#i would blaze this but i have no money i just paid off my bills LMAO

[cephalopodsquad]

henry wishes you all a happy and safe halloween!!

[kremlin]

"This event ends the moment you write us a check, and it better not bounce, or you're a dead motherfucker" -- Big Bill Hell

There was a time when you'd see little old ladies paying for the groceries with a hand-written personal check, holding up the line, causing an immediately-forgiven slight sense of annoyance with those behind her. Buddy. Those days are over. They've been over. What, did you think you were going to just pop a couple extra zeroes on the end of your paycheck there? Maybe scan your paycheck, open it in photoshop, make a template, print em out all nice? You think you're the first to think of that, dipshit?

It takes the law a long time to catch up with the state of the art. You're reading this on the internet, which means you never use checks. The law has caught up. Your ass will be going to prison immediately and you will see zero return.

You can't even kite checks anymore, and hell, nobody under 40 will even know what that means, due to the blazing fast, two day settlement on all ACH transactions. Let me paint you a picture.

You get paid on Friday, but it is Monday, and bills are due on Tuesday. And you're broke: $0 in the bank. Goose egg. Pop open your checkbook, go to a store, "buy" some things, write a check for the amount. The cashier takes it!

Now take those things you "bought", across town, to another store location, and return them for cold hard cash. Sweet. Bills paid. Friday rolls around, and you just make it to the bank to deposit your paycheck before it closes. After the weekend, the checks you wrote finally post, and they don't bounce! You've kited a check. You've surreptitiously taken a zero-interest loan. And we know your broke ass. The interest rate on that short-term payday loan should have been straight up usurious. We're talking 29%. That makes predatory fuckers like us horny for sex. We're so mad. Now you are going to Federal Prison. For a good minute. Fuckface.

COST: $0.10 (With banks offering free checking accounts + Bic pen)

"Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor sleet, if you fuck with the mail, we'll rip your nuts off" -- Ronald Mail (Inventor of Mail)

Many people have this misnomer that the most powerful people in politics are democratically elected. The president, of the United States, of America, is a stupid cartoon hotdog. All of them, I don't care. Way less clout than you'd think. Brilliantly, it is the people that the hotdog president appoints who are actually doing anything significant. The director of the CIA. The fucking chairman of the Federal Reserve. Probably the, like, most senior, uh, general of the military, and shit too. I don't know, we don't "do" army here at Bloomberg. You probably don't even know their names! I don't! These are the ones you should be seeing in your sleep.

There's another position like that. Appointed directly by the hotdog. The Postmaster General. That's a real title. He's the CEO of the mail, and buddy, what he may lack in political power relative to the director of the CEO, he makes up in raw sexual energy. Total Tom Selleck energy. Like an airline pilot. We're talking Donald Sutherland in Invasion of the Body Snatchers. I'm tentpoling in my black business slacks just writing this, and all my Bloomberg newsroom bros are peering over my shoulder and also tent-poling. We're not gay though, and especially me, I'm probably the least gay, but sometimes I just lay awake for hours at night what that mustache would feel like pressed against my lips, the unbelievable and utter, total sense of security I'd feel burying my head into his hard chest.

You get it. He's your dad. And if you fuck with the mail, you've fucked with the tools in your dad's garage. And dad's been drinking. You're in for it, bucko, you are in trouble. Do you think the United States Postal Service actually makes any money? Hell no. It costs like five bucks to mail a box basically anywhere I can think of and they give you the boxes for free. You can just walk in the post office and take them. I do that, and then just throw them away, I don't know why, some kind of compulsion. Being able to move shit around like this, quickly, cheaply -- Jesus H, I've got a huge amount of money in my bank account, probably tens of trillions of dollars (due to financial knowledge gained from reading Bloomberg articles) and I could probably mail every single person ever something and still come out in the black.

No way pal. They've thought of that already. The Postmaster General is going to know every time, and he's going to grab you by the shirt collar, wearing his cool as fuck hat, and you're going to get your pants pulled down, and your bare ass spanke...I need to go use the restroom real quick.

We rely on the mail system to get important shit done. It's not something to be taken lightly, and it isn't. Trust me. This is why, like almost every other person who receives mail in this year 2023, I just fucking put a wastebasket under my mail slot. I don't even shred that shit anymore. I just burn it. Takes less time.

COST: $0.63 (Postal stamp)

"Can call all you want, but there's no one home // And you're not gonna reach my telephone // Out in the club, and I'm sipping that bubb // And you're not gonna reach my telephone" -- Lady Gaga

I read something wild that the children of today do not know what a dial tone is, because of how fucked up and stupid they are. Isn't that super fucked up?

While it's not really our style, allow me to fill you in on some ancient, arcane knowledge about the telephone. You can turn it on, and then you can punch in numbers. Any numbers. Random ones, or maybe not random ones. If the ten numbers you punch in are the same as the numbers in someone else's telephone number, their phone will ring, and then you are talking to them. This is called "Phreaking".

Here's the kicker: You can tell that jackass anything you want. "Oh, Hi, Yes, I am Reginald Sumpter calling from Avalon Consulting LLC, we are just following up on the invoice we sent you. Please remit to ###### routing ###### account."

BOOM! Your name isn't Reginald whatever and that company doesn't exist, but you just received a deposit. It's fucking beautiful. What have you done wrong? It isn't your responsibility to handle who your business' clients/etc are, it's their's. If they want to just pay you money for no real reason, well, that's kind of on them, isn't it? I haven't stuck a pistol in your face and demanded everything in the register.

Well, it's too clever. It's too slick. This is the United States of America. It's one thing to commit a felony like armed robbery, it's another thing to piss off someone in charge of the accounting division who uses a special bathroom you need a key to get into.

You can do it on the computer too, I use a PC Computer at work and send email, so you can see how it'd work there. You can make a document that is indifferentiable from a real invoice and, straight up, 1/3 of the time they will pay that shit. Lmfao.

It's called wire fraud because, uhh, duhhhh, there's wires. What do you think that thing is strung between the telephone receiver and the dialer? And computers? Give me a break. There's so many wires with those.

COST: $0.25 (Coin for payphone)

"People calculate too much and think too little." -- Charlie Munger

It is insane how dumb the common man can be when it comes to our world of expertise. I hear this same sentiment, like, ALL THE TIME:

"Durr hurr I will buy an insurance policy for my car or house or whatever so that in case something happens to it I will get money". And then that same person proceeds to drive safely or not burn their house down. Dumbest crap imaginable.

Let me break it down for you. Insurance is a two player competitive game. There is a winner and there is a loser. Go take out an expensive insurance policy on your American sports car. Buy a neck brace, a football helmet, and pack that bitch with throw pillows. Then get in the left lane of a major highway at like noonish, let it rip and then SLAM on your brakes. Hit from behind! Your fault! Congratulations. You have won insurance. How this gets past people is beyond me.

You can only do this once or twice before the insurance companies catch on. Then they don't want to fuck with you. It is also..I don't know man...something feels off about taking a car or a house, which like, some guy had to build and just destroying it, but that is only a weird emotional thing, since you're making money, more than whatever the destroyed thing is worth, so in reality you've built that house plus some extra. You've contributed.

COST: $106.00 (Average monthly car insurance payment)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

SUBSCRIBE TO MY WHATEVER FOR PART TWO, COMING SOON. i'll post it later today probably. whatever time frame will juice the numbers. have a sneaky peaky

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[unbridgeabledistances]

omg hey I was wondering if you could write something about gallavich being walked in on by someone but they’re like cuddling or doing something really soft and intimate? Can be set any season <3

anon i LOVE this prompt <3 i decided to merge it with another prompt that i just got:

Ian waking up before Mickey, and watching him sleep, and Mickey teasing him when he realizes what Ian is doing.

also, i’m using this as an excuse to once again write the bath scene that we all want but never received (inspired by the intro to 11x05😔), and this takes place just before season 11- i hope u enjoy!!<3

--

It was an early, silent Saturday morning—which was incredibly rare for the Gallagher house, but Ian wasn’t going to complain. The sunlight streamed down in ribbons through the broken blinds, casting a slanted glow onto the bed where he and Mickey were laying. Ian had woken up before Mickey, like he pretty much always did, but today he didn’t get up and put the coffee on or pull on a hat to go on his brisk morning jog like he usually would; today, he curled even deeper under the warm cocoon of his blankets that were staving off the winter chill and wriggled closer to Mickey, leaning into the heat that was radiating off of his body.

Someone had definitely paid the heating bill—thank fucking god—but it was still the dead of winter in Chicago, and the rickety walls of the Gallagher house weren’t known the be the most heat retentive, which meant that most mornings everyone sleeping on the second floor woke up to a drafty chill that sunk into the floorboards until someone decided to crank up the heat when they woke in the morning. But this morning, Ian couldn’t hear the familiar crackling of the radiator in the hall, or anyone bustling in the kitchen like usual- Lip and Tami had some doctor’s appointment for Fred, Debbie had a handywoman job and had left early, Carl was staying over some girl’s house and Liam had slept over at a friend’s. He and Mickey had taken advantage of having a mostly-empty house last night; last night was all skin and sweat and scathing touches, the heat of Mickey’s skin pressing against his. And now there was this- the frigid, fragile silence of the next morning, with Mickey laying there asleep next to Ian, with his mouth half open and an innocence in his sleeping face that was so bare and genuine that it almost hurt to look at.

They’d been so caught up in the flurry of shit going on for the both of them- the pandemic, Ian’s new job, just trying to make ends meet and keep the house running- that Ian realized he hadn’t really sat and looked, actually looked, at Mickey’s face for such a long time. He’d seen Mickey’s face plenty considering they were trapped around each other 24/7, sure, but it was the same catch-22 as when they’d shared a prison cell; being around each other all the time kept them from wanting, kept them from missing, kept them from realizing what was right in front of them. He and Mickey were constantly bumping elbows and getting in each other’s space and pressing against each other to blow off steam, but they hadn’t really sat in silence since this whole thing started- it was pretty impossible to, in the Gallagher house. Ian suddenly realized he couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d woken up curled around Mickey- usually these days they spread onto their separate sides of the bed, slept on their own separate islands across the mattress. Ian wasn’t really sure when that had started- he remembered that night on the docks, years ago when Mickey had busted out of prison, and how the entire night as they’d slept in the van he had clung to Mickey like the shirt on his skin, like he wanted to soak him up and absorb him into the soft place in his chest that had always been reserved for Mickey, that everyone else just fit into wrong. But at some point after the wedding, between the lockdown and the bills piling up and Lip moving out, they’d just… drifted.

And now, staring at Mickey in the glow of the morning light, all Ian wanted was that innocent closeness again, that swirl of warmth in the pit of his stomach that made him feel completely and totally safe. He inched even closer to Mickey under the covers, draping a heavy arm over Mickey’s waist. He nuzzled his chilly nose to the base of Mickey’s neck, breathing in the scent of Mickey’s warm skin, all cheap shampoo and earthy cigarette smoke. Ian felt a raw ache unfurling in his chest at Mickey’s solid, comforting presence beside him- Mickey had been here all along, but Ian had missed this.

Suddenly, Mickey shifted and rustled the sheets, and Ian lifted his face from the crook of his neck, keeping his arm resting across Mickey’s torso. Mickey let out the gentlest of exhales as he woke, and Ian’s heart ached. Mickey rubbed the heel of his palm to his eyes, disoriented and probably more than a little confused about how close Ian was leaning to him as he watched Mickey intently with wide eyes.

“The fuck are you looking at?” Mickey asked, his voice gravelly and sleep-soft.

Ian gave him a lopsided smile. “Nothing. Just admiring my husband.”

Mickey’s eyes finally fully opened, wide enough for him to roll them as he pushed Ian away, pressing a solid hand to the center of his chest.

“You’re fucking soft, Gallagher.”

Ian just kept smiling a dopey smile, then reached with double the force in to encircle Mickey with his arms, feeling Mickey stiffen and squirm underneath him at first, and then unconsciously exhale into the bear hug of an embrace. There.

“Yeah, but you love me.”

That was the thing about Mickey; sometimes (hell, most of the time) he rejected intimacy like a cat that didn’t want to be pet, like someone that wasn’t used to soft touches or slow advances and only knew hard and fast and now. It had been an uphill battle to get here, so many years of being apart and together and then apart again, but now they were at the point where whenever Ian made advances to caress Mickey, Mickey would roll his eyes and feign resistance just before preening and melting into Ian’s touch.

Ian listened to Mickey’s steady breaths, and felt the vibration of his heartbeat against his chest. Mickey’s eyes were closed again, his lips pressed in a slight, contented smile as he soaked up Ian’s touch. Ian hummed in satisfaction, then pressed his face against the side of Mickey’s neck, breathing him in. The clouds of sleep hadn’t yet cleared, and for a timeless moment Ian let himself inhale the sweet skin at the crook of Mickey’s collarbone as the morning light pooled on their skin.

After a few minutes Ian softly cleared his throat, which was dry and slightly scratchy from the chill of the room. “What d’you wanna do today?”

Mickey rotated onto his side so he was facing Ian, his eyes still half-closed and his expression soft and dreamlike.

“A whole lot of nothing, Gallagher,” Mickey murmured sleepily.

Mickey’s face was millimeters from Ian’s, and Ian tasted his words more than he heard them. And then Ian couldn’t really do anything except slyly smile and bridge the gap between them, pressing a series of chaste kisses between their chapped lips. Mickey quickly escalated the embrace, pressing his mouth hotly against Ian’s and bringing his blazing palms up to the side of Ian’s neck to pull him closer, pressing his hips against the side of Ian’s torso and making Ian feel a rush of heat that zipped all the way down to his toes. And he would have kept kissing Mickey, if it wasn’t for the blitz of heat that drew such a stark contrast to just how cold the bedroom still was, the sharp chill still numbing Ian’s nose and ears and cheeks. Ian pulled away, leaving inches between his face and the face of an eager Mickey that was still clinging to the back of Ian’s neck.

“It’s fucking freezing. No one turned the heat on this morning.”

“So? Who cares? Bet I can warm you up, hot stuff.”

Ian rolled his eyes in what was supposed to be annoyance, but he knew the gesture ended up looking overly fond. “Mick, the blankets barely cover the bottom half of my legs. It’s not my fault you’re a four-foot-tall blanket hog.”

Mickey shoved Ian away again, then playfully rolled onto his chest. “First of all, fuck you. And second of all, it’s not my fault that I’m married to the fucking Jolly Green Giant. Use your new job money to invest in a bigger blanket and quit your whining, bitch.”

Ian grinned, then gently rolled Mickey off of his chest. “Seriously, Mick, give me two seconds, I just wanna turn up the heater and take a warm shower or some shit.”

Mickey sighed defeatedly but accepted the loss, curling himself up in the blankets as Ian rose from the bed. “Whatever. I’m going back to bed.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Of course you are.”

Ian slowly stretched, then grabbed a discarded towel that was crumpled in the corner beside the dresser. He slid open the flimsy bedroom door and adjusted the thermostat on the wall in the hallway, cranking the heat so at least Mickey could peacefully sleep for another few hours without freezing to death. Then he ambled into the bathroom and turned the shower faucet as high as it could go, the scalding spray immediately raining down.

Ian reached over to the bathroom shelf to grab his shampoo bottle, and his eye landed on the small pink bottle of Franny’s bubble bath. Suddenly, he had the perfect idea. He shut off the shower and immediately turned the tap for the bathtub on, starting to let the base of the tub pool with steaming water.

He turned back down the hallway and peeked his head around the corner into the bedroom. Mickey was probably not asleep again yet, but he was convincingly curled in a cocoon of blankets in the middle of the bed, his face pressed into the pillow and the duvet wrapped half around his head.

“Hey. Mick. You wanna take a bath?” Ian half-whispered.

Mickey groggily poked his head up from under the covers, his hair sticking up in all directions. “A fucking bath?” he asked sleepily, squinting at where Ian stood in the doorframe. “Isn’t that kind of… gay?”

Ian sighed. “We’re gay, Mickey. Calm the fuck down. Do you want to take a bath with me or not? Everyone’s gone, we’ve got the whole day to ourselves.”

Mickey raised his eyebrows, like he was still unconvinced but mulling it over. Then he started to lazily attempt unwrap himself from the layers of blankets around him. “Fuck it. Got too cold when you left the bed anyways.”

Ian smirked. “Water’s running. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

Ian turned back into the bathroom once more, and squirted a few healthy doses of Franny’s bubble bath into the tub that was starting to fill with foamy suds. He undressed and slid into the bath, instantly feeling his tense muscles thaw as they hit the warm water. He leaned his head back onto the rim of the tub, letting himself lay there with his eyes closed until he felt the water inching up his torso, the air thick with the sweet floral smell of the bubble bath.

“Mick, c’mere!” Ian called, praying that Mickey had extracted himself from the blankets and not fallen asleep again. A few moments later a very sleepy and rumpled Mickey was standing in the doorway rubbing his eyes, and then zeroing in on Ian laying in the tub.

“Yeah, this might be the gayest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Ian flipped him off, then scooted so he was sitting upright in the bath. “You coming in?”

Mickey seemed hesitant, but started to fumble with the tie of his flannel pajama pants. “Guess so.”

Ian smiled contentedly. “Come on.”

Mickey dubiously climbed into the tub, one leg after the other, and then slid to settle against Ian’s chest. Ian felt Mickey’s muscles relaxing against him, all of his usual tightness succumbing to the ripples of pleasant water enveloping them. Mickey leaned his head back onto Ian’s chest, exhaling.

“Yeah, okay. This is pretty fucking nice.”

Ian smirked. “Told you. Not too gay?”

Mickey scoffed. “Fuck you.”

Mickey closed his eyes, and Ian couldn’t resist lifting a hand to Mickey’s head and starting to run slow circles through his hair, tracing gentle patterns that he knew always made Mickey doze off. The bathroom was full of steam rolling off of the scalding water, the bubbles foaming and fizzing around them. Ian felt so perfectly content, sitting here with the sturdy weight of his husband pressing him down, breathing in the sugary scent of the bubbles sticking to Mickey’s skin and letting his own eyelids droop…

And then suddenly, Lip came barging through the door.

Immediately Mickey’s eyes flew open, his body tensing up. Lip just stood in the doorframe, his posture casual but frozen on the spot, staring at a very frilly smelling (and a very naked) Mickey and Ian laying in a bubble bath together.

Lip pursed his lips, like he was choking back a laugh.

“Uh. Hey guys. Didn’t think anyone was in here, considering the…silence.”

“Well, clearly we are, so get the fuck outta here!” Mickey was no longer drowsily collapsed onto Ian’s chest, sitting up straight and pointing at the door for emphasis. Ian just put his hand to his forehand and grimaced. So much for having the place to ourselves.

Lip snorted, still undoubtedly trying to hold back an avalanche of laughter, but he turned and started the close the door. As he was shutting it, Ian called after him.

“Lip, I thought you and Tami had some doctor’s appointment with Fred?”

Lip was in the hallway behind the closed bathroom door now, but he cracked it to let his voice in. He cleared his throat, clearly trying to compose himself. “Uh, yeah. Those usually only last an hour, though.”

Jesus. Maybe Ian had just been swept up in all the sappy emotions for the morning, but he could have sworn Lip and Tami were usually gone for hours whenever they had weekend errands to run. Oh well, it wasn’t really a big deal- half of the Gallaghers had seen each other in compromising positions, since privacy was definitely a somewhat foreign concept within these four walls. But underneath Mickey’s bravado when he was kicking Lip out, Ian noticed that Mickey’s cheeks were glowing red. And Ian totally got it; the two of them had been walked in on fucking plenty of times- hell, that was the whole theme of their hookups in the back of the Kash and Grab when they were in high school- but there was something about this, being interrupted in a truly vulnerable moment, that felt more excruciatingly embarrassing somehow.

Ian looked down at Mickey, who was still staring off into space at the closed door. Finally, he spoke.

“We’ve gotta get our own fucking place.”

Ian breathed out a laugh, and kissed the side of Mickey’s temple. “Yeah, we really do.”

[babeyvenus]

The Wolf Among Us

Bigby x OC

Summary: Sonya Blaze, A.K.A. Hell Rider, is a half fable, half mundy girl who comes to Fabletown to learn more about her side of the folktales. She works alongside Sheriff Bigby Wolf's as his newest partner and together they strive to find out who's behind the unexpected murders in Fabletown.

TW: Mentions of death, gore/blood, alcohol, smoking, drugs, sex implications, suicide, guns and ofc language.

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Chapter 14: Jersey Devil

They walked down the hall to the sound of shouting. “And you didn’t want to tell me what you were into, either!!”, they hear Beast yell.

“With good reason. Look what happened.”, Beauty argues.

“So that’s back on me now? I thought we agreed that was settled.”, said Beast.

Sonya looked over at Bigby, “What’s going on with them?” Bigby sighs. “When I went to the Open Arms, I found Beauty at the front desk and when we were about to open Crane’s room, Beast showed up. Wasn’t listening to a word. We fought and that was that.”

“Jesus… he’s completely different from what I imagined him to be.”, she says.

“You said it was settled. That doesn’t mean I have to agree to it.”, Beauty said, as they walked up to the door. “And when were you going to tell me? Or were you going to keep that a secret too?”, Beast asked.

“You know what it was. You know what was going on, Beast. I had to get a job, and you wouldn’t have it. Don’t make it into something it wasn’t.”, Beauty harshly whispered. The two outside awkwardly glanced at before Bigby knocked on the door.

The door swings open a bit to reveal an irritated Beast. “Oh. What do you want?”, Beast asked, his mood even more sour. “You called, right?”, Bigby asked. “Or, uh….was it Beauty?”

