for now, at peace.

Colt extended his hand and he shook it, then gestured to the chair. “Sit down.” He picked up the brochure, watching Colt settle in, putting a bouquet of flowers under his chair. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

A small smile. “Yeah, Ellie doesn’t know either. I don’t know if she’s going to hit me or hug me.”

Wheeler grinned; he knew his daughter better than that. “My money’s on neither.”

~~~~~~

Ellie couldn’t stop laughing and smiling and celebrating. She felt alive. After the ceremony, she desperately ripped off her gown, sweltering in the heat. She couldn’t stop handing out hugs, to professors, friends, her roommate. The crowd was crushing, families and loved ones, all fighting to get to the graduates; she couldn’t find her dad. She knew he was here, somewhere, but the mass of people made it hard to see six feet in front of her.

Finally, it was like the crowds parted and there he was. She dashed, sprinting towards him, laughing and wrapping him up in a hug. They were flying back to LA in a few days, once things calmed down and she was packed, but she wanted to see him now, in the midst of one of the biggest celebrations of her life. She pulled back, looking at the joy in his face and laughed. 

“Love you dad!”

He kissed her cheek. “Congratulations. I am so proud of you.”

She went to smile at him again when she saw something, someone, over his shoulder and froze with a gasp. He dad smiled and stepped aside and there, alive and whole and in the flesh, Colt stood, clutching a bouquet and looking painfully out of place. She stared at him, time stopping, the crowd a dull roar around her as they stared at each other.

She took a step, then another, and was soon running, leaping into his arms, her lips finding his, the flowers falling as he clung to her, desperately. It was all she could do to hold on as he kissed her like he was drowning, four years of missing each other communicated through touch.

Finally, he pulled back, stars in his eyes as he looked at her. “I love you, Ellie.”

“Always.”

[8emmy]

(Not So) Sweet Home Velaris

Sweet Home Alabama AU AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19891252

The Illyrian Valley was vast and heavily wooded. The mountains that surrounded the valley were known for being the largest in the country. Millions of nature enthusiasts and outdoor lovers visit the national parks and mountain resorts yet no one knew that there was a small town nestled in the center. Nesta’s rental car passes the welcome sign of her hometown, Velaris population 1,035. Nesta felt her nerves running high. She hasn’t been here since she was twenty-three leaving for law school. Nesta’s hands tighten on the steering wheel.

She knew that if she pulled over and called Mr. Suriel and explained the seriousness of getting the paperwork finalized that he, being a professional, would get it done. But she also couldn’t risk another setback. It was already two years of back and forth frustration, and she now had a deadline that was coming too close to the end.

If that good for nothing two brain celled bastard actually signed the papers like he should have done two years ago… Even the thought of going through this mess for two years gave her a stress headache. It should have been easy, Mr. Suriel was the one giving the papers. He was basically a family friend. He knew Cassian and Nesta since they were toddlers. It was supposed to be simple. She wasn’t trying to get money out of him as if he had any or property. His house from her suppressed memory was a glorified trailer in the woods near Starfall lake with outdated appliances and doors that were falling off their rusted hinges. It was a bachelor shack.

She only wanted a clean slate. Tomas needed a clean slate.

She glanced quickly at her diamond engagement ring. It was a decently sized diamond large enough to stand out but not so large that she looked like she had an unnecessary boulder taped to her finger. Tomas still didn’t know. He doesn’t even know that Nesta was from a tiny town in the north of Prythian. All he thought he knew about her was that she was a Corporate lawyer (true) that was born and raised in Orilon (lie). Absently she rubbed at her ring as she drove her eyes still trained on the road in front of her. She’ll need to slip it off before confronting Cassian. Cauldron forbid that the sight of it will cause Cassian to double down on being spiteful over the thought of Nesta being happy.

She rolls down Main Street. It was quiet for a Tuesday afternoon. There were a few people out and about slipping into the post office or walking out with their groceries from Vin’s General Store. She parks her rental car in front of a blue building in the window a sign reads:

“Suriel LLP For All Your Legal Needs”

She rubs at her ring, debating if she should take it off before heading in. The town lived off of gossip. Even the sight of her being seen could reach Cassian’s ear by the local grapevine before she gets to his door. She leans into her back seat, searching for her overly broad sun hat. In her glove compartment, she finds a pair of large sunglasses. She slips on her poor disguise before leaving her car.

Suriel LLP looked like it did when she was 23 when she was just Mr. Suriel’s Legal Assistant/Receptionist waiting for her letter from Orilon University Law to arrive. Reception was unsurprisingly empty. The waiting room sofa was the same brown tweed with the same coffee stains on the cushions, and she swears that the same magazines sat on the coffee table untouched. Old landscape sketches hung on the wall showing the Illyrian Steeps, the mountain range that surrounded the valley she was currently in. She walks up to the reception and dings the bell. She calls out, “Excuse me. I am here to see Mr. Suriel; I am his 1:30 appointment.”

No answer. Nesta crosses her arms over her stomach, tapping her heeled foot impatiently. Who takes lunch at this hour? Did she forget small town hours? How her lunches used to run an hour over sitting in Rita’s with Mr. Suriel pouring over legal books to study for her LSAT? When Cassian would surprise visit her at work to take her home for lunch? Her scowl deepens. Back home, Orilon is home now; she would go out to lunch maybe three times a month. Tomas was busy running his family’s small real estate empire and would try to schedule lunch dates into his overly stuffed schedule. They would go to a fabulous sushi restaurant that must have been the best restaurant in all of Prythian. Sometimes if Tomas were romantic, he would take her out to the boardwalk to eat by the sea and talk, mostly about the appending wedding and what was still needing to be discussed with the wedding planner.

She really wished she was back home.

The bell from the door rings. “Sorry ma’am I was at a business lunch, and it ran overtime.” Mr. Suriel’s voice came up behind Nesta. She turns to face him. “Nesta, your early.”

She faces the skinny old man that was being swallowed in his tweed suit that matched the sofa. Mr. Suriel’s cheeks were hollow and his lips thin. His thinning grey hair was combed over, giving him a deep part. Mr. Suriel was in his early seventies but looked like he was pushing into his nineties. “Yes, the traffic wasn’t too bad, leaving the city.”

“I didn’t expect you to be here till 1:30. Claire doesn’t come back from her lunch for five minutes.” Mr. Suriel looks up at Nesta, eyeing her large hat skeptically. “Fashion choice or trying to hide incognito till you see Cassian?”

Nesta twists her engagement ring. Mr. Suriel’s eyes are drawn to the sparkling ring a tight smile forms. “Congratulations are in order as well. Have you taken back Cassian?” Nesta’s eyes narrow. “No. It looks like you met someone new. How… Charming. All the same, congratulations on your up and coming nuptials. I am guessing your visit is more business than casual.” Mr. Suriel moves over to the hallway to the left of the reception desk. “Please follow me to my office. I have to print out the papers still. Would you like anything to drink? The breakroom is… well, you know where the breakroom is. We have a new coffee machine, the one that takes the pods. Claire claims that it saves us from throwing out so many pots of wasted coffee. I swear that it doesn’t. Her husband is selling them at Vin’s. I think he conspires with her to push sales, but you didn’t hear it from me.”

Nesta follows Mr. Suriel to his office. His office was neatly organized; all his paperwork was left in neatly labeled file folders left on his long row of filing cabinets. “It looks like you haven’t switched your files to electronic,” Nesta comments taking a seat in an old worn-out leather chair. Mr. Suriel places his briefcase upon his desk beside a similarly old bulky computer monitor circa 2002. “Do you still use WordPerfect?”

Mr. Suriel opens his briefcase taking out a pair of thick-lensed glasses. “Claire switched me over to Microsoft Word 2013… I’m still getting used to the… layout.” He logins into his computer his glasses reflecting the strobing lights of the desktop and his eyes looked double in size. “We’re still not up to the times like your firm must be. I must say well done on your career so far, Nesta. I knew you would make a great lawyer; at this rate, you’ll be a partner soon.” Mr. Suriel’s eyes flicker over to her before going back to his screen. Nesta could see the shortcuts reflecting off his glasses as he searched out her divorce papers.

“I don’t think so. I’m only a junior associate; it’s going to take a couple more years even to be recognized.” Nesta takes her hat off to run her hand over the brim absentmindedly.

“My office is always looking for new talent. If you ever find yourself coming back –”

Nesta cuts in, “I don’t think that will ever happen.”

Mr. Suriel looks at her with the same tight-lipped smile and all-knowing magnified eyes. “May that be the case or not my door is always open, and I’ll be thrilled to have you back as an associate. Ah, here it is.”

Nesta sucks on her cheek. Her living here, again? Working in a tiny firm, again, dealing with small claim cases and drunk and disorderly? Ha, he must be going senile too at his age. She watches him as he clicks open the document and slowly presses print. The sound of the printer in the breakroom begins.

“Would you like me to come with you?” Mr. Suriel asks; his hands are clasped on the desk his attention solely on her; his large magnified eyes were watching Nesta like prey. How easy has she forgotten the uneasy nature Mr. Suriel has. How he lived for small-town drama and what a drama would it be to see Nesta and Cassian see each other again. An eruption of bruised prides and anger would surely rock Velaris to the core like an earthquake.

“No,” she shifts in her seat, straightening her posture. “I can handle this on my own. I am sure he’ll sign if I’m present.”

Mr. Suriel’s eyes narrow. “I don’t know. He was quite… set in his way when I last was over. He actually tore up the divorce papers.”

“You said in your email that he said that he would only sign if I was there.”

“He also said, mind you, that over his dead body would he sign anything without his lawyer present.”

“Good thing I’m a lawyer.”

Mr. Suriel’s eyes sparkle. “I think you misunderstood. His lawyer is Varian; he is out of town presently but…”

“I know that there have not been any changes since they were first sent to Varian’s office for his review. I don’t think his presence is needed to sign two-year-old papers.”

Claire comes in with a large stack of papers. “Mr. Suriel, I believe that these are yours. Nesta! How lovely to see you,” Claire Beddor was heavily pregnant. That was the first thing that Nesta saw, Claire’s large stomach and then the graphic tee showing an ultrasound of a baby holding an eviction letter with what she presumed to be Claire’s due date bolded. Nesta smiles a similarly tight-lipped one that mirrored her old boss’s. “Wow, you look so… fancy,” Claire eyes Nesta up and down.

Nesta thought what she wore was, to her, casual. She wore her signature navy blue office dress with ruffled three-quarter sleeves with a pair of understated Jimmy Choo’s. She defiantly looked more dressed up than Claire Beddor’s jeans and pregnancy tee-shirt. It was surprising to see the most popular girl in her high school look so ordinary. “Are those Jimmy Choo’s?” Claire asks taking the seat next to Nesta, forgetting about the stack of papers she held.

“Yes,” Nesta replies, watching as Claire rubs her stomach with her empty hand. “Congratulations on the baby.”

“Hmm,” Claire replies absently still looking at Nesta’s shoes and over to her Hermès Birkin, all gifts from Tomas to mark their second-year anniversary. “My third. I really wished that Isaac could afford a purse like that.” She sighs.

“Claire, can you please pass over the papers to me?” Mr. Suriel’s hand reaches over the desk. His limbs were long and bony. Claire looks over to him her material daze broken by her boss’s voice. She smiles brightly and passes the papers over to him before turning back to Nesta.

“How is Orilon, I heard it’s the city that doesn’t sleep. How fabulous.” Claire sighs.

“It’s like any city really. It’s busy, loud, and overly crowded.” Nesta says, placing her hat over her purse.

“It must be like living in a fairy tale. I could never picture myself living there myself. I have my world here. Mom and dad are growing old, and the girls have started school. It must have been so scary to move from our quaint town to the city all by yourself all alone.” Claire made it sound like it was far worse than it was. Sure, it was scary, but so is every choice an adult makes. Including starting a family which to Nesta was far more terrifying than moving cross country. “But now you’re some big shot lawyer.”

Nesta tight-lipped smile hurt her cheeks as she watched Claire rub her stomach. Would that have been her if she didn’t leave for law school? Pregnant and regretting her life choices?

Mr. Suriel interrupts. “Nesta, here you go. Everything has been flagged that requires Cassian’s signature. Please bring back the lawyer copy to me once everything is signed.”

Claire moans, “Ohhhh,” Nesta back goes rigged. Please not this, please cauldron anything but this. “Your still not divorce?”

“That’s why I’m here. You know Cassian, stubborn as a mule.” Nesta says, taking the papers into her hands. She reaches down to her purse, and a shocked sound was made from Claire. Nesta’s hand was yanked towards Claire’s face. The young woman lifts Nesta’s hand, eyeing the sparkling diamond on her finger.

“That’s a rock!” She exclaims. “No wonder you’re here. I would want to show off that sparkler to my ex too.” Her smile is wicked as she catches Nesta’s gaze. “Looks like you caught a rich one.”

Nesta pulled her hand back from Claire’s grasp. She grabs her purse and stuffs the divorce papers into it. “I would rather not discuss my personal life.”

Claire puffs her cheeks, “I’m not sure why you wouldn’t want to talk about marriage. It wasn’t like your first one was any good. The groom didn’t even show up to the reception.” Nesta presses her eyes closed tightly and breathes in and out. Count to five. Remain cold and distant. She’s just upset that you left and had a life while she stayed and made hers miserable with the additional three she made.

“I rather keep my engagement under wraps. I still need to get my divorce finalized.” She finally says, standing up. Mr. Suriel gets up as well. He moves around the desk and moves over to the door opening it for Nesta to walk out. He stops her and says, “Remember what I said. My door is always open.”

She thanks him and walks out back onto Main Street with her hat and sunglasses on.

It wasn’t like Claire was wrong. Her first marriage wasn’t great; there was a reason that she fled so far away to attend law school. Cassian was her first boyfriend. The first boy she let herself bring her walls down. He was handsome and cocky, and he knew how to spar with her. They were shockingly, friends before lovers. In her teenage heart and in her diaries, she thought that he was it. He was the one. They would be like Claire and Isaac married with three kids living in a small shack by the lake with Cassian working at the mechanics’ shop and her working at Suriel LLP as a Legal Assistant/Receptionist. But no that was not how her marriage with Cassian was.

She was a fool that got pregnant after a football game when Cassian scored the winning touchdown. They made love under the stars in the back of his pickup listening to the radio. Their marriage was the right thing to do. A respectable young lady needed to be married before she started popping out babies. It was rushed and horrible, and Nesta wished she never agreed to the whole thing. The church service was awful with Cassian running late from his long night bachelor party drinking with his brothers and turning up still drunk. She didn’t understand why he needed to be drunk to marry her. Was this not what he wanted? He always said he wanted to marry her.

Nesta shakes her head. Back to the present Archeron, there is no time to fall back to bad memories. She gripped her steering wheel tight driving towards Cassian’s home.

It was like how she remembered it but also not. The one-story home was painted pale yellow sidings with ivy growing up the sides of it. The front yard was patchy and unkempt. Even the small garden Elain started was more weeds than vegetables. The porch ran in front of the house with the best view of the lake. Two rocking chairs sat under the kitchen window the screen door was still closed, but the front door was open. She could smell biscuits baking. She closed her car door with a clang slipping her engagement ring in her purse as she walked up to the steps from the porch past the rocking chairs to the screen door. She not so polity knocked on the door.

“I’m coming; I’m coming. Hold your fucking horses, Rhys.” Cassian voice rose from the depth of the house. Nesta back straightens. He sounded like he just woke up. Great, Cassian half-awake is the worse Cassian. “Tell Feyre to calm down. I made the fucking biscuits as I told her I would.” She caught sight of him; he wore a tight-fitting tee-shirt and dark joggers. His hands were in his long hair pulling it up into a ponytail. He had yet noticed that Nesta was not Rhys. He groggily moved to where Nesta thought could be the kitchen table picking up a plate of biscuits. “I don’t understand why she still thinks I’ll flake and not make –” He noticed her his shock expression was not lost to her nor how he dragged his eyes up and down her form as if trying to make sure she was, in fact, real and not imaginary.

He walks up to the screen door. His arm rests above his head as he leaned on the door frame. He has his signature smirk on his face, and his eyes looked like they were sparkling. Nesta scowled. “As I live and breathe, my wife has returned. What can I do for you?” He looked so full of himself. So proud of himself. He smelled like Irish Spring and coconut. Nesta tries her best not to close her eyes as she breathes him in. After six almost seven years of not seeing him, he’s acting as if she was gone on vacation and was back home from finding herself. His smile was lovely and warm and so not worth the pain that she was about to give him again. But then again, she didn’t love him. He didn’t love her.

“For starters, I need you to stop being a stubborn mule and sign the divorce papers.” She wills her eyes back to ice. She takes out the divorce papers from her bag and places them in Cassian’s viewpoint against the screen door. Cassian lifts his hand to rub at his jaw his smirk no longer there, and his eyes looked heavy.

“I already told your lawyer that I ain’t signing shit till Varian looks over the paperwork.” He says, looking over the paper to Nesta.

“Varian has seen the paperwork the first time. Nothing has changed.” Nesta pushes the paper harder against the screen door.

“And how do I know that if Varian hasn’t reviewed it. I don’t want to find out that you took all my money and my home from right underneath my nose in the fine print.” Cassian gaze never flickered back to paper. He was only looking at her.

“Cassian -” Nesta begins before Cassian straightens his back. Nesta drops her hand, holding the divorce papers.

“Do your sisters know that you’re in town?” Nesta looks past his shoulder. “Of course not. Why would you want your only family to know that you came to town to harass me about divorce?”

“I have a plane to catch. Can you sign the damn papers?”

“Is Varian here?” Cassian crosses his arms over his chest as if waiting for an answer. “No? Well, I guess there’s your answer. Go see Feyre and Elain. They would like to see their runaway sister.”

“That is none of your concern. What my relationship is with my sisters is for me to decide, not yours. We have been separated for seven years, Cassian. We’re not husband and wife. Just sign the papers.”

“You know what I changed my mind. I won’t speak to you until you talk to your sisters. Varian also must be present, but I want you to talk to your sisters.” Cassian moves closing the front door and locks it.

“For fucksake!” Nesta screams at the door. She pounds and pounds at the door. “Open the fucking door Cassian! Stop being a child!”

She continues to pound as Cassian blasts music. She stops and remembers that Cassian probably still didn’t know where the spare key to the house was. Cassian was not the type to change the locks to his glorified shack residency, and he probably forgot that there was a spare hiding somewhere on the grounds of his home. Nesta ran her hand up the kitchen window. The curtains were drawn, and it looked like Cassian wasn’t in the kitchen. She ran her hand up to the top of the window frame feeling for the – “Ah-Ha!” Nesta proclaims getting her fingers around the key and pulling it down.

She unlocks the door and steps in. The house was neat. Not surprising from Cassian’s strict childhood. The kitchen was clean with old tiled countertops and 50s appliances. His fridge was covered in magnets holding pieces of paper and photographs. She places her purse on the small four-seat table set in the middle of the kitchen and walks over to the fridge seeing a photo of herself and Cassian smiling taken in tenth grade. And there was another of her and Cassian, and another and another with their friends and family and on the side of the fridge next to the oven hidden, but not well enough was the photo. The photo of the ultrasound.

Nesta turns and goes back to her purse for the divorce papers. She hears him humming, happily thinking that she gave up. She moves so she can see the tiny living room. He’s sitting on the couch flicking through channels on his tv. His plate of biscuits sat cellophaned on the coffee table next to his feet. She moves with purpose in one hand the divorce papers in the other the spare key. She moves to the stereo and slowly turns down the music. Cassian turns.

“I am calling the cops your breaking and entering on private property.” Cassian hands go for his cell phone that too was on the coffee table charging.

“It’s not breaking and entering when I know where you keep the spare key,” She waves the key in front of his face, “and also, as I am still married to you this is our property. I dare you to call the cops I’m doing nothing wrong.”

“Nesta, I swear to the Cauldron that if you don’t leave my house this instant, I will drag you out.”

“Is that a threat?” Nesta moves further into the living room. Cassian had his phone unlocked in his hand.

“Maybe, would you want to test it?” Cassian opens up his contact list going through it till he reaches Rhys’s name.

There was a knock at the door. Cassian and Nesta looked at each other. “Cas! Hey, sleepyhead! Feyre is worried that you forgot her biscuits! Cas! Wake up, dude! If you don’t get over here in like five seconds, I am coming in!” Rhys’ voice yelled from the door.

“Fuck…” Cassian rolls his head back. He snaps back, staring down and Nesta, “You stay there.” He gets up, picking up his plate of biscuits and walks out to the front door.

“There you are sleeping beauty. Come on we got to get those to Feyre.” The screen door squeaks open.

“Hey dude, I’ve got to do some stuff before I head over.”

Nesta not taking Cassian’s command began to creep over to the archway separating the living room to the kitchen. She peeps her head around the corner spotting Rhysand wearing a sheriff uniform. His dark hair that was once almost as long and shaggy as Cassian was cropped short showing off his slightly irregular pointed ears. He had the same dashing smirk and childish spark in his eyes.

“Work on a Friday? I thought you said that you would never work weekends?” Rhys said his hands on his waist.

“Yeah… I got some paperwork that needs to be done today. Why don’t you take this,” Cassian passes his plate of biscuits to Rhys.

“That’s not enough; the whole gang is over. This will not last a second.” Rhys takes the plate.

“I don’t really have the time currently to bake three hundred and fifty biscuits for your fiancé to stuff down her throat.”

Nesta’s eyes widen. Rhys was engaged? Not with Feyre, surely not. Feyre would have told her so.

“Hey, it would be Mor too, they share.”

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll be over in like an hour tops.”

Nesta, not wanting to miss her chance, walked into the kitchen. “Rhys,” Nesta greets walking fully into the kitchen.

“Work my ass, Cas. Think of the devil, and she appears. Nesta, what hole have you crawled out of this time.” Rhysand replies. Cassian glares at Nesta moving to the right to let Rhysand into the house.

“Not the one you were hoping of. I am here actually to –”

Cassian cuts in, “to help me review contracts. You know as she is a corporate lawyer, she has a better understanding of… contracts.” Rhysand gives him a skeptical look.

“I am not here to look over contracts if I was; he could hardly afford it.” She looks at him pointily. “I am here to get him to sign this.” She extends the divorce papers toward Rhysand who whistles.

“I thought you dealt with this already,” Rhysand looks at Cassian who was leaning against the tiled kitchen cabinet.

“I thought I did,” Cassian replies.

“Tearing it apart is not dealing with it.” She deadpans. “Can you please force him to sign the damn thing! It costs me a small fortune.”

“As much as I would love to use my badge over my brother that’s an abuse of power that might force me out of office.”

“Can you at least talk some sense into this idiot?” She asks.

“That I could try… But not today.”

“I need this signed today. I don’t have time to play this game anymore.” Nesta huffs.

“I am sure another week won’t hurt you,” Cassian replies. “Varian will be back and will look over the papers then I will sign.”

Nesta goes to her bag on the kitchen table and begins a search for her ring. She puts it on and flings it in front of Cassian. “I don’t have a month for this Cassian. I am getting married in four weeks, and I still have things to plan.” Cassian’s eyes go wide. Rhysand gasps.

“I am guessing your sisters don’t know,” Cassian replies, still looking at the diamond with a stet jaw. She really didn’t want to show the ring, but it was the only card she had left.

“Please sign the papers.” Nesta drops her hand, pushing the papers towards Cassian on the table. He sits down the vinyl chair squeaks at his weight and finally looks at the paper. Rhysand stands back at the door his eyes still looking at the sparkling diamond on her hand. No one knew. She wanted to leave her old life behind. She wanted to start her life new with Thomas with nothing holding her back. She always thought of herself a loner with no family. She pulls out a pen with her firm’s name on it and places it next to the paper for Cassian to reach.

He looks at it then looks over to Rhysand.