#is this how I announce that I have finished chapter 35? yes

[evenings-at-the-seaofquanta]

That Honkai sure can Impact it. and by "it", haha, well. let's justr say. My emotional stability and wellbeing

[randomshyperson]

New Romantics - Chapter Five - Wanda Maximoff Series

Summary: Trapped in a loveless relationship that has cost her friendships, Wanda watches her senior year of school turn upside down after a party. She will make new friends and may end up learning that not every relationship is doomed to failure.

Warnings: (+16), straight and toxic relationships, making out, underage drinking, language, co-dependency, conversations about insecurity and self-worth, attempted romantic comedy, unrequited love at first, friends to lovers. | Words: 4.606k

Skamverse Collection | Series Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad |

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Chapter Five - The First Apologies

Novi Grad, Tuesday 07:35 pm

"Looks like someone had a fun night." That was the first thing Wanda heard entering the house. It was her own fault, of course, she had spent the whole way back with a silly smile on her face and even as she took off her shoes and coat at the door, her murmur of Good Night to her father in the kitchen was more content than usual.

Erik was chopping vegetables and offered a wink to his daughter who tried to disguise being caught. 

"Yeah, I was with my friends." She commented, and Erik let out a soft exclamation, tossing some tomatoes into a pot.

"And how is Jean, and Eve, and what was the name of the other one, Anna, right?"

Wanda swallowed dryly, and took courage, approaching the opposite countertop. "I don't hang out with those girls anymore, papa." Erik was surprised, but it was more curiosity than anything. He continued cooking but hummed in signaling that he was listening. Wanda sighed. "We had a fight, and we stopped being friends."

He wiped his hands on a dishcloth, looking at his daughter. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry. You guys were so close. No chance for reconciliation?"

Wanda shrugged. "I fucked things up-sorry." She regrets the swearing with a look from her father, who shakes his head in a short laugh saying it's okay. Wanda sighs again. "I made a bad mistake, and I hurt them. And they hurt me back. So I don't think I have any chance of making things right."

Erik nodded, reaching up to kiss his daughter's forehead. "Young people fight all the time, friends mostly. If time doesn't heal the wounds you have, it's okay to move on. You just need to know that you can always talk to me, okay? I miss that." He says, and Wanda smiles, briefly hugging him by the waist before leaving the kitchen to take a shower.

Pietro, who is lying on the bed with the door open, gets up in a jump as soon as he sees her pass in the hallway, and calls her quietly. Wanda turns to her brother with curiosity.

"You're having dinner with us tonight right?"

She laughs confusedly. "Yes?"

He nods eagerly. "Great, I have to talk to you two about something."

"Pietro, you are acting so weird, is everything okay?"

"Yeah, but it's important. I'll talk to you at dinner." He insists, and she frowns but eventually gives in on not bothering him.

As she is sorting clean clothes for the shower, her cell phone rings. Her face lights up immediately when she unlocks her phone and there is a picture on Instagram marked with her name. It is one of the doodles you made of her playing the guitar, and you posted it on the stories.

She replies to you with "When will I be able to take the painting home?"

And she feels her heart miss a beat when you respond with "The painter is coming with it, sorry."

She sighs as she flirts back, "I don't see the problem."

You send a shy emoji and a heart, and Wanda thinks it best to get in the shower before her family notices the color of her cheeks.

Novi Grad, Tuesday 08:24 pm

The pasta was delicious, and Wanda never ceased to be amazed at what a good cook her father was. A few minutes into dinner, chatting away, she almost forgot about Pietro's earlier anxiety, but he sure was growing tense by the minute.

When Erik finished telling them about the mid-year event the Hospital was thinking of doing, his eldest son cleared his throat and put down his fork.

"There's something I need to say."  He announced half-pale. Erik frowned and took a sip of the red wine.

"What is it, boy?"

Pietro swallowed dryly, exchanged a look with his sister, and replied:

"I'm quitting the track team."

Erik gave a confused laugh, "Pietro, don't be ridiculous. How do you plan to get a sports scholarship if you're not on the team?"

Pietro stares at his father, "I'm not going to college anymore."

Erik laughs again, thinking it is some kind of joke. He exchanges a look with Wanda, but the girl is equally surprised by the whole thing. Erik stops laughing.

"What is this, huh? Some kind of teenage crisis? If you wish to change your major, let's talk about it. But you are going to college. I made sure that you, both of you, got a good education and opportunities-"

"Crystal is pregnant."

The table falls completely silent for a full minute. Wanda moves first, and it is to pick up the bottle of wine and take a whole sip. Erik is in such shock that he doesn't even react to it.

"I beg your pardon?" The man then asks, as pale as his son.

Pietro looks like he might start crying at any moment. "She, we want to keep the baby. Take responsibility. We're not going to college, we're going to raise this child together, our families have some structure after all, and if one day either of us wants to go back to school, it will be at another time."

Pietro continues listing the reasons why this is a great idea, and about getting a job and living in the beach apartment, but Erik starts coughing. He puts his hand to his chest, and Wanda is screaming just as he starts to fall over onto his side.

"Pietro, for the love of god, call an ambulance!"  She holds her father up before he hits the ground, but he is clearly having a heart attack. "Daddy, hey, look at me, try to calm down."

"Too young... to be... a grandfather..." He manages to gasp beyond the pain.

Novi Grad, Wednesday 09:45 am

"Slow down, watch your step..."

Erik laughed weakly, patting his daughter on the shoulder. "Wanda, I'm fine, it was just a scare." He assures her, but she grimaces, adjusting her grip around his waist to help him into the house.

"A preinfarction is not a scare, Papa, it's a warning. You need to take it easy." 

"I can get into the house on my own, thank you." He frees himself from his daughter's help, and she sighs at the stubbornness, looking back to get some support from her twin brother, but Pietro - who is carrying the hospital bag - just shrugs. "I should get back to work soon, my patients need me."

"Absolutely not!" Wanda declares following him around the house. "The doctor said you have to rest. We've already called Dr. Palmer to let her know about your absence."

Erik sighs in frustration and sits down on one of the couches. "But-"

"No but, papa. You will rest, and that is final." She declares seriously, and Pietro closes the door as he enters. He takes the suitcase to the laundry room, and Wanda goes to help her father with his boots.

Erik thanks her with a smile, but when Wanda gets up, he holds her hand. "Honey, you should be in school."

She makes a soft grimace. "I can't think about school with you like this."

He gives her a sad smile, "But you need to. Wanda, I know about your grades, you can't afford missing classes."

The girl flinches in surprise and takes a moment to face her father again. "You're not.... angry?"

He sighs. "No, dear." He assures. "I was a little upset that you didn't come to talk to me about it when I got the call from the principal, but with work, I ended up leaving it on the back burner and for that, I apologize. Is there anything I can do to help you, maybe finding you a tutor?"

She shakes her head immediately. "I'm studying already. My new friends are helping me."

He smiles, stroking her hand. "So I still have a kid who's going to college?"

Wanda laughs, leaning over to kiss her father's cheek. "I'll think about it." She jokes, placing a hand on his chest. "Get some rest papa. I don't want to bury another parent, okay?"

Erik swallows dryly, but nods in understanding, resting his forehead on Wanda's for a moment before adjusting himself against the armchair.

Wanda only left the house after separating some snacks for Erik and checking to see if he was asleep. 

Novi Grad, Wednesday 10:00 am

Wanda is surprised that she managed to make it in time for history class, but she has to admit that she wasn't going to absorb much - She was too worried about what happened to her father to care about the Sokovia Revolution.

T'Challa was surprised to see her enter the room. "Maximoff, the guidance counselor told me about the incident with your father. You didn't have to come today."

"I kind of need the grade, professor." She clarifies clumsily, but he is anything but sympathetic.

"I would accept the activity another day. Are you sure you don't want to return home?"

She looks away, at the curious stares of some, but sees the described 'Mid-Year Assignment in the corner of the blackboard and sighs. "It's okay, Professor, really. My father insisted that I not skip school on his behalf, and he is needing to avoid any concerns."

T'Challa did not insist further, waving for her to sit then after giving her an assuring smile.

The committee girls' Facebook group was boiling with messages - Pietro had told someone about Erik's condition, and the news flew at such a speed that by the time Wanda left history class, the whole school knew about it.

She was approached by the girls with hugs and messages of support as soon as she stepped into the yard, and she giggled awkwardly at the gesture.

Natasha was talking about being there for her when you left the French classroom and came into the courtyard to join the group. Wanda tried to disguise her anxiety, but you simply hugged her and she almost had an actual heart attack.

"Hey, I heard about your father. How are you, and him?" You are asking worriedly, and Wanda is repeating the same things she said to the girls, but she holds you back much tighter. You release her a moment later, smiling as you say it was good news that nothing terrible had happened, and Wanda is very aware of the audience as you stroke her cheeks. 

Someone clears his throat behind you, suddenly, and the circle opens to another group that has approached. Vision doesn't seem at all pleased by the closeness between you, and grimaces. 

"Do I get a chance to hug my girlfriend too?" He sneers, and Wanda resists the urge to pull you back as you step away from her. Vision wastes no time in taking her by the hand to lead her further away from the group, asking about Erik and she wants to run off, suffocating with his attention. "So? I imagine the party won't be happening now that your father almost died."

She blinks in confusion and indignation. "What are you talking about?"

He chuckles shortly. "Baby, your foolish committee party." He clarifies with his hands in his pockets. "A surprise you forgot, you haven't shut your mouth about these girls since you met them."

Wanda adjusts her backpack uncomfortably. "Yeah, sorry if I forgot about a party while my dad was in the hospital. Why are you bringing this up now anyway?"

He hesitates, but then sighs. "There are some kids from NYU working at Dad's summer club. I invited them, wanted to create a friendship for you know, have some contact in case I choose New York." Vision explains meekly, but when he raises his hand to her face, Wanda pulls away at once.

"New York? What the hell are you talking about?"

Vision sighs impatiently, glancing quickly at the group a few feet away from them. "Don't make a scene now, okay? Remember the dinner I had with the guys from Novi Grad? Well, that didn't work out. They rejected my letter of admission, saying I lacked authenticity. They gave me another chance to speak, the day we arranged that lunch with your dad, that's why I couldn't show up. But I didn't do well in that either. I decided NYU was a great second plan."

Wanda gasps indignantly. "Vision, I wanted to go to NYU." She recalls with angry tears in her eyes. "You told me not to try, that we should study together in Sokovia. You manipulated me-"

"Jesus, what is this now?" He cuts her off angrily. "Manipulated you? What are you, five? I made a suggestion, which matched our plans before. And now it doesn't match anymore, it's no big thing."

"It was my thing!" She shouts indignantly, and he flinches, not because of her outburst, but because of the curious looks at the fight. "I wanted to go to New York to study music! You know that! You said it was stupid and childish. That Dad would never let me do something like that. You insisted until I missed the deadline!”

"Wanda, calm down-"

"I'm so fucking sick of you! Of your little games. It's been like this since we met, I can't take it anymore!"

"Stop it, will you? You're embarrassing yourself."

She sniffles angrily, taking a deep breath. "I don't want to be with you anymore. Go to New York, and go by yourself."

He chuckles incredulously, hesitating again. "Wanda, come on. Are you really going to be mad at me for choosing a decent future? A career?"

"Do what you want with your life, Vision. I've had enough of you."

She turns around, but he grabs her by the wrist. "Enough of this, you are clearly shaken by what happened to your father. Let's talk another time." He insists, trying to hold her face, but she pushes him away, to the point where she starts to cry.

"Let go of me, I don't want this anymore!"

The confusion makes the group react. Stark pulls his brother by the arm, and Wanda moves away to hug you and hides her face in your collarbone before she can even think about it.

"Come on Vison, let's go, you guys talk later..." Tony tries to appease things, but the taller blonde is looking at the scene and gives a wry laugh.

"Oh, I see what's going on here." He declares bitterly. "You're fucking her, aren't you darling?" He spits out the accusation, and Wanda can feel you tense up; your grip loosening. She tries to hold you tighter. Natasha and Yelena look ready to start fighting, and Tony's friends are watching for any movement.

"Vision, this isn't the time-" Tony starts but its Vision frees herself from the grip.

"I'm not even surprised, nor am I the first one you've cheated on!"

Wanda sobs indignantly, but it is she who releases you and turns to him with anger. "Don't you dare, you bastard! You know damn well what happened!"

"What I know is that you have no opinion of your own! You're doing what everyone else thinks is cool because you're a goddamn freak!

You move forward, but Natasha holds you back and Wanda gasps indignantly. Tony is in shock at the aggressiveness, and Vision takes the opportunity to continue spitting his venoms.

"You know I'm right. You seduced me to get out of the shadow of your friends and try to be popular but that backfired. And now you're dating a girl to make yourself look cool, but I have news for you Maximoff. You will always be a weirdo and a freak. Never smart enough, or pretty enough, for me or anyone else. The worst part is that you are an opportunistic slut!"

Wanda doesn't know when she left the courtyard - Everything was half blurred by her tears. But she saw the confusion, she felt herself being pushed away from the fight when you escaped Nat's grip.

She didn't see when you hit Vision, not the first time, not the fourth time. She didn't see the blood on his face, or your broken ring on the ground. 

Novi Grad, Wednesday 10:27 am

Sitting in the waiting chair in the boardroom are Yelena and Natasha on either side, Pietro and Clint on the opposite, and Wanda, all trying not to be so anxious.

From the people who walked around during the entire time you were in there with Tony Stark, Wanda heard at least a dozen whispers about the fight. She wasn't so much surprised that someone recorded the whole mess, she was genuinely worried about the penalties. 

Vision was in the infirmary, getting stitches, and she was considering storming into the office when you left with Tony.

The girls stood up along with her, and you were not smiling.

Tony sighed upset. "They were both suspended." He spoke up, seeing the way you were crestfallen. The reaction was immediate, but Tony assured everybody that they tried everything they could to get the Principal's decision changed and that this was better than an official report of assault. He left the scene with the boys, exchanging a quick look of apology with Wanda, before going to the infirmary after his brother.

Wanda approached you, well aware of the dried blood on your hand and shirt, but you shied away from the touch she tried. 

"Sorry." She said.

You forced a smile at her, sighing slightly as you stole a quick glance at Yelena and Natasha approached the principal who had just left the room in an attempt to convince him of how unfair the whole thing was. 

"Don't be, I'm just in over my head right now." You clarify upset. "I think I'm going to lose my scholarship because of the suspension. And if I'm not in school, my student visa has no validity." Wanda almost despairs, ready to join Nat and Yelena, but you hold her hand, keeping her with you. "I have a bunch of phone calls to make right now, but I need you to remember that nothing that idiot said is true."

"I don't give a damn about Vision. I care about you, what can I do-"

You chuckle lightly and must have decided to make her more of a mess, because you simply move closer to her face, losing the courage at the last second. Taking a deep breath that Wanda can feel on her cheek, you merely rub your nose against hers, making her blush very profoundly. "Don't worry sweet girl, I'll figure something out. I'll be busy for a while, but I'll call you when I can, alright?"

Wanda doesn't have time to overcome her shyness and react much - Soon the principal is calling you to take you outside the school grounds and you are offering her a parting smile before following the man.

Novi Grad, Thursday 01:12 pm

Wanda did not have a good day. With the whole school calling her a backstabbing bitch, you and Vision - who had a broken nose and a cut stitched in the middle of his forehead - suspended, she wondered how she was going to survive the rest of the year.

The mid-year vacations weren't that far away, but she felt she might suffer some sort of attack by then when she found a 'Die, heartless witch' note inside her locker. 

Yelena was ready to start a revolution, but she assured her friends that she didn't give a damn about this story. She just missed you and wanted to know how things were going.

You hadn't called yet, and this only increased her anxiety. Nat and Yelena mentioned that you were under a lot of stress right now and that you were sleeping late at night because of phone calls with the scholarship people and your parents.

When school ended on Thursday, Wanda just wanted to go home and be left alone, but when she went to the bathroom and bumped into Eve, she couldn't miss the opportunity.

"Can we talk?"

The girl continued adjusting her makeup in the mirror, but to Wanda's surprise, she didn't treat her aggressively, humming in agreement.

Wanda took a deep breath. "I am so sorry for what happened between us, Eve, I really am." She then started trying to control the emotion in her voice. "But we still have a senior year ahead of us, and it doesn't have to be hell. I fucked up, and I regret it. I remember how it was before when we were friends. How lucky I felt to have such nice girls wanting to hang out with me. I tried, always, to take care of you the same way you took care of me because you were the best friends I ever made." By now, Eve was also having trouble holding back tears, but Wanda smiled sadly and continued. "There isn't a day that I don't regret destroying that. Thinking about what I did makes me feel bad as a person. But I can't keep living with those regrets poisoning me, Eve."

"Wanda..."

"Please let me finish." The smaller one says, and the other nods softly. Wanda swallows dryly. "It doesn't matter if things were terrible between you and Vision, how you talked about dumping him every day, and about how it was just sex. It doesn't matter that I was in love. You were my friend, and if I had the chance to change things, I would never have broken your trust. I'm just really sorry. For lying to you, for ruining our friendship. You didn't deserve any of this." Wanda sniffles softly. "I don't need you to like me again, or for us to be friends I just wanted you to know how sorry I am for all of this, and I want this tension between all of us to cease to exist."

Eve sniffles slightly, and nods. "Okay, Wanda. No more fighting." She says, and Wanda breathes a relieved breath. "And while we're being honest, I have to confess that I wasn't angry with you for very long. I guess I was just being spiteful for no reason. You're right. Vision was, and still is, a complete asshole, and I think I failed to warn you that you deserved much more than someone like him."

Wanda nods tearfully, and Eve smiles, reaching up to wipe away her former friend's tears for a moment with the bar of her sleeve. "Thank you for forgiving me." She murmurs, and Eve nods, offering her a tight hug for a brief moment. Wanda sighs deeply in relief, and before she lets go of Eve, she jokes, "Do you think Jean can forgive me too?"

Eve laughs, breaking the grip. "Of course, make a speech like that and she'll be all over you again." Teases the girl, but Wanda frowns in confusion.

"What? What are you talking about, and what do you mean, again?"

It's Eve's turn to chuckle with confusion and then look at Wanda in utter surprise. "Oh my god, Maximoff, you have no idea, do you?" She declares, and Wanda shrugs her shoulders cluelessly. Eve shakes her head in disbelief. "Wanda, for heaven's sake. Why do you think Jean was so enraged by the theft of another girl's boyfriend? It wasn't for my honor or sisterhood codes, or whatever weak excuse she's made in the last few months. She can't accept that you started a secret relationship with someone who wasn't her."

“W-what…?”

Eve chuckled, finding amusement in the other's cluelessness. "Wanda, she was in love with you.  For a long time, I thought you knew."

"No, I had no idea..."

Eve sighs, patting the other's shoulder. "Well, there it is then. She had to get over it the hard way, and she has all this bitterness because she thinks it's unfair that you like girls but never looked at her." Eve confesses casually. "Maybe she just needs a little more time. Or therapy. Or both."

Wanda chuckled weakly, running a hand through her hair and trying to understand how she never realized this before. Eve goes back to putting on her makeup, and Wanda sighs. "I have to go home. See you around?"

"Sure, sweetie. Good luck with your Romeo." 

Wanda giggles, her cheeks warming.  "What?"

Eve stares at her through the mirror reflection, a small smile on her lips. "Everyone's seen the video of the fight, it's on Instagram. She's pretty, your friend. And having someone to defend you like that without hesitation? Super hot."

"Okay, I'm leaving." Wanda leaves the bathroom laughing shyly. 

She is in the exit hallway when her cell phone vibrates, and it doesn't help to change the color of her cheeks when it is you calling.

Wanda takes a deep breath and answers on the third ring.

"H-Hi, hello." She says clumsily, receiving a short laugh from you that makes her legs wobbly. She stops walking, leaning on the hallway wall. 

"Hey, Wands, are you busy?" You ask, and it's her turn to chuckle softly.

"I'm the one who should ask." She jokes. "How are things?" She asks and can imagine you shrugging casually as you always do in person. You are smiling on the other end of the line.

"Messy I guess." You mutter. "Don't worry, I think I'm working it out. My parents will contact the school, and try to put up a good image for me with the principal or whatever... But that's not why I called." You say taking a deep breath. "I miss you."

Wanda feels her heart miss two beats in a row, and her face warms deeply. She bites back a smile and gives an embarrassed little laugh. She feels so stupidly in love that it's almost silly.

"Yeah?" she manages to retort. "I missed you too."

You mimic the sound, grinning softly and probably blushing as much as she does even though Wanda has no way of seeing it. "Good to know." You murmur shyly before clearing your throat. "So... I know things are a bit of a mess right now, and the chance of me being deported is pretty high, but..." Wanda complains softly about your joke, but you just laugh softly without apology. "We could hang out if you have some time. Maybe at your place or mine, whatever works for you…"

Wanda shifts the weight of her feet, one hand brushing her hair out of the front of her eyes. "I don't want you to leave, Y/N."

"Yeah, I don't want to leave either. Especially now that..." But you shut up, swallowing dryly and part of Wanda knows why and it makes her heart speed up all at once. She bites her lip and there is a moment of silence between you until she sighs.

“I know technically you can't be at school, but could you walk me home? I shouldn't go across town with Dad recovering alone..."

"Oh, of course, Wands, don't worry, I'll walk you home." You assure her tenderly. "And maybe I could stay for dinner?"

Wanda smiles shyly, nodding even though you can't see it. "Yeah, that sounds nice." She confirms with her heart racing and her stomach full of butterflies. Not much different from the state you are in.

You smile, and she hears noises in the background of things being knocked over, probably you getting ready to pick her up. "See you soon then. Bye."

"Bye." She says meekly, and there is a moment that you just stay on the line before you share giggles at the same time before hanging up. 

[equestrianequivalent]

QuintSum has been finished. What now?

Yes, you read that right. I've finished the first draft of QuintSum. I'm done. I told you, I said I would be, and I finally am! So, what now?

Well, the short answer is that I'm going to release it all on Ao3, but there's a few things to discuss related to that process, because that won't be done in a day either.

How will you release the fic?

First things first:

Chapters 1-28 will be rereleased. Chapter 29 will be uploaded. This will happen first. I will not announce when the chapters are being rereleased, but once I have uploaded chapter 29, which I will announce, you can be sure that the rest of the fic is up to date.

ALSO, IMPORTANT: Remember how I said that you wouldn't need to reread the reuploaded chapters? I lied. You should probably start the fic over from the beginning if you started reading before August 2024. I have changed way more than I ever could've predicted that I would, and it shows. While you're probably going to be able to follow the story, you're probably not going to understand a Solid amount of basic knowledge the characters hold, nevertheless what each character is thinking and why, especially not how we got to this point, if you don't reread the first 28 chapters. But also I'm not your mom you can do whatever you want. But don't say I didn't warn you.

We will go 1-3 releases per remaining arc. Most arcs will be released in two halves, as you can see in the screenshot above. The short explanation is that this means there will be less releases with more chapters. (And don't let the low chapter count fool you, the wordcount goes haywire sooner than you think. The chapters currently average around 4-6k.) There is 135 chapters in total, it would take me over a year to upload this entire thing even if I released two chapters per week. And I don't want to do that. Therefore, I will release them per arc, which is a collection of chapters about the same part of the story, pretty much. Those releases will look as follows:

Arc 5: Chapters 30-34. (One release)

Arc 6: Chapters 35-51. (Two releases)

Arc 7: Chapters 52-59. (One release) (<- Most subject to change, this bitch is a complete mess in terms of chapter length already. Stay tuned to see how I deal with that I guess!)

Arc 8: Chapters 60-84. (Three releases)

Arc 9: Chapters 85-103. (Two releases)

Arc 10: Chapters 104-109. (One release)

Arc 11: Chapters 110-116. (One release)

Arc 12: Chapters 117-135. (Two releases)

I cannot say when these will be uploaded, but this means that there will be 13 releases of new chapters.

Probably. There is always a chance that I will split up the arcs more, because, I don't know if you've noticed, but the second draft is already getting ridiculously long, and these chapters sometimes take me multiple days to get through. I'm a full-time university student currently getting a bachelors, and I'm at least planning on getting a masters going as well, sometimes I just do not have the time to write as much as I really would.

Anyways! This is how it's going to work on My end of things:

I will edit and finalize the chapters in each release, and then upload that entire batch on Ao3 together. This will take however long it may. I have no deadlines and no goals to hit. It'll be done when it's done. Then I will release a post announcing that this arc has been uploaded, with a link to the First chapter in that arc. This will repeat until we reach the last chapters. And then we're done. It is Way less complicated than it sounds, all you need to do, really, is remember that I will release things less consistently, but when I do release, believe me, you will have stuff to read.

How long is this fic?

135 chapters. And the wordcount of the first draft ended up at 280k words. It will probably be a little more on Ao3 because I always add stuff when I revise. So far I'm 100% on track to double the final draft, but don't hold me to that. I'm personally assuming it'll be somewhere between 350-450k words. All my friends think it will be longer. We'll find out who is in the right once it is done. Point is that while I never intended to set the record for the longest fic sorted by word count on Ao3, well, right now it sure is looking like I will do just that. By a lot.

What is important to keep in mind?

Read the tags. I have consistently talked on my main about how the biggest goal of QuintSum has been to "make Elizabeth's death worth it". Third-party sources would agree that I have done just that. In fact, my friends would all claim I've managed to write a by-the-books tragedy. Do with that what you will. Other than that, you can expect pretty standard things from the game. And a few near-death experiences here and there. I will say tho, remember that I rate this story T, that rating speaks louder than Most of the tags. The tags aren't lying, but the severity of it is dictated more than anything by the rating.

Anything else?

Tell @jorvikzelda that you love them because they're the entire reason that I started, nevertheless finished this fuckass fic of mine. Stay tuned for the release, boys, we fucking made it.

(If you want some sporadic updates because I can't shut up, I'm always yappin over at @shiroselia and otherwise you can find me at Ao3 as per usual)

Cheers!

[wheretheresaway-theresawilliam]

Chapter 35: The Angel of Death Cometh

Word Count: 1128

TWs: Death mentions, brief unsanitary mention, brief religious themes

⛤⛤⛤

When his phone began ringing in the middle of getting ready for his next shift, Michael let it go to voicemail. He froze when he heard his father’s voice, fighting the urge to throw the answering machine to the floor.

“Michael… I know, neither of us really wants to talk to the other. But I thought you might have a shred of sympathy to spare for the grieving… I know how protective you were of her, especially after Evan's death. How crushing--”

He picked up the phone, answering icily, “Very sensitive of you, William.”

His father made a brief sound of surprise, then swallowed. “Forgive my turn of phrase. I only meant to express you're not the only one who lost someone. That being said, I think it's time I let you in on a family secret. I know how to bring her back.”

Oh really? “She’s dead, William.”

“I thought you might be sceptical. I was like that, once. But I think you should see for yourself. I left the doors unlocked for you.”

Michael glanced at the clock. “What makes you think I'd go over there at this time of night?”

“You're clearly an insomniac with nothing better to do, considering you've picked up my call an hour shy to midnight. I trust you to make the right decision. Your sister is waiting for you.”

“Oh, go drive off a bridge, you old troll.” He hung up, but he couldn’t deny the free invitation to waltz right onto a crime scene was tempting. Wasn’t like he’d notice that no one was at Freddy’s, anyhow. He debated with himself for a moment as he finished dressing, then sighed as he picked up his bag. Sorry, Charlie… but it’d only be tonight, right? She’d be fine without him for one night. She’d been doing it all this time, alone, after all. Instead of taking his usual route, he backtracked to Circus Baby’s.

At Freddy’s, Norman had planted SpringBonnie during the day, to avoid suspicion from William at his “sneaking out” if it had been nighttime. Charlie wished Michael had explained his plan, now that he appeared to be late. She was both frustrated and curious… and a bit worried. Michael had never been late before, not even on his first night of the job. Had William finally caught onto his ruse? Had there been an issue with his car? She dragged herself in impatient circles around the suit of the monster that had made them all suffer. The others had briefly tried to interact with the dead suit, hoping for a new playmate but backing off in disappointment when it wouldn’t react to anything they tried. She hadn’t jogged their memories, even though she had that photo. She didn’t want Michael caught in the thralls of their anger and agitation, he wasn’t the reason they were hurt and he deserved to make it out of this unscathed… as unscathed as could be provided, anyway.

An hour and a half passed before there was any sign of life at Freddy’s. Charlie almost ran to the front of the building to greet Michael, then froze in the shadows when she saw that it wasn’t him at all. William had arrived, appearing very disgruntled.

“Where is it?” He demanded of Linus.

“Where’s what?” The fox responded.

“The deadbeat returns…” Flora-Jeane buzzed lowly in the background.

“Yes, to his ungrateful brats, like a gnat to rotting fruit,” he spat. “I know you were likely napping when Norman snuck in, but there’s no possible way you didn’t go sniffing around for a new friend when you realized it was here. And how could you forget your oldest and dearest friend, even while he sleeps?”

Thinking quickly and seizing the chance, Charlie picked up one of the many discarded plastic cups from the floor and chucked it toward the kitchen, the hollow sound catching William’s attention.

“Ohh, dammit, don’t tell me Alana’s trying to cook again, you don’t need to eat!” He snapped exasperatedly before stomping off to investigate.

“But I’m in here…?” Alana poked her head out from the arcade.

“Never mind that,” Charlie announced, swaying into the light. “There’s something you all need to see.” She slipped into the arcade, retrieved the photo from the music box, and returned to find her friends gathered in the main dining hall. She splayed it out on one of the tables, covering the unnecessary faces with rusted Faz-tokens. “This is the man who hurt us. This is the man who made us into these things. We weren’t always immortal creatures. We weren’t always so lost.”

“But that’s…” Billy started.

“Mr. Afton,” Flora-Jean growled.

“What about the yellow rabbit??” Linus asked.

“The yellow rabbit that was brought here, today? They’re the same!” Alana cried.

“Liar!” Flora-Jean bellowed, pointing at the photo.

“Monster!” Linus chimed in.

“We must make him pay,” Billy added. Vigour flourished in Charlie at the wool finally being torn from the eyes of these innocent souls.

“I knew someone who had a plan on how we could… but he never disclosed it to me…” She told them, guarded disappointment lacing her tone.

“Who needs him?” Flora-Jean asked. “Look at us. There’s five of us, and one of him.”

“We’ll tear him limb from limb!” Linus snarled. The dim lights flickered with the rising energy of the souls. This was the most active any of them had been since their deaths. When William re-entered the room, he was faced with five very vengeful children; But it was the fact that the Marionette had moved on its own that made his insides turn to ice.

“What did I miss?? Ah, there you are, Alana…” He tried to remain casual, his eyes not faltering from the creation that was not his own. “What do you have there, on the table??”

“Come see for yourself… William.” Charlie beckoned. His breath caught in his throat and his hand raised to his chest to assure himself that his heart was still beating. That couldn’t be…

“Where is your respect, little one?”

“Oh, I suppose it died with the rest of me when you killed me in that alley.”

They were beginning to close in on him. “No…! You..! You’re not…!”

“Not who? Did you think, just because I was not meant to join these four, that I wouldn’t persist?”

William inched sideways. No sudden movements, Willy-boy. Treat them like the animals they are. “How???”

“My father died believing the very thing he created to protect me had failed him! But it didn’t! No, it saved me in an entirely unexpected way. Here I am, fresh as a daisy… a manifestation to judge you for your crimes and to liberate the slain.”

“Were you always such a religious little punk?!”

[ask-obt]

Place your orders here! Or, get the digital version here! At last, the physical copies for OBT's first book have arrived! It was really exciting getting to open up this package today, I'll never get over how special it feels to hold all of the effort I've put into this project right in my hands. I was quite overwhelmed with the immediate support when I opened the first wave of pre-orders- I've actually already sold out of the first wave of books! I'll be holding a second wave immediately, and will place orders for the next wave in about a week or so as I estimate how many copies to get. Like with the previous announcement, this is for pre-orders of this next wave, so books will be about 4-6 weeks out depending on production/shipping times! I also finally set up the ability to purchase physical prints through Gumroad, so I'll be redirecting new purchases there instead of the Google Form since it'll be more convenient so y'all don't have to wait for me to process your invoice! (It'll also be nice so I can put a limit on copies available once pre-orders are finished!) Already placed your order through Google Forms? I've contacted all buyers with payment information at this time! Books will be shipped the following business day after payment has been received. It appears I forgot to post information from the previous announcement on Tumblr, oops! Anyway, I’ll post all of that below the cut, but it should also be on Gumroad’s product page.

This book includes all of OBT's current chapters all the way through Chapter 6 (yes, including the pages that haven't released yet)! In addition to that, it also includes concept art, extras, gameplay notes, trivia, and features the beautiful Fan Art Feature section so many folks participated in! All in all, it's about 320 pages of juicy OBT content. This print run will be not-for-profit, meaning that the cost of each book is relegated strictly to what it takes to produce and ship. I, the artist, will not be receiving any revenue from this. OBT is a derivative work, and I don't wanna risk getting in hot water legally. But I do get the satisfaction of holding a physical copy of something I made, so that's more than enough payment for me! (Though if you'd like to tip me as an artist, consider donating to my Ko-Fi or Patreon!) This first print run will be ongoing as supplies last, though more waves may be held depending on interest. You are also welcome to order copies of Born Yesterday outside of the print run, but please note that prices substantially increase for print-to-order copies vs bulk (not my choice obviously lmao, just what the supplier charges). I'll update this post if the bulk copies run out of stock. I'm also willing to hold books for folks who can't pay right away, though ready-to-pay customers will get priority. Unlike Dielle's Wish, these orders are pre-orders, so I can more accurately gauge how many copies to order (these books cost a decent amount more than Dielle's Wish, so I'd like to avoid overstocking as much as possible haha). As such, delivery estimates can range from 4-6 weeks depending on duration of production time. I'll be sure to notify buyers when their order ships! Prices During Print Run Paperback: $38 Price includes production/shipping within the US, and books will be shipped via USPS media mail. Outside of Print Run Paperback: $75 Price includes production/shipping within the US, and books will be shipped via USPS media mail. Price of print-to-order copies varies with number of copies ordered. For non-US countries and territories, the production cost of each book during the print run is $35.67 per book, and shipping estimates start at $20 and can reach up to $35. Buyers are also welcome to DM me for a private invoice! Feel free to PM or comment with questions!

[chopper-witch]

Ritual 777 - Ch 4: Vendetta

Eddie Muson x female!reader; Jennifer’s Body!AU --> kind of changed into a general just cult AU

Minors DNI. I will find and tell your parents or guardians.

Story title inspired by Ritual 777 by Temple Twins | Chapter title inspired by Vendetta by UNSECRET, Krigaré | Full playlist (working - not finished aka will change)

WC: 7,000+

Summary: The ritual worked for them. They get what they want and you get to kill to live. That doesn’t really seem fair, does it? 

Warnings: murder; revenge; more religious nonsense; I talk about antisemitism; if cults trigger you I really do suggest you stop reading now even though only Crowley’s nonsense is mentioned at the moment>

A/N: This chapter has no Eddie in it at all again. He is coming, I swear. I really do. He comes in chapter 6 if you want to just wait until then and skip everything else. Yes I stole Erin Greene from Midnight Mass what about it.

Prior Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Killing prominent men is not the best idea, you conclude. No matter how tempting, how delicious, how satiating and fulfilling. 

You try to seek out less prominent men, men who aren’t pastors. With the mysterious disappearance and reappearance of that kid, who supposedly died but then didn’t or whatever, it isn’t too hard to pass the deaths of the two men — men who are drunkards and abusers and awful people, who are found in a creek a week later or so and probably chewed up by animals — off as a part of whatever mystery seems to be going on in Hawkins. 

Time grows between each kill. 

The need staves off. For a few weeks. Then over a month.

It comes back though.

Always. 

Killing people, even if they are shit, should be prickling at your conscious a little, at least. There should be a pit in your gut telling you this is wrong. Because it is. It is. 

But every time all you hear is how right it is. How beautiful. How this is what they deserve and how you are better than a god because no god actually punishes the evil. God will send a flood and then rebuild the world. But isn’t Satan supposed to recently torture you for all eternity? 

You’re certain other religions have it different, but you haven’t bothered to check quite yet. 

So maybe you are evil too, you conclude one day. But so what? 

And every kill ends with the world singing a little more, looking a little brighter. Skin a little clearer. You notice new things. Like the hum of the lights even after they are off or the trickling of water through the pipes above the hallways or the going-to-be sunspots on Cherie’s skin or the fried edges of Kayla’s ‘natural’ red hair or that Mr. Schaefer and Mrs. Yates are having an affair. 

It’s the dreams that are haunting. 

Like a bad recording on a sitcom or something, those laughs will play on repeat no matter what you are dreaming - good, bad, neutral. Every single night.

And every single night, you wake suddenly. 12:35 on the dot. Waking gasping, panting, surroundings fuzzy and unrecognizable.

But the pressure in your back is that of your mattress, not a cold rock in the woods of Hawkins. Your hands press into the cotton of your sheets instead of the leaves and dirt in that forest. There is no cheering in the distance to indicate the party is still raving and no one is looking for you. There is just the sound of the Park’s TV from the apartment next door and the buzz of electricity through the walls. 

Your eyes always turn to the clock on your bedside to see 12:35 bright before you. 

12:35 AM. 

12:25 AM. 

12:35 AM. 

12:36 AM.

And you always turn away from the clock then, returning to sleep. 

Thankfully you need less sleep than you needed before.

Everything else is going fine — great even — until the list of students who got early acceptance is dropped in front of you the last Monday before the break, December 12th. It’s a thing to announce it on the morning of the last day before break. You scan the list looking for any of the seniors you might know beyond just passing in the hall. 

Not really, except for four names:

Greg Halcolm

Seth Jackson

Chase Kline

Devin Scott

Your breath catches in your throat. 

“You okay there?” Jackie asks. 

“Yeah.” You look up from the paper to find the world off-kilter. Tilting… tilting… swirling. “I’m going to go to the bathroom. Kelsey, can you start the meeting for me?” 

You slam your hands on the sink and stare at yourself in the mirror. 

It worked for them. It worked. It wasn’t a fucking fever dream. You aren’t in some weird nightmare. They get everything they ever wanted, and you’re stuck with something in you that you never wanted, never asked for. 

They get a dream life, and you’re stuck killing to survive.

No matter how powerful you feel, how strong you are, 

that isn’t fucking fair.

“This is so fucking stupid,” you whisper to yourself, pacing in front of the door.

Going to the public library after school to ask about sacrifices isn’t something you should be doing in a town where they are still looking into the pastor’s violent and cruel death. Where the librarian might hear the word sacrifice and call the fucking cops on you. 

Or worse. 

The clergy. 

You go inside anyway. You’ve pushed off finding answers for nearly a month and a half now. Answers mean it’s real, after all. That it isn’t some fever dream or some weird illness you refuse to get checked out. But something supernatural actually happened to you that night. 

You cannot keep denying what is happening. Six men are already dead across Roane County. Something is inhabiting you — or you became something — and without answers, the bodies will just keep piling up. You can already feel the need for more coming on. 

So ignoring the gnawing in your gut telling you to run, that twist and sinking you felt as soon as Chase kept moving you past the fire, you walk in. Even if something goes wrong, you’re strong. You’re fast. You can get out of it. 

The main librarian is at the desk. 

She knows you. She knows you are a good person. That you just like to read into things. Research random things. Like that one summer, you spent a week reading into human anatomy and specifically its decomposition. 

Nothing is wrong.

You lay your hands flat on the counter. 

Show I’m not a threat. My hands are empty.

“Hi.”

She smiles. “Haven’t seen you for a few weeks at least. How can I help you?”

Inhale. Exhale. Relax. 

“I have like, a really weird question.” 

She does her classic half-shrug, still smiling. “I’m sure it is no stranger than what we usually get. And definitely no stranger than what you normally ask.”

She laughs. 

You laugh too. It’s terse and short and clearly stunted.

Here goes nothing. 

“Do you have a section on occultism? Sacrifices even?”

There is a pause between you two. Your gut scrunches again; your legs begin to ache. It’s time to go. This is how you get caught, idiot.

“Hm. Not really,” she answers. Your body continues to tense up. “The community college probably does. But I can check real quick.”

You thank her, voice constricting with stress. 

Despite the fact that her voice was steady and honestly curious, you still watch her intently as she turns to the computer at her desk, which is right next to the phone.  

There is a thud from your right, and your head snaps to it, your heart rate increasing.

Just some kid who knocked a book over. 

The typing grows louder, harsher. Angrier possibly. 

A screech from your left. 

Just a chair being pulled too hard. 

A slam. 

Just a door. Not even being closed hard. 

There is a sudden rush of water. The pipes are no longer something you’ve filed away in the back of your mind, ambiance noise like so many other noises in our daily lives. It’s been drawn to the forefront as your brain scrambles to find the danger.

“It looks like we do.” She looks up at you right as you look back at her. “We do have a very small section, only a few books. By the cultural studies.”

Despite your whole body shaking, you nod as smoothly as you can. “Okay.” 

“May I ask what this is for?”

You planned for this. You know what to say to this. Time for the most classic excuse in the book when it comes to weird things in the library — I’m doing research. 

“Getting a head start on a paper I know I have to write next semester.” 

Perfect. Leave it.

“Yeah, for English. Comparing a theme in one of our choices to real-world kind of things.” 

Why did you keep talking, you idiot?

“Oh, what are the choices?” She adjusts her glasses. “I don’t know what would require research on sacrifice.”

Sacrifice. Sacrifice. Sacrifice. 

Romeo and Juliet? No. Too typical. 

Les Miserables? That’s never been on any reading list for Hawkins. 

“‘The Tempest’,” you finally blurt out. “Deals with a lot of magic, ideas of sacrifice and self-sacrifice. So I wanted to get ahead on reading some sources on what people may have really done for religious or magical sacrifices instead of just what was put on for show.”

Please work, please work, please work.

“Oh. That’s actually very interesting.” You exhale quietly. “You’ve always been such a bright student! See if what we have is of use. If not, RCC definitely will have something.”

You just nod in response, trying not to be too quick to walk away from her careful watch. 

It turns out useless. All that stress for nothing. For three books. 

Some nonsense book written by some bishop about the dangers of occultism. Another about the terms - short and without any actual information. The third is another hundred-something page rant about how sacrifice is bad, except when the Christians did it throughout history. Like during the black plague, when they burned Jews to death because God was angry with sinners.

Yikes.

RCC it is.

December 21, 1983

“Semester is long over. What’re you doing here?”

The voice tears you from the pages you’ve been absorbed into for hours. Hours, you know, given it is now dark out and you arrived sometime around noon. 

A woman is standing just down the row of tables from you, observing you. Not looking, observing. Eyes narrowed slightly, mouth every so minorly pursed, fingers wrapping around the strap of her bag just a little too tight. 

“Oh. Sorry.” You shift in your seat. “I was told the library was still open.”

She begins to walk toward you. Her eyes open and lips pull into a slight smile. 

“It is. Just never seen a student pour over so many books in the middle of winter break.” Whom you now presume is a professor stops in front of you, looking at the book you are reading. “Ah. Crowley. This hasn’t been opened by many other students. And you look a little young to be a college student.”

Her eyes narrow again. There is something so soft, so gentle about her face, her gaze. But at the same time, the scrutiny placed in that slight scrunch is enough to spike your heart rate. A primal thumping to your heart from your brain. 

A warning.

“I’m a junior at Hawkins.” You stand, moving to grab the book. “Sorry. I’ll go.”

“Don’t.” You look at her again. The shot of adrenaline from her prior look subsides. The smile she has is gentle, like something you’d expect to see from a preschool teacher. “I’m Professor Erin Greene. I teach religion, mythology, and lore here. Send a lot of students to search for a good myth to do a paper on. They come back hailing tales from Greece or England or Japan or Mesopotamia. I always hope one of them will find something a little more weird and sinister and real.”

“Like Crowley?”

“Like Crowley.” She glances back down at the book. “Why are you reading into Crowley?”

You lick your lips. The same excuse you gave to the librarian could work just fine. But this is a professor of myth and lore. Someone who won’t run off to the cops if you say something that sounds batshit insane. 

“There’s been a lot of people dying or going missing in Hawkins and it started after I heard some kids on Halloween joke about satanic sacrifice,” you decide upon, chuckling slightly at the absurdity of even the made-up situation, which is much more reasonable that what actually happened. “It’s ridiculous, but I can’t get it out of my head. So I just had to look into it. Whatever I could. To see if it could be real. Any of it.” 

“And is it? Is it real?”

She has given you a chance to say no. That it is all a lie and nonsense and that the supernatural does not exist. An out from the hole you’ve begun to dig.

“It is,” you reply anyway.

Or am I fucking insane. 

She smiles. Smiles so bright and proudly. 

“I think so too.” Her hands begin digging in the bag she has slung over her shoulder. “I’m teaching a survey of evil throughout cultures class in the summer. You should take it. You might even be able to skip a class in your senior year for it. Some schools don’t like that though.”

“Evil throughout cultures?” 

“Yeah. Every culture has an evil.” She places a small card on the table and begins to write something down. "So the class is about looking into them, discussing them. What makes them similar, different, could they all be descriptions of the same thing? You just need permission from your parent and if it’s gonna count towards your high school classes from your high school. But you should take it, especially if you are spending your winter break pouring over Crowley.” 

“I’ll consider it.” You look at the card. Summer, RCC, RML-1307, E. Greene. “If I’m curious about sacrifices specifically, and them going wrong, and the kids specifically joked about Babylon, who should I look into?”

“Crowley is pretty decent for Babylon stuff, as you’ve probably already seen. Sounds like you need some more biblical reading too. Here. Let me give you a list.”

“Thank you.” 

“Never going to deny an interested mind.” 

Her hands go back into her bag to find something more than a little card and procures a large notebook. Pages upon pages are flipped through until she finds a blank one. Your eyes catch notes as she does so. Notes about succubi and incubi and summing methods and demonology; notes about angels and God and gods; notes about women versus men versus other genders in myth and lore. 

So, someone who is at least dedicated to the subject of what you’ve been forced to become. 

She hands you a list of books, authors, and passages after a few minutes. 

“I hope to see you this summer. It’ll be filled with a lot of macho Christian boys trying to prove their brand of bastardized religion is good and want to feel satisfied by the class. They won’t get that from it. Someone like you, who is actually interested, could really benefit from it.” She pauses, opening her notebook back up. “What’s your name? So I can have it noted you are cleared to take it from my end when it’s available to sign up for.” 

You give her your name, and she writes it down, adding “Hawkins High” and “junior” alongside it. 

“Thank you, again.” 

“I added my office number to the list if you ever have questions. It’s nice to see someone actually interested in this topic.” 

She leaves then. Just walks off the way she came. 

An announcement comes over the speaker that the library closes in 10 minutes so to “please return or check out any books”.

You look down at your pile of 13 books. Limit for non-students is 2. 

December 29, 1983

“You’re coming to my family’s New Years’ thing right?” 

“Hm?” You slowly pull your eyes from the book, far too engrossed in the nonsense splashed across the pages. 

Well, it isn’t entirely nonsense. It’s just not written to make sense. It’s written to keep people listening to the prophet. 

Cherie groans and flops onto the overside chair beside you. “My parent’s New Years’ nightmare? Like every year? I just want to check.” 

God. Her parents’ New Year Eve party. Her parents’ any party. Just a bunch of rich people talking about rich things. It was fun at first, exciting. Come on, what kid doesn’t want to dress up and be at a fancy party? 

Now it is just excruciating. 

And you have something so much better to do.

“Of course, yeah. Might have to leave early, but I’ll be there. I’m always at everything. You know that.” 

It’s true. Always at every Beaumont function that Cherie is at like you’re her sister, despite the distance her family creates from you because you are... you.

In typical Cher fashion, her hands go immediately to try and grab your hands. She likes to touch, to interact, to be involved. You let her take your right, and as she begins to speak again, she looks over your fingers one by one. 

“Just checking. You’ve been acting fucking weird. And making my brother drive you to RCC every day early as hell and pick you up late as hell.” She holds your hand up close to her face. “What color is this nail polish? You’ve been wearing it for months, and I still can’t identify it.”

Human blood.

“Because I made it myself.” 

“Huh. Well, it looks nice on you.” 

She drops your hand, more interested in the book that had you enraptured earlier now that she has an answer to the great nail polish mystery. She tilts it back until she can see the cover, eyes narrowing to read the title. 

“The magic…ick… of Th… Thel — ah. Whatever.” Her eyes turn back to you. Deep, discerning near black eyes that match her mom’s so much. “Are you in a cult?” 

You roll your eyes at her suggestion. If only she knew. “No.” 

She raises her brows, long nails tapping the cover. “That shit looks like a cult.” 

You snap it closed. “Well, it is. But I’m not in it. It’s called research.” Your hand pinches her cheek. “Something you might need to do at some point, babe.” 

She slaps your hand away and grimaces. “Ew. No.” 

“How are you still in honors and AP classes?” 

She holds her hand out to check her bubblegum pink nails. “I’m rich.” 

You look around her overdecorated bedroom, covered in pinks and purples and white hardwood with marble top dressers and bureaus and a walk-in closet. Shoes and clothes that cost more than most people’s entire lives are scattered throughout. It’s larger than your entire apartment — which is paid for by her parents, who own the complex. 

“Yes, yes you are, babe.” 

December 31, 1983

You stare at the clock in the main… whatever room this is the mansion Cherie lives in from the corner, slightly behind a plant just waiting for the right time to leave. Cherie’s mom has come up to you about ten times, asking if you are all right. Normally you would have devoured an entire plate of her homemade sugar cookies by now, she comments, and you haven’t even had part of one. 

The diet excuse didn’t work when you tried it several times. “It’s just one night!”

I’m not feeling well wasn’t particularly effective either. “Let me get you something else!”

So, despite how much you love and adore Mrs. Beaumont, you’ve spent the past hour avoiding her the best you can. 

“What are you doing?”

You tear your eyes from the clock. 

Steve Harrington. Of all the people to distract you. 

“Shouldn’t you be off at some ball fondling party?” You sneer.

Steve shrugs. “Apparently, it would ‘look bad’ if I didn’t show up for the third year in a row.” 

Your lips press together in an unsympathetic smile. “Must be so hard, Harrington.” 

His reaction is instantaneous, knee-jerking. He scoffs and groans simultaneously, which is unbelievably impressive. “You know you are pretty damn lucky too, right? You’re best friends with, like, the richest family in the state. One of the richest families in the country.” 

Yeah, lucky. Lucky enough to have your mom die out of state and her sister monopolize her funeral planning so you never got to attend, to have your dad leave, and to have your only living family that talks to you live hundreds of miles away and only let you visit out of sympathy. Lucky enough that you live alone at nearly 17 and have been for three years now because the one family you consider family doesn’t actually want you under their roof.

And damn lucky enough to be sacrificed in a ritual because no one would miss you enough.

“I don’t know.” You uncross your arms. “Being abandoned like some pet during a hurricane as a last nail in the coffin feels pretty unlucky, regardless of who my friends are.” 

For the first time ever, Steve just gives you a sympathetic smile in response. No sneer, no snark, no groan. “Yeah. Yeah, that does suck.”  

It’s weird having him not pull his usual douchebag shit. But if he’s going to take the night off, then good for him. You aren’t going to worry about it.

You glance at the clock. 

It’s time to go.

“This has been fun, but I need to go find people I actually enjoy.” 

Before he has a chance to get another word out, you are swerving around the cliques of people in thousand-dollar dresses and million-dollar necklaces, careful not to even come close to possibly ruining them. Because god forbid some random girl even breathes on them wrong. 

Cher and Ailise are exactly where you expect them to be: outside on the deck, huddling under a set of fancy outdoor heating lamps with a handful of other kids and teens who really rather be hanging out at an actual party or with friends than at this nightmare.

“Hey, Cher, Al.” The two turn to you from the seat they are sharing, practically atop one another. “Gotta go. Love you.” You press a kiss to Al’s cheek. “Love you.” You press a kiss to Cherie’s cheek.

Cher pouts. “So early? Why?” 

“Cousins want to call me at their midnight.” Excuse that is both ridiculous to make you sound upset but reasonable enough to let you leave. “Said it’s absolutely vital because it’s Nat’s first as an 18-year-old or something stupid.” 

“Lame. Whatever.” 

But Cher has a tight grip on your wrist, refusing to let you leave. 

“Cher.”

She releases you with some reluctance and an even bigger pout. God, she already must be drunker than you thought if she’s hanging onto you and Al like that.

You use the side path to go to the garage to grab your bike and backpack left with it. Avoid any more discussions about food. Your bike is affixed with fancy winter wheels Nic just had to put on it. You’ve been biking for over 10 years in the winter without Frankenstein wheels. It isn’t ideal, but you’ve done it. Nic decided they were absolutely paramount this year. That he had figured out the best way to make the winter car tires into bike tires and you didn’t have a choice. 

They’re good for the icy spots compared to worn-down normal bike tires. You will never admit it to him. 

Instead of the normal right you take towards the backroads and wooded paths to get home faster, you take a left towards the main road through Hawkins. A longer path. But the path you need to be on.

According to what you overheard the other day when you just so happened to be in the general store at the same time as them, right after midnight they’ll be going from Tommy’s party to something at Lover’s Lake. Unless they want to drive through the forest, the only route from Tommy’s to Lover’s Lake includes the main road. 

It’s their only option. 

There is a long stretch of straight road right after a sharp curve just about exactly halfway between the two locations. A perfect place to catch unsuspecting, probably drunk teens off-guard. It’s already a place where accidents might happen. 

New Year's Eve. Icy roads. Drunk, young drivers. 

So you lean against a tree along the side of the road, far enough from the curve to give them time to panic, and wait. 

Waiting ends up taking longer than you thought. Perk of being a demon, succubus, whatever is that you no longer feel particularly cold or hot anymore. So it is only boredom that plagues your mind. 

The waiting. 

The eyeing of every car to see if it’s that one.

The worry that maybe you got it wrong. That maybe they decided to stay at Tommy’s or left his way earlier or went somewhere else entirely and aren’t coming down this road. 

12:35 and you instinctually check your watch. 

12:35.

12:35.

12:3—

The sound of a car comes seconds later. It’s an ugly custom green BMW, painted by Nic Beaumont at his garage this past summer. He complained the whole time about the color, but if Chase Kline wanted the ugliest “shit-puke green” in the world, then he was going to have it. And he was going to be charged to all hell for it.

You watch the headlights as the car charges around the bed far too fast for the conditions. 

Once it has just made it into the straight stretch, you step into the road. Step exactly between the center of the road and the center of the lane. They either swerve to the right and right off the road or left and risk spinning out.

It’s a narrow road. They have to swerve hard to avoid you. Or brake hard. 

Either way, it’s icy and they’re already fishtailing from the turn they took too fast. 

So when the car goes swerving into the other lane to avoid you, it instead goes spinning and skidding right off the road and into a tree just off the road with a loud thud, crunch, and crumple.

Perfect. 

You just stand still for a few seconds, however. Give them time to process. 

Then you walk towards the car, where the four are shouting in panic and confusion. 

“What the fuck was that man?” You hear from inside the car. 

“It looked like a person!”

“No way a person would just stand like that. Had to be a deer or something.”

You knock three times on the cracked but not broken driver’s side window. 

Four heads whip to you. 

“Hi.”

Your fist smashes through the glass. 

“Get out of the car. All of you.”

“No shit,” Devin scoffs as he gets out from the back driver’s side, thinking you’re just there to help. “We’re not staying in when it could catch—”

Before he can finish his sentence, you’ve grabbed Devin and shoved him against the car, both arms pulled far and unnaturally behind his back. A yelp leaves his lips.

“Get out. And kneel down on this side, on the ground. Like Devin here.” You shove him down to the ground, back against the car, until he is kneeling. “Just for now.”

“What’s your problem, bitch?” Chase asks as he follows Devin’s lead. He’s already a little drunk and concussed from the way he sways as he drops to his knees, pretty blond hair covered in glass. “Stepping out in the road like… like some maniac!”

Seth falls in between the two of them, Greg nervously dropping to his knees on the other end. None of them are going to try to fight just yet. They’re too confused, too dazed from the accident. 

“Don’t recognize me?” You lean down until you are face to face with Chase. “I know you’ve been avoiding me at school, but I figured you would still recognize me.” 

The red coloring his face from the cold drains completely, and his annoyed grimace falls into an a gaping mouth. That sobers him up real quick.

“Oh shit.” 

“Yeah.” You chuckle. “Oh shit.” You stand back upright, towering over them. “Wallets.”

Chase laughs. Suddenly, this doesn’t seem quite as dangerous. “So this is just a robbery?” 

You sigh. “No. But I still want all your fucking wallets. Now. Toss them in front of you.” 

They all look to Chase. Of course, they do. Chase goddamn Kline is in charge. Is Chase gonna do it or not? Well, he does, pulling his wallet from his jeans pocket and chucking it a good five or so feet in front of him in the snow. 

He waits for you to run after it. 

You don’t.

The other three follow, however, and take out their wallets and also throw them as far as they can. Yeah, you know they must be thinking. Make her go far so we can run.

You don’t though. You just stare at them. 

“Arms out, wrists together.” 

They look to Chase again. Who does as you say. Some rope versus tri-sport athletes? Yeah right.

The rope you had bundled in your pocket is slowly wound around Chase’s wrists first. The man in charge. 

You know he is watching you wrap it intently and flexing his arms as much as he can. He wants a way out. You’re just a girl. Who cares if you got Devin earlier? They’ll be able to get you at the right moment. He knows that. He’s waiting for it. He’ll let you play your game.

There is a hand reaching for your right arm right as you go to tie a pretty little bow on Chase’s binds. It meets your left palm instead. With a quick twist of your wrist, there is a crunching noise around followed by wailing. 

“Don’t try to escape. Don’t try to touch me. Don’t try to move.” You finish off the bow. “I will break you.”

Fear begins to roll off of them. There is no way to stop the primal salivation that has been activated by your brain - especially given how long it’s been since you last fed - but you have to do this your way. They can’t just die. 

That’s too easy. 

The other three are tied much quicker than Chase. Seth was super fast, given that every bone in his right arm is shattered and twisted the wrong way, so you just needed to link the good one to the bad one to keep it from moving. 

Only once their arms are tied do you back up, eyes not leaving theirs, to retrieve the wallets. They are watching you too. Waiting for a moment to break for it, to run. 

You aren’t going to give it to them. 

Even if they did have a chance, they wouldn’t make it. But you don’t want a chase tonight. No. 

One by one you pick up each wallet, take the money out, stuff it into one coat pocket, and the wallet into the other. Rich teenage boys on New Years? Oh. They have too much money for their own good.

Too, too much. 

Then you go down the line again, one by one, and place their wallets into their coat pockets. Their stupid little varsity jacket pockets with their stupid little sports on one sleeve, already stained with blood from the crash. 

“So they can identify you boys when I’m done,” you explain, patting Greg’s shoulder. “Maybe. If the fire doesn’t melt the IDs.”

Greg’s eyes widen. “What fire?” 

“You…” You pause, tilting your head. “You won’t see, actually.” 

He is wearing a scarf. Green and yellow - gold it’s probably meant to be - and knitted. Probably made by his mom. One of the nicest people in this whole goddamn town and she raised a killer under her roof. With a smile, you pull the hand-knitted scarf of his up and around his face, pulling tight as you can. Once satisfied, the excess is shoved into his mouth.

“What are you going to do to us?” Devin asks, voice crackling in fear. 

He also has a scarf on.

“Do you know what you did to me?” Devin shakes his head. You keep talking, hands adjusting the store-bought scarf that you know cost at least a few hundred (Cherie has taught you your fabrics and stitches) until it is gagging him. “You were wrong. I wasn’t a virgin. Hadn’t been for a few years. But it doesn’t actually matter, I found out. Virgin or not. Because the kind of demon you summoned is not particularly fond of the abuse of the vulnerable. So it gave you wanted. Admission into your top colleges. The best girlfriends. Scholarships and amazing grades. But it also bound itself to your sacrifice. To me.” 

Seth whimpers. “We didn’t think it would really work.” 

“So you murdered a fellow student for… fun?” You ask as you do the same with his scarf. It has a little Hawkins’ High tiger at the end of its green and gold striped monstrous print. 

Lame.

“We were super high and drunk. We —”

You hush, shushing him like a baby. “Regardless. I would actually like to thank you. You set me free. Gave me something I never even dreamed of. A power I still have yet to learn.” Your hand reaches up to cup his face, thumb rubbing along his cheek softly. “But don’t you worry, Chase. I’m going to kill you last. After a little torture, of course. Seven times, was it?” 

You pull your hand away. “Yes, yes that’s right.”

The dagger flashes in front of him. The dagger he stabbed you with. Just something he got at that fucking army surplus store on sale.

He doesn’t have a scarf. He does have a high-necked sweater. 

The knife slides through the fabric like soft butter. His soft whimpering roars something deep inside of you awake. Something not just hungry, not just starving, but wanting. 

His fear, his pain is turning you on.

You slide the collar up and over his mouth just as you did with his friends. 

“Did you know seven is associated with the Whore of Babylon, just like little ol’ Greg here said?” 

You stand. Four gagged sinners kneel before you. As they should. As all people, all men, who don’t deserve forgiveness should be doing. 

“The Whore of Babylon. Mystery, Babylon the Great, the Mother of Prostitutes and Abominations of the Earth. The Red Woman.” 

The car shifts away from them as a piece of the snow bank gives way. They flinch and scramble forward the best they can as you just stand and watch.

Another pulse of adrenaline from them.

Another pulse of desire in you. 

You begin to walk as you speak, dagger being casually moved between your ungloved hands. 

“After doing some research, I discovered that incubi and succubi can be traced to her. Or vice versa, depending on the lore. Did you know incubus comes from the Latin words for ‘to lie above’ and succubus ‘to lie below’? Not necessarily male and female? Like concubines for kings and whatnot. That comes from to lie with.” 

The four give each other glances. You’re just… ranting. Ranting complete nonsense. Could they escape? Run for it? Scream loud enough through the gags you have them in alert someone?

Surely someone must come down the road at some point soon and see the car and a girl with a knife over four tied-up boys.

“And there are versions of sexual creatures in almost every mythology. Sex is a bad thing.” You pause, taking a beat to think, tapping the dagger against your chin. “For women, at least. That’s what I learned over the past ten days. I already knew that, but it really hit me reading about all these creatures that lure men and take the form of women. That are just created to blame. Or if they take the form of men, explain why a woman wasn’t quote unquote pure. Or something. Made up to excuse men’s sluttiness and deny a woman hers.”

You kneel down in front of Chase. He tries to lean back but the car is no longer there to lean against and if he leans too far he will topple. 

“Because men.” You stab his left thigh. He screams. You yank the dagger out. “Aren’t.” You stab his right thigh. He screams again. You yank the dagger out. “To.” You stab his left forearm. He screams a third time. You yank the dagger out. “Blame.” You stab his right forearm. He screams a fourth time. You yank the dagger out. 

He begins to sob. Blubber, even. And you can’t help but lean in close to better smell his individual fear.

His fear is particularly delicious in scent. It’s personal. It’s exactly what you have been desiring.

All of theirs are overwhelming, though. It pierces through the cold air. Fear is mouth-watering. It’s indescribable in scent, but it kicks in the same part of you that used to salivate over the lemonade Al would bring to Cherie’s that you three would chug like shots after playing in the pool, the same part of you that would eat an entire plate of Cherie’s mom’s sugar cookies, the same part of you that would bike miles for a watermelon slushy. 

Triggers something insatiable. 

Deep. 

Primal. 

Just controllable enough for you to terrify them some more. 

Devin lifts his head up as high as he can, eyes cast to the sky, not at you. And he cries out as loud as he can.

Your boot-laden foot meets his neck. His cries stop.

“I don’t want to hear another sound out of any of you. Another noise and all of you die right now. And I will leave you unidentifiable, and the car will disappear. Your families will never know what happened to you. Left wondering. Never knowing. Do you want that?”

There is silence beside the crying from Chase.

“That’s what I thought.”

You remove your foot and continue your speech, pacing and playing with the dagger once again.

“Well, before I was so rudely interrupted. I was going to say: Powerful, intense emotions make people taste sweeter. Fear and sexual pleasure are the best. Those tasty neurotransmitters and hormones add this… flavor.” 

You inhale heavily and close your eyes. Adrenaline. Cortisol. 

Come on boys. Saturate in it. Marinate in it. Let’s go. I’m keeping parts this time around. 

“Provide a kind of energy. The energy is also aura-based.” 

Your eyes open. All four are shaking. It’s cold, yeah, but not cold enough for the way they are shivering. Pools of red have already soaked into the snow beneath Chase to the point in which they are tunnels straight to the dirt. Hopefully the fire will take care of melting the snow enough that it isn’t painfully obvious that someone was stabbed first. 

“It’s possible to feed off just the energy, the intangible version. But that takes time, takes practice, and for some just isn’t enough.”

You lean down again, this time in front of Seth. The second one in line. His green eyes are brighter than ever before with the once white now red from tears of panic and pain. Heart rate is nearly 140. But he is falling into freeze mode and out of fight or flight. The struggle against his binds is completely nonexistent. 

“I haven’t practiced enough.” Then you look over at the finale two. Heart rates still high, still marinating in hormones, but any urge to fight or flight is slowed or stopped. “Only six kills, actually. And you boys are not worthy of leaving alive anyway.” 

Greg begins to mutter something quietly when he thinks you’ve looked away. 

But you can still hear him.  

Your hand wraps around his throat, squeezing hard. His eyes fly open. He's been caught, and he knows it. But you want to know what he was saying, muttering. He didn’t try to scream out, so it was something personal to him. Something he didn’t want anyone else to know about. Your free hand pulls out his scarf. It’s covered in spit and tears and soaked through, and nearly frozen in the parts that have been subjected to the Indiana winter for the past five minutes.

Gross.

“What were you saying?” You demand.

“N-nothing,” he pathetically mumbles. 

“No.” You pick the dagger back up and point it at him. “You were saying something. Mumbling it. I want to hear it.” 

“W-was just reciting the Lord’s p-prayer.”

You snort. Asking the Lord for help. What kind of sick joke. Sacrifice someone and still ask God for protection when the day of judgment comes upon them. 

“Say it.”

Greg gasps. “What?”

The dagger presses into his cheek. It is sharper than it was when they used it on you now, and a line of red begins to flow without you ever pulling away. “Say it. Say the prayer. I want to hear it.”

Greg glances at his friends. The desire to consume him is growing which is going to make your plan to essentially harvest them much, much harder.

“Don’t look at them.” Your hand slides up his neck until your nails are digging into his cheeks, crescents appearing beside the gash he is now sporting. His head is forced to turn back to yours, and you stare into his scared hazel eyes. The swirling in you grows, thrums. “They aren’t holding your life in their hands. I am. So come on. I want to hear it.” 

You remove your grip entirely, the dagger following. 

“Our Father who art in-in heaven, hallowed be th-thy name.” He pauses, gasping for a breath. “Thy kingdom co-ome, thy will be done, on earth as-as it is-s in heaven.”

He stops, beginning to sob.

You groan at his blubbering. This isn’t torment, this is just him being sad. He needs to suffer. 

“No, no, no. Come on Greg. I want to hear the rest. You’ve got it.”

Devin gives him a nod of encouragement. How pathetic.

He attempts to hold in his crying, so you allow him this reprieve. He’s going to do it. You just know it. 

“G-give us this day our d-daily bread.” He stops, inhales shakily and continues. “An-and fo-forgive us our-our tres-trespasses, as w-we.” He stops again. He inhales shakily again, this time letting out a few more whimpers while he is at it. “Also have forgiven-en our trespass-pass-passers. And lead us not into tem-temptation, but d-deliver us from ev-evil.” 

And he bursts into sobbing again.

You lean back even more, smiling. 

Now that is torment. 

A good church boy praying to god while being tortured by the devil for the sins he committed. 

“Good. That was really good, Greg.” 

He smiles in return through the tears. You know just from the look on his face and slight abatement of fear from his scent that he thinks he just might get out of this. Just might.

So you lean really close to his ear, much, much closer than before, tongue sliding along his neck. So, so sweet. But not candy sweet. “But you got it wrong. There is no god. There is only me. And there will be no forgiveness.”

You don’t even pull away to look him in the eyes. 

You just sink your teeth right into where his thyroid sits.

Your skin tingles

“I am with you.”

“We are here at the scene of a fiery accident on the main highway in Hawkins. We have almost no details as of yet, but police are saying it looks like they simply skidded off the road after being spooked by an animal of some kind.”

The TV clicks off. 

The scar above your heart that was once just a blob is now a branding of a seven-pointed star. The one you saw is associated with Babalon. It burned into your skin on your seventh kill. 

Seven stabs. Seven kills. Seven points.

You press the cup to your lips, smile, then drink.

The scar hums.

There is something extra delicious about revenge. 

But it definitely is a dish — or drink, rather — best served cold. 

A/N: sorry for the delay on this as well. I got so distracted lmfao by other ideas

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[jedi-valjean]

Because this scene was inspired by your comments about Grim and Anakin have an excerpt.

The Clone Wars Gets A New Victim Chapter 35:

Grim sat on the roof of the Temple, her legs hanging over the edge as she watched the night time sky. The stars seemed to glow with such light, and she held onto that light as tears rolled down her cheeks. She had failed, she could see as clear as day. Sidious had won Anakin over, she had watched as it had happened. The light that existed now would be the last that the galaxy knew. She reached for the light, grabbing for it as if it was the only thing that kept her on the roof. Perhaps it was. The fact that now in this moment there was light was the only reason she kept on the roof. Tomorrow she would pay the price for her failures, though if she would survive she did not know. What would happen if she did survive? What role would she play in the galaxy? Other than the one of a failed padawan who could not save her family.

She heard footsteps and her head turned away from the stars. Anakin had also come to the roof, though he had yet to notice Grim. She felt her heart twist at the sight of him. Tonight would be the final time she saw him in light, tomorrow he would fall. Or had he fallen already? She had seen what he did to Dooku when they had rescued the chancellor - oh how she now wished she had killed Palpatine then when she had the chance, she could have gotten away with it too, it was a dangerous situation for everyone. Anakin sat by her, still not seeing Grim, lost in his own thoughts about the future. A future they both feared, a future they were both desperate to prevent.

For the slightest moment Grim considered that she could stop Anakin’s turn to Vader right here and now. She could shove him off this roof and he would fall to the ground dead. Though she knew it would do no good, even without Vader, Sidious would still claim victory tomorrow - and besides even now, knowing what he would do once the sun set for the final time on the home of compassion and light tomorrow, she saw him as her brother. How could Grim kill her own brother? Though she knew tomorrow she and Obi-Wan would still be faced with that question, now only delayed the ending. The ending that was destined for tragedy.

The silence became unbearable as Grim sunk further into thoughts of what the next day would bring. She had to say something to announce her presence to the brother she already lost. “The stars are very beautiful tonight,” she said.

Anakin turned his head and saw the padawan. “Yes,” he replied. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you.”

“It’s fine,” she replied. “I could tell you were lost in your thoughts.”

“And you have been as well, what’s wrong Grim?” he asked, nodding to her tear stained face. The lights of the city world and stars above did nothing to hide the tears, in fact they helped to bring them out - as if her tears had been stars themselves.

“I’m afraid,” she admitted. “Of the future, what it may bring.”

“I understand that feeling,” Anakin replied.

“That’s why you came up here isn’t it?” Grim asked him.

“Yes,” Anakin admitted. “I have been having visions…”

“Of death, and you want to prevent that death from occurring,” Grim finished.

“Yes,” he said. “Is that why you came up here as well?”

“Mostly,” she replied. “Not through visions but I can tell that tomorrow brings tragedy and death, and I am afraid of what that may mean. I wish to prevent it but…”

“You’re afraid it may be out of reach,” Anakin finished.

“Yes,” admitted Grim. “And that I have already failed.”

“The future can be changed,” Anakin replied. “Nothing is set.”

“Isn’t it?” asked Grim. “Has any one of your visions that you wished to prevent, been prevented? Or did they happen as you saw?”

Anakin fell silent, because he had never changed the ending of the future. They always played the same. Grim knew that he understood what she had meant. “Has yours?” he asked her.

“Hm?”

“Your visions - have you ever changed them?”

“Rarely,” she admitted. “I’ve saved a life once or twice, but every time I paid a price. It has been a long time since I have changed something I wished to change.”

“Then is tragedy destined for us?” Anakin asked her.

“I do not believe in destiny, and I doubt you do as well, for destiny means life is written in stone. If we believe this, then why do we strive to save those we love from a terrible fate?”

Anakin lowered his head, he knew exactly what Grim meant. “Then it can be changed,” he said.

Grim shook her head, “it is already too late.”

In that one moment the two Jedi understood each other. Outside they were brave, strong, and determined. Inside they were both padawans who feared for the future - one they worked to prevent but could not. The lights of the stars illuminated the Jedi - both padawans of Obi-Wan, though one bore the title of Knight, and soon the title of Sith. They were afraid and could not let go, they sat in silence, in understanding as the ending showed upon them. Tomorrow they would be enemies as their lives burned around them, but in this moment they were shattered remains of the Jedi they once were, as fear tugged their hearts. Inviting both to the dark.

Suffer with me.

Okay so the whole thing is just so ouch but what jumps out to me is. The fact that Grim considers shoving him off the roof shows that she is just so desperate because this is Anakin who jumps from speeders miles in the air and pushing him absolutely would not work. But Grim's not going to. Take a lightsaber to him! That's just too horrible to consider.

And she's going to have to do it anyway.

In conclusion,

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Post-Moments

a ‘momentary’ follow-up ... of sorts ...

Our Moments: Chapter 1: Five Words (post-Leonard Betts) Chapter 2: Sidebar Nonsense (post-Memento Mori) Chapter 3: Interim (floating somewhere around Unrequited) Chapter 4: Max 2.0 (post-Tempus Fugit/Max) Chapter 5: Shadowed Grey Eyes Chapter 6: The Warmest Thing I Own Chapter 7: Fancy Paper Napkins Chapter 8: End of the Road (post-Redux/Redux 2) Chapter 9: Post-Moments

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

First thing back was her sense of smell. It took nearly a week but suddenly, as she walked, unannounced but never unwelcome into his apartment, she stopped, the look of surprise on her face made him immediately laugh, then tilt his head, “you shouldn’t be that surprised to see me here. It’s my apartment.”

Ignoring his statement, she quick-stepped his way, burying her face first in his shirt, then, pulling him to her level, into his neck, sniffing like a bloodhound on the trail of some erstwhile criminal with a bag of treats. So taken aback by the invasion, he simply stood there, letting her take several deep inhales before finally reaching for her shoulders, “you keep breathing like that and you’ll pass out.”

Twisting her head, she gave him a quick kiss, then dropped back flat-footed, forcing him to once again look down at her while she looked up, “I haven’t been able to smell you since day 12 of ‘IT’ so I’m making up for lost time.”

She’d told him, finally, after he’d repeatedly offered her tempting foods to try to coax some weight back on her bony frame, that she hadn’t been able to smell anything, and therefore, taste anything, for awhile but she’d never stated the exact day until now and standing there, already changed into jeans and a t-shirt, an epiphany of sorts smacked him hard upside the head, “what? Day 12?” Ignorant idiocy settling in, “Shit. You sat through a steak, my famous garlic mushrooms, six tubs of ice cream, and all those M&Ms I kept feeding you and you couldn’t taste a thing? The amount of money I could have saved during those months I tempted you with anything I could find while, really, it all tasted like sawdust.” Feigning irritation but failing miserably as he scooted closer, kissing her forehead, “what a crock of shit.”

“I got …” being generous for his sake, “hints of flavor.”

“Fuck, woman, we’re having a steak and ice cream orgy tonight. I’m going shopping.”

She stopped his movements with hands on arms, “hey, let me go taste something and see if that came back as well before you waste all your money on cow foods.”

Following her to his kitchen, “both things really do involve cows. That’s rather unnerving, actually.”

With a grin, she found a cookie, then, tasting it, she shook her head, “I’d save the cow for another day.”

Mulder, wondering if his earlier suggestion of Mexican for dinner was still appropriate, he decided ‘no’, then, “well, how about we taking a smelling tour of DC and eat toast for dinner?”

He got a well-deserved backhand to his chest, “we are eating at Papadapoulous’ House of Salsa tonight because you’ve been talking about that place ad nauseum all week. Get your coat.” When he didn’t move, she nodded, giving him a smile, “we can do the smelling tour after, okay?”

“Deal.”

&&&&&&&&&&&

Taste came back ten days later. Just as Mulder came out of her bathroom, about to announce that no one should go in there for 35 to 45 minutes, Scully took a sip of his ice tea and spit it right back out, soaking her shirt and the floor in front of her. Mulder forgot his comment and flew over to her, socks sliding on the polished wood floor, “what happened?”

Feeling like a complete and utter moron, she first retrieved a towel to mop both herself and the floor, then looked at her partner, “I stole some of your ice tea and I could taste it and it scared me, if you can believe it. I wasn’t expecting anything and suddenly there was something and my first reaction,” beginning to laugh at the whole situation, “I spit it out. I didn’t even think to swallow it.”

Mulder shook his head, “are you sure we’re still talking about ice tea and not dirty things?”

He could almost hear her brain suddenly shift gears, brakes squeaking, mind two steps behind, “what?”

It was his turn to laugh, pulling her into a hug, soaking wet shirt and all, “I’ll give you two minutes to think about it, then I’ll explain if necessary.”

It took almost four seconds before, “I’ve never been a spitter, Mulder.”

That worked entirely too well for him and dismissing all but his hairy-moled, make-up caked fourth-grade teacher from his mind, he held her another minute then moved back, calmed down again, “you should go change your shirt.”

“No wet t-shirt comments?” Her sassy retort told him both that she knew what her swallowing comment had done to him and what the wet t-shirt mention would. She was evil. She knew it. He knew it. He loved it.

“Just go change. Tonight, we shop for steak.”

Loving him to pieces, she reached for his elbow, playing with the sharp bent end, “so, I know we just had Mexican a few days back but now that I can taste things, I desperately want salsa and a Margarita.”

“Large?”

“The biggest one they fucking sell, pardon my French.”

Their kiss was much longer this time, Scully’s fingers firmly twirled in his shirt by the time they were done, Mulder’s hands curled around her ass, “then can I make you mushrooms this weekend?”

“Pounds of them. Extra garlic and butter,” suddenly swallowing, “yeah, we need to go eat.”

“Lead the way.”

&&&&&&&&&&

His arrival at her house that Friday night with grocery bags was, oddly, the first time her body reacted to him. They’d been making out, to use the juvenile-y appropriate term, but nothing more, Scully still recovering, Mulder still nervous about 12000 things between and surrounding them both.

But seeing him standing there, in her door, goofy smile and slipping bottle of wine in hand, she felt something. It was a fast twinge but it was familiar but surprising and her widening eyes told him something but he wasn’t sure what and he didn’t ask.

Had he asked, he may have gotten an answer that would have necessitated bringing fourth-grade teacher back … but instead, he walked in, setting bags on counter before turning, “hungry?”

For the first time in months, she appreciated the underlying double-meaning he hadn’t intended, “yes. Very much so. How long do the mushrooms take to cook?”

“At least a few hours.” Pulling things from bags, “but I bought appetizers and,” holding up several National Enquirers, “reading material. Let’s see if we can find a case somewhere in the tropics. I could use a ‘vacation’.”

Only Mulder.

Mushrooms cleaned and slow-cooking, they nibbled their way through eight different kinds of cheeses, each one a symphony to Scully’s previously deadened tongue. She may have let slip a ‘hhhmmm’ that could have possibly been interpreted as a moan by one Fox Mulder but he didn’t comment and she kept doing it.

He was glad he wore the looser jeans tonight.

They chuckled and argued in tandem while thumbing through the papers Mulder brought: telling stories, tossing theories, debunking nonsense. Finishing the first bottle of wine slowly, Mulder offered a second but Scully shook her head, “save it for dinner.”

Agreeing, he moved to stir the crockpot, then returned, towel over his shoulder, licking his fingers from the buttery sample he’d eaten in the kitchen, “They’re getting there.”

Second twinge, this one longer, had her lower abdomen contracting in a tickling giggle kind of way. The shiver up her spine caused her to visibly vibrate for a moment but Mulder, luckily or unluckily, not noticing, sat back down, returning to the ‘Owl that carried off a family of four in their camper van’ story on page 26.

What the hell.

Then again, he was licking his fingers.

The third zing when she returned to this thought was not as strong as the second but made her smile nonetheless, which Mulder actually did notice, “what?”

She pinked-up instantly, having forgotten the heat of a blush across her skin, and hands to cheeks suddenly, “just … a little too much wine.”

He moved his hand to her pulled up knee, squeezing it, “we don’t have to open the second one. It’ll keep.”

“No. No. I, uh, I, … I’m fine. I … I’m fine.”

Gibbering idiot more like it but whatever.

&&&&&&&&&&

If sex were food, Scully decided, it would be that steak. Mulder went for broke, filet and strip, buttery smooth, medium rare, warm, pink, juicy, perfect blend of garlic and butter, rosemary and pepper. Between the taste; the sight of Mulder across the table; the smell of wine and smoke; the look of him, messy-haired and smiling, relaxed three feet from her; the feel of impending summer breezes through the window, she tipped into sensory overload, eyes shutting as she tried to bring herself back to some kind of alignment.

Then, eyes still closed, she heard his voice, “hey, you. Ya’llright?”

The tinging vibration hit her full-force, arm hair standing on end, neck flushing, nipples tightening, a thousand images of him and her, himandher, flashing through her mind, driving the feeling shooting from stomach to clit to soul in speed of light, circuitous fashion, “yeah. Yeah. Just enjoying.”

Her voice was all over the damn map with those four words and Mulder, knowing her better than he knew himself, tilted his head, finally understanding exactly what was happening, “I can see that.”

Quaking quieting somewhat, she shifted in her chair, hoping to relieve some of the pressure she was feeling, pressing down on the cushion like she was seventeen and at the movie theater with her boyfriend, begging silently for him to touch her and simultaneously thinking about touching herself when she got home. Not able to look him in the eye, however, she cut another piece of her steak, praying she wouldn’t choke.

Shifting himself as well, watching her hips search for a good spot against the chair, he kept any comment to himself. He hadn’t pushed anything these last weeks, knowing she was recovering, finding herself again, situating ‘us’ and ‘we’ into a previously accepted solitary status quo of ‘I’ and ‘me’.

But, fuck, he had been tempted and tonight, seeing her like this, pushed his resolve to the breaking point. If she made one more sound in her throat, he truly believed he’d explode under the table, a quiet yet uncontrollable manifestation of four years and infinite wishes. “More wine?”

“Yes, please.”

She fought herself the rest of the meal, making stilted, dinner time conversation that they both saw through, both breathed through, both suffered through.

Dish cleanup and pajama changing quieted her down, her mind focused on other things for a little while but once they’d sat down on the couch, lights off, movie in, ice cream waiting in the freezer for later, she became acutely aware of his proximity to her. He’d offered her half the afghan, shifted the coffee table a little closer for her feet to rest on if she wanted, kissed the top of her head just as the opening credits began. She, in turn, had to keep reminding herself how to breathe evenly.

Sensory overload was kicking in again, the smell of him, his radiating heat, his voice as he contributed oft-placed comments on police procedurals happening on the TV. Her hand found its way to his thigh, fingers playing with the inside seam of his cut-off sweats. His own landed on her flannel pants, roughly same distance between allowable knee and forbidden juncture.

Her voice surprised her, “Mulder?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your stance on third base?”

Slowly, he found the remote and paused before swinging his gaze in her direction, “Yankees or something else?”

Her inhale shuddered, “not the Yankees.”

His hand immediately slid from allowable to not-so-forbidden now, caught between viced thighs, “this third base?”

Confession tumbled from her lips, “I haven’t done anything or felt anything, really, in months and suddenly you walked in today with grocery bags and that stupid grin of yours and you smell fantastic and something kicked in and,” wiggling out of necessity to attempt to … whatever …, “I don’t recall the last time I was this …”

Mulder finished her sentence with a grin, “horny?”

“Yes!”

Somehow, he lifted her bodily onto his lap, his chest to her back, hand sliding effortlessly down the front of her pajamas, finding the sweet spot before she had time to so much as offer the feeble word of ‘bed’.

Then she didn’t care.

At all.

Focusing mainly on his fingers, warm, quick, unexperienced but willing to learn. Instead of following, she led, whispering once to move a little to the left, whispering again to go harder, arching her back as she came in under a minute, body shuddering, twitching, before settling back down.

Over her shoulder, his husky voice sounded in her ear, “can I be next?”

It took all of nine seconds to stand up, drop her clothes to the floor, order him to lift up, pull his pants off, then climb on, already wet, already slick, already taking him inside with a slip and a slide.

&&&&&&&&&&&

Her giggles made him smile, her rosy cheeks made him happy, her warm skin within lips reach made him dizzy but above all else, her panting breath against his neck made him ecstatic, knowing she was alive and well and would be for the foreseeable future. When she finally calmed down, knees digging into the couch springs, skin glued to skin, she pulled herself back, sweat running down Mulder’s chest where they had been pressed together moments earlier, “I had planned for that to be a little … less …” waving her hands around in wordless definition, “that.”

“Was perfect to me.”

Kissing him lightly, then resting forehead to his, “one day, this will all be organized and we’ll make it to the bedroom.”

Hands back on her bare ass, “highly doubt that but it’s nice to have a plan.”

Sitting back, she reached out to him, lightly running her fingers along his hairline, feather-touch making his eyes shut, “I think we should do that again later.”

About to ask why not now, he had an epiphany of sorts and looking at her, square and jokingly judging, “you want ice cream, don’t you?”

This time, her nose scrunched up when she smiled, nodding with enthusiasm, “kind of. But I promise, you’ll always beat out ice cream after today … mostly.”

Pulling her down for a kiss, he then squeezed her thighs to nudge her off him, “come on, woman. Let’s go clean up so we can have dessert.”

“I love you, Mulder.”

“You just love my Rocky Road.”

“That, too.”

[tiramisiyu]

【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: Main Story 7-5 Translation

Translation Masterlist | Video

Chapter 7 – Rains of Monte Cristo: 7-1 / 7-3 / 7-5 / 7-7 / 7-9 / 7-11 / 7-13 / 7-15 / 7-17 / 7-19  ♦️ ♦️  7-20 / 7-22 / 7-24 / 7-26 / 7-28 / 7-30 / 7-32 / 7-34 / 7-35

In Lu Jinghe’s Car

After finishing on the discussion at the NXX base, we started on our individual plans.

Since Lu Jinghe had already made an appointment to see Xu Yin, I went with him, and we drove straight to the meeting location.

MC: Right, Lu Jinghe, how did you know Xu Yin was looking for me?

Lu Jinghe: Ran into her by chance yesterday.

--

[Flashback]

Pax CEO Office

Lu Jinghe: Xu Yin’s assistant? Are you sure you’re not mistaken?

Wen Chen: I’m sure. Though he disguised himself and even deliberately lowered his voice after he ran into me…

Wen Chen: But when we cooperated with Xingrui Estates before, I interacted with him, so there’s no way I could be mistaken.

Wen Chen: I saw that his condition and actions looked somewhat strange, so after I handed the documents to Lawyer Zhai, I asked the receptionist.

Wen Chen: The receptionist said that he came to look for Miss MC, but as she was out on fieldwork and thus wasn’t at the firm, they didn’t meet.

Wen Chen: The receptionist then asked him what the matter was and if he wanted to make an appointment, but he only said that he wanted to commission her for a case. After this, he left in a rush.

Wen Chen: Although, when he ran into me, he accidentally revealed a document. I saw Wang Chunchong’s name on it.

Wen Chen: He might have wanted to commission for that Yaofu Community murder case.

Lu Jinghe: Wang Chunchong? Haha.

Lu Jinghe: We just found out that Qin Shan and Wang Chunchong have had interactions…

Lu Jinghe: Right after, Qin Shan’s ex-wife Xu Yin wants to secretly commission my lawyer to take Wang Chunchong’s case.

Lu Jinghe: Really, what a coincidence.

Wen Chen: Second young master, are you suspecting that Xu Yin has a hidden agenda in seeking out Miss MC?

Lu Jinghe: If it were a normal commission, why would she need to be this fearful of being found out?

Wen Chen: Then could it have to do with the Xingrui general manager dispute we found out about before?

Lu Jinghe: That’s possible. The old head of the Wang family wants to chase Wang Chunchong out of the family, and the Xu family has now forbidden their family from interacting with the Wang family…

Lu Jinghe: If Xu Yin still wants Wang Chunchong’s support, she can only be secretive in her search for lawyers.

Lu Jinghe: Although… could this have to do with Heirson, or Qin Shan?

Lu Jinghe: Or… could Xu Yin know about something relating to the investigation team’s matters?

Lu Jinghe went silent for a moment.

Lu Jinghe: Wen Chen, did you record the person who ran into you?

Wen Chen: Yes. I thought that he was a bit strange back then, so I took some photos.

Lu Jinghe: Perfect. Take these photos and make an appointment with Xu Yin for me.

Lu Jinghe: Say that I can help her get the person she wants, and that I’d like to invite her to chat with me.

Lu Jinghe: In addition, expand the range of Qin Shan’s whereabouts investigation.

Lu Jinghe: Include the Xu family and Wang family, investigate deeper, and report any updates to me as quickly as possible.

Wen Chen: Understood.

[Flashback end]

--

MC: So that’s how it was…

Lu Jinghe: Yeah. Then I called you and gave you a simple overview.

MC: Although, you didn’t explain in the call about why you were this concerned about something being up with Xu Yin.

MC: Also, based on the information that Wen Chen reported to you, it seems like there’s also a relation between Xu Yin and Wang Chunchong?

Lu Jinghe: To understand this, you first have to understand the relationship between their two families.

Lu Jinghe: Xu Yin’s Xu family’s main business is Xingrui Estates, as well as various subdivisions under that name.

Lu Jinghe: The current head of Xingrui is Xu Yin’s father. Xu Yin, her older brother, and her older sister manage several subdivisions respectively.

MC: But I remember that in the past while, the Xu family’s eldest son, Xu Yuan, was caught due to illegal occupation of territory?

Lu Jinghe: Yes, but do you know how this matter was exposed?

MC: Could it have had to do with Xu Yin?

Lu Jinghe: It’s hard to say whether there’s a direct connection, but Xu Yin is highly suspected.

Lu Jinghe: When this news got out, there had just been an announcement from inside Xingrui that Xu Yin’s father was preparing to select an heir from his children.

Lu Jinghe: Back then, the members of the Board of Directors all supported Xu Yuan, Xu Yin’s older brother, to take over as the general manager, but he ended up as a detainee.

Lu Jinghe: With the eldest son no longer an option, the selection for general manager would naturally be between Xu Yin and her older sister.

MC: Then was Xu Yin’s older sister not a possibility? Or anyone like other commercial rivals?

Lu Jinghe: First, this news was exposed too quickly, and there was conclusive evidence that it wasn’t something that an outsider could do.

Lu Jinghe: Second, after Xu Yuan was caught, Xu Yin’s father’s attitude towards her did a 180-degree flip.

Lu Jinghe: Supposedly, he was very irritated with this daughter, and believed that she damaged Xingrui’s profits and future.

Lu Jinghe: For these few years, Xingrui has been aiming for incorporation, and outside evaluation towards it has always been excellent.

Lu Jinghe: The Xu Yuan issue dealt a severe blow to the reputation Xingrui had accumulated, leaving partners dissatisfied.

Lu Jinghe: This way, it seems like there’s significant meaning behind the irritation that Xu Yin’s father holds against her.

Lu Jinghe: And it’s because of the Xu father’s change in attitude that Xu Yin’s recently been described as “facing enemies both in front and behind”.

Lu Jinghe: Many people are watching her, including her older sister.

MC: But what does this have to do with Wang Chunchong?

Lu Jinghe: The Wang and Xu families are longtime friends. The year Xingrui was established, the Wang family, who already had small achievements within the pharmaceuticals field, invested a sum of money.

Lu Jinghe: This sum of money became 5% of their share capital, as well as a position on Xingrui’s Board of Directors, and was transferred into Wang Chunchong’s possession.

Lu Jinghe: With these two points, great lawyer, what sort of relation do you think exists between Xu Yin and Wang Chunchong?

 START ANALYSIS

⊳ Share capital owned by Wang Chunchong: Because the Wang family invested in Xingrui early on, Wang Chunchong currently has 5% of share capital in Xingrui and a position in the Board of Directors.

⊳ Xingrui general manager dispute: Xu Yin’s father has three children. Xu Yuan, who previously had the most influence, was arrested, and the options for general manager are Xu Yin and her older sister.

MC: Typically, the appointment of the general manager is closely related to the Board of Directors.

MC: If the Xu Yuan issue theoretically does have to do with Xu Yin, then it’s very likely that Xu Yin wants to get the general manager position.

MC: And Wang Chunchong is a member of the board…

MC: Could they be allied?

Lu Jinghe: Smart.

Lu Jinghe: I’ve had Wen Chen look into this before. Based on Xingrui’s business regulations…

Lu Jinghe: The appointment of the general manager requires over half of all share capital owners within the board to approve.

Lu Jinghe: To pull board members to their side, Xu Yin and her older sister did all within their ability, and before Wang Chunchong was taken in…

Lu Jinghe: Xu Yin surpassed her sister with what was precisely this 5% share capital.

END ANALYSIS

 MC: But Wang Chunchong has now been arrested due to murder, and the share capital he owns…

Lu Jinghe: The share capital that Wang Chunchong owns was originally given to him by his grandfather.

Lu Jinghe: Now that the old man knows what he’s done, he’s so furious that he’s about to take them back, and he’s forbidden the Wang family from helping him.

Lu Jinghe: Old man Wang does not stand on Xu Yin’s side.

MC: And that’s why Xu Yin would look for a lawyer to defend Wang Chunchong, to protect the share capital he owns.

Lu Jinghe: Should be that, yes.

MC: But now there’s a new question – why would she look for me, and act so… secretively?

Lu Jinghe: One possible reason is like I’ve said before – Wang Chunchong has already been abandoned by the Wang Family.

Lu Jinghe: And the Xu father has forbidden Xu family members from having any connection with the Wang family.

Lu Jinghe: Xu Yin might be afraid that someone might take this as leverage against her, and thus would act sneakily.

Lu Jinghe: As for why she’s looking for you…

Lu Jinghe: I’m afraid that in her original plan, she wanted to find a “young, support-generating” lawyer.

Lu Jinghe: A young one can be controlled by her and will listen to her instructions.

Lu Jinghe: One that can generate support will attract discussion, then shift the bad public opinion regarding Wang Chunchong and retake the share capital.

MC: What support can I generate?

Lu Jinghe: You were the one in charge of my wrongful accusation case before, so you naturally can incite conversation.

MC: …

Lu Jinghe: Aside from that, this person can’t be too formidable or have too much background. In that case…

Lu Jinghe: Aren’t you quite suitable?

MC: So to her, I’m just a toolperson, right?

Lu Jinghe: …

MC: But you just said “one possible reason”… so there’s another possibility?

Lu Jinghe: The other possibility is just me being worried. There’s no evidence to support it.

MC: You’re worried that Xu Yin has noticed the investigation team, and thus intentionally sought me out?

Lu Jinghe: Yes. After all, Xu Yin has an extraordinary identity, and with the Rainbow River Laboratory’s sudden situation earlier…

Lu Jinghe: The investigation is no longer completely hidden in the “dark”. We have to be aware of all possible factors.

MC: Sounds reasonable.

Lu Jinghe: Although, no need to worry too much. We’ll have to see Xu Yin’s reactions to know what reason she came for.

Lu Jinghe: When we see her in a while, you focus on the case. I’ll deal with the connections between her, Heirson, as well as Qin Shan.

MC: Sure.

Lu Jinghe: Alright, we talked for a long while, so take a nap for a bit.

Lu Jinghe: We’re still a while away from the appointment location with Xu Yin. Replenish your energy – we’ve got a tough battle ahead of us, after all.

--

Restaurant

The place where Lu Jinghe and Xu Yin had agreed to meet at was a high-end, suburban restaurant.

When we arrived, Xu Yin was the only patron in the entire dining area.

Seeing Lu Jinghe and I enter, she immediately got up and greeted us.

Xu Yin: CEO Lu, you’ve come.

Lu Jinghe: The roads were a little congested and we got held up. Thank you for waiting, Director Xu.

Xu Yin: You’re welcome, CEO Lu. Then this one…

Xu Yin turned her gaze towards me.

Xu Yin: This lady must be Themis Law Firm’s Lawyer MC.

MC: Hello, I’m MC.

Xu Yin: Hello, please take a seat.

We’d just taken a seat across from Xu Yin when she spoke first, before Lu Jinghe could say anything.

Xu Yin: I’ve heard for a long while that Miss MC’s ability is outstanding – a rising star within Stellis’ legal world.

Xu Yin: Last time I had someone look for you at the law firm, but you just happened to be out of office.

Xu Yin: With our meeting today, I can see that you’re as extraordinary as expected.

MC: (A direct acknowledgement?)

Under the table, Lu Jinghe gently tapped on the back of my hand, hinting at me to continue the conversation Xu Yin started.

MC: Thank you for your acknowledgement, Madam Xu. I know of what happened that day.

MC: Although the receptionist said that the person who came for me left in a rush, and he looked worried…

MC: Did something happen?

Xu Yin: This…

Xu Yin sighed.

Lu Jinghe: Did Director Xu encounter some sort of issue? There’s no harm in saying it – perhaps we’ll be able to help somewhere.

Xu Yin: Speaking of which, I should thank you, CEO Lu.

Xu Yin: My work has been busy recently, and I haven’t had the time to personally see Miss Lawyer, and an issue even cropped up when my assistant acted on my behalf.

Xu Yin: It’s thanks to you setting this up today that I had the chance to meet MC.

Lu Jinghe: It’s not a problem, Director Xu, merely the effort of lifting a finger.

Lu Jinghe: I don’t really have any other hobbies – I simply like helping others deal with issues.

Xu Yin: …

Lu Jinghe: …

Lu Jinghe and Xu Yin sunk into a strange silence for a moment.

MC: Madam Xu, you sought me out to…

Xu Yin: Ah… I wanted to commission you to defend someone.

Xu Yin: Here are the case files that the lawyers I previous commissioned made. You can take a look first.

Xu Yin turned on her portable tablet, indicating for Lu Jinghe and me to accept document sharing.

I opened the document, and what greeted my eyes was the documented suspect…

Lu Jinghe and I exchanged a silent glance.

It was indeed Wang Chunchong.

Xu Yin: This person is named Wang Chunchong, the second son of Wang Pharmaceuticals. CEO Lu, you probably recognize him.

Xu Yin: Not long ago, he was identified by the police as the suspect of a murder case, but Chunchong insisted that he did not kill anyone…

Xu Yin: So I’d like to commission you to become his defense lawyer and find the truth for him.

MC: The case that Mr. Wang was involved in was…

Xu Yin: It’s the one that’s had lots of intense discussion online recently, the murder of the couple in Yaofu Community.

Xu Yin: The exact case details are indicated in the files I just sent you.

I nodded, then scanned through the case files I’d received.

Taking advantage of the interval as I read the files, Lu Jinghe and Xu Yin engaged in small talk again.

Lu Jinghe: It looks like the relation between Director Xu and Wang Chunchong is quite decent.

Xu Yin: CEO Lu, you also know that our Xu family and the Wang family are quite friendly to begin with. Chunchong’s mother is also a close friend of mine.

Xu Yin: With this, Chunchong is half like my own child.

Lu Jinghe: Is that so… then,, Director Xu, did you help Wang Chunchong find other lawyers before?

Xu Yin: I did, but…

Xu Yin: After those lawyers saw the police investigation report, they either tried to convince me to give up, or they wanted Chunchong to plead guilty immediately and aim for a lessened sentence.

Xu Yin: But Chunchong told me the whole time that he didn’t kill anyone, and I doubt that a child as kind as him would kill.

Xu Yin: Miss Lawyer, I saw the reports on the several cases you oversaw before. I feel that you are the only one capable of saving Chunchong.

Xu Yin: Please consider it.

Xu Yin’s burning gaze focused on me.

But compared to her modest demeanor, her words were not the slightest bit “courteous”.

MC: (She deliberately appeared weak first, then followed up by praising me…)

MC: (Xu Yin’s made it clear that she won’t let me refuse.)

As I pondered rapidly, Lu Jinghe silently took my hand under the table.

His fingertip brushed on my palm, feeling intriguingly tingly.

MC: …

But I soon realized that Lu Jinghe was writing something.

MC: (Be… careful…)

MC: …

I held his hand back, then patted the back of his hand, hinting at him to not worry.

MC: Madam Xu, thank you for your acknowledgement towards me.

MC: But I am merely an ordinary lawyer, and I don’t deserve so much praise from you.

Xu Yin: Miss Lawyer, there is no need for such modesty. I believe in your ability.

Xu Yin: I truly hope that you can accept Chunchong’s case and return innocence to him.

MC: But…

Lu Jinghe: Director Xu, don’t rush to talk about the commission just yet.

Lu Jinghe suddenly spoke.

Xu Yin: CEO Lu… is something the matter?

Lu Jinghe: Yes. I have a question to ask Director Xu.

Xu Yin: CEO Lu, please feel free.

Lu Jinghe: Director Xu, aren’t you tired from acting for so long?

[edie-k]

Legally Ginger (Chapter 2)

Title: Legally Ginger

Chapter 2/9

Rating: PG-13 (I use fuck more than the MPAA allows for PG-13 but that's a stupid rule - there's no explicit content)

Pairing: Romione endgame

Summary: When Ron Weasley's college girlfriend declines his proposal because he doesn't meet her standard for future husband, he decides comes up with a plan to let her see him in a new light.

Notes: This is an AU Muggle reimagination of Legally Blonde. It's very different than anything I have ever written - and my first chapter story. I intend to update each Monday - although I'm slightly early due to commitments tomorrow.

TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter has a character making a joke about an incident of sexual harassment they were the victim of. This is a line directly from the movie and is bolded to indicate it's not my original dialogue. Unlike the movie, the conduct is identified as harassment.

Shout out to TheKillerTigerBunny’s recent fic for inspiring a scene in the admissions video.

Thanks to adnei again for her feedback!

Read at AO3 or click below for more

Ron mindlessly shoved his hand back into the bag of chips next to him on the bed as he stared at the TV in the corner.

He had spent all day Sunday trying to compose the perfect text. The magic words that would bring her back. He composed dozens of drafts. Some were apologetic - clearly he shouldn’t have sprung an engagement on her but that didn’t mean they had to break up! Some were logical - there was almost a full semester of school left that they could spend together and see where they stood at graduation. Some were just pathetic - begging and pleading her for a second chance.

Finally, he decided to keep it simple.

can we please talk?

She responded.

it’s too hard to talk. I love you but that doesn’t mean this can work I’m sorry

He didn’t respond further. In the end, he couldn’t figure out how to fix what was wrong with him. There was no clear way to make himself worthy of Astoria.

So when the alarm went off Monday morning, he hit snooze. Then he hit it again. And again. And then he just turned it off for the next four days, only emerging from his room in the middle of the night to raid the pantry for more supplies. Apart from a few supportive texts from his siblings and friends, he’d been mostly left to wallow. Which could only mean that news of his humiliation had spread across campus and people were keeping their distance. He appreciated it but had a hunch his brothers’ patience would soon wear thin.

As if on cue, the door flung open.

“All right, Ron,” said Fred, barging in the room. “It’s been a week. Time to emerge.”

“Uh,” grunted Ron. Pig trotted in happily and jumped up on the bed next to Ron.

Fred paused and looked at the TV. “My God, are you watching NBC Sports Network? You need to snap out of it.”

Ron shrugged. “Lost the remote two days ago.”

George poked his head in the room before entering. “God, it reeks in here. And it better be beer in that bottle by your nightstand. Thankfully, we brought reinforcements.”

“Hey bro,” said Ginny, popping into the room. “It’s time to seize the day!”

“No,” he said flatly to his sister.

“Come on, you don’t want to blow off your classes. You’ve worked too hard to have to graduate in the summer semester. You want the celebrity commencement speaker, not whatever ancient associate dean they con into putting on a robe in August,” Ginny appealed.

“I’ve been emailing my assignments. It’s fine.”

“Well, this isn’t fine. Come on! I know what always cheers you up,” Ginny wheedled.

“Ehm,” Ron grunted, turning over.

“Please!” begged Ginny. “I need to blow off steam too.”

“I’ll buy you cheese fries,” George suggested.

“My own order,” Ron said.

“Yes,” agreed George.

“And beer,” Ron added.

“Goes without saying!” said Fred, yanking the covers off of him. “Shower and we’re off!”

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

Forty minutes later, he was moping under the umbrella shaded patio table outside of the batting cages, Pig at his feet, picking at his fries while his beer warmed in the sunshine. Fred and George were taking cracks off the pitching machine with a couple of his frat brothers and members of Ginny’s sorority that had tagged along.

“Come on,” said Ginny. “You need to hit something.”

“I’ll take the next one,” Ron replied listlessly.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Girls, make him see reason,” she appealed to her sisters, who were seated next to him flipping through magazines. Ginny jogged off to join the others.

“Ron, Astoria is trash,” said Lavender.

“She is not!”

“She’s trash,” agreed Parvati. “Bougie trash.”

“I’m the one that’s clearly trash.”

“No, you’re a fucking straight up 9 and if I wasn’t in love with the moron taking 40 mile per hour softballs to the head - ” Lavender gestured at Seamus who was doing just that - “I would already be in your pants,” Lavender assured him.

“You’re a little too earnest for me, if I’m being honest,” said Parvati. “And you’re a dude, so no. But if you dated one of my friends, I wouldn’t tell her she could do better than you.”

“Yeah,” said Ron, throwing up his hands in exasperation. “Astoria, you should take me back. I’m not as good of a catch as a guy that tries to achieve CTE for fun but at least Parvati won’t shit talk me behind my back.”

The girls giggled. “Ron, I know it hurts that she didn’t feel the same about you but truly, you are better off. She was just flat out wrong. You’re smart, you’re accomplished, everyone likes you. She’s a snob looking for a certain name to hyphenate behind hers. Just like her sister,” Parvati insisted, pointing at the People magazine in front of her.

Ron peered over her shoulder. There was a color shot of Astoria’s sister Daphne, her hand ensconced in the hand of a dark haired man, walking the sidewalks of New York.

“Is that the Kennedy Taylor Swift dated?” asked Lavender. The two girls' voices faded in the background as he read and reread the caption.

Third year Princeton Law.

This is what Astoria was talking about. Her sister was dating some east coast prep school guy who went to a fancy university. In some ways, he got it. That need to live up to your siblings’ accomplishments or better yet, surpass them. He certainly felt it himself.

Bill, with his gorgeous French wife, was on the executive track at a financial firm. Charlie, with his easygoing personality, had somewhat accidentally launched a successful YouTube channel about his wildlife adventures in Asia. Percy, who had somehow managed to weather the civil servant storm and was on his third presidential administration at the IRS. Fred and George had their plans and Ginny knew she’d go early in the next National Women’s Soccer League draft if she didn’t opt to play soccer professionally overseas.

And Ron had had Astoria. The thought of a good life with a good job supporting an amazing and ambitious woman was exactly what he wanted. But she needed a little more. She needed someone that could prove they played at her level and bring a little flash and substance, like Daphne’s fiancé did.

He stared at the picture. Ron couldn’t get the Kennedy name. But he could wear a fucking rugby shirt and throw gel in his hair and...

“That’s it!” Ron shouted.

“What?” both girls asked, startled.

“I’m going to Harvard Law,” he announced.

Both girls stared. “Seamus, sweetie?” called Lavender. “Bring your batting helmet. He’s got some brain damage and we need to protect his skull from further harm.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Ha ha. So Astoria’s a little… materialistic and thinks about optics. Everyone Is flawed. And Lav, you said yourself that I’m a nine. How does law school, hell, Harvard Law School, not get me to a ten?”

“What’s going on?” asked Ginny. They’d abandoned the cages at Lavender’s call.

“I’m going to law school,” Ron announced proudly.

“Why?” asked George.

“Ron, no. You loved your internship. You have three job offers doing what you enjoy. This is fucking insane,” Fred insisted.

“You can’t give up free beer,” Seamus added.

“Maybe I’ll love law school,” Ron reasoned. “And if I don’t, I don’t have to finish. It’ll be enough to prove to Astoria I can get into Harvard - ”

“Harvard?” George asked.

“—And not embarrass her. The jobs I enjoyed have regulatory aspects to them so hey, a semester of law school can only help, right?”

“This is asinine,” Parvati said.

“Free beer,” whined Seamus.

“Holy shit,” cried Ginny, flashing her phone towards them. “Have you seen the cost of tuition?” She flashed it to George before Ron snatched the phone out of her hand.

“How the fuck are you going to pay for that?”

Ron cringed. “It’s not going to be my proudest moment. but I’ve got an idea.”

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

“Hi, Auntie,” Ron said, as he followed the maid into the giant sitting room.

“Ronald,” Muriel greeted. They stood looking at each other awkwardly a moment. “Well, sit down. You,” she barked at the maid. “Bring us some drinks.”

“Right away, ma’am,” the maid scurried off.

Ron and his siblings came from fairly blue collar roots on both sides of the family. In fact, they were the first to attend college. The cost had made it out of reach for his mother and father to attend themselves. Mom’s brothers had planned to take advantage of the GI Bill but unfortunately were casualties of the first Gulf War. After that, Muriel had set up education trusts for her great niece and nephews with the $20,000 incentive. While his mom and dad had always refused any other financial help from Muriel, education was just too important to pass up.

Muriel had money to burn. Unbelievably, she’d been the trophy wife of an oil billionaire 35 years older than her back in her heyday and other than maintaining her estate, caring for at least 6 dogs at any given time and keeping a steady supply of brandy, she mostly just spent her money on controlling whatever family and non-profits she could sink her claws into.

“So,” said Muriel as the maid returned with a snifter of brandy for each of them. “I assume you’ve come for an advance on your graduation gift. When I saw your mother last month, she said things were quite serious between you and that Greengrass girl.”

“Uh, not exactly. See Aunt Muriel, I’ve had a change to my course of studies.”

“You’re almost done and NOW you realize that culinary arts will earn you pennies?”

“No,” he gritted his teeth. “Not culinary arts. It’s food science. It has to do with the biochemistry of food systems and preservation.”

Muriel snorted. “And you’ve decided that since pioneer women had canning figured out, there was nothing further for you to do.”

“Actually, I’ve decided to attend law school.”

“Law school?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Harvard Law.”

“You think you’re going to Harvard Law?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“Why?”

“Why-why do I want to go?” Ron responded. He wasn’t sure if his reason would impress Muriel much.

“No, why do you think you’ll get in?”

It was a fair question. Before college, he had never been an over achiever. That had started with the CULA soccer coach coming to see Ginny play during the spring of her junior year. He’d joined the coach, his parents and Ginny at the house after the meet and delivered the disappointing news that the only event he’d qualified for in the district meet was the 3200 meter. While his family looked sympathetic, the coach smiled and said, “Yes, I’d expect that you’d be a great distance runner. My husband coaches cross country at CULA. Could I give him your name?”

No one had ever expected him to be great at anything.

He won the state title in his division for 3200 meter that year and went on to win the conference title twice at college.

And once he proved himself there, people expected he’d be good at chemistry and they expected he’d be a good president of the house and good at fundraising. And he was. Doing what he was expected to do worked.

But now, they all expected him to give up on the love of his life.

“Just… want to do the unexpected.”

“You know I’m on the board of the local humane society?”

“Uh, I guess,” said Ron. He was actually clueless to her old biddy affairs.

“I understand you raised $12,000 for us at the end of last year.”

“Me and the rest of the guys,” he answered.

“Violet Pullen led me to believe it was mostly your doing.”

Ron shrugged. “I was the one who knew how to brew the beer. And it wasn’t that hard to get the permissions to bottle it and sell it and stuff. The other guys got it promoted for the most part.”

Muriel looked at him appraisingly before she chuckled dryly. “Bring me an acceptance letter and I’ll cut a check.”

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

“What the hell is all this?”

Ron glanced up from the stack of study guides he was perusing to answer the twins. “LSAT study guides.”

Fred groaned. “Are you still on this?”

“Of course,” Ron said. “My advisor said I need like, a 173 on the LSAT to be seriously considered.”

“Why would they consider a food science major?”

Ron shrugged. “I have a 3.89 GPA. And Stori’s a philosophy major.”

“But that makes sense,” George said.

“How?” challenged Ron.

“Dunno. I guess because philosophy is a snob subject that’s totally useless without at least a graduate degree.”

Ron ignored them.

“And how are you paying for this?”

“Muriel will cover tuition if I get in. I’ll live at home this summer and I’ve got a couple technician jobs I can take that my degree makes me more than qualified for, plus some catering gigs. I figure that’ll be enough to get through the school year.”

“Ron,” Fred said. “Bro, you like your life. Why change it for some girl?”

“I’m getting fucking tired of this. She’s not some girl. I’m in love with her. She’s the one and I just need to show her I’m worthy of her.”

“You ARE worthy of her,” George insisted.

“Then it’ll be easy to prove, right?” said Ron.

The twins looked at each other and sighed.

“Here, take my lucky pencil for the exam. It helped me pass Spanish.” Fred held out the writing instrument to Ron.

“You passed Spanish because you gave Professor Trewlaney a lap dance,” George reminded him.

“Yeah. Luckily.”

“That’s sexual harassment,” said Ron.

“It is?” asked Fred.

“Yeah, it’s called quid pro quo. She should be fired for that.”

“Well hot damn, Ronnie,” said George. “Maybe you’re set for this law school stuff after all.”

“The exam is the least of my worries. I need a two page essay, professor recommendations, and a ‘personal statement’ of some sort. I’ve never been great at selling myself,” he admitted.

“Well Georgie,” said Fred with a grin. “Looks like you just found the subject of your senior marketing project.”

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

“Well,” said Horace Michaels, rubbing his face and looking at his fellow panel members. “That was certainly something.”

“The video was a lot but… I like him,” said Veda Kasyor. “He’s a college athlete and president of his fraternity while carrying a high GPA.”

“Oh, is he an athlete Veda? Did the shirtless jogging footage tip you off?”

“He was also brewing beer in his frat basement.”

“He’s a food science major.”

“And he sold that beer on campus as a Humane Society fundraiser.”

“Who produced this video? Pretty heavy handed with the studying in the library footage,” Richard scoffed.

“He’s got a 3.89 GPA and he got a 177 on the LSAT. He probably studies.”

“Was he playing chess naked in the video?”

“It was his opponent who wasn’t wearing clothes - I believe it was strip chess.”

“If we’re looking for diversity - ”

“A white man’s not it.”

“Typically, no but he’s got, what, 6 siblings? Dad’s a mailman, Mom’s a parapro. He’s not some trust fund legacy case.”

“He had internships with two major corporations. And his resume shows part-time jobs since he was 16.”

“I’m concerned about his course of study. Food science is the hard sciences. Is he going to be equipped to handle position statements?”

“His personal essay was well-written and compelling, plus he minored in business. His Business Strategy prof had a glowing recommendation.”

“Ron Weasley… welcome to Harvard.”

[valeriethepussycats]

Assemble

Chapter 5

Pairing- Loki x Reader x Steve (one side)

Warning- cursing 

Your thoughts and other characters are in italics.

Flashbacks are in bold

Your favorite TV show- y/tv

Your Harry potter house- y/h

After Ororo kisses Y/n’s forehead she starts running away trying to make it out of the woods so she wouldn’t be Capture by the Weapon X Program. When Ororo makes it out the woods she comes across a  small town.

What have I done I left her when they after me was

This was Ororo’s only thought.  She had to fight the impulse to run back into the woods and save her daughter. Apart of her knew that her daughter was already gone. What is the point of both of us getting taking said  a darker another part of her. Feeling conflicted about everything Ororo starts to cry.

“You should listen to yourself it would’ve been pointless if you both would have gotten caught.” Said a voice behind Ororo.

Turning around Ororo see a man in a wheelchair. “Who are you?” Ororo questioned.

“I’m Charles Xavier and when came out the store I felt  overwhelmed  sadness coming from you I wanted to make sure cyou were ok but clearly you’re not....what is the matter?” Charles asked.

“These people they were after me and now they have my daughter. They experiment on mutants..... I have to do something to find her.” Ororo explained.

“How would you do it? If you had the power to stop them you would’ve.” Charles stated.

“May you can. Can you help me save my daughter please I’ll do anything.” Ororo pleaded as she wipes her face.  

“There’s not much I can do I’m just a man in a wheelchair who want to create a world were mutant can walk outside without fear.” Charles declared.

“What about my daughter I’ll never see her again.” Ororo sobbed.

Charles lay a comforting hand on Storm’s shoulder. “You never had a daughter Ororo your here because you want to help with your Mutant abilities.” Charles lied as he planted a thought inside  Ororo’s head.

Ororo stops sobbing and looks at Charles In curiosity.

“My school is for mutants who can’t control their powers or want to be around other  people of their kind.” Charles informed Ororo. “Does that seem like a place where you want to be?”

“Yes it does sound like a place I would want to be.” Ororo said with a smile.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

On the Helicarrier Tony and Bruce are working on their monitors to find the Location of the Tesseract.

“That’s the guy my dad never shut up about? Wondering if they shouldn’t have kept him on ice.” Tony remarked.

“The guy’s not wrong about Loki. He does have the jump on us.” Bruce agreed with Steve.

“What he’s got is an ACME dynamite kit.”  Tony mocked. “It's gonna blow up in his face, and I'm gonna be there when it does.”

“And I'll read all about it.” Bruce replied.

“Uh-huh. Or you'll be suiting up like the rest of us.” Tony disclosed.

“Ah, see. I don't get a suit of armor. I'm exposed, like a nerve. It's a nightmare.” Bruce  explained.

“You know, I've got a cluster of shrapnel, trying every second to crawl its way into my heart. Tony started then points at the mini arc reactor in his chest. “This stops it. This little circle of light. It's part of me now, not just armor. It's a... terrible privilege.”

“But you can control it.” Bruce pointed out.

“Because I learned how.”

“It's different.” Banner tries to read the computer screen, but Tony slides the  data aside with his finger so the two can see face-to-face.

“Hey, I've read all about your accident. That much gamma exposure should have  killed you.” Tony put forth.”

“So you're saying that The Hulk... the other guy... saved my life?” Bruce asked. “That's nice. It's a nice sentiment. Saved it for what?”

“I guess we'll find out.” Tony replied.

Banner and Stark get back to work at their respective computers.

“You might not like that.”

“You just might.”

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Y/n walks into the room and uses her powers to cover up the cameras with a small little cloud she walks over to Loki so he has his back to her and waits for her to speak.

“Where is the Tesseract?”  Y/n question.

“35 minutes that’s how long it taken you to finally come in here. Loki announced. “See me you felt some thing when you first saw me like your world slow down and all you saw was me.”

How the hell does he know that .....ignore his question that’s what he wants to take the tension off of him

“Where is the Tesseract.” Y/n repeated her question.

“I don’t know where is but if you want to take a look inside my mind I wouldn’t object.” Loki said with a smirk daring wanting Y/n to do it.

Not trying to show her shock she starts to walks around Loki’s cell.

“So you don’t know where it is when you’re the one who took it.”

“Yes.” Loki said Dead serious.

“You’re a real piece of work you know that. Why did you let yourself be captured come on let’s be honest if Thor and his friends can hold their own in a fight I damn well you can.” Y/n proclaimed.

“It was a fair match I was over powered.” Loki lied.

“Bullshit. You expect me to believe that you got caught nah. You want this to happen you want to be here and I wanna know why because your prize possession ain’t here.” Y/n pointed out.

“You got me.  Something told me that you were going to be here I let myself get caught so I could finally met you in person.” Loki answered.

“Why would you do that?”  Y/n wondered.

“You are beautiful beyond measures and you’re nothing like anyone I ever met before You’re different like me.” Loki announced.

“You don’t know me.” Y/n informed sassily.

“I know everything there is to know about you Y/n L. Munroe.  I also know that you want information about what truly happened that night.” Loki commented.

���How do you know that.” Y/n questioned walking up to the glass of the cell.

“A trickster never reveals his tricks.” Loki answered with a smirk.

“Why do I feel this pull towards.....like everything inside of me is screaming to break this glass just to be close to you.” Y/n said touching the glass.

“Then why don’t you.” Loki whispered as he placed his hand where Y/n is on the glass.

“Because your the enemy. You want war.” Y/n Replied as searches Loki mind for the Tesseract.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

“What do you know of Agent Munroe?” Loki asked Clint.

“She is a powerful mutant that can control the weather and read minds.” Clint answered.

Loki calls over two Shield agents. “I want you to tell Dr. Selvig to take the Tesseract and find his opening.” Loki ordered then walks out the underground to get an eyeball.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Damn it he doesn’t know where the Tesseract is.

“I want to be a King and every King needs a Queen.” Loki breathed his words at Y/n.

I understand why eve ate that Fucking Apple

“I need to go.” Y/n rushes out the room and bumps into Thor.

“ You. Me. Talk. Now.” Y/n pulls Thor into