“Why would I call you?”, Beast sneered. Sonya rolled her eyes. ‘He’s definitely different from Disney’s version…’ Bigby frowned. “Listen, I’ve had a shitty night…”

“You think you’re the only one?”, Beast asked. “And we really don’t wanna deal with the runaround. Snow said you called and wanted to talk to us.”, Bigby adds. “Well, I didn’t call. Must have been Beauty. She’s been….surprising me a lot lately.”, Beast says, looking down.

“Can we just-”

“So have you, Bigby. Yet, with all the sneaking around and secrets, somehow, I’m still the bad guy in this. I’ve had to hear about it all night long from her.”, Beast said. He glared at Sonya as well. “You too. You had no reason to lie to me.”

Sonya gave him an unimpressed look. “I dunno if you've noticed but we’re not marriage counselors.”

Beast wanted to retaliate but Beauty cut him off. “Who is it?”

“Can you just let us in.”, Sonya sighed. “Let’s not get into busting down doors today, okay?”, Bigby asks, with arched eyebrows, Beast growls a sigh and slams the door shut.

Bigby and Sonya looked at each other before the door was yanked open again. “It’s your pals. Bigby and Sonya.”, Beast mocked.

Beauty gave them an apologetic smile. “Hi guys. Please excuse us for just a minute?” She walks over to Beast. “Can I talk to you in private?”

“Yes. Let’s.”, Beast said, leading them into a room and shutting the door. Sonya shakes her head. “Hm. I guess I really do have the smallest apartment in the Woodlands.”, Bigby mutters. “At least yours isn’t cramped. I still think its unfair.”, she muttered.

There was a large couch and two chairs set around a table in the middle of the room. Behind the couch was a fireplace with vases on top of it.

There was a shelf with books and fancy objects on it. There was also a large portrait painting of Beauty and Beast back in the Homelands.

“They actually look happy…”, Sonya mutters and looks up at the ceiling and sees a beautiful chandelier. “Wonder what the electric bill is for that thing?”, Bigby mutters. He walks over a white urn with blue roses designs around it, tapping it with his knuckles. Sonya’s eyes widened. “Stop it. It looks antique.”

They turn to Beast and Beauty as they walk out of the room. “Sorry, it’s been a long night.”, Beauty apologizes.

“Yeah, you know what they say. Centuries of marriage come with centuries of baggage.”, Beast said, making Sonya cross her arms. “I gotta say, your place…it looks, uh…expensive.”, Bigby says as he looks around. “What do you mean by that?” Beast asked, offended.

“Beast!”, Beauty says in a warning tone. “No, really, I wanna know. What are you trying to say, huh?”, Beast asked.

“Aren’t you guys having money problems? Cause it doesn't look like you’re suffering.”, Sonya said, getting in front of Beast. “Is this something about that loan you took out? From the Crooked Man?”, Bigby asked Beauty.

“I didn’t know what else to do, so–”

“We should deal with this on our own. Bigby and Sonya are just going to complicate things.”, Beast says to Beauty. “I called them here, and I want to see if they can help us out. Why are you being like this?”, Beauty asked, tired.

“I’m just trying to do what’s best for us.”, Beast says.

“If she wanted to help you guys earn more money, what’s the harm? Y’all are obviously in some type of trouble, so what is it? Either it’s the money, or it’s something else.”, Sonya asked.

The married couple glanced at each other before looking back at them. “I gotta know one thing, first. What if we did have something to say about the Crooked Man? What if we talk, and neither of you get him and all this comes back on us? We’d be risking a lot. We’ve seen what happens when you cross the Crooked Man.”, Beast said.

Sonya frowned. “Y’all are in danger. You two need to tell us what we need to know so we can help.”, she said, tiredly.

“But if you’d rather deal with this on your own…”, Bigby started. “No, please...”, Beauty pleads. “Then tell us what the fuck is going on! You’re in so much debt? Look around you. This isn’t the way people short on cash live.”, Bigby yelled, pointing at the room.

“Look, we’re used to a certain kind of….lifestyle, okay? We couldn’t just give that up.” Beast replied. “We never meant for it to get like this. It’s just that…we had nowhere else to turn. And we got in over our heads.” said Beauty.

“Sometimes you have to think for your needs rather than your wants. Y’all would rather choose riches and starve if it meant y’all could live the way you used to.”, Sonya says, shaking her head.

"There’s not a lot of work out there. Who would we be if we just lived like…”, Beast started to say but their phone suddenly rang.

Sonya and Bigby turn to look at it while Beauty and Beast hold each other in fear. The phone rings until it goes to voicemail.

“Hi there! You’ve reached Beauty…

and Beast

and we’re out doing something fabulous.”

“Uh, let me just, uh….”, Beast walks towards the phone but Sonya gives him a fixed look. “We’re not done here.”, Bigby said.

“A day at the beach?

skiing the slopes?

We can’t come to the phone right now, so leave a message at the beep and we will get to you as…..humanly possible!”

The recording finishes and a deep gravelly voice comes through the speaker, angry and aggressive. “That fucking message... I’m gonna come down there and bash your heads in with that machine if I have to call again and hear that fucking message one more time! I’ve been doing this long enough to know that if you had the cash, you’d have paid by now. So consider yourselves outta warnings. The Crooked Man’s gonna get his. One way or—”

“Fuck this….”, Bigby said as he goes to pick up the phone but the phone already hung up. “Shit.”, he mutters and he sets the phone back down. Sonya turned to the couple. “All we care about is how can we find the Crooked Man? Who do we talk to? Where do we go?”

Beauty and Beast look at each other for a moment as they hold each other. “The Lucky Pawn. That’s where I borrowed the money. The Crooked Man’s behind that place.”, Beauty whimpered. “I’d overheard people talking to Jersey about loans before. So….when I needed money….that’s where I went. I didn’t know what to do.”

“Wait, who do you deal with?”, Bigby asked. “Jersey. You know, the Jersey Devil?”, Beauty said. “Jersey Devil…?”, Sonya asks. “Oh, yeah…", Bigby said. "That slimy prick…..didn’t realize he was back on this side of the river.”

“And those Tweedles were always going in and out, probably dropping off a loan payment they squeezed out of some poor Fable. But never the Crooked Man. Mainly it’s just regular Fables. I can see now that it was a mistake, but….I’m not the only one who goes there, y'know. I saw the Woodsman’s axe there just the other day. It was in a display case.”, Beauty said, making Bigby and Sonya glance at each other in shock.

“I guess he’s hit hard times, too. There’s a lot of that going around. I can’t imagine he has a lot of marketable skills.”, Beast said.

“Sometimes….Fables just don’t have anywhere else to go.” Beauty said. “Fucking Bloody Mary must go through there. She had Woody’s axe last night. Tried to chop my damn head off with it!” Bigby growled.

“Maybe if you two go there you can….sort some things out.”, Beauty said. “I guess we’ll go check out the Lucky Pawn.”, Sonya sighed.

“If we can’t track down the Crooked Man there, maybe we can make enough noise that the Crooked Man will come find us.”, Bigby suggested. “Hold on, Bigby, don’t go there. Sounds like you two are just going to get Beauty in trouble.” Beast says.

He sat down on the couch. “You know that butcher shop? The Cut Above? It’s the place on Tubman Street. Same block as the Baker and the candlestick maker. Well, I’ve been delivering packages from there for a while. The thing is….it’s for the Crooked Man. And….I don’t think it’s meat in the packages. You gotta understand, I needed work.”

“You have to believe us.”, Beauty begged. “Did you ever deliver to the Crooked Man? Can you give us an address?”, Sonya asked.

"No. I delivered to places all over town. But never to the man himself. It never seems to be heading to the same place. But it always comes out of the butcher shop.“, Beast replied.

"How did you get involved with this?”, Bigby asked.

“Johann, the butcher, called. He had a problem with the refrigeration unit one night. But when I finished, it was your pal, Mary, who showed up to pay me. She said I was reliable, she liked that, and….it’s the only thing I’ve been able to pick up. And it’s still not enough. I don’t want Beauty to have to work. Especially not where she was.”. Beast says, looking down.

“It’s Mary you deal with? Bloody Mary is there?”, Sonya asked. “No, Johann is the one who hands over the packages. You know, day to day. But I’ve seen her around there. She, uh…gets under my skin, you know? I…I try to avoid her…but I don’t need to tell you two what she’s like.” Beast said.

“You’re damn right you don’t. I don’t need a run down on her reputation. If Mary works outta there, Sonya and I need to look into it…”, Bigby said.

Beauty walks over to Beast and places her hand over his. “I just wanted to provide for Beauty. Give her the kind of life she deserves.”, Beast said. “We shouldn’t have to live like this. Scraping to get by.” said Beauty.

“None of us should.”, Beast says, getting up. “We were royalty once. We were accustomed to a certain lifestyle. All we want is to make this place feel a little bit like home. You two wouldn’t understand, Bigby.”

“I don’t need to understand. It’s not my fucking job to understand. My job is to keep Fabletown safe.”, Bigby addressed.

“There’s also other Fables out there who are worse off than you two. Have you ever thought about that? I’m pretty sure lots of fables would love to have almost everything you have in here.”, Sonya said to them.

Beast sighs. “So….where are you going? If this all goes sideways, I’d like to know where it’s coming from.”

Sonya and Bigby glance at each other. “I’m down for whatever.”, she says. Bigby nods. “We’ll go to the Lucky Pawn. There’s too much going on there to ignore. We’ll have a word or two with Jersey.”, Bigby said.

“You know, guys, once you two show your face there, word is going to get out. There may be nothing left to see if you go to the butcher shop after.”, Beast said.

“We’ll keep that in mind.”, Sonya said as Bigby walks to the door and opens it. Sonya exits and he follows her.

“Wait….I don’t know what you two are planning to do when you find the Crooked Man, but is there any way you two could….help us out?”, Beast asked, following to ask. They pause.

“What do you mean?”, Sonya asks. “Well, maybe you two can make this all just….go away.”, Beast suggested. “We would really appreciate it.”, Beauty adds.

“You’re asking us to kill him, aren’t you? Is that what you think we do?”, Bigby asked them, getting angry. “No! Of course not.”, Beauty shakes her head.

“I don’t know how you’d get that idea. We just….we know that the Crooked Man is dangerous. To all of Fabletown.”, Beast said.

“I just wanna know something. Even if it came to that…. which at this point, it would be self defense after everything he’s put us through, what would y’all say? How would you feel? Would you be afraid? Relieved?”, Sonya asked, making them look at her. “Because if we do, end him… I don’t wanna hear that y’all are afraid that y’all would be next.”, she says, making them look down.

“If you’re not doing anything remotely similar to the Crooked man, you have nothing to worry about. We’re gonna do our job.”, she says and turns away. “Lucky for you, that might just solve your problems anyway.”, she said, walking away.

“Thank you, guys.” Beauty calls out after them. “I’m sure you guys will do the right thing.”, Beast adds. Bigby and Sonya ride the elevator down to the lobby.

The Lucky Pawn

Sonya and Bigby looked at the rickety old building before walking in. “It’s dirty.”, they hear.

“No it’s not.”

They look over to see Toad arguing with Jack as he tries to trade in a familiar brown coat. “It looks like you slept in it. In a pile of garbage.”, Jack argues as he looks at the cloak.

“Jack, why are you– I’ve seen you take a torn purse for a tenner!”, Toad shouted. “Yeah, but I also got her phone number. I don’t want your phone number.”, Jack said, shaking his head and he looked over to see them walking towards him.

“Here we go...”, he sighed. “What?”, Toad asked and turns around to see Sonya and Bigby. “This is a surprise.”, Toad said.

“We’re just here for information. It’s about the murders.”, Bigby rolls his eyes. “This’ll take two minutes and I’ll be out your way.”, Toad said.

“I’m not taking the coat.”, Jack repeats. “But it’s magic.”, Toad said. "So?“, Jack asked, shrugging. "And it’d be covering a check I already wrote.”, Toad says.

“Okay, well….that sounds like a you problem to me.” said Jack. “Yeah, it is! And so I came here to sell it off!”, Toad shouts. Sonya sighed and noticed the coat, her eyes widened. “Isn't that Faith's coat?”

“It was Faith’s coat.”, Toad says. “Look, you left it in my place, what’d you expect me to do?”

“Yes, I think the oft-cited statute of finders keepers clearly states that it’s his now, Miss Sonya.” Jack said, smirking. Sonya clenches her jaw and gives Bigby a look. He only sighed through his nose.

“So what’s it gonna be?”, Toad asked Jack again. “I don’t know what to tell ya. See if Cindy needs a coat, I don’t know.”, Jack said and Toad let out a frustrated sigh.

He turns to the other two. “This is to pay for those bloody glamours, you know. You and your blinkered rules. If the witches didn’t charge so fuckin’ much…I wouldn’t have to be in here, dealing with this nonsense."

Sonya frowned and crossed her arms, “What happened to the money I gave you?” Toad looked down. “Please don’t tell me you spent it on some new car accessory.”, Bigby says, frowning.

"What are you even complainin’ to them, for?”, Jack asked. “I guess I don’t know.”, Toad said, shrugging. “I don’t know what you’re gettin’ so steamed about….it shouldn’t be that big of a shock that I’m not going to take an ass-hair coat.”, Jack shook his head.

“No, I guess it shouldn’t be….since this whole bleedin’ operation’s just a set-up for one of his shady fuckin’ loans.”, Toad shouts in anger, making Jack’s eyes widen, as he glances at Bigby and Sonya. “Ix-nay on the oan-lays. Okay, og-fray?”, Jack whispered to him. “I mean, what kind of a game are you runnin’ here?”, Toad asked.

“Toad–”

“You turn down peoples’ stuff so you can peddle his shit?”, Toad asked. “We know who you’re talking about.”, Bigby said, crossing his arms. “Um, Og-Fray?”, he asked, pointing at Toad.

“The Crooked Man. Right? This is his place. Those are his loans.”, Sonya said, also crossing her arms. Toad smiles mischievously and grabs the coat. “Well, I’ll leave you to your business….I’m sure you’ll have a lot to talk about.”

“Good luck with that glamour, Toad.”, Jack sneers as Toad starts to walk away. “Fuck off.”, Toad shouts at him. “Leave the coat.”, Bigby ordered firmly.

“How the hell do you expect me to get a glamour, then?”, Toad asked, throwing the coat down on the floor. “It’s not like I’ve got a lot of options, you know. It’s just tough, is all.“

“Just do what I fuckin’ say, alright?”, Bigby said, getting irritated. “Leave the coat. Find another way.”

“Fine! I’m leaving…but I’m taking the coat with me!”, Toad said, angrily. Sonya sighed, pulling the wad of cash from her pocket. Bigby looked at her. “Where the hell did you get that?”

She gave him a guilty smile and handed it to Toad. “However much it costs, its worth it, Toad. Just go get your glamour, if not for you then do it for T.J. Please.”, she said, exasperated. Toad sighs and snatches the wad before leaving. Jack smiles and waves. “Have a good day.”

“He really grows in ya.”, Jack said, smiling. Bigby and Sonya face him, making him frightened. "Look, I work here sometimes for the extra cash. It’s something stable. You know, between more….entrepreneurial bouts. And…before either of you ask, I’ve never seen the Crooked Man in here. Neither hide nor hair, and all that. In fact, as far as I can tell, he’s never even actually stepped foot in here.“, Jack explained.

"But Bloody Mary works for him. And the last time we saw her, she had the Woodsman’s axe.”, Bigby said, leaning on the counter, glaring at Jack. “So?”, Jack asked, nervously. “So, the last time anybody else saw that axe….it was here.”, Sonya said.

“We’d never take something like that.”, Jack said. “Bullshit.”, Sonya says, surprising Jack. “Is this really why you two came down here?”, Jack asked, nervously. “We’ll be asking the questions here, Jack.”, Bigby said, shutting him up. “Okay. Fine. Fire away.”, Jack said.

“Where’s your boss? Why isn’t he here?”, Bigby asked. “I don’t know?”, Jack says. “You know something, so where is he?”, Sonya asked.

“I dunno, I don’t keep tabs on him. He’s probably out getting shit faced and eating cows right now. Listen, I gotta start closing up shop, so, uh–”, Jack said as he walked out from behind the counter.

“Close? It’s the middle of the day.”, Bigby pointed out. "What can I say, Jersey likes to run at odd hours. And, really, he’d be the one to talk to, so….can’t you two just swing by later. It really wouldn’t be good for me if he sees your faces when he walks in. So, uh…“, Jack said .

"What else can you tell us about Jersey Devil?” Bigby asked. “Just that he’s a fuckin’ psycho and I like to stay out of his way. I typically work when he’s not here. But I can call you when he comes back, alright?”, Jack says.

"Jack, shut up.”, Sonya said. “If the Jersey Devil isn’t here to answer our questions….it also means he isn’t here to get in our way. So, we’re gonna take a look around…as long as we’ve got the elbow room.”

“Alright. Don’t let me get in your way.”, Jack said, locking up. “We won’t.”, Bigby said, walking over to a different side of the room.

Bigby walked up to a small statue of the Headless Horseman that was on the far left of the room. “The Headless Horseman? Isn’t this Crane’s?”, Bigby asked. “Maybe? I don’t know.”, Jack shrugged.

Bigby rolled his eyes, walked next to the table and saw a familiar dagger. “This is Prince Lawrence’s dagger. Who sold this?”, he says, catching Sonya's attention.

“I don’t know.”, Jack repeated, shrugging. “Who would have done that? One of the Tweedles….”, Sonya mumbled. “Whoever did it, must’ve needed the money bad. Which shouldn’t come as a total shock. You guys don’t know how hard most of us have it….do you?", Jack asks.

"Yeah? If you had our job, you wouldn’t get out of bed.”, Bigby growled. “It was a rhetorical question….but sure, fine.”, Jack rolled his eyes.

"At least you aren't dead.", Sonya says as she looks through all of the significant objects in the display cases. Nothing out of the ordinary. Bigby walks over to a display that caught his eyes. Cleaving Axe.

Previous owner: The Woodsman

Ensorcelled by Druids

His chest rumbled with a growl as he turned to Jack. “I thought you said you’d never take something like this.", Bigby growls. Sonya looks up to see Bigby storm over to Jack angrily.

“Um….um, what?” Jack stammered, nervously. “Jack?”, Bigby asked. “Uh, yeah?”, Jack replied, nervously again.

“When was Mary here?” Bigby asked him, raising an eyebrow. “When was who here?” Jack said. Sonya rolled her eyes. "Please don't play dumb."

“Bloody Mary. Because the axe was here….but it’s gone. And she had it. So she was here.”, Bigby said.

“I don’t know anything about that.”, Jack said, stepping back. “I don’t. Really.”

Bigby pulls up the little hatch table, and stalks over to Jack like a predator. “I mean, I don’t work every day, so….and even when I do work, I just try and keep my head down.”, Jack rambles.

Sonya crosses her arms. "You'd be no better than Georgie. Looking away because you got your cut and don't care about innocent people getting hurt. It's bullshit."

Bigby growled loudly, making Jack flinch. "Okay, okay! It was Mary, she took it, okay. That’s all I know!”, Jack exclaimed.

“That’s all you know? You don’t know she almost fucking killed me with it last night!?”, Bigby snarled. “No, no, I had no goddamned idea! She sometimes comes in to pick up shit. Sometimes it’s for her….”, Jack said.

“You know where she lives? Where she took it?”, Sonya asked. “I don’t know where that crazy chick lives, and I don’t wanna know.”, Jack said, shaking his head.

“Well, for your sake, you better think of something to tell us.”, Bigby growled. “That’s all I can tell you. I’m being straight here! I’m just part-time. I mean, it’s Jersey who’s the one who’s into this stuff! He’s one of the Crooked Man’s boys, okay? And it’d be great if he was here to tell you all this, but he’s not, so just–”, Jack was cut off by two extra voices from outside.

"Shit....“, Sonya mutters. "Jersey, don’t give me that shit. What the fuck is the point of havin’ a system if you’re just gonna–”

“It’s not my fuckin’ system.”

“But you’re the guy who makes sure that–”

“I’m the guy that keeps shit in order and that’s it, Woody.”

Bigby ducks down and Sonya ducks behind another display case, watching as Woody and another man walk in the building and see the gate was pulled down. “Who closed the fucking gate? Jack?”, Jersey called, irritated.

He pulls up the gate, revealing himself clearly. He was a balding, gingered man with a thick mustache. He turns to face Woody. “If you love your axe so fuckin’ much, why’d you pawn it in the first fuckin’ place, huh?”

“I didn’t pawn it, asshole. It was stolen from my apartment. And Gren said that he saw it here. Now tell me where it is right fuckin’ now.”, Woody demanded.

Sonya and Bigby, reveal themselves, walking over to the two arguing men.

“Whatcha guys arguing about?", Sonya asked with a smile. Jersey jumps looking behind him and rolls his eyes. “God. And these fuckin’ guys, too?”

“Bigby? Sonya? What are you–”, Woody started to ask but Jersey cuts him off as he looks at Jack. “Is his axe even here?”, he asked. “Nope. It isn’t.”, Jack shook his head.

“Just like I said, it’s not here. Happy?”, Jersey asks and walks over to Sonya and Bigby. “So tell me what you two are here for, or get the fuck out."

"Uh….they wanted to know where–”

“Actually, you know what, I don’t care what they wanted.”, Jersey said, interrupting Jack, smirking.

Sonya rolls her eyes. "Such a salesman." Bigby walked up. “You work with the Crooked Man.”, he said firmly. “And until we give you permission…you’re not gonna do anything but answer our questions.”

Jersey glanced at Bigby's arm. “How’s your arm, Sheriff? Bloody Mary leaves a bit of a sting, don’t she?”

He turned to Jack. “Jack, did you know that as of this very morning, Bigby's joined the Crooked Man’s obedience school for wayward fucking creatures? He’s already passed his first class. You see….the Sheriff and the Deputy had, who they stupidly thought was the murderer….been chasing him for fuckin’ days, right? But the Crooked Man snapped his bony fingers….and these two handed him over just…like…that.”

“I’m, uh, just gonna, uh…let you three…you know….”, Jack said, backing away and leaving.

“The Crooked Man appreciated that.”, Jersey said, making them glare at him. “Tell us everything you know right now about the murders, and the Crooked Man.”, Bigby ordered.

“Are you kidding me! It was here. It was right fuckin’ here! What’d you do with it!?”, Woody shouted as he got in Jersey’s face. “How the fuck do I know?”, Jersey asked.

“Listen, you bald little dipshit, you’re gonna–”, Woody started to threaten, grasping Jersey by his shirt but Jersey punches Woody in the stomach. Woody groans and growled at him. “You piece of shit.” Wood throws a punch, making Jersey retaliate.

Bigby moved Sonya out of the way and got in between them, shoving them away from each other. “Back it up, Jersey. You’re dealing with us, now.”, Bigby said, facing Jersey as he gets in front of Woody.

“I didn’t expect to see you upright. Still looking for whoever killed them hookers or are you done chasing your tail?”, Jersey asked.

“Where’s my axe! Who’d you give it to!”, Woody yelled. “You follow me here all the way from Battery fucking Park…just so I can prove to you that your axe isn’t here…and you think I’m gonna take another inch of abuse-”, Jersey started fussing.

“Hey! Back off and settle down!” Bigby ordered. “Oh what the fuck are you gonna do? You talk big, but I don’t think you got the stones to back it up.”, Jersey said to Bigby as he punched Bigby in the side where he was injured.

“Bigby!”, Sonya exclaimed, watching him double over in pain. “Still a little sore, are we?” Jersey asked Bigby. “Why should Mary get all the fun? You ain’t so tough.”

Sonya silently walks behind him as he continues to put Bigby down. “Ya know what? I’m just gonna handle you myself….and I won’t need no silver bullets.”

Sonya grabbed him and slammed him against the glass display cases. He yells in pain as she grabs his head and slams it against the case.

“Motherfucker!”, he grumbles as she slams his head against it again and the glass breaks and his face hits the crystal ball.

She grimaced as she pulled his head back, seeing pieces of the crystal ball impaled in his face. “What the hell are you doing?”, Woody yells, pulling her off of Jersey. “This is my fucking fight!”

“Get your hands off of her!”, Bigby yelled, snatching Sonya away. “Dog, you got a lotta nerve–”, Woody shouted but a strange noise made them look over to see a tall, skeletal creature. It almost looked like a skinwalker. Sonya's eyes widened. "That's Jersey…?", she whispered.

He roars at them, making their eyes widen. Woody charges at him but Jersey simply smacks him to the side and starts to charge at Bigby and Sonya but Woody holds on to Jersey’s arm and pulls him down.

Jersey gets on top of Woody and starts to claw at him repeatedly. Bigby runs up to them and punt kicks Jersey over the glass counter and knocks him towards the back and hits a closet.

Bigby changed to his first form, cracking his neck as he stood in a defensive stance. “Aww, protecting your girlie friend….too bad you couldn’t protect those whores.”, Jersey said, tauntingly as he climbed up on the counter. “Go on, try to stop me!”

He jumps off the table and charges towards them but Bigby raises his clawed hand and shoves his claw into Jersey, slamming him down on the floor.

“Fucking stay down!”, Bigby snarled. Woody gets up and looks at the open, broken closet and sees his axe. “There she is!”, he said, satisfied.

Sonya and Bigby kicked Jersey to the floor and ran over to him, as he landed near the front door. They grabbed the gates and slammed it down on the back of his neck.

Jersey screams as they pull it up then start to slam it back down but Jersey grabs it and shoves it up. He starts to claw at them but they jump away from his attacks.

Bigby punches Jersey in the face repeatedly before Jersey lowers his head and tries to shove his horns into Bigby. Bigby dodges Jersey's horns and grabs one, tugging it out of Jersey’s head then shoves it into his stomach. Jersey screams in pain then shoves Bigby against the display case.

Bigby groans in pain as Jersey jumps in front of him then shoves one of his clawed hands into Bigby’s injured arm. Bigby yells in pain. “Fucker!"

Jersey shoves his claw deeper into Bigby’s arm and Sonya jumps on Jersey’s back, lighting her hands on fire and burning his neck. Jersey screams out in pain, pulling his claw out of Bigby.

Sonya increased her heat, nearly gagging at the burnt smell before she's pulled off of Jersey's back and slammed onto the floor. Sonya's eyes widened as her breath was knocked out of her.

"Hey asshole. I found her.”, Woody announces before slamming his axe down into Jersey’s head. Jersey lets out a shriek of pain and he slaps Woody to the side and tries to pull the axe out.

Bigby looks next to him and picks up an anvil, raises it above his head then slammed it down on Jersey, knocking him down on the floor.

Bigby pushes the anvil to the side, reverting back to his human form and helps Sonya stand. She looks at his arm. “You okay?”, she asked. “More or less. You?”, he said, shrugging. "More or less.", she smiled, catching her breath.

Woody walks over to Jersey, yanking his axe out of Jersey’s head. He hovers the axe over Jersey’s neck and he looks up at Bigby and nods. Bigby squats down next to Jersey. “So…..wanna try again?”

“You can’t find the Crooked Man. No one can. There’s no address, no place….he lives in the bends and forks of tree roots….behind the sun….in the….shadows.”, Jersey says. “You know more so tell us.”, Sonya ordered.

“The door to his house….it bounces around. Never in one spot. You’ll never find it. Even Crane had to use the Magic Mirror….that fuckin’ guy. Mirror, Mirror…fuckin’ shit…”, Jersey grumbles. “Okay, that’s Crane’s way….how do you contact him?”, Bigby asked him.

“I don’t. He uses couriers for everything. Ravens, goblins, the fuckin’ Tweedles…whatever. I go in when I’m taken there. You don’t know anything….about anything, do you? What do you have? Nothin’. That useless bitch, Snow White, and a broken fuckin’ mirror….no fuckin’ friends. And no clue about who is really runnin’ this town.”, Jersey said.

Sonya grabs his arm, sizzling his wrist and watching him struggle in pain. "You're going round and round with our question. You and everyone we've met up 'til now have said the exact same thing. We're asking questions for a reason. So answer them." She lets go. “Now, where did you hear that the mirror got broken?”

“Oh. That. Gossip flies fast. We’re like a sewing circle. It doesn’t matter what you fuckin’ do, you’re not gonna get him. You two wanna knock on his fuckin’ door and see what happens? Fine. Crane had the Mirror. Bloody Mary had Crane. So take your fucking wrecking crew act to the butcher shop.”, Jersey says.

“The Cut Above.”, Bigby mutters, remembering Beast's words. “And if we can find the mirror piece there, we can find the Crooked Man.”

“That’s her spot. That’s where all the magic happens….”, Jersey says as Woody backs away and takes his axe away from his neck. Jersey begins to crawl back. “Now leave me so I can find me some aspirin.”, he says, only to fall face down on the floor.

“Will Mary be there?”, Bigby asked Jersey. “You want me to draw you a picture? I don’t fucking know….you got what you want, now get the fuck outta here….”, Jersey ordered.

Sonya sighed, glancing at Bigby as he glanced at her before starting to leave. Jersey speaks up again. “Hey…Sheriff….Deputy."

Both of them stop, hearing Jersey out. "Those girls are still dead….and there’s nothin’ you two can do to bring them back. And I don’t know what they did, but I do know this… if they’re dead, it’s cause the Crooked Man wanted them dead. That’s all it takes. So you can roar, smash the place up. Shit, you can wail on me all you want, but what good is it gonna do ya? Cause he ain’t in your town. You’re in his.”

Bigby growls lowly, turns around and kicks Jersey in the face, making him yell in pain. “Just shut the fuck up, will ya?”, Bigby said, turning back around, and leading Sonya and Woody out of the shop.

Bigby pulls out a cigarette, making Sonya turn away. “Got a smoke?”, Woody asked him. Bigby lights his cigarette and hands it to Woody, before lighting another one up for himself. “Thanks.”, Woody said, taking a drag. “Shitty brand.”

Bigby side eyed him. “You’re welcome.” Sonya waved her hand to dispel the smoke.

“I’m not gonna lie, I was having trouble deciding which one of you to hit with this thing.” Woody said to Bigby. Sonya gaped at Woody, making Bigby shake his head. Bigby drops the cigarette and squishes it under his shoe.

Sonya waved a cab down and waited as it came up. She climbs in first, waiting on Bigby. Bigby starts to follow suit but Woody calls him. “Jersey was wrong, you know.”

“About what?”, Bigby asked.

“About those girls. There is somethin’ you two can do about it. You can get the fucker who did it. Ain’t that the plan?”, Woody asked.

“You're damn right it is.”, Bigby says, smiling. “Alright. Well….go do it, then.”, Woody says before he starts walking away. Bigby stands outside the cab, looking at the retreating man. “Hey Woody.”

Woody stops, keeping his back faced toward the other man. “Yeah?”

“I’ll see you around, alright?”, Bigby said. Woody turns his head to look at Bigby over his shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll see ya.”, he says and finally walks away. Bigby looks down for a moment then he climbs in the cab, sighing softly.

Sonya smiled at him. "You guys have such great teamwork. You'd think you'd wanna stop fighting each other."

"That's practically all I wanna do. But sometimes he makes it hard to get along with him.", Bigby mutters. She nodded. "He is pretty difficult to deal with… ", she mumbles, sleepily.

He noticed and sat up a bit. "You can sleep, y'know. It'll be a bit of a while before we get there." She yawned and nodded. "I think I will..."

She let her eyes close and seconds later, she's out. He smiles, leaning his head back against his seat. He jumps a bit to feel a little weight leaning on him and sees Sonya leaning against him, sound asleep.

He stares at her for a moment then relaxes as she snuggles into him a bit. He felt light. She didn't wake up and pull away as if he were something disgusting. She was the opposite of anyone that even remotely showed him any kindness.

She always seemed so comfortable with him. Never tiptoeing around him or doing things for him out of fear or pity.

She never made him feel like a ticking time bomb and even defended him countless of times. It made his heart swell in a strange way he's never felt before but it made him comfortable enough to accept it.

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Tuesday 10 September 1839

4

9 20/..

F62 ¼° and fine at 4 20/.. had been up at 3 20/. for a few minutes – off from Keala [Kealanoja] at 5 28/.. very nice clean good Inn – good beds and eating in about ¾ hour steep pitch on the wood bridge and Gross would put the drag on – forbade his doing so again without my orders – at 6 ½ picturesque little low unpainted village and river – 1st stage road rather sandy or small red gravelly and more hilly than before – fine lake (fjord) ahead (right) – and we had a peep of it before – drizzling rain begins now at 6 35/.. picturesque rounded wooded hilly country the vale we wind along widish and well cultivated – dotted all over with barns – rye harrowed in in several directions on the same plot of ground wavy and crosswise and several ways in some of the fields -

SH:7/ML/TR/13/0027

September Tuesday 10 the little corn left out is I think oats – Guidepost

at Salå [Salo] indicates

Abo [Åbo] 55 w.

St. p- 565.

Helsingforss [Helsingfors] 155

Kiala 12 ½ here but 12 2/3 at Keala [[Kealanoja]

Hämenkylä [Hämeenkylä] 18 ¾  our next stage

at Salå [Salo] at 6 42/.. – small singular house – could not sleep – from here road hilly (pitchy) much young forest with mossy rocks Norway-like – and rud-red moss on the stones – cranberry (Lingboer) juniper and observed a little sweetgale John observed that here the juniper was quite fresh, and Sweden much withed! no truth in this – A- and I see little difference between here and about Stockholm – no corn to cut [seen] today and very little to house and we left much to cut between Falun and Stockholm everything quite as forward here as there – no maples (saw one solitary one afterwards) nothing but fir except birch and alder and a few Salleys about 7 55/.. pretty little shallow lake – the 2nd stage very pretty picturesque valley-winding drive – not much cattle out – but both horses and cows look chiefly chesnut – the [fine] wooded rocky hills very picturesque – our servants breakfasted before starting but not we – more sheep out this stage than before – little windmills everywhere scattered up and down in Sweden they are larger and near to towns –

vide Handbook p. 131 column 1 Road to Keala [Kealanoja] described as one that one should shudder at anywhere but in the north!!!

at 8 25/.. 1st gate and another a few minutes afterwards – In Sweden the roads blocked by them perpetually – on average 1 every ½ English mile or more and Norway almost but not quite so bad – no need of forbud – How much better than in Sweden! I see it is potato tops (they hang on the rails to dry for the cattle) that look so green and heavy on the rails I could not make them out yesterday – at 9 at Hämenkylä [Hämeenkylän]  a little low wood station house of no great promise but kitchen a part – some very tolerable rooms for us travellers and we stop to breakfast – no begrudging the time for 2

September

Tuesday 10

calêches at the door going off with each a pair of horses, and we must wait a couple of hours – Really one is much better off here in Finland than anyone ought to expect considerably the small means of the country – we like Finland – we have learnt our lesson as to roads and stations in Norway and latterly north of Upsala [Uppsala] and we are quite at home now – the roads so far very good – rather more heavy and hilly this last stage than before – the road from Åbo to Keala [Kealanoja] or Kiala very good and hardly a hill or pitch at all to our mind – I hear someone trying to tell Gross that 3 miles = 30 wersts from here there is an Inn kept by an Englishman – the drizzling rain that began about 6 35/.. last more or less till about 8 – breakfast coffee and boiled milk and bread and butter charged to John at first 3 ½ rubels – then in a bill to me 1 rigs. dollar and a half I would have it in rubels – he charged 2 rubels -  2 rubels = more than 1.24.0 rigsgold but paid it – and on my saying I would write my complaint the man turned pale and snatched away the book – he understood my saying in French he had no right to make out his account in Swedish money – I asked John what to write signifying that I was dissatisfied but he got off telling me, and both I and he got a little impatient about names of places and exactness of distances paid for 18 ¾ w. + 1/6 = 4/53 and the place called Lombala instead of Hämenkylä [Hämeenkylän] – Does that make 1/8w. difference? a civil fat traveller here came and gave us a currant wheat flour saffron sort of roll – would have been very good but for the saffron – off at 10 50/.. (Dont trouble this house again – the landlord would not give charge for a five Rubel bill when I wanted to pay for the horses but had plenty when I had to pay for breakfast) – good deal of forest this stage (sandy road) from Lombala to Olsbola [Olsböle] (17 ½ w.) on moss-covered rock as in Norway but still all young wood

at 11 50/.. village and wood bridge over river – we seldom pass thro’ villages but see them occasionally scattered at some distance from us tho’ the country not so populous as the north of Sweden –

vide Road book p. 161.  4 Runstyeken = 1 kopek

.:. 12 Runstycken or 1sk. B.  12 öre = 18kop.

= 3 kop. and 1 Dollar B. = 144 kop.    50 Daler = 24 Rubel

SH:7/ML/TR/13/0028

September Tuesday 10 if 4 Runstycken = 1kop. and .:. 3 kop. = 1 sk. Swedish banco then 1 Dollar B. = 48x3 = 144kop. but I received 181 kop. per D.B. at Åbo yesterday –

and the price offered at Stockholm was 41sk. rigs. per Rouble (32 Sk. banco) –

Bill at Lombala 1.24.0 rigs = 48+24 = 72sk. rigs

72/41 = 1 31/41 rouble or about 1 ¾ rouble instead of two Rubels that I paid – but reckon

2kop. = 1sk. rigs.

3 kop. = 1sk. banco

vide foot of last page

at 12 35/.. potato tops frost bit – the people are right to cut them while green – at 12 ¾ Olsböle very neat nice clean looking station – the post says went in – wrote in the Biörsby 16w.

till Helsingforss [Helsingfros] 117w.  

St. P- 528w.

book – very nice rooms Hämenkylä [Hämeenkylän] 17w.

and some small cold fried fish in larder cupboard near the stairs – one should be well here  - civil enough to give us change for a 5 Rub. number in ¼ hour (at 1 1/2) pretty lake (right) and scattered village – pretty country – road hilly and sandy and foresty and green young rye among the burnt fir stumps – very heavy sandy gravelly road thro’ the forest now at 2 5/.. after a terrible heavy full uphill thro’ the forest – little low unpainted picturesque village and houses scattered all about – very pretty bit of open wide vale here shut in all round by wooded rocky hill – at 2 ¼ another pretty lake and basin valley and hill into young forest again – at 3 our 3rd gate all the way from Åbo and a gentleman’s house hid in wood birch and alder very pretty drive – hilly, woody, villagy, sandy – at 3 5/.. uphill get out and walk ¼ hour – a great relief – gathered a little morsel of rud-red moss stone looks just like round – not easily rubbed-off – observed 1st time curious

September Tuesday 10 little pink fungus like a little round pink button pink bare round granite masses of rock and a few bare round granite hills – very pretty drive this last stage – and now in ascending nice little lake en face (right) and station (now at 3 25/..) of Olsbole [Olsböle]  - oldish looking house but good fire blazing in the kitchen – might sleep? yes! just

went in to write in day book – nice room – might sleep – off at 3 48/.. oats out here the sheaves made into like small hay cocks –

corn everywhere (here and Sweden and Norway) taken up rather promiscuously – that is the heads not all together but some at one end and come at the other of the sheaf – potato tops hanging on the fences (like those in Sweden) to dry – very pretty – wooded wooded island hills and lake – and scattered picturesque little cottages – and rock and windings of the valley – and in a minute or 2 pretty little boulder stone built church with separate belfrey as common here in Finland – more small unpainted houses the natural drab-colour of weathered boards with white chimneys – road very sandy now after passing the church – at the end of this lake a few red cottages white window frames and chimneys – and a large yellow house with dark drab roof looking like a gentleman’s house with its appurtenances – wood – water wooded islands – cottages – very pretty – here some lands of rye about a yard broad – all along occasionally a little Swedish [?] in the pastures – beautiful drive this stage – now at 4 20/.. sunny and peep of the gentleman’s house – and wind down hill over bridge – river – [beeches] along it other side and fir forest along our road – very pretty – hilly more  pitchy – this our most beautiful stage – but nothing yet at all equal (as to steep road) to the descent upon Swinesund ferry or Xtiania – at 4 ½ saw mill (little one) and little cascade of the river – very pretty and the beauty goes on – at 4 50/.. pretty picturesque village (on our pretty river) of Milnasbrook as pronounced – 2 or 3 mills and pretty cascade of the river

SH:7/ML/TR/13/0029

September Tuesday (and right) on entering village is guide post pointing (right) to Ekenas [Ekenäs] and now at 4 55/.. road sandy à la Hazelunen – at 5 10/.. cross the broad shallow stream (wood bridge) into another scattered little unpainted village – have seen much of the narrow land-rye since 1st observing it this morning – the church and lake (left) of our last passed thro’ village very picturesque – the belfrey tower of the church carved up in 4 steps of roof finishing in a little dome – our drive this stage very beautiful – the most beautiful since Åbo – Sunshine now at 5 25/.. and for this hour past. and now in young forest again – alternate forest, and break, and villages and water and wooded hill and rock – but the road very sandy – at Nyby at 5 40/.. – nice little new unpainted single house standing in a circular spot cleared out in the midst of the forest which since 5 25/.. we have come thro’ – the post indicates Nyby

till St. P- 495 ½ v. [w.]

Biörsby [Björsby] 16v. [w.]

Kyrckstad [Kyrkstad] 16 ½ v. [w.]

the horizonally laid logs (laid in moss one upon another) are not covered inside or outside but look very neat – here as at Lombala this morning (1st time) the double glass window is already put in inside, and paper pasted over the crevices here where everything is clean and tidy we have a beautiful white moss and dried yellow marigolds put at the bottom between the glasses – at Lombala it was coarse cotton wool – just sketched the little box as above and wrote thus far and then prepared for dinner now at 6 40/.. drizzling rain from about 6 35/.. to 8 but afterwards fine, and very fine sunny afternoon and fine evening – it now begins to be dresky and ½ hour hence soon after 7 it will begin to be darkish – with our heavy carriage and the steep pitches in the roads we want daylight, and then there is no danger, and [news] not the strongest may bear our

September Tuesday 10 galloping downhill – dinner at 7 10/.. to 8 20/.. a coq de bois and a gelinotte – excellent little pancakes and good bread and excellent butter and good cheese, and good water and afterwards each of us had a cup of good coffee – enjoyed our dinner and took our time – before we had done 2 Russian gentlemen from Helsingforss [Helsingfors] to Åbo came in – had Grotza at 8 20/.. to 8 ¾ - F61° now at 8 50/.. pm

[justtoarguewithyou]

9/25: Returning

my contribution to the @swottypotter comfort minifest. i didn’t have anything for today, but then i got stranded with a dead battery...this is a little “returning” and “solitude” which is tomorrow’s theme (but i have an idea for tomorrow, too)

Albus Dumbledore had sent Remus to “liaison with werewolves.”

Dumbledore didn’t seem to hear Remus when Remus argued that You Know Who was luring people (people, never werewolves, because it irked Remus to be defined by his condition; because he was a person, dammit) to his side because he promised to do away with the Werewolf Registry altogether.

Because of the Registry, Remus couldn’t hold a job for very long; the Ministry had strengthened it since he was a child. He had been one of the last exceptions to a magical education. No provisions had been made for other children bitten by Greyjoy. At least, not as far as Remus knew.

He knew that it was difficult for people with lycanthropy to get a wand, even if they could teach themselves some magic from QuickSpell courses, or just reading Hogwarts text books.

Remus’s work had been fruitless, as there was nothing the Order could offer in any real, concrete way. Just a promise of “a better tomorrow,” Dumbledore had said. But politician’s promises weren’t going to win anyone over. It was nothing. The Order could offer them nothing. The Ministry offered them less than nothing.

“At least here we have each other,” a woman had said. She’d been looking for a “mate,” as she called it. “I was bitten when I was 10. My parents kept me home afterwards, and once they learned there was nothing they could do, they abandoned me. I woke up one morning and everything was gone. I lived on the streets. I found a pack of my own. Stay, Remus. We will take care of each other.”

Remus slept alone. He hated it.

The transformation had been terrible—his anxiety heightened the transformation. The wolf had howled long and loud; it didn’t appreciate being surrounded by other wolves. The wolf had a pack, and this was not it. The wolf picked a few battles that full moon, and though he had come off victorious, it didn’t sit well with those the wolf had challenged.

Then, there came the rumors that Greyback was coming to the den.

“Sod this,” Remus muttered, and decided to leave; this mission had been, frankly, a waste of time.

Remus couldn’t go straight to Sirius. He had to make sure he wasn’t being followed. One man in particular seemed to hold a grudge against the wolf. Remus had managed to shake him off after a day of running.

As a person with lycanthropy, Remus never had any steady income. But Sirius would secret wizarding and muggle money into his pockets. Sirius loved muggle paper money, as it weighed nothing, and Remus never knew it was there until he needed it.

On the second day, Remus unbuttoned the pockets on the front of his denim shirt. Sirius had put in a £50 in one pocket, and two £20 notes in the other. They weren’t crisp bills. They were well worn, silent. Remus grinned, and went to have the biggest breakfast of his life.

While he ate, he thought about the futility of his mission, and the absolute blessing that was Sirius. Remus didn’t have a lot of things, would never have a lot of things. But he did have the love of a generous wizard, and he always thanked his lucky stars. He laughed, as he chewed his toast, and drank his coffee.

He ordered another two eggs, and some more pork sausage. The transformation always left him starving, and he hadn’t been able to each much the day before.

Remus didn’t have his wand. He’d left it in their flat; though he was proficient at nonverbal, and wandless magic, having taken extra lessons with the newly appointed Professor Flitwick, who knew just as well as Remus that one day, Remus might have his wand taken from him.

“Your wand is just a channel for your own innate magic,” Professor Flitwick had told him. “Of course, the wood and the core help your magic resonate. But it’s all you. Try again.”

The third day, Remus risked apparition, and went to his great-grandmother’s house where he’d played as a child in Northern Wales. It had long been abandoned, and looked like a witch’s hut from a muggle fairytale. He smiled, because his great-grandmother had been a very nice sort of witch. He was exhausted from the moon, and from running, his whole body ached. He didn’t have all the niceties that Sirius had kept at their flat for his post-transformation care. He’d lost the little first aid kit that Sirius had tucked into his things. All Remus could do was sleep. He woke up starving.

The fourth day, Remus found himself in Manchester where he and Sirius had come once for a Muggle football match the summer after leaving Hogwarts.

“We can do anything, go anywhere,” Sirius had said excitedly.

Remus still wasn’t sure how that translated into seeing Man U play their opening game against Birmingham City. But they’d gone, gotten very drunk, and Sirius got his first tattoo: a triple moon symbol on the inside of his left wrist. An old pagan symbol.

“But it’s for you, really,” Sirius had later whispered in his ear, while nuzzling his ear, kissing his neck. “My Moony.”

Remus wandered around the city, paid to see a movie he slept through, and went to the same tattoo parlor that Sirius had gone to. Remus paid to have the Canis Major constellation tattooed over his heart. A little sentimental maybe, but he missed Sirius so much.

He took a muggle bus to London, and slept.

Remus opened the door to the flat.

“Sirius?” he called.

He heard Sirius’s toothbrush clatter in the sink, and suddenly Sirius was out of the bathroom, and had his hands in Remus’s hair, clutching his face and pressing desperate kisses to his mouth.

“Moony, Moony, Moony,” Sirius cooed, holding Remus so so close, almost as if Sirius could hide him inside himself. Remus felt himself relax for the first time in more than a month, melting against Sirius’s chest.

“I’ve been so miserable without you,” Sirius said.

“You have no idea,” Remus said. “They’re just people Sirius. They just want to live, and have a safe place to transform, and care afterward. No one is biting children except Greyback. I didn’t meet one person who’d turned anyone. And if people are angry for being shunned and ostracized, I can’t say that I blame them. It’s not like the Order is doing anything about reforming the Registry.”

Remus’s eyes blazed. He’d had this argument with Dumbledore before.

Sirius led Remus to the bathroom, and helped him into the bath. Sirius delighted in Remus’s tattoo, kissing Remus’s red chest. Sirius coated in a healing salve, and kissed Remus again for good measure.

Remus told him everything he’d learned and heard, and as he talked, Sirius shampooed his hair, and washed his back. Sirius was extra gentle, as he could tell the transformation had gone poorly. He knew Remus’s body better than his own.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Sirius,” Remus said, as Sirius dried him off and took him to bed.

Remus didn’t ever want to find out.

[katsukikitten]

A Pink Rose 3

"Im the shit. yea I know Im the shit, if you dont buy me what I want Imma throw a fit"

The song dances down the long hall, flooding into your office as your sharp eyes rove over long numbers with a smile. You press a manicured claw onto the intercom.

"U-chan. Could you ask the DJ to turn the song up for me please?" You speak softly before a "Yes ma'am" is echoed back to you. You dance to the chorus as you subtract and add more numbers to several documents. You cannot help the cat smile that is painted on your lips as you rip through an envelope with your sharp black claw. They are not obnoxiously long but long and sharp enough to slice skin.

You should know, you scratched someone's ex husband across the face last week. The memory of the blood dripping down your fingers combined with the feel and smell of money sends a shiver down your spine. You count it quickly, sorting the bills so they all face the same way. The color of the money is tantalizing, signifying it is the biggest bill in production, you set out three straps and sort the money easily before sealing it beneath the purple paper band. The old desk drawer groans from weight, you slip the money on top of a small stack before shutting it with a harsh click of a lock. You sort through loans so seamlessly that it seems as if they are sorting themselves. A small pile sits to the left of you of what has been paid in full. A slightly larger stack of paid on time. A much larger pile of past due. You finger through past due to a certain file that you flip through, several months with no payment, not even a word of pleading for an extended time. You read about his personal life, his two kids and wife. You tap the pen to your glossed lip before you shut the mineola file folder, scrawling in cursive Repossession ALL ASSETS, U. Another similar case and its clear early on that you are feeling merciless as you are not planning to send your normal reminders and going straight to your final resort. Patience suddenly worn thin as the deep red ink reminds you of a certain hot head.

Repossession ALL ASSETS D

An abnormal boom sounds off in the lobby, sounding suspiciously like an explosion. You lean back in your office chair,tongue poking at your lower lip while your black claw raps against the smooth grain.

For a moment you think to get up, that you're needed but your crew does not call for you over the intercom so you go back to your work.

You needed to trust them to handle things when you weren't here so what better way than to pretend you aren't here.

Aother file whispers your name, you open it to learn he doesn't have much of anything.

No house

No car

No kids

No wife

But he is quite late. Would you benefit from just repossessing him or would you have to ki...

Before you can even finish the thought the door to your office is blasted off of its hinges as yelling floods into the space.

"Fuck off shit Deku. That's why you're a pet now." Bakugou yells before spitting in the face of the emerald haired man.

Izuku let's his eyes slide to you and when he sees your tight grip on the folder be decides it's best not to witness what is to come next.

You try to keep your cool when it comes to irate clients that barge in with no appointment.

But your freshly re-laquered oak door lying inches from your desk makes it difficult.

"OI!" He opens his mouth to make it worse.

In your hot rage you crush the folder shut before writing in heated script Elimination Contract w/ T.S or Dbi.

"What." You bite out holding onto his piercing gaze as you attempt to calm yourself, "Do I owe this pleasure after a month of blissful silence?"

Bakugou chooses this time to slam an obscene amount of money on the table instead of opening his fat obnoxious mouth.

You stare at the stacks of haphazardly rubber banded bills and wonder if he was more well off than you thought as far as capital.

Or if he was foolish enough to hurt himself by helping out his best goon.

"What is this for?" You fold your hands before resting your head atop your laced fingers.

Explosions pop along his exposed skin and you smile, amused at how easy it is to rile him. Part of you wants to use your power to amplify his wrath but you like your office much too much for that.

Plus you're sure you didn't need more than a few choice words to egg him on further.

"Don't play fucking dumb." He growls slamming his fists onto the top of the desk, hard enough that items rattle and some files flutter to the floor.

"I don't believe that I am 'playing dumb'. But speaking of," You lean closer as if sharing a secret, "I would be a little more careful with my quirk if I were you. They are illegal to use under any circumstance after all."

His gaze darkens, he has half a mind to take all of this money back and just kill you.

He grits his teeth, there is a reason why everyone who crosses your path becomes your pet or deeply indebted to you.

Its astounding to think that in a short eight years a new family dominated the southern region of the city and majority of the southern part of the country.

Not to mention you were only 17 when you started.

Or so the rumors go.

Dont get Bakugou wrong, he is not hesitating merely biding his time.

Because he is more than ready to go in guns a blazing but he isn't willing to risk his own empire should you best him.

Even if that is a slim to none chance.

He has a promise to keep and a reputation to uphold.

He leans closer, leveling his eyes to yours as he would any other head of a family that is threatening him.

"When you're as big as me the police know your quirk and know to look away." His voice comes out dangerously dark and your mood sours.

Just like a fucking Bakugou to be so damn cocky.

You see the ghost of his Father in his eyes and your blood begins to boil.

Vision tunneling in as your mind flashes the sight of angry pools of bright red and the tang of pennies.

Curiosity and agitation cause you to move your head to one hand trying damn hard to seem disinterested as you reach out with your right.

Bakugou flinches back and you smile a wide cat smile as this confirms that he knows.

He knows you need to touch your opponent to "work" them.

But what he doesn't know is you only need to touch them once.

You furrow your brow as if confused as you press the intercom that was next to where his hand rested.

"Deku, please return to my office." You say syrupy sweet as you hold eye contact with a now furious Bakugou.

"Yes Madam. Do I need to take out the trash?" He asks as he makes his way behind you. Katuski's skin pops with explicit explosions furthering your content.

"No my love," You motion him towards you after pointing at a small rolling chair in the corner, "Please help me sort this mess."

You take the piles and begin breaking the rubber bands and sorting the money into manageable piles.

"How much is here?" Hands flying over bills making sure they face the same way.

"Enough." The hot head bites out.

Agitation fills the office as you fight your urge to scream.

Yelling got you no where in your life before being Madame and it will probably get you no where after.

"So you don't know?" A collected question with a hint of venom. Izuku shrinks away from you.

Burning scarlet eyes fly to Deku's thick forearm. An angry white fissure drags along the two bands, breaking their infinite circle and with it the power over the family.

You did this to him and yet the emerald haired man sits by you like a loyal dog.

Another heated palm kisses the wood of the desk, that endless popping echoes.

"Just fucking count it!!" The ash blonde yells.

This time you stand, fully taking in the man as you round the old desk. His attire further encourages your wrath.

It is difficult to be unbothered by him, what with the sloppy way he wears his suit.

Sans jacket. Black pants that are not ill fitting, they show off his muscular thighs and calves but are not overly tight. Black vest with intricate stitching of dragons that could be missed if one did not look closely. The vest sits snug over a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbow to show off the beginnings of his tattoo but most importantly the two bands that carry more status than any seal or crown. Lastly his black tie, slightly loosened as if pulled or improperly tied.

Sadly, in this underworld, appearance speaks volumes and Bakugou's outfit screams son of the family or worse yet goon.

His tattoos indicate that he is the head of his family so he should dress like it.

It drives you up the wall that he doesn't. because it would drive him insane too.

"You're already going to be undermined because you're a woman so appearance is especially important for you my tiger lily. Now please dress like a proper lady."

His words echo in your head now and you sure as hell wouldn't dare to admit that you're turning more and more into someone of your past.

Sad that it took him dying to see eye to eye.

You grab onto the silk tie roughly jerking him forward with the motion.

Your noses touch and your breath mingles more politely than the two of you.

"Touch my Father's desk one more time and I will have your hands for display." You growl lowly, igniting fire in those ember eyes, "Got. It. Poprock?"

"Pop. Rock?" His teeth grind but you shove him away slightly. Still holding onto his tie as you straighten it. Before sashaying back behind your desk.

It is the hot head's turn to drink you in as your wide hips and strong legs carry you back to your black leather throne.

Your black dress is body con before flaring out into somewhat of wider train. The dress is solid, hiding where your family crest would be in ink below your collar bone but not covering enough where the start of it cannot be seen. The neckline dips just to your solar plexus showing off the clean bisected skin with sensual hints of swirling ink winking at the world. The sleeves are lace and stop at the wrists but not opaque enough that one would miss your status or the tattoos at 3/4 of your arm dancing up beneath the smooth fabric.

Your heels clack before you take a seat, motioning deadly claws at Izuku to continue counting.

The unique sound of an electronic money counter whirls in the room before beeping when its reach the set number of bills.

"You may want to sit." You say without looking up as deft hands swiftly sort and brick stacks of money, "This may take a while. I can call for tea."

Bakugou growls, plopping himself into the blood red leather chair in front of your desk. He is temporarily hypnotized by your capable hands and how quickly they move across money.

He watches you sort, face, hand count and strap what seems like endless amounts of money that turn into large bricks of paper for what feels like hours.

He wonders how long you've been working with cash.

He wonders even more about how you got someone to tattoo those two bands on you.

Everything about you screamed old money and family traditions.

The way you held yourself, your attire, but especially the way your ink swirled with lotus and tiger lilies alike. How it was designed much like his own, a suit never to be shrugged off.

He clenches his jaw as he thinks, the only way to get those bands are to show the tattoo artist the cold body of the former head. Bakugou relives memories that he is in no mood for before your somehow soothing voice breaks the other wise silence.

"Shouldn't Kirishima have been the one to drop this off?" You cock your eyebrow as you place a final heavy brick onto a tray, "Be a dear and lock this up with U-chan?"

Izuku nods at your request before you summon her via intercom. She enters swiftly and disappears with that damn Deku into one of the two doors behind you.

"Well." You prompt earning a nasty glare.

"He's caught up at the moment." He watches you rearrange paperwork before your hand flies to a handle, as if you suddenly remembered somrthing.

He narrows his eyes as he watches you produce two small pieces of chocolate. You set a spicy chili dark chocolate in front of him before unwrapping a milk chocolate for yourself.

Scarlet eyes burn into the small red square, did this come from a variety pack?

Or did you know this was the only sweet he really ate?

It had to be the former.

"Do tell!" You exclaim as if you hadn't just threatened him. His eyes rove over your office looking for any such displays and when he sees a jar of bright blue eyes he suppresses a shudder.

"Well she's hard to miss what with all that *pink*" Bakugou shrugs feigning boredom as he sees a vein pop in your head. You stand, your leather throne wheeling behind you as you make your way past your fallen door.

"You're just gonna leave me here with your secrets, Gatinna?" A deadly smirk forms on his lips as you turn to face him.

Eyes narrowed to slits carrying a gaze sharp enough to cut flesh.

"I dare you." The room feels as if it darkens but Bakugou pays it no mind as he picks up his chocolate, popping it into his mouth as he watches you storm into the bar.

He stands to follow as this could prove interesting.

@alwayslost123 for you bb

[elopez7228]

Scenic Route 5/47

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/18268208/chapters/43229774

Start over : https://elopez7228.tumblr.com/post/620919089893933056/scenic-route-0147

Rey stretched languorously, savoring the silky softness of the bed sheets and the over-plush duvet. Sunshine filtered into the room through a gap in the curtains as she blinked to adjust her eyes to the daylight.

“Wait a minute—where am I?”

As the panic set in she scrambled to get out of the sheets so ardently that she got tangled up in them and rolled out of bed without being able to stand up. Having landed on the heavily carpeted floor, she worked her limbs furiously to free herself from the mess.

She was fully dressed apart from her jumper and her shoes. She looked around the room for her belongings, spotting the clues she needed to reorient herself in the process. Bland furniture. Deco feel. Cleaned spotless. Zero trinkets anywhere—no photos, no books.

This was a hotel room.

She was on her knees looking for her shoes when a voice made her heart jump.

“Hello. Sleep well?”

She turned abruptly, propping herself up on one elbow, and stared furiously at the hulking frame of none other than Ben Solo, who had just come out of the bathroom.

“You! Did you just kidnap me—“

Ben’s expression was mocking, part amused and part exasperated.

“That’s likely what would have happened to you if I had left you unconscious on the sidewalk last night. You can never slow down, can you? Are you always this overwhelmed?”

Rey was suddenly overcome with an unspeakable sort of anguish as she traced her stomach and thighs for any sign of bruising or pain. “Did I sleep with you?” her voice trembled slightly.

He rolled his eyes. “If that were the case, I wouldn’t have bothered to redress you. I never touched you, apart from taking off your jacket and your boots. They’re over there on the chair, along with the rest of your things.”

Rey heaved a sigh of relief and closed her eyes to try to calm down, to slow down the rampant beating of her heart. “Where are we? Your place?”

“Denver. The Four Seasons. It took me forever to figure out where you were staying, Jessica didn’t know anything so she had to call Finn. It took ages to figure out that you were down at the Four Seasons and even more time to realize that you didn’t even have a room reserved, you—“

“Stop!”

“What?”

Ben’s eyes widened at the interruption, Rey was brandishing a single boot in her right hand as she got up and stalked menacingly in his direction. Her icy glare stopped him in his tracks.

“What did you just say? You actually called Jessica and Finn?”

Her voice was shaking with rage. Ben held up his hands in the universal gesture of innocence. “Look, I had to, I had to find out where you were staying, would you have preferred I take you home?”

“How’d you have the number—Jessica’s—did you go through my stuff?”

“No, no need. You called her yesterday with my phone, remember?”

“And what, exactly, did you tell her?”

“Nothing but the truth. That I found you drunk and unconscious outside a bar at two in the morning and I wanted to know where you were staying so I could take you back. That’s all, I swear.”

Rey leaned against the bed and slid to the floor as her legs threatened to give out.

“Good grief…”

Jessica had to call Finn to find out which hotel Rey booked. She had told him what she knew. The news that Rey, drunk and faded, washed up on the street and ended up in a hotel room with a stranger was making the rounds, Finn and Poe and all her friends would know.

“Listen Rey, you have to be glad that nothing truly bad happened to you. Don’t get me wrong, this whole thing is ugly, the wedding, the breakup, all of it. But you’ll self-destruct if you continue like this,”

Rey leapt at his words.

“How’d you know about the wedding? Was it Jessica who told you?”

Ben was walking back into the room armed with armed with a steaming cup of coffee which he gingerly handed her.

“Not even. You talk in your sleep. You seem to really like Finn, and I can tell that you’re dying inside, but you should really let the past die. Pick yourself up before you get into any real trouble,”

“You have some nerve don’t you?” Rey was furious. ”I never asked for any of this! I never asked for your help! You just waltzed into my life, called my ex, tucked me in like a child, and sought to give me some life advice? Who do you think you are, you’re not my father or my husband, alright? What will it take to not be treated like a kid anymore—I’m  twenty-four and I don’t need a chaperone!”

Overwhelmed by anger and humiliation, she tried to hit him but he grabbed her wrist with a sudden tenacity that startled her.

“I’m not your enemy, Rey, I’m just trying to help,”

His calmness only served to fuel her anger, she continued through gritted teeth,”You’ve gone too far, Ben Solo. You have no right to meddle in my private life or to judge me for my actions. Leave. Now.”

Ben slowly loosened his grip on her wrist, looking her straight in the eyes.

“That’s not what you said last night, when you curled up next to me, calling me Finn and begging me to kiss you.”

Rey exploded into a stream of insults, hurling the contents of the mug at his face:

“You damn prick! Get out! Get the blazes out of my room!”

Ben wiped his face with the back of his hand. His black shirt was soaked in coffee, a few droplets beading his eyebrows. He grabbed the leather jacket that was hanging from an armchair and rummaged through his pocket. He slipped a fifty dollar bill onto the nightstand.

“The word you’re looking for is “thanks”, so this is for your suitcase and now we’re even. Best of luck, Rey.”

And with one last look in her direction, he shrugged his jacket on and retreated into the corridor, the door closing behind him.

Rey waited a few minutes to see if he would come back, like Finn often did when they got into an argument. After she determined that he was well and truly gone, she took to the bathroom for a quick shower. Later, she collected her things, double-checking that her travek papers and her money were still there. She made one last sweep under the couches to find anything she could have possibly left behind (telephone, check, keys, check, socks, check) and left the room for good.

Her hair was piled up in a hasty up-do today, stray hairs escaping everywhere to frame her face. She held her key out gingerly at the reception desk, dreading the bill. The receptionist was all smooth complexion and perectly prim uniform again. She smiled knowingly at Rey as she informed her that the room was already paid for.

Rey chewed the inside of her cheek as she repeated the amount due: 430 dollars, not including tip. Was it Ben who paid? Who else, right?

She suddenly felt a pang of guilt, but she fought it off. She wasn’t for sale. Flaunting his money around didn’t make meddling with her private life any more acceptable. She wasn’t impressed by his flashy car or his punk rock leather, or his overflowing pockets or his ears poking out ever so slightly beneath his dark locks of hair. Well, on second thought they were cute, and she wondered if it was a secret turn on for him if she just nibbled a—Hey.

Down, girl. What had gotten into her just then?

Well. She hated to admit it, but he was right. She couldn’t keep going like this. Floating around here and there with no purpose and no itinerary for days on end. Her fingers accidentally brushed against a bit of glossy paper in her pocket. She realized it was the business card that Rose had left her. She had completely forgotten.

Leia Skywalker

970-571-3350

Still at the entrance of the Four Seasons with no idea of what direction to take, she dialed the number.

A woman's voice answered. An older woman. Rey stifled her surprise—she had expected a punk, an artist, or some strange combination of the two who hired strangers to drive cars. But an elderly woman? What kind of woman could she be, if not the wife of an ageing Italian mafia boss?

She hurriedly explained that she had met Rose who had told her about a car to drive to California in exchange for payment. The woman suggested that she come for coffee, slowly dictating an address. Rey hesitated a moment. This was the point of no return. Should she go or back out now? Was she going to be kidnapped and forced into a prostitution ring? Locked up by MK Ultra 2.0? Exploited by the mafia and drowned in the bottom of a river with a block of concrete chained to her feet? Or simply have a tea with a gran who no longer had the energy to drive 3500 kilometers?

Here goes nothing.

The taxi dropped her off at the entrance of a trailer park, a sort of wasteland littered with mobile homes and manufactured houses. All kinds of rubbish piled high on the roadside: old bicycles, rusty trolleys, and other garbage languishing in the dust. Tattered clothes hung from clotheslines that swayed in the wind.

Rey remained frozen in front of the sad spectacle of an area of residence. Was it a trap?

As a safety measure, she took a screenshot of her GPS location on Google Maps and texted it to Jessica, with the name and number of Leia Skywalker. If she disappeared, her friend could at least alert the police.

His phone rang immediately. It was Jessica, asking for an explanation. Rey kept the conversation brief and put her phone on airplane mode so as not to be disturbed. She did not want to talk right now.

With her bag on her shoulder, she stepped onto the dusty road, looking for numbers on the houses. She realized she was being naive: this was no fancy suburb managed by the municipality! The few houses there had probably been hastily constructed and certainly not numbered neatly and precisely. She approached a woman, clad in denim and cowboy boots, who was smoking a cigarette on the steps of her porch.

“Hello, do you happen to know a Leia Skywalker who lives around here?”

The woman gestured with her chin to one of the tiny houses a little further down the sreet. Approaching it, Rey found it relatively elegant, the exterior well-painted, with colorful flowers overflowing from planters arranged along the windows. No rubbish, no rust, just a modest little house whose occupant was obviously very attentive.

Rey sighed with relief. She blamed herself for her hasty judgement. Not having money and living modestly did not make you a bad person. This Leia Skywalker had no money to throw out the windows, obviously, unlike Ben Solo, her subconscious snickered. She was probably harmless. Or was she? Stars, she had to stop already.

Rey knocked on the door.

Moments later, a little woman stood before her. She was no more than five feet tall, clad in a long indigo dress with matching bangles. His dark gray hair was tucked into a complicated braid that rose above her head, adding ten centimeters to her height. Her face was wrinkled but her features were delicate, and Rey thought she must have been much more beautiful in her youth. And above all, her eyes were bright and her figure poised and graceful. She was no gran.

Leia Skywalker invited Rey to come in, sit down, and poured her a cup of tea that smelled distinctly of bergamot. The little house was clean and tidy. Framed photos of a young woman in military regalia or a pilot's uniform were hanging on the wall, and Rey realized with amazement that they were all various portraits of Leia, in her youth.

On the couch, an old gray cat yawned sleepily and on the carpet, an orange dog with a curved tail had approached Rey, eyes begging for a pat. Rey let the dog sniff her hand to get to know her, then smiled and patted her head affectionately.

“Well, hello! Hello! What's your name?”

“Her name is BB8,” answered Leia, sitting on a worn wicker chair. My brother’s dog, actually. She is the one I need you to take to San Francisco.

[eds-trashmouth]

PolyJAMorous

A/N: hi I hate this! But it’s here and it’s not what I intended but I hope you like it regardless. I’ve also decided that people probably don’t care about word count and all that so I’m not going to put it on anymore (unless you guys want me to) Thank you for the support and the next one will be better. I promise ❤️

-

A road trip was certainly not how the losers thought they would be spending their summer break before they all packed up and headed off to college. Yet, Richie had the bright idea to make the trip from Derry, Maine to Colorado. He’d come up with the idea a week or so into the start of their senior year. Luckily they’d had all school year to plan and save up money.

Richie got a job at the Aladdin, the local theater, taking tickets and cleaning up after the shows. He ended up making decent money and buying a used suv by the middle of the year. He had to cut out smokes but Eddie says it’s better that way. He’d do anything for Eddie so giving up cigarettes was nothing, although on his very stressful days Bev was nice enough to share a cig or two with him.

Eddie on the other hand, wasn’t allowed to get a job. Mrs. K turned down that idea almost immediately, yelling about how any job he would get as a teenager would be flipping burgers and she couldn’t have her precious Eddiebear flipping burgers in a “disgusting” fast food place. So, he decided he would tutor some underclassmen after school. He had put up flyers around campus to try to get some tutoring jobs but ultimately he didn’t get that many. He even tried to back out of the trip because he felt bad for having less than everyone else. Richie was the first to shut that idea down. “You’re going Spaghetti. Even if I have to pay for you myself. It’s a losers trip. Gotta have all seven of us!”

It took Beverly until the middle of the school year to finally find a job. Through no fault of her own, it seems that when the whole town thinks you’re dirty as a child, you don’t find many people who forget that kind of thing. She eventually landed a job with Richie at the theater. She suspected the Trashmouth himself had something to do with that, but she knew he’d never tell.

Now, Mike and Stan had a pretty easy time finding work. They’d been together since Sophomore year and Stan loved helping out on the farm, so Mike asked his grandfather if they could get paid for some of the farm work. It took a little convincing but by the third week of school, Mike and Stan were already getting their first week of pay. Stan definitely enjoyed rubbing it in Richie’s face that he got to see his boyfriend and get paid to do so. Maybe Richie took a quick glance at Eddie when he did so. Maybe he didn’t.

Bill also had a pretty easy time finding work. There was a new YMCA opening up in Derry and Bill already had experience lifeguarding for the past two summers so he applied to work at their pool. Obviously he got it, and he even snuck the losers in a few times for a late night swim.

Ben had been working at the library since sophomore year so he didn’t have to do much worrying. He had the money saved up by December, and a little extra for Eddie just incase. Although, Richie already called dibs on paying for Eddie. Even if Eddie didn’t know it yet.

Today was finally the day. They’d made it through the school year and even stayed for graduation. The losers had all met up at Richie’s to help get ready for the trip. The sun was blazing down upon them as they packed everything into the van. Each loser had a duffle bag and they’d brought a cooler filled with lunchables, sodas, and flavored waters requested by Stan and Eddie. It didn’t take too long to load everything and hit the road.

Richie insisted on taking the first shift driving. The trip was a whole days worth of travel, inevitably they would need to stop for gas, food, and possibly even a hotel but Richie was determined to drive as much as he could before stopping. This trip was his baby, he’d been planning it all year. They hadn’t really set a destination yet, other than Colorado, the whole idea was to just decide to stop somewhere pretty. Of the losers, Richie, Ben, Bill, and Mike were the only ones with a license, they’d done the math and needed to switch every 7 hours or so.

“What are these idiots thinking?!” From the passenger seat, Eddie rolled his eyes. The roads were bustling by mid day, and the cars were just flying by. “Don’t they know the speed limit is only 70? They’re going to cause an accident.”

“Eds, I’m only going 65. They’re probably going like 75 or 80.”

“Well regardless, that’s still over the speed limit Richie! It’s dangerous!” Eddie was talking with his hands, overly exaggerating everything, giving it the emphasis he always seemed to. Richie couldn’t help but glance at the boy beside him. He smiled fondly as Eddie noticed his attention. “Eyes on the road Chee!”

“Would you two lovebirds q-quit bickering? I’m t-trying to nap before it’s my turn to drive.” Richie peeked into his rear view mirror to see Bill with his eyes still closed and his head on Ben’s shoulder in the very back seat. Ben didn’t seem to mind the intrusion, his attention was fully on the game Beverly was playing next to him. Stan and Mike were seated in the middle of the vehicle, a bench seat to share, and wearing one earbud each watching Netflix. Richie would’ve gagged had he not fully intended on doing the same with Eddie once he was done driving.

“Let’s listen to some classic Richie tunes then Spaghetti! Everyone else is doing they’re own thing.” He could see Eddie roll his eyes once more in his peripheral vision before he leaned down to get the aux cord for Richie. He laid his hand out, waiting for Richie’s phone, which he gladly handed over. “Alright, I wanna listen to something good. Let me think.”

“I’m playing something while you decide then.” Eddie already went to work, plugging in the aux and setting up the radio. He opened the phone with his thumb and in seconds was on Richie’s Spotify. Richie couldn’t help but think how much of a routine this was. Just for them. None of the losers had their thumb print on his phone, everyone else had to ask how to work the radio or where his aux was, but not Eddie. His Eddie.

“No Jonas Brothers. That’s my only request.”

“You love them, don’t pretend to be hardcore.” Eddie was already scrolling down his playlist to search. Before long a familiar beat filled the air. A Jonas Brothers song.

“Don’t out me like that, and then play my favorite JB song. You can’t do me like that Eds.”

“Not my name, and this is your punishment for calling Spaghetti as well.” Don’t Throw It Away off their newest album blessed the speakers. Richie couldn’t stop himself and soon began screaming the lyrics at the top of his lungs. His fingers tapped happily to the beat, while he danced in his seat. As the chorus hit and Richie had given into the music, he glanced over to see Eddie recording him.

“I know I’m famous but no pictures please. I’m just trying to live my truth!” Richie’s hand came up to cover the camera while he let out a loud laugh. Eddie was too quick for him though and moved the phone right out of his reach, leaning into the side door.

“Hands on the wheel and eyes on the road. You wouldn’t want us to die before we even get to Colorado would you? And besides, I have to document the trip. This is the last trip that we all get to have together before we move on.”

“I’ll never move on from you Spaghetti.” With his eyes still on the road, Richie tried grabbing for Eddie’s cheek only to get smacked away from the boy himself.

“Ha ha. Very funny Trashmouth. You know what I mean. We all have our own livings waiting for us when we get back. I want to remember this. Remember us Chee.” Out of the corner of his eyes Richie could see the slight flush on the boys face. “The losers that is. All of us.”

“Eddie,” Beverly spoke up from the back. “You know we’ll still be best friends right? Us going to college doesn’t change that. We can still have movie nights and study dates. Sure, it’ll be different because it’ll be through a screen but we will still be together. Once a loser, always a loser.”

The car fell into a comfortable silence after that. Richie’s mind always wondering to Eddie. This trip was really important to him, and Richie didn’t even know it. Eddie hadn’t told him and he hadn’t noticed. What kind of best friend is he? He couldn’t even see how worried Eddie was about the future. The future of the losers club. Of course Richie knew they’d always be together in some way, but he shouldn’t have assumed Eddie was feeling the same.

“Hey Eds,” Richie made sure to talk quietly, a conversation just for them. Eddie turned his attention from the road to Richie with a slight hum. “You know you’re my best friend right? And nothing will ever change that. Not even distance.” Eddie nodded in understanding but turned back to the window. Richie glanced at the time. They’d been driving for about 6 hours at that point, and the gas tank was getting pretty low.

“Alright. We’re stopping, we need some gas and then it’ll be Big Bill’s turn.” There was a chorus of okays as he looked for an exit with a gas station. Luckily the next one was only 10 miles down the road. He pulled off the exit and into a Speedway. “Go pee now! No accidents in my baby please!”

Everyone did their business and Bill paid for this round of gas. Richie checked the cooler to find only four more lunchables and a few flavored waters. He grabbed for the extra soda he’d packed to fill up the cooler again, making a mental note that they all needed a proper meal soon. Everyone piled back into the suv, Bill and Ben in the front, Stan and Mike once again on their middle seat, and Eddie Richie and Bev on the back bench seat. Then they were back on the road.

“Hey Eds, do you wanna watch some Netflix or something? I brought earbuds.” Eddie was in the middle of him and Bev and currently watching Bev play whatever game on her Switch. He’d been watching her since they left the gas station about an hour ago and Richie was jealous. Not of Beverly of course, just that she was getting Eddie’s attention. Richie had already listen to her explain her game to him, twice, and he wanted some Eddie time.

“Maybe later Rich. Bev is just about to beat this level but she only has like four units left. It’s really intense.” He didn’t even glance in Richie’s direction. If he would’ve, he would see the pout on his face and the hurt in his eyes.

“I don’t know what that means. What game are you even playing?” He was still pouting.

“Fire Emblem dude. I’ve already said that like five times since you’ve been back here. The new game came out and I’m obsessed. You get an X amount of fighters, they all have different abilities, and you have to try to kill all the enemies on the board. This game makes you a professor, so you have to train your students. This is a big deal. My class is about to kick ass. Now shush. It’s intense.”

“Sorry.” Eddie barely spoke as he continued watching Bev. Richie simply hung his head and plugged in his earbuds. He knew he was being a little ridiculous but he couldn’t help it. He’d spent 6 hours driving so it’s not like Eddie got much of his attention, and he deserved all of it. That just wasn’t in the cards this trip it seemed. It didn’t take long for Richie to get bored of Netflix, he was just watching old episodes of Criminal Minds anyways. Not even his guilty pleasure show could lift his mood. Looking over at Eddie once more, the other lad was still watching Beverly, but he also had his phone out on Instagram. Beverly had already finished the battle and he wasn’t even fully watching her. Yet, he hadn’t said a word to Richie. He’d be lying if he said that didn’t hurt, but he didn’t blame him. He wouldn’t want to be annoyed for hours either. Unless it was Eddie annoying him of course.

Richie went back to his own little world, turning on his ‘sad boi’ playlist, it felt fitting. He knew it was silly, but he felt like a fool. Of course Eddie would rather do anything else than spend this trip with Richie. This was his last trip with most of their friends, but Richie was going to UCLA with him. Why would he want to spend time with him? He already had to spend at least four more years with his annoying friend who made stupid jokes that weren’t even funny...and was secretly in love with him.

Fuck.

Richie’s mind was jerked to consciousness as the car came to a stop. He didn’t even remember falling asleep. With a yawn, he lifted his head off the arm of the seat. Man, his neck was killing him. As he cracked his neck he wondered how he even fell asleep lying on that in the first place. The doors were slammed open as everyone filed out one by one. Richie being the last to emerge, he caught a glimpse of the Taco Bell beside them and realized he was indeed starving.

“Lets fucking eat!” Beverly exclaimed running toward the restaurant doors. Everyone followed suit and mumbled their agreement. Eddie fell behind with Richie.

“Hey Chee. Did you have a nice sleep?” Richie didn’t even bother lifting his head as he simply shrugged. His mind was still elsewhere. He’d never admitted to himself that the things he was feeling were more than platonic but now it’s the only thing he could think of. The way he enjoyed the other boy’s attention, his eyes, his lips, his whole fucking face. He wasn’t ready to reveal his feelings so he suppressed them, even if it meant ignoring Eddie. He was sure Eddie would be relived anyways.

“Did you wanna watch Netflix after we eat? I’ve been looking forward to that Blake Anderson movie you downloaded.” Richie finally looked at him, honestly in shock that the other still wanted something to do with him. Which was a mistake. He shouldn’t have looked, then he wouldn’t have caught the sun in Eddie’s eyes.

“Nah it’s okay Eds. You can keep watching Bev play, I don’t mind.” Richie waved him off as they stepped inside.

“But I want to! Have you seen the trailer for Game Over Man? It looks fucking hilarious.”

“Oh. Sure, you can watch it. I think I’m just going to drive the rest of the way. I took a nap.” With that, Richie walked to the register to order. The other losers were already sat a table toward the back, waiting for their food. Eddie could pretend to want to spend time with him, but Richie could tell he wasn’t interested in the car. What would change that now? He had accepted it, and just wanted to drive. It helped him get away. Neither boy spoke the entire time they were eating, while the others engaged in casual conversation. If they noticed the two being quiet they didn’t mention it.

“Hey. I’m going to drive. I napped.” Richie grabbed the keys from Bill as he started toward the drivers side. He didn’t wait for a reply as he got in and started the suv. They had around 8 more hours until the reached Colorado and Richie intended on driving the entire way. It seemed like every could sense the tension but was too afraid to say anything. By the 20 hours mark everyone in the back was sleeping soundly while Richie jammed out. Everyone except Eddie. He’d been listening to Richie play half a song then change it, then listen to half another song then change it, and so on, for the past hour and a half. Richie knew he was probably being annoying, but he was more interested in keeping his mind off his own insecurities than noticing. It took another five songs for Eddie to finally snap.

“What the fuck Richard? Why do you keep changing the song?! Let one finish.” Richie didn’t need to look at him to know he was rolling his eyes, and probably pouting as well.

“Eds, did you just meme me? The meme lord.”

“First of all. No one says meme lord anymore. Second of all. We haven’t listened to a full song in hours, and it’s driving me insane.”

“I have multiple favorite songs and I love them equally. What can I say? I’m polyjamorous.”

“Ugh. Just shut up and pick a fucking song already.” Eddie turned his body to look out the window as he went silent and crossed his arms. Richie didn’t say another word, simply choosing a playlist and letting it play. This was going to be the longest five hours of Richie’s life. He hated making Eddie upset, but he didn’t want to open his dumb mouth and make everything worse. He always made everything worse...

“Hey, uh, Eds?” Richie finally broke the silence, Eddie had been staring out the window for two hours now and Richie was starting to worry. “I’m sorry about the music.” Eddie’s attention snapped to him as he turned back to him.

“That’s not why I’m upset idiot. Why are you being like this? We barely talked this entire trip! I was really looking forward to this, but now I’m just thinking it was a mistake.” Richie sneaked a glance in his direction before turning back to the road. He saw Eddie’s hurt expression and suddenly felt like an asshole.

“You made it pretty clear earlier that you weren’t interested in watching anything with me. I was just making it easier for you, by taking myself out of the equation. You can do what you wanna do now.”

“What? What are you talking about? I literally asked if you would watch it with me!”

“I know you only asked because I seemed down. But I’m okay Eds. You could’ve watched Bev play more. I didn’t take it personally don’t worry.” Richie tried to give a smile but it didn’t even meet his eyes.

“No Chee. I am worried. You’re talking non sense. I asked because I wanted to spend time with you. Dumbass. I was only watching Beverly because you needed to sleep! You’d just driven like seven hours in the early morning and I know you don’t sleep at night.” Richie’s eyes widened at Eddie’s words. He was officially speechless. Eddie wanted to spend time with him? He was just worried?...about Richie’s well-being? No way. No way Richie had misread the entire situation. No way.

“Richie. If you don’t say something I’m going to be more upset. Just being honest.” Eddie’s arms were once again crossed.

“I...don’t know what to say. I thought you seemed really disinterested in Netflix...with me.”

“I’d watch anything with you.” Eddie’s voice was so soft, Richie had to lean closer to even hear him.

“But...why?”

“Because I love you. You big dumb idiot.” Richie’s hands gripped the steering wheel as his brain processed what was just said. Platonic Richie. Platonic. He means it platonically....doesn’t he? Of course he does.

“Richie...” Eddie’s voice was soft once again as he leaned over to lay his hand on Richie’s. “When we stop, we should really talk.”

-Taglist

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Let me know if you’d like to be tagged or removed! (Or your name changed or something)

[theworldofsisi]

Yagami was awoken out of a nightmare by the blaring ringtone of his cellphone. Grunting, he fumbled around blindly for the cause of the commotion, sighing in relief when his hand came into contact with the plastic. Without opening his eyes, he pressed what he hoped was the accept call button and placed the phone to his ear.

“Hey, turn around.” It was Ayabe’s voice, but it sounded closer, like there was an echo of sorts. Which meant —

“What the hell? How do you keep getting in here?” Yagami cursed, turning around to face the desk where Ayabe sat, his legs crossed over the desk and a too smug smirk on his face.

“I’m still a cop, remember? Surprised I didn’t wake you up, picking a lock isn’t exactly a quiet task. You sleep like a corpse.”

“Hah, you’d know a lot about that, huh? Coming from the guy who was knocked out long enough for someone to steal his gun, commit a murder, and perfectly cover his tracks. Surprised you’re still a cop. Oh, was that too soon?”

Ayabe grimaced. “Touche. Not my finest moment, I agree.” Ayabe shifted in his seat, turning to face Yagami head on. “anyway. I came by to ask if I could treat you to a round at Tender. You really saved my ass with the whole Kuroiwa thing. I owe ya one.”

“I was just doing my job.”

“No, you were doing your old job. You came out of retirement to help me. And, you got me off with a slap on the wrist. To sweeten the deal, you even got me off for the crimes that I was guilty of. I didn’t even pay you to do that.”

“Ugh I know. Don’t remind me.” Yagami grumbled, grabbing his pack of cigarettes from the table and lighting one. He took a huff before turning back to Ayabe. “People like you are why I can’t go back to being a lawyer. Getting paid to defend you for one thing and it turns out you’re guilty of another. I can’t do it.”

Ayabe stared at him, an uncharacteristically somber expression on his worn face. “I know. That’s why I wanna take you out for a drink. After everything you’ve been through recently, you deserve a fucking break. Yeah, it may have been your job, but you didn’t have to get me off for selling intel. You could’ve let me rot and lose my job over that. But, thanks to you, evidence against me was found inadmissible due to Kuroiwa’s involvement.”

“Don’t underestimate Hoshino-kun’s involvement. Remember, he’s the one who got you off the hook after I fled the courtroom.”

“Believe me, I owe him too. But he wouldn’t have been able to prove my innocence without you.”

“Speaking of the innocent verdict, what are you plans from here on out?”

“Well, obviously prices on my intel are going to rise dramatically. They’re going to be watching me now, which means the stakes are higher. Gotta make the gains worth putting my ass on the line.”

“Wait, you’re kidding me, right?”

Ayabe didn't even blink. "Nope."

Yagami took another huff of his cigarette, digesting this information. “So,” he said after a moment of silence, “you’re telling me that after all the effort that I put into getting you off the hook, you’re gonna go right back and commit the crimes that gave them motive to suspect you in the first place?”

“Look, Yagami-san - being a detective pays the bills, barely. But, it doesn’t get you ahead in the world. And, especially here in Kamurocho, ahead is exactly where you want to be. Otherwise, this city’ll trample all over you and knock you right back down to the bottom of the barrel along with the other sad sons of bitches who didn’t take the opportunities offered to them.”

Yagami snorted. He couldn’t help hold the noise back as he shook his head. “You call your gig an opportunity? Because I think your superiors might have something else to say about your little side business.”

Ayabe shrugged. “It’s a way to get ahead and cement myself in Kamorucho’s underworld, which is where all the money is. There’s benefits in walking both sides of the law, ya know?”

“So I hear.”

“As they say, if you can't beat them, then you damn well better join them. Plus, after straddling the line for this long, I’m not sure I could go back to boring old detective life, even if I wanted to. Not to mention that by the book detective work isn’t all it’s cracked up to be if Kuroiwa is any indication.”

“Touche,” Yagami relented, snuffing out his cigarette in the ashtray before giving Ayabe a serious look. “if you insist on continuing, just be careful, okay? I’m not sure if the department will be as lenient with you if you get caught a second time, and I don’t want to have to defend your guilty ass in court again.”

“Is that implying that if the need arose, you would defend me again? I’m touched Yagami-san, truly.”

“Yeah don’t let it go to your head. You’d be paying out your ass for making me come out of retirement again. My services don’t come cheap.”

“Yeah, I’d even wager that they might even be a tad overpriced.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Yagami demanded, his dark eyes blazing. “I’ll just let you rot in prison next time, then. Ungrateful dick.”

“Heh, it’s fun to fuck around with you, Yagami. On a serious note, how about that drink? I think you and me both could use one.”

“Fine, but I want the most expensive shit that Masuda had hiding behind the bar. I won’t settle for anything less.”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you want, I’ll foot the bill.”

“Do you think we should invite the other members of the band of merry misfits? They all played pretty crucial roles in helping me get you off.”

“Yeah, I know. Sugiura-kun is already swinging by and picking everybody up in his creeper van. He should be here in five. He stopped to pick up Okubo-kun as well, so we can both celebrate our triumphant releases from the slammer.”

“Heh, the only difference is that Okubo deserved to be released.”

Ayabe was saved from having to respond as Sugiura impatiently honked the van’s horn, indicating the gang’s arrival. He gave Yagami a smirk, cocking his head to the side as he gestured towards the door.

“After you, Yagami-san?” he asked, opening the door and holding it open for the detective, who shook his head but nonetheless, he walked out the door, unspoken words hanging heavy between them.

Regardless of if Ayabe deserved to released, Yagami had done the job assigned to him, and he would hopefully, never have to step foot into a courtroom again.

[spoonie-living]

[Image: a person in plaid flannel and boots falling on the backdrop of a foggy sky. Credit: Pexels]

The Hard Fall: How getting on disability can impact your benefits (U.S.)

As spoonies, we’re generally occupied with getting on disability, but what happens once we win our case?

My lawyer didn’t prepare me at all for this, so when I got my confirmation letter and first payments, I had no idea what it would do to my government services.

When I called around, I got directed to some local government office. “Yeah honey,” the woman on the other line said sympathetically, “we call that the hard fall.”

And hard it was; I lost access to several doctors and had to pay out of pocket while sorting out my prescription coverage. And honestly, it could have been a lot worse.

This is something you want to know about before you win, because the last thing you need is to flail around trying to sort everything out as fast as possible. Trust me, I’ve been there. And I’d like it if you didn’t have to go there.

If you’re waiting on a case, take a few minutes to look through this information! It’ll help you set your expectations and save you some grief as you get settled after your case comes through.

I’ll be updated this as I come across more information (or potholes in the road), so click here to see the most up-to-date version of this post!

Disability backpay can push you out of resource-/asset-based programs

If you’ve been waiting a while on your case, your backpay could be pretty huge; after about two years, mine was $35k!

HEADS UP: If you’re blazing through your disability backpay to handle unpaid bills, be sure to leave yourself a decent cushion in case you have to pay for things out of pocket while everything gets sorted out.

If you’ve been benefiting from programs that determine eligibility based on how much cash you have in the bank (for example, food stamps), your backpay will probably knock you right out of them.

Take a moment to assess what government services you receive and prepare for their loss. In theory, the extra disability income will replace it, but… well, that’s only in theory.

NEED AN ESCAPE ROUTE? There’s an option called an ABLE Account that allows you to set cash aside for anything related to living with a disability (and that’s a broad category). This cash does not count towards your assets as evaluated by some (some) assistance programs.

You can only deposit $15k/year, though, so depending on the spare cash you end up with, you may spend a year off asset-based services. Note also that your disability (as recognized by the government) must have had an onset before 26 to quality.

Disability income can push you out of income based services… like Medicaid

I gave a thought to insurance only once I received the letter confirming my win. I had heard something about getting on Medicare, but not much else. I figured I’d have both at once. But… that wasn’t the case.

Turns out, disability income counts towards the income cutoffs associated with Medicaid. Yes, I now “make too much money” to qualify for Obamacare. Which didn’t exactly make sense. If I qualify for income assistance due to a disability, why wouldn’t I be a good Medicaid candidate? And why, oh why, would being declared disabled be a good time to mess with a person’s medical coverage?

What I learned is all comes down to the state/federal divide. Medicaid is state, and Medicare and disability are federal. The state doesn’t care where the money comes from; it’s just income to them. Meanwhile, Medicare is granted to everyone who gets on disability. Some folks with low enough disability income are “dual eligible” (which comes with its own weird logistics), but others, like me, end up just on Medicare.

This was really bad news for me, as Oregon Medicaid has really fantastic coverage. I got lucky with my providers overall, but still lost access to a couple important ones. You’ll want to look ahead as you wait on a determination and figure out whether you’ll be paying out of pocket or dealing with a gap in care as you start the insurance shuffle.

WARNING: While some states offer Medicaid coverage for naturopathic medicine (thanks, Oregon!), be aware that Medicare does not. You’ll need to pay out pocket or look for a Part C plan (see below) that does cover naturopaths. Which will be cheaper? Get out your calculator…

ETA: Medicare doesn’t cover routine dental or vision, either! It’s worth calling one of the orgs listed under Getting Help, below, to see if there are some subsidized options for you. Otherwise, check out this article for some ways to get that dental coverage. It looks like an Advantage Plan (Part C, see below) is the best option if you need vision coverage.

About Medicare coverage

The first thing to know about Medicare is that it has multiple, potentially moving, parts. Part A is hospital and emergency coverage, B is routine medical care, and D is prescriptions. What about C? Well, C is optional, bundled coverage that overwrites parts A, B, and D.

I don’t know all the factors involved in my case, but what I do know is that I received core Medicare for parts A and B, with Aetna for part D (prescriptions). However, there was a gap between that and the end of my Medicaid prescription coverage—so I was enrolled in the NET program, which is another prescription coverage to ensure you don’t get wrecked by transitions like this.

The most fun part? Nobody called me to get me “set up” and fill in the gaps. I was at the mercy of bureaucracy and the postal service to know what I was enrolled in. So for a little while I was just spinning my wheels and definitely paid for a prescription or two out of pocket.

NOW I KNOW: I probably could have created an account with Medicare.gov to get that info sooner. It’s worth trying, to see if you can save yourself the trouble.

Once I gave my insurance info to the pharmacy, they were able to initiate a partial refund for the difference. If they hadn’t, I would have needed to put in a claim by mail and waited for that to process.

BUT SERIOUSLY: Don’t wait on getting stuff in the mail. I got my “welcome to Medicare” brochure a full four months after actually getting on the damn thing. Luckily my actual card and prescription coverage info came much faster than that, but I just want to really illustrate what a mess this system is.

Paying for Medicare

Your Medicare coverage may not be free. With standard Medicare, you’re given specific monthly premiums, deductibles, copays, and more based on your income level.

SOMETHING NICE: In my case, there are no costs for my coverage this year; I think this is a kindness extended to ease the transition. I’m personally likely to save money this way, but another patient might potentially save by moving straight to a (paid) Part C plan.

Saving money and accessing doctors with Part C

My heart sank a bit when I first looked at what I had been given: Medicare isn’t really “one size fits all” in terms of price or coverage, and certainly wasn’t a good match for me.

Luckily, we have Part C to compensate for that. The government essentially contracts out to other insurance providers for Part C, so that folks can find a different mix of fees and coverage that better suits their medical needs.

So, you’re going to have some kind of coverage from day one. But once you get your wits about you, it’s definitely worth looking at your options in the Part C “marketplace.” In fact, Medicare.gov has a handy tool that’ll let you enter in your prescriptions, doctors, and more. Then the site will spit out the most advantageous plans for you.

Getting other/additional insurance

You might not be happy with any of your options under Medicare—and unfortunately, being on Medicare means you can’t buy coverage on the insurance marketplace.

That being said, there are some programs out there that’ll help you out.

A great example is Medicaid Buy-in Programs for disabled folks who work (even the tiniest bit, as long as you claim the income on your taxes). This does have resource limits, though, so don’t get too excited until you’ve figured out what kind of backpay you’re getting.

What else is out there? It really depends on your situation and your state. Your best bet is to contact your state’s DHS (mentioned below) and ask them to help you identify your options.

Getting help

As I’m sure you’ve gathered by now, Medicare is an old system that’s been rebuilt, patched, and painted over—and navigating it (especially in conjunction with other benefits) can be a bit of a nightmare.

Luckily, there are programs that can help! Getting connected with them should be one of the first things on your to do list after getting on disability. Here are the two major ones that I was encouraged to work with:

State Health Insurance Assistance Programs (SHIP) - This is a resource center and network of advisors meant to specifically help you navigate public insurance options. You can find your state’s program here. Oregon’s program, SHIBA, has a volunteer come visit you and explain how Medicare works—and honestly, this visit is what enabled me to make sense of all of this enough to write an article about it!

Your state’s Department of Human Services (DHS) - specifically, their senior and disability program - Once you register with them, they can help you access additional support programs, including insurance and food stamps. They may know about programs you aren’t aware of, so it’s worth filling out the form and getting a quick case review.

Other things to look out for when you get on disability

[Only one item for now. I’ll fill in more as the surprises hit.]

This year’s taxes are gonna be weird. Depending on your financial situation, you may want to get the paid version of TurboTax or get a tax consultant in on things. The short version, though, is that you can choose to modify previous years’ taxes to incorporate the backpay you received, or claim it all on your coming tax forms.

…and that’s what I learned from my hard fall. I truly hope it helps you avoid the stress I dealt with, or at least anticipate it more adequately.

Did you have a “hard fall”? Do you have advice to add to this? Do feel free to comment with your experience or contact me with any additions!

❤️, Editor Diane

[megalony]

Roger’s girl- Struggles

Another part of the series that goes along with the idea of Roger being a single dad.

Enjoy.

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

"Freddie for God's sake!" Roger scolded, a whine passing through his lips when he felt the small head resting in the crook of his neck shifting, pulling up a little to look at the door to the apartment. Indicating that Freddie had now woken up the three-year-old who Roger had tried to hard to get to go to sleep, with his singing and obnoxious entrance. But the singer ignored the anger thrown towards him as he continued to walk into the apartment followed by the two other bandmates. Moving his free hand rested his thumb and index finger to the bridge of his nose as he took a deep breath, trying to calm down and push the wave of fatigue from his system. Countless times he had told the singer he needed to knock before barging into the apartment, especially in moments like these when he was trying to get Lily to sleep. And time and time again Freddie barged into the apartment making his presence known very loudly. As soon as the door opened Roger knew what would happen, and he was right as his daughter who had previously been drifting off to sleep on his chest was now waking up and looking to her uncles. Roger had taken to walking around the new apartment holding Lily to his chest, her head resting on his shoulder tucked into his neck to try and lull her to sleep. Just as he went to the kitchen to try and get a drink Freddie made the band's presence known and Lily was awake at once.

"Oh what a cutie you really are Roger." Freddie stated, smiling at the scene in front of him as he took a seat on the armchair next to the sofa which Brian and John took to occupying. Watching the drummer put down the mug in his hand on the kitchen counter, moving his hand to the back of Lily's head hoping she was tired enough to fall back to sleep quickly. Sighing when he realised she wasn't going to do that. "It's time to get the schedule ready for the next few months." Brian stated, lips pressing together sadly as Roger gestured to the toddler on his chest. The band always set up schedules with Jim to work out how many months they think they needed on the new album and then what kind of tour to do. If they wanted to work in the studio or go to a practice stage for example and then the time frame allowed them to think of when they would be next on tour to make sure they could set that up in advance. Roger had really hoped he had another few days before this conversation came up because he knew it wasn't going to be a very easy topic to talk about. Especially with what he wanted to do since the band were planning a tour soon. "Two minutes." Roger sighed, turning and walking from the kitchen down the small corridor and heading into his room. It was hard enough to get Lily to sleep in her own room when she was asleep let alone when she was awake like she now was. Walking over to the curtains Roger closed them enough to leave only a few streams of light entering the room before getly laying Lily down in the middle of the bed. Smiling down at her gently as she rubbed at her eyes which were clearly close to closing slowing she was tired but trying to fight it. A yawn escaping her lips before Roger leaned down and kissed her temple. "I won't be long baby." He stated quietly before leaving the room satisfied she was alright with him leaving her for a little while. Walking back into the room he sat down on the only other vacant seat in the living room, that being the other armchair next to the side of the sofa John was sitting on. Seeing they were all ready for a band discussion and the fact Roger couldn't very well leave the flat right now Brian clapped his hands together as if starting a meeting. Seeing that they were going to have to talk here and then they could pass on the decisions to Jim, or 'Miami' as Freddie liked to call him now. "Okay, so Miami's booking a tour of America again so we need to know how soon each of us can be ready for that. He thinks this one should be three months in the least." Brian stated, reeling off the information he had processed from what Jim had told him earlier on the phone. Being their manager, he was in charge of sorting out the dates and times for their tours and getting the venues booked and transport, most of which he was already sorting out. "Two months." Roger suddenly came out with, the three other men sat along with him frowning and staring at him in confusion. The drumner knew how this worked, they had gone through these discussions countless times already. They stated if they could go in two weeks or a month at the very latest or even in one week but two months was too late. They needed to go as soon as possible since their album was hitting the charts now so they should be there whilst people are listening to their songs which are getting to the top of the charts. Rather than touring when the songs are coming down from the charts and people are moving on. Their album was currently flying off the shelves meaning this was a great point for them to leave to tour. "Rog, come on." Brian stated, hoping this was some joke and that Roger wasn't simply trying to be difficult for the sake of it. All seeing in his eyes that he was being deadly serious, a kind of worry blazing behind his eyes. "I'm serious Bri, I'm not leaving here for two months Miami can set the date for after that." "Why?" John stated with a small sigh, knowing an argument was bound to arise at any given moment because tempers were already starting to rise. This time though Roger had pure intentions and he didn't mean to start an argument with them he simply needed this time off. Both John and Brian had wives and children, but that was the difference between them and Roger, he didn't have a significant other. He had to ask his family to look after Lily when he went on tour and during the day he had to have a babysitter or take her to nursery because he was always needed at the studio. Doing this alone was much harder due to the kind of job Roger had and he wasn't willing to leave until he had had ample time with Lily before having to abandon her yet again. "We've been home from the studio for just about a month, and now we're going away for another three. We get home at god knows what time in the mornings and evenings and I see Lily a couple of hours a day if I'm lucky and most of that is spent sleeping. I'm not going until I've had time with her because at this rate she thinks I'm abandoning her." "So you don't want to do a tour?" Freddie questioned, eyebrows raising in question. "You were the one to push yourself further to do a solo career as well as being in the band-" "Don't you dare!" Roger snapped, Freddie was one of his closest friends, they had worked together on the market to make extra scraps of money when they were desperate. Freddie had shared a flat with him and his daughter when she was still a baby to help Roger pay the bills and for him to have a cheap place to stay. Roger hated arguing with them when it didn't involve making music but it always seemed to be happening. "You know fucking well that I did that because I wanted to sing my own songs for once. I didn't do that to abandon you and it brought extra bloody money in because I'm on my own here don't act like I was leaving you all." Roger had come up with so many songs when they were working on the last album and they couldn't put everyone's songs on the album. So Roger had decided that he would do a solo album with Jim as his manager because he liked singing songs he had recorded and created on his own. It brought extra money in especially since people knew him from Queen and wanted to buy his album. He wasn't trying to leave the band he was just expanding himself musically and it didn't take up too much time from being with Lily like Freddie was insinuating. Roger needed the money because he provided for himself and for Lily, he paid for the flat alone now and he had to pay people to watch his daughter when he was working which none of the others had to do. "We just got a bloody big fucking sum of money from the album." Freddie retorted, throwing his hands up before he reached into his pocket for a cigarette. "Don't you fucking dare light that in my flat." Roger warned, eyes burning into Freddie's as the singer suddenly remembered Roger's rule. If you came round to his house you didn't smoke at all. The drummer had been heavily addicted to smoking until Lily came over with a chest infection and Roger couldn't have them making her any worse by smoking in the flat. He never smoked around her or in the same room but everyone had become accustomed to lighting a cigarette whenever they wanted because in the other band member's houses it was fine to do so. "You know what happens with that money Fred, you and Brian get more than me and Deaky because you write the fucking hits, it doesn't matter if me and Deaky help you make the rhythms for it. Whoever makes the hits gets the sum for it no splitting it fairly so yeah I made more money from a solo album but that amounts to the same amount you got from one album that I got from two. I pay for Lily's stuff, my own and this flat and I'm not going back on tour for another two months, got it?" It was like a silent agreement between them all that Roger didn't even remember signing. Hits like killer queen and seven sees of rhye meant most of the money on that song went to Freddie because he wrote the lyrics and he had the idea for the song in his head. Brian wrote the majority of the other songs on the album so he got a bigger cut for his input and John and Roger got whatever was left. At first they never seemed to mind, it made sense at first because of whose hit it was. Then Roger got to thinking, why shouldn't they split it equally between them? Roger helped with the lyrics like how to song them and he was a bloody good singer. John helped with the guitar riffs and so did Brian who helped to perfect the lyrics Freddie came up with. They all had input on every song and each one said it was made by Queen, but written by whoever. And yet they were dividing it out to who deserved it more. Roger didn't have a partner bringing in money like they did. John had Veronica, Brian had Chrissy and even Freddie had Mary. Roger had to support Lily on his own and he had to pay for the flat, the food the clothes and whatever else they needed all on his own wages which were not enough when Lily was first born and he walked out with her. Now they were getting more money it was easier, he had moved out of the poxy flat he was in before to one he could actually walk around in. But at the time of the album being made Roger realised most of the songs were written by Brian and Freddie, his songs weren't good enough for the band but they would be perfected by him if he made a solo album. He realised he wasn't going to get nearly as much as them even if it was a significant pay rise especially after the last tour they did whihc boosted album sales. Knowing this, Roger talked to Jim who agreed to help him, making sure that it wouldn't affect his work with Queen because he didn't want to leave his band. By the time the album finished and it started selling Roger got a big lump sum from both albums that amounted to what Freddie and even Brian made off of one album alone. And he never said anything because he had enough money now and he had his own music career. "Rog, that's how it's worked for four albums. We've done countless tours even before the albums and we have our biggest album now, we need to do this tour soon." Brian stated as John looked to the drummer sadly, he understood where everyone was coming from and Brian was right about the tour but not the money problems. "Well this isn't going to work like that now." Roger commented, running a hand through his newly shortened hair. "Chrissy looks after your kid, Veronica looks after both of yours when we go on tour, and me? I have to beg my parents or my sister to take in Lily for months because I need to work away. I have to phone Lily and hear her crying to me asking when I'm coming home because three months to her is like a year, she worries I'm not going to come back and that fucking kills me. I'm paying someone to care for my own daughter nearly every day we slave in that studio and you take the fucking money for it and you don't seem to realise what that does to me. I'm having a two month break from everything and I'm staying with my daughter now you can accept that or piss off and find another drummer frankly I don't give a shit what you do right now." Roger's temper flared but his voice remained level as not to be loud enough to wake Lily or scare her if she heard shouting voices. The babysitters that looked after Lily saw Roger's own daughter more than he did at this point and every phone call he had when he was on tour from her broke him. Even when she was too young to speak properly he could still hear the fear in her voice as she wailed down the line for him to come home. And each time Roger almost cancelled the tours, almost. His hand had been hovering over Jim's door to tell him that he needed a flight booking to go home but each time Roger stuck it out for the sake of the band and the income even when tours did little for their income but more for their fame. He wanted to stay with Lily and maybe take her away which he never seemed to do. All of the boys dared not bring up the subject of Lily coming on tour because it was suggested this time she was old enough to come along with them but Roger was unsure. As much as he wanted to it might not be the right environment for her and he still would need someone there to watch over her when they were working. "Lily needs Rog and I'm not going to tear him away from her. I'll talk to Jim." John stated, getting to his feet and nodding at his friend before leaving the apartment. He had said nothing duringthe argument because he never felt comfortable enough to do so. He was sitting on the fence in the arguments but now he could do nothing but agree with Roger who desperately needed time with his little girl. "We'll talk to him." Freddie stated for both him and Brian who nodded in union. They never thought of how Roger was struggling even after the pay rise they had because Roger spoke if he was in trouble. When he was struggling with the rent for his flat Roger asked Freddie if he would consider sharing a flat with him and his eight month old daughter and Freddie agreed straight away. Partially because he needed a better place to stay that wasn't cramped with over five people and partially because he knew he couldn't let Roger have money troubles with a baby to care for. Brian didn't think the money was the main reason Roger did his solo album. When he first told them Jim had agreed to manage him for a solo album they all immediately thought that he was leaving the band until he explained he had so many songs he wanted on the album that they couldn't fit and he wanted to make something of them. As well as making something of himself in another career on the sidelines, promising Queen would be his main priority and everyone went along with it. Now all seeing he was indeed suffering from needing to be with his daughter and needing to provide for her.

[forever-more-never-again]

Fire and Water (Part Two/Five)

Summary: Avengers X Enhanced!Reader. Takes place during Civil War. The reader fights with Captain America. They get taken to the Raft. Angst! 

Word Count:1162

Warnings: Abuse, PTSD, torture, ANGST!

A/n: So I know a lot of you guys wanted a sequel to this story, and I have decided to continue it! This will be a five part story, so please stay tuned!

Fire and Water Part one

Masterlist

“Go away.” The words were low, gutteral, dry.

The blonde haired woman inched closer to where you lay on the stone ground, “[Y/n]...please. This isn’t healthy.”

You snapped your eyes open and pierced Natasha with a glare, “Oh really, I hadn’t noticed.” You sneered sarcastically.

Natasha’s green eyes widened, and in them you saw a world of guilt and pity. It was the pity you hated the most. Out of everyone who came to visit, it was always Pity in their eyes.

“Go away.” You said once again, rolling over to face the stone wall.

After being cleared from the hospital, all physical injuries healed, you had come immediately to this place. The Underground abandoned subway society.

No one bothered you here. You faded into the background, which you preferred. You thought you had hid well enough that your previous fellow avengers wouldn't be able to find you. But apparently not well enough.

“Nice hair, by the way.” You sneered as you heard her footsteps head away, back down the tunnel.

Soon, you were back to being alone in your little nook that you had carved out underground. That was when the memories resurfaced.

“No!”

“Leave them alone!”

“They’ve done nothing!”

“Stop it!”

Being pulled by the hair. On your back looking up into several pairs of eyes. Hidden faces by their masks. Malice filled eyes.

Hours, without a break. Screams and yells fading away.

Face was swollen and bloody, eyes no longer able to produce tears.

Clothes ripped from your body, and abused in ways you never thought possible.

Sitting on the cold ground, Staring, unblinking, at nothing. Arms covered in goosebumps and rocking with harsh shivers.

Panting with panic, you shot straight up. Body covered in a fine sheen of sweat, you pulled your hand through your hair.

“Just a nightmare.” You laughed, the sound hollow, “My whole life is a fucking nightmare.” You knew you were speaking to no one, but that was normal now a days.

Crawling out of your little nook, you stretched and watched the bustle of the drug addicts, runaways, and hookers walking the abandoned tunnel.

Pulling the hood of your sweater up, you walked down towards where the black market was.

“Hey there Blaze.” The sound of your Avenger name caused a flinch so harsh, you stumbled and ran right into a cart holding apples, causing them to fall down and roll all over the ground.

Not even a second later, people swarmed and ran off with as much as they could carry. Leaving you face to face with a very angry merchant.

“You need to pay for all them apples! You cost me money!” The angry old man yelled, brandishing a dagger.

Sighing, you reached into your pocket and pulled out some dollar bills, “All I have is a twenty.” You said, shoving it towards the man.

That did not please him as he snarled, “Guess you’ll be paying in blood then.” And he stalked towards you.

The malice in his eyes. It took you right back to that watery grave nightmare. Of being used, abused, beaten.

Without meaning to, you ignited. Your whole body consumed in flames. “LEAVE ME ALONE!” You screeched, eyes pinched shut you lashed out.

When you eventually managed to calm down...It was a different nightmare that met your eyes.

Everything was on fire. People were screaming and running away from the vicious flames eating everything in their path.

Ignoring your nudity, your flames having disintegrated your clothes, you walked through the smoke, eyes wide in horror.

“I thought I would never have the honor.” You froze. The voice washing over you in waves.

Through the haze, through the smoke, stood a long figure. Glinting off the red and yellow flames, a brooch at their neck. Hydra.

“You know, your teammates have the entire city at your feet. The poor victim. And yet you hide down here with the rats and scum of the Earth.”

You narrowed your eyes, folding your arms across your chest, skin crawling as the man’s eyes traveled down the length of your naked form.

“I would rather be down here, than face the reality that is my family.”

Your tone was bitter, and you were surprised that you even told the Hydra man that much.

The man walked closer, chuckling. He was quite handsome for a villian. German, tall, chiseled jawline. Deep unsettling green eyes framed by black curled locks.

“Blaze. I heard about the raft. Such a shame. Hydra would have been more subtle in their tactics of breaking you in.”

You scoffed, laughing at the open amusement on the man’s sly smirk. “You really think Hydra could handle me?”

The man took another step forward, you refused to give in, staying where you were.

He reached out and snuffed out a stray ember in your hair between his fingers, not looking in your eyes, instead focused on his hand in your hair, he whispered, “I have a proposition for you.”

Leaning back to look into his eyes, you actually considered saying yes. But then you shook your head and stepped out of his grasp, “Sorry, but I don’t do deals with Villians.”

The man raised his eyebrows at your casual tone, “And yet you haven’t made an attempt to kill me.”

You shrugged, averting your eyes. The screams had died down, as had the flames. Having eaten everything except concrete and metal.

“The World waits up above,” The man pointed up, “And yet you waste away down here. The world could be at your feet. All the torture and anguish you felt at the hands of those who thought themselves superior, who sought to destroy you, they could feel your wrath, you could have your vengeance.”

As the man spoke, softly, visions of the men who abused you in the Raft filtered through your mind. Intermingled with images of the Avengers. Tony, drinking champagne at a party, Steve laughing at an old world war two story, Vision phasing through walls, Wanda levitating your favorite mug and laughing as you tried to reach it, Clint teaching you how to shoot arrows.

They were all covered in a fine mist of red. Of hate. Of fear.

“What’s your name?” You interrupted the man.

He smiled at you, holding out a hand for a shake, “The name is Demetri, my dear. And you are?”

The smile reached your eyes in a smirk, “I’m your new weapon, the name is [Y/n], but you can call me Blaze.”

Demetri flashed you a wink before whisking off his trench coat and pulling it over your shoulders.

 Slinging an arm around you, he gestured to your charred and burnt surroundings, “This is only the beginning, by the time we’re done, the world will be reborn.”

You paid no attention to the despair and pit opening in your heart, focusing instead on your hate, “It’s time for Iron Man and Captain America to face what they created.”

FOREVER Taglist:

@sxph-t @littlestfangirl @rainydaysrnevergrey @platonic-plots @sociallyawkwardcircus-freak-hi @ayyidkeither @mcuimxgine @mythixmagic @chas-z @iflew-onabus

Avengers Taglist:

@jadepc

Fire and Water series Taglist:

@shannonr2003 @chook007

[hpgphillip31-blog]

The Real Monthly Expenses Of Purchasing Home

For almost all of us end up being be a hopeless task. However, after suffering a loss following a disaster, naturally precisely how much of an insurance carrier will ought to do an individual file claims for convalescence.

Never give away your hotel or room number to anyone a person meet. Also, do not give out too much personal information like your identiity travel now with. You can easily learn clearly thank you, please, hello, and goodbye in the words of the united states you lay in your day. Divorce sent my borrowing into the toilet, perhaps the time there was little I made it worse do. Regardless of whether I started making regular payments and settling debts, the mark remained on my small credit. Repairing broken credit takes time, but anyone stick using a plan, paying everything on time, happen. One of my favorite frugal living tips, alongside tip that does not take lots of effort or cause of which you have to quit anything material, is function on losing electric and water payment. Buy some compact fluorescent light bulbs, turn out of the lights if your not inside the and unplug items when their not being used. Turning the water on and off while in order to washing dishes and letting a barrel fill with rainwater the to water your plants is a great way to save money on your water bill. There are many insurance businesses that provide quotes for insurance online. A person simply review their website and discover what protection company offers. If you can't have time shop obtain sit home and get quotes for insurance around the internet. Quotes for auto insurance, for google home insurance and any kind of other connected with insurance are going to easily accessible to you. The easy appreciate how valuable property is, should be to sit inside your living room and possess a think about everything that's in there, such for your television, the stand it's on and also the carpet its sitting during. Then do the same for covered you have in your house, and consider just how much each item cost a person. And of course think how much you're spending money on the mortgage each four weeks. Now think of the feeling you'll have, understanding how much each thing set you back, if your own accidentally started fire, or was burgled when you are away for that weekend. Not uncommon for visitors say that it will never occur to them, however how men and women develop who happen to robbed or lost the house in a blaze would you reckon said exactly which experts claim. And you'll never really know what Mother Nature has available.

You file a claim, insurance slides out and says you have $10,000 of damages. You have got a $2,000 deductible and those covered are usually depreciated 50%. If they have told ACV policy, the numbers look like this: $10,000-$5,000-$2,000=$3,000 Three thousand dollars will be the total amount paid by insurance. So how can we as insurance agents have a stand and able restore some very own customers? How can we improve our close relative amount? How do we change our customers' attitudes about price concise that causing for some amount of money will never cross their mind? I will answer that question with one word: rapport. Rapport is an interesting thing, much more you memorable, it allows you to likable first and foremost it forces you to be human. Exactly how do we build rapport with potential or existing clients? Outlined in this article we will talk about how going to the ground running with rapport, developing it at a word depart. I will show you how even worse more sales, improve your close ratio, learn more details on your clients and enjoyable while doing so.

[xthis-rebelle]

Don’t Let Go.

So I entered the PJO Secret Santa 2017 ( @pjosecretsanta2k17) and here’s my piece for my giftee; @basic-volk ((if you have an ao3, please give me your username so that i can gift it to you there, thanks))

Hope you enjoy it! Special thanks to @rosyredlipstick for beta’ing this for me.

title; don’t let go.

pairing(s); solangelo (Nico di Angelo//Will Solace), jasiper (Jason Grace//Piper McClean); percabeth (Percy Jackson//Annabeth Chase); reynabeth (Reyna Arellano//Annabeth Chase).

rating; general//teen.

notes; you didn’t ask for anything specific and this was gonna be a series, but I didn’t have the time to write it, so here’s 4.8 k words of solangelo angst and fluff instead :) also, nico calls will ‘amore’ (love) and things are implied, but not shown. This also set in a mortal a/u. Read it on the AO3.

Will Solace knows when his boyfriend is keeping a secret. For all the years they’d been together, (eight years, they’d gotten together when they were seventeen, exactly two months after Nico and him went on their first date: an annual Christmas fair that Nico knew Will badly wanted to go to) Nico has kept a secret exactly three times.

The first time, when he was nineteen, he told Will he was fine. In fact, he wasn’t. It had been his first Christmas since his mother and sister died. They were out shopping, and a drunk driver lost control of his vehicle, ran a red light and slammed into the car they were using, and they both, along with the di Angelo’s driver, Jules Albert, didn’t make it. Nico didn’t tell Will that it was eating him up inside. That he felt guilty, because he constantly questioned himself: how could he enjoy himself with his boyfriend and his mother and Bianca weren’t there anymore?

Another time, when he was twenty-one, he kept the fact that their close friends, Percy (who Nico liked at one point) and Annabeth had broken up and Annabeth was now together with Reyna, someone who Nico considered a second sister.

And finally, when he was twenty-three, he hid from Will the fact that he’d quit his job after graduating from college and was going to start to work at the DA’s office. The DA’s office had approved his application as soon as they saw he’d graduated at the top of his law class. Will, a medical prodigy, was going to start residency soon. Nico felt as if that would take a toll on them both and their already tight finances and so he wanted to be able to pick up whenever they fell short. They barely had any funds left for themselves after they paid rent, bills and bought monthly necessities, such as groceries. The drastic increase in salary for Nico would be able to comfortably cover it all, plus there would be enough left over for them to actually start saving properly, instead of depositing some money at random times only to have to withdraw it for some financial emergency, like the time when their rent had raised unexpectedly and they had to dip into the savings pool.

So Will knows when Nico is keeping a secret. He sees the signs. Nico is even more quiet than usual and he avoids looking Will in the eyes. In the aforementioned instances, Nico eventually caved and told Will everything. After talking through them, after letting Nico know that he could trust Will and he shouldn’t hide anything because effective communication was the key to a healthy relationship, all was good again.

But this time, Nico isn’t only keeping a secret, he’s lying. Even though Will gets a bit ticked off when Nico has his secrets, he respects Nico’s privacy, so he doesn’t push it, but something rubs him the wrong way when he knows Nico is lying and keeping secrets.

It’s almost seven o'clock when Will sits on the couch, thinking about all these things, waiting for Nico to come home. He has the night off for the first time this week. His week so far has been really hectic; working in the E.R. is no child’s play; all doctors were always busier during Christmas time, and honestly? He just wants to relax with his boyfriend.

His exhausting fifteen hour shift yesterday also adds to his exhaustion, doing nothing but giving him baggy eyes, a lethargic, sluggish feeling and dull, but normally brilliant blue eyes.

Outside is snowing and the couch is so warm and he has his favourite blanket wrapped around him. The news broadcast plays softly in front of him and the fire in the fireplace blazes bright.

He doesn’t know when he falls asleep.

When he wakes up, he groans and stretches his hand, grabbing his phone from the night stand next to his bed. Blurred numbers meet his eyes for a few seconds as he turns it on, but he gasps when his vision clears. It’s almost nine in the morning. Then, he realizes that he’s in his bed. The other side smells of Nico and the sheets are wrinkled. Nico was there, and it seems as though he’s already left for work.

Will starts to panic when work crosses his mind, and quickly checks the hospital roster he keeps on his wall. He doesn’t have a shift today, thank God, but he does have a twelve hour tomorrow morning at eight.  

He goes to the kitchen, sleepily pushing his blonde hair away from his forehead and makes a cup of coffee, black, just the way he likes it. After, he pours some Frosted Flakes into a bowl. He sits and has breakfast alone on a small dining table meant for two, his heart sinking in further into his chest.

He misses Nico so damn much.

They knew it was going to be hard when Will started residency and when Nico started working. They promised each other to face their obstacles together and to talk to each other if it was becoming too much for them to handle. But now, they were doing the exact opposite, and it feels like Nico is slowly drifting away. The distance and lack of communication between him and his boyfriend is slowly taking its toll on him. He can’t help the wobbling in his lower lip. One of the things he was always afraid of was watching their relationship slowly crumble, and Will feels like that’s exactly what he’s doing. He doesn’t have the emotional energy to deal with this so he goes back to bed after, and cries softly into his pillow.

His phone vibrates and there’s a tiny hope that it’s Nico.

Instead, it’s his best friend and fellow resident, Jason Grace.

Hey Will, I’ll drop by in half an hour with Piper to pick up the stuff for the annual hospital children’s Christmas party.

Will drags himself out of bed again, does his usual morning routine of brushing his teeth again after breakfast, showering, then changing into his at-home favourites: a plain, round-neck t-shirt and black sweats (it was too cold for his usual cargo shorts), and then brushing back his unruly hair, only for it to fall over his forehead again.

Finally, he puts on his happy face, smiling at himself in the mirror. The smile looks believable, so he leaves his bedroom.

Will knows outside is still cold and snowing, so he starts to prepare some hot chocolate for Jason and Piper to warm them up when they get to his apartment.

Then, he sits on the couch, picks up the novel he’d begun to read a week ago from the small table next to him, opens it to the bookmarked page and lets himself be taken into a different world for a while.

True to his word, Jason arrives within half an hour after the text within half an hour of the text being sent, Piper at his side.

“Hey Jase,” he greets them both with a hug, “Pipes.”

Will ushers them inside, since Piper is shivering in Jason’s arms.

“Do you guys want some hot chocolate? I just made it, so it’ll warm you up,” Will offered.

Piper gratefully accepts the offer. Will goes into the kitchen while they hang their coats and settle in and he comes back with two tall, steaming mugs of hot chocolate, which he places on the center table for them.

“How are Annabeth and Reyna?” Will asks.

Piper is close with the couple. They hang out every other week, even though Annabeth and Reyna married two years ago. Will never found out the whole story, but from what Nico told him, the whole thing between Percy, Annabeth and Reyna was really, really messy and they didn’t want anybody involved, so it was kept secret. Nico and Piper were the only ones who knew the actual story because they were the closest to the three.

Although Will should have been mad at Nico for keeping the secret (he was, for a few days, until he found out Piper hadn’t told Jason anything either), he let it go because he knew when not to pry. And that was a no-go zone. Whatever happened was so bad, Percy and Annabeth don’t even talk anymore.

“They’re fine. They’re actually starting to consider adoption,” Piper says to Will, a large smile gracing her lips as her eyes sparkle, excitedly.

“Wow, that’s a pretty big step,” Will’s eyes widen.

“It is,” Piper coos, sipping her chocolate, “They think they’re ready to start a family. I might be an aunt this time next year!”

“That’s really good, I’m happy for them,” Will says, with a small smile, “They’ll be really great parents.”

“And what about you? And Nico?” Jason asks innocently, unaware of the couple’s inner turmoil, or rather, Nico’s obliviousness to Will’s inner turmoil and insecurity.

Will sighs, his smile leaving his lips, “We’re fine.”

Jason narrows his eyes in suspicion. Will isn’t acting like his normally bright, bubbly self. He gets the feeling that Will isn’t telling him something, but he feels as though it isn’t his place to point out his observations. They make more small talk while Piper and Jason are finishing their hot chocolate, and the couple doesn’t stay too long after.

Will’s left all alone again when they leave.

He receives a text from another co-worker, Kayla, shortly after. The words makes his heart drop.

Hey Will, don’t mean to alarm you, but I wanted to let you know that I saw Nico walking past the hospital with a dark-haired, surfer-type of looking dude.

Will’s breath catches in his throat.

Dark hair, huh?

Percy.

Although he tries not to think about it, there’s a tiny voice in the back of his head that keeps nagging at him, keeps asking the one question that he’s trying to avoid.

Was Nico cheating on him? Was Nico finally bored of him, like he’d worried?

No. He wouldn’t, Will thinks firmly, silencing the voice in his head, Nico wouldn’t lie to Will without a good reason for doing so. And he definitely wouldn’t cheat. He’s a good person.

Against his better judgement, Will lets it go, picking up his novel again.

He doesn’t know Throne of Glass could be so interesting. Or distracting.

It’s about six o'clock when Nico gets home. Will is in the kitchen, preparing dinner.

“Will?” Will hears his voice call as the apartment door opens.

“In the kitchen!” Will replies.

Will sees Nico walking into the kitchen. He hugs Will from behind, pressing his lips to Will’s cheek as Will cuts carrots on the island. He’s making stir-fried vegetables and, not to toot his own horn, it smells heavenly.

“Percy stopped by, wanna come say hi before he goes home?” Nico asks, burying his face in the curve between Will’s neck and shoulder, arm still around his waist.

Will shoves away the unpleasant, green eyed monster that threatens to unleash itself when Nico lets him go. He turns off the stove and turns in the direction of the living room to tell Percy hi. What kind of person would he be if there’s a guest in his home and he doesn’t say hello?

Percy leaves after saying goodbye to them both and Will goes back into the kitchen to resume making dinner.

Nico follows Will into the kitchen, noticing his cold and detached attitude. It’s not the type of attitude he usually has, and they both know this.

“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?” he asks Will, frowning, “What did I do?”

“What?” Will’s eyebrows knit together, “Look, can you please let me enjoy my day off and make dinner? I don’t have the mental capability to get into this right now.”

“Will,” Will can see the hurt in Nico’s eyes as he says this, “You’ve been acting strange all week. Just talk to me, please.”

“Okay, fine!” Will finally raises his voice a tiny bit, not full-on shouting, but just enough to allow some of the frustration he’s been bottling up free, “You wanna talk, Nico? Let’s talk!”

Will’s phone rings, startling both him and Nico, and they jump in shock. Will looks at the caller I.D.

It’s the hospital. He answers the call.

“Will Solace,” he says.

“Oh thank God,” Will recognizes the voice of his supervisor, Dr. Chiron Brunner, “Will, I need you down at the E.R. stat. We need all hands on deck right now.”

“Is everything alright?” Will asks, keeping his own tone calm, despite the underlying hint of panic in Dr. Brunner’s voice.

“I have the other residents busy with a patient who suffered a stroke and caught a seizure when he was rushed in and victims of a four way crash on an intersection due to a driver skidding on some ice. The ambulance just went for a pick up and we need the help,” Dr. Brunner says in a rush.

“Dr. Brunner, it’s my day off. I’ve been pulling over twelve-hour long shifts all week,” Will responds, while rubbing his forehead, his frustration at it’s maximum point, “Plus I have some personal issues right now that I really have to work out. I don’t think I’m fit to be working at the moment.”

“I understand, Will I really do, but we really need you here. Our hands are really full. Even Jason and Kayla are here,” Dr. Brunner says.

“Dr. Brunner,” Will starts, but he’s cut off.

“Please,” Will can hear the desperation in his superior’s voice.

Will feels upset and agitated, because there are lives that are at stake here and saving them is supposed to be his priority as a future doctor. But at the same time, he needs to talk to Nico, he needs to deal with his own issues, their issues. Will realizes that he has to make the choice he knew he had to make eventually, but was dreading to make.

It’s either his job or his relationship.

“Okay, I’ll be on my way,” Will says and disconnects the call.

Dinner is forgotten as he explains the situation to Nico while grabbing his phone, wallet, keys, hospital I.D. and coat. It’s a good thing he lives almost five minutes away from the hospital.

“We’ll talk as soon as I get home, okay? I promise,” Will says to Nico before he rushes out of their shared apartment.

He doesn’t kiss Nico on the cheek this time. Nor does he tell him he loves him.

The hospital lights shine brightly above him, in the dark December night. Inside the hospital smells of bleach and disinfectant.

He catches his breath, tired from running. He dusts the bits of snow off his hair and clothes. The weather had thankfully held up until he’d gotten to the hospital; it was lightly snowing, unlike this morning. He hurriedly puts on his scrubs in the residents’ office and goes into the main E.R., where, he meets Dr. Brunner. Together, they wait for the ambulance to arrive as Jason and Kayla and two others try to save another patient.

Will is functioning purely on caffeine now. Ten hours have passed since he came to the hospital and he’s on his fifth cup of hospital brewed coffee. It’s cheap coffee and it tastes horrible. Dr. Brunner takes Will into his office after everything settles and asks him if he’s okay. Will mentally adds that to the list of questions he doesn’t know how to answer, ut laughs Dr. Brunner’s question off, telling him he’s okay.

Within those ten hours, however, they’ve saved multiple lives.

The man who had caught a stroke and had the seizure, a teenaged boy, which was the one the ambulance went to pick up, and so far, two of the persons involved in the accident.

Dr. Brunner sends him to talk to the boy, since no one else seems to have any luck.

The boy’s name is Brandon, he notices, glancing at the chart in his hand, and he’s reminded of Nico. Brandon has black hair and blue eyes whereas Nico’s was brown, and whatever they were lacking in height, they more than made up for in attitude. Will looks at the chart in his hand.

He’s reminded of his boyfriend again, of how they’d met. Nico had been hospitalized at fifteen, too, for the same reasons as Brandon. Will’s dad was his doctor and he brought Will to see Nico, to keep him company, so that he wouldn’t be as lonely and he’d have someone his age to talk to. They went to the same school and Will made sure Nico was up to date with all of his work. While they talked, they discovered they  both had lots of things in common and a friendship was born. Will had even been there when Nico’s dad had broken down at the thought of losing any of his family (completely unaware of the tragedy that would later befall the di Angelo’s) and even though he never fully accepted it, which was the reason why Nico had ended up in the hospital in the first place, he tried to come to terms with Nico’s sexual orientation.

Two years later, after being close friends and lots of mutual pining, Nico asked Will out, and soon after, they got together. Nico’s dad was still trying his best to accept it, but he was genuinely happy for both his son and Will.

The world beneath Will’s feet spins uncomfortably. He presses his fingers to his temple and finishes Brandon’s chart. He gets the hell out of the room right after.

He’s sitting in the waiting area, eating a pack of potato chips when Jason finds him.

“Are you alright?” He asks Will, biting his lip worriedly.

“I’m fine,” Will smiles, the lie slipping easily.

Will knows he’s not. God, he must look like a hot mess. He’s too exhausted, he hasn’t had a proper meal for the past day, and his brain feels like it’s being fried inside his head.

Half an hour later, he passes out in the residents’ office.

The rest of the night is a blur. He’s vaguely aware of Nico’s voice arguing with Dr. Brunner. Someone helps him to Nico’s car and then he’s in their apartment.

When he comes to, for good this time, he can hear Jason and Nico talking. It takes him a moment to gain his bearings. He’s in his bed, in his room.

“— Hasn’t been taking care of himself. Something, and my instincts tell me it’s related to you two, is off. So you better man up and talk to him,” Will hears Jason say seriously, “It’s been bothering him all week.”

“I knew it,” Nico sounds frustrated with himself, “I knew that something was bugging him. We were going to talk before he was called to work.”

Will doesn’t want to get out of the bed. He rolls onto his side, yawning. He feels like he’s been hit by a train.

“Dr. Brunner cancelled all his shifts for the next week,” Jason says, after a heavy pause.

“Oh. I’ll let him know,” he hears Nico reply, and then a door closes.

Nico comes into their room. Will see his mess of black hair first, followed by his lithe, small body. Will turns, facing Nico as he lies next to Will, on his side, and runs his fingers through Will’s soft curls.

“How’re you feeling, babe?” Nico asks, pressing his lips against Will’s forehead.

“You want the honest answer or an answer?” Will responds, relishing the small touch.

“Honest answer, always,” Nico answers, furrowing his eyebrows, pursing his full, rosy red lips, “Are you implying something?”

“Do you think I’m implying something?” Will whispers.

“Damn it, Will,” Nico says, “If you have something to say, just say it—“

“Are you cheating on me?” Will blurts, looking him dead in the eye.

Nico looks taken aback, as though that’s the most ridiculous thing Will has ever said.

“What?” Nico still looks shocked as he stares at Will.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Will feels like he’s about to cry.

“No, Will. Babe, why would I do that?” Nico asks, grabbing Will’s hand, not breaking eye contact, not even once.

“You’re keeping something from me. You’re hanging out with Percy all the time and you’re lying to me,” Will mumbles, letting a few tears escape his eye, “And I know how you felt about him. So I..I don’t know. I just thought.”

Nico reaches out, hesitantly, and wipes the tears away from Will’s cheek, his pale hand standing out nicely against Will’s evenly tanned skin. Nico’s touches are warm and comforting, and Will wants to do nothing but lean into them, but he resists the urge to do so.

“Amore, what I felt for Percy is nothing compared to what I feel for you. Percy was nothing but a stupid crush,” he tells Will, still maintaining eye contact.

Will feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulder. His heart is not as heavy. He lets out a broken sob, nodding in relief and Nico just shakes his head before he wraps Will in his strong embrace. Will buries his head in Nico’s chest and inhales deeply, taking comfort in his familiar, earthy scent. Just like that, Will is grounded. He’s home.

Don’t let go, he silently pleads.

Instead, Nico holds on to him as he cries, the ugly, loud gasping, hiccupping, snotty type of crying, finally snapping and letting go of all the pain and frustration. Nico runs his hands through the taller man’s hair, rubbing soothing circles into the small of his back. His touches silently reassure Will; I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you. Let it out, babe. I’ve got you.

They stay like this until nightfall, Will safe and tucked away from the world in Nico’s arms, until Will hears his stomach growl loudly, breaking the tension in the room. His face heats in embarrassment and Nico lets go of him with a small smile, gently pulling Will up to a sitting position with him.

“Wh-What are you doing?” Will realizes that throat is sore from all the gasping and sobbing as he asks this.

“Come to the kitchen, I made us lunch. But I guess it’s dinner now,” Nico tells him, furrowing his brows, “We’ll talk more over a proper meal. The only reason you got to come home was because your supervisor pulled some strings. I never realized how badly this was affecting you, amore.”

Will realizes he only remembers bits and pieces of that night as he allows Nico to lead him to the kitchen. He doesn’t care about what he remembers and doesn’t remember anyways, all that matters right now is food. His stomach lightly growls again as he inhales the aroma of whatever Nico cooked.

Nico tells to him not to sit yet, and Will watches curiously as he shuffles around in the kitchen, definitely out of his element, running his hands through his hair and swearing in frustration in soft Italian.

He places a tablecloth on top of their small dining table. Then, he adds silverware, and he places a small candle in the middle of the table.

Will’s curiosity doesn’t diminish as Nico pulls the chair out and motions for him to sit. He does so, and Nico pushes the chair in.

Then, he brings around a plate of what looked like fettuccine alfredo with chicken and places it in front of him.

Will’s favourite Italian dish.

“I, uh, meant to do this on Christmas morning, but that’s, like, two days away,” Nico rubs the back of his neck, “And it seems that now would be the more appropriate time.”

“To do what?” Will asks, totally confused as he takes a bite of the alfredo, but Nico ignores him, going into their room.

He comes back with something in his hand.

“What’s that?” Will questions, looking at Nico, who looks a bit paler than usual.

Nico doesn’t answer, but sits opposite him and sets the small velvet box in front of Will.

Will gasps, his heart beating faster. The tips of his ear tinge red. Oh God. Did Nico get him some kind of jewelry? He never did like jewelry–

“It’s custom made,” Nico explained, “This is what I’ve been keeping from you. Percy was with me when I went to pick it up. And he was helping me come up with a special way to give it to you.”

“Wh-what?” Will gasps.

“So no, I wasn’t cheating on you. In fact, I wanted to ask you if you would give me the honour of calling you my husband,” Nico says, his voice calm. He gets out of his chair and goes down on one knee in front of Will and his hand shakes ever so slightly as he opens the box.

Inside it is a silver band, inlaid with garnet, sapphire and amethyst patterns. A line of amethysts ran in a circle on the outside of the ring, sapphires below the amethysts and garnets above them. It took Will a moment to realize the meaning behind the stones. It was their birth stones; January, Nico’s month, were the garnets and September, Will’s month, were the sapphires, and month they’d gotten together, February, were the amethysts.

“See, I love you, and I’m sure now that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Only you. You’ve seen me at my worst and you’ve seen me at my best and you’ve always accepted me for who I am. You’ve been there for me at my lowest, and you’ve helped me overcome some of the biggest challenges in my life; especially when my mother and Bianca died. You helped me with my depression and my insomnia. You helped me overcome my insecurities, but I wasn’t there to help you with yours. I wasn’t there to reassure you that were my sun and my stars and I wasn’t there to make sure you were taking care of yourself. I wasn’t a good boyfriend over the past few weeks and I’m so, so sorry for that. But I promise, I’ll do better, because I don’t plan on letting go of us, of you, anytime soon. So will you make my year?” Nico asks, softly, “Will Solace, will you marry me?”

Will is in awe. Of all the things he expected, this was not one of them. He put his hand over his open mouth, tears of pure joy running down his face this time. He nods. Nico takes his hand and slips the ring onto his finger, almost reverently, tears of joy streaking his own face.

Perfect fit.

Will looks at it in the candlelight. It’s beautiful. A warm feeling blossoms inside Will’s chest as he looks at his boy—no,  fiancé. The love of his life. The man he was going to marry.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, getting up from his chair, going down to Nico’s level (he’s still on the ground) and throwing his arms around the smaller man, “I knew you wouldn’t cheat on me but seeing you with Percy so often just made me think about all of these.. possibilities and everything just… kind of spiraled out of control.”

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry,” Nico tells him, tightening his hold on Will’s waist, “You were putting yourself under unnecessary stress because of me. Will, you don’t know how frightened I was when I got the call from the hospital. I couldn’t live with myself knowing that I was part of the reason as to why something happened to you, mio amore.”

“You’re forgiven, darlin’. I love you, so much, Nico di Angelo,” Will sniffs and although his words are muffled into Nico’s shirt, he knows that Nico hears him use the pet name he loves.

“I love you too. You are my universe,” Nico gently pulls Will from the hug and kisses him on the lips, softly, sweetly and passionately, despite the stickiness left on his face from happy tears, “My sun, my stars, my entire galaxy. Merry early Christmas, Will Solace, soon to be di Angelo.”

Despite the cold December, the couple spends the night on the couch in their apartment, their love keeping their souls burning bright and warm, warmer than their fireplace ever could, wrapped up in each other’s loving embrace. There are no barriers between them; everything is out in the open. There are no more secrets, only a sense of love, understanding and blissfulness.

And Will Solace would not trade it for the world.

[henrik-mikaelson]

mother of mine / self para

Location: New Orleans Mentions: Esther Mikaelson, The Mikaelson’s, Hazel Prince, NPC witches Warnings: blood, mental distortion, hexed, murder Summary: once upon a time a mother cast a spell on her son so he would suffer hellish nightmares of his past whenever he falls asleep, they did not live happily ever after, the end

Having chosen to stay behind after Hazel had acquired her object, his intentions were as wavering as the wind. See, on the one hand, he just wanted to explore but on the other, there was something he felt in the cemetery that urged him to stay and check it out. The sense of familiarity, the feeling of unfiltered dread, it only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough for Henrik to grow a new shadow of paranoia. He only ever felt the way he did when he was on the other side and Esther was drawing close, always alerting him to run the opposite way. The only difference now was that he wasn’t running, he wasn’t dead - he didn’t have to fear her... So why was he walking around stiffened by the thought? After three days of nothing but his growing tension, Henrik chose to try another path to draw out a possible threat. He’d had himself cloaked so he could scope things out himself but now, he decided to walk around without such protection. If someone wanted his attention, they only needed to make an appearance. Henrik sat outside of a bar, feet up on the opposite chair, drink in hand. He began to think he had just overthought the entire thing - that day in the cemetery messed with all their minds, he didn’t think himself an exception. A couple hours passed and as the sun was setting, the warlock was about to call it a day. 

He stood up, placing his bill down on the table when he stilled, hand on top of the money, eyes catching the approaching figures strategically closing in on him from all angles of escape. Henrik lifted his eyes up and took an almost nonchalant glance around, sensing instantly they were witches. “Ladies,” a hint of a smile crossed his lips as he stood up straight and was almost pleased that his paranoia was seemingly about to show him that he was right to feel that way. The faces void of any emotion, albeit some obvious dislike, would unsettle the lesser man but despite their number, there was only one witch that would ever unnerve him. “If you’re wanting a drink I’m afraid I’m just about to call it an evening.” Henrik could have done something to escape but he was far too curious to know what they wanted. After all, the best way to get to the plot of a plan was sometimes allowing yourself to be captured. “You’ll walk with us, your presence has been requested.” One of them spoke, bringing a lift onto Henrik’s brows. “By who?” The obvious question, he thought - lucky he hadn’t expected an answer, it made the attack that rendered him unconscious much less surprising. 

Henrik awoke with a miserable groan, taking a few seconds to really come around he sparked back to his senses when his hand pressed against a cold floor that caused the chains on his wrists to clatter. Rolling onto his side, he blinked his eyes and inspected the binds before looking at the dank den lit up by candles that he’d been forcibly dragged to. “Fractos.“ Henrik watched the chains snap from his wrists and sat up. That was far too easy, these witches had to know he could do that. “Henrik.” A voice sounded from the side of him, a voice firing a chill that practically launched him to his feet to turn in the direction of it. Eyes widened, he lost his balance at the sight before him and when he stepped back, a ring of fire blazed around him, prompting his quick return to the center of it until the flames dulled down. There was a quiver in his fingers and to his surprise, it was more anger than it was fear. Too long had passed, too many events had happened, he’d come so far, he wasn’t about to let her best him now, not when he had everything he wanted. “Been a while, mother.” Henrik cast his eyes up to her his expression one of clear distaste as his hands curled into tight fists. Taking a glance around, he noticed the witches from his assault stood around, yet, Esther, was sat down a mere two meters away from him. Something was off. “I have to say, I’m a little underwhelmed,” Henrik stretched his hand out towards the edge of the ring, watching the spark blaze back up, only confirming there wasn’t an escape without meeting a fiery end. “This is a little basic for your talents, isn’t it? I know the counterspell...” It was more of a statement made in an attempt to egg her on and get to whatever point this held. Henrik wasn’t yet convinced this was her, he had his doubts, his suspicions that the witches surrounding him were cloaking a witch to just look like her. Hence, why he remained inside the circle.

“I wished to speak with you. Letting you see me as you recall... I thought I would earn a keener ear.” Esther’s eyes bore into his and she allowed him some time to join together the dots. “You’re still dead.” The relief in his voice was apparent. Gesturing to the surrounding witches, he sighed quietly. “But you can communicate with the witches, use them to appear as yourself, use one to speak... How?” His eyes narrowed, even now - still skeptical. For all he knew, the witches had this planned from the start. What if they only had to make Henrik believe he was speaking to Esther? “You recall our meeting on the other side. Our agreement.” She spoke. Oh, she was smart, given that agreement was only between the two of them, Henrik quickly realized she was giving him proof. “You broke your word, Henrik. You were not to chase your siblings.” Henrik hummed in the back of his throat. “I was a frightened child who would have agreed to anything just to be alive.” That was his defense, it was true after all. “But as you well know, I never made it to shore.” He, along with his love, died on the ship to England where his siblings were rumored to have been residing. “And then you ran from me for a thousand years after.” Her tone was empty, bitter, one might say. “Nothing personal, it’s just- Mm, no, actually it was completely personal.” Henrik curled his lips into a smirk that was quickly removed by the use of magic that brought him to his knees. “You dare speak to me with such distaste. Look at me, boy.” Rising from her chair, Henrik lifted up his head, a growl under his breath and an expression that matched her own. “You defied my order. You defied nature a third time to return from the other side and now you choose to surround yourself with a family that will only see to your destruction.” Esther would sound concerned to an untrained ear, but all Henrik heard was an attempt at manipulation. “You want to talk to me about defying nature? Joke of the millennia that is. They’re my siblings. A life is not worth living if it is not spent with those who love you.” Henrik stood back up and pinned his shoulders back.

“And you’re certain they have accepted you back into the fold, Henrik? Has Niklaus accepted you?” Esther started to step around the outside of the ring and Henrik closed his eyes, breathing out a sigh as he rolled his shoulders. “He will in time. After centuries of betrayal and torment, I’m not holding his resistance against him. Enough with the mind games. Why am I here? What are you trying to do, turn me against them?” Turning around to face her when she paused behind him. “You have angered a lot of spirits Henrik. With your return, with your reckless visit to free Hazel from her ancestors, with her resurrection and now, by stepping into their grounds and taking what does not belong to you.” She referred to the object Hazel needed. “They demand justice.” That made the warlock laugh. “Justice? It’s not the word I would use. You’re bitter, twisted, out for payback. Bloody loopy if you ask me, time was certainly not kind to your mental state.” Henrik narrowed his eyes, a vicious twang to his tone. “Nor was it kind to yours, son. You used to hold such light in your eyes, now all I see is pain, grief... You never did recover from the loss of Amelia, did you?” Esther took a step back and the witches stepped forward. “What do you know about her?” Henrik snapped. Amelia had remained by his side for five hundred years until one night she was pulled from him by something he still couldn’t explain. “You.” His voice came out quiet, a furious shake of his head as if he couldn’t believe the realization. “You did well elude me, Henrik. A pity your girlfriend was such a sacrificial lamb. I knew if I couldn’t get to you...” she paused, knowing Henrik would finish off. “... You would do something to ensure she paid the price.” Henrik bowed his head and closed his eyes. His hands came up to cover his face, needing a moment to let that sink in.

“You took away the one person I had. The one person who saved me from being alone.” He sighed out, looking back towards her. It was much more than that, of course - they both knew it. Amelia was the first person he connected with after Esther brought him back to life. Just a boy, a lost boy in a sea of abandonment, Amelia shone like a light in his eternal darkness. He loved her, breathed for her, adoration would never be a strong enough word. As the seconds passed, the thought sank and rage quickly bubbled to the surface. If he didn’t hate his mother before, he certainly did now.  “Lihednat Dolchitni.” His sour face became more of a curious one, until it registered which spell she was using against him. The air in his lungs started to leave, though he tried not to panic and make it worse... It was difficult when he was literally fighting against his own airways closing in. Knowing he had only a few seconds to think fast, his eyes landed on the chair behind her. “Motus.” Henrik choked out, sending the chair into the back of her. Throwing her off her focus, he took a deep breath and used his magic to throw the circle of witches off the walls. “Vatos!” Henrik yelled, ducking for cover as the windows and various objects surrounding them shattered and made a B line straight for his targets. The fire surrounding him died out and he took a few seconds to catch his breath, slumping onto the back of his legs and glancing around. 

All but one witch seemed to have perished or was at least unconscious. The remaining witch looked to be the one who appeared as his mother, now in her true form since the spell was broken. “Who am I speaking with now?” He asked, wondering if it was the witch, or if Esther was still using her as a gateway. The witch began to laugh, in spite of the many glass shards cutting into her flesh. “Your mother was right about you, you are tenacious. Pity, it won’t save your soul.” She smiled, manically towards him and funnily enough, the elder felt no need to retaliate - she’d be dead from blood loss in a matter of minutes. “You’re aware this hasn’t achieved anything?” At least that’s what Henrik thought. He and Hazel knew they were linked now and what it meant. Esther was still dead, any loyal followers she had would surely meet the same fate these ones did. What he couldn’t figure out was why she went to so much trouble to speak to him herself. “What did you gain out of this?” Henrik frowned, bringing forth another choked laugh from the brunette. “Retribution. You defy everything that is natural, your mother granted us a gift in exchange for the chance to speak with you, it was a small price.” With her breathing growing shallow, Henrik found himself asking a whole new set of questions, but the biggest. “What did she do to me?” It seemed like the logical one to ask - he was unconscious for who knows how long, he’d be a fool to think they hadn’t used that to an advantage. So what was it? A hex? A spell? What? “Go home, Mikaelson,” she spat, blood trickling out her mouth, but with her dying breath, a smile crossed her lips and a bone-chilling comment passed. “Oh, and sweet dreams.” The way in which she said that, said a lot and yet at the same time, nothing at all. The light left her eyes and Henrik slammed his fists against the concrete. The warlock already had trouble sleeping, now it would seem a new literal nightmare was going to be waiting for him whenever he shut his eyes to rest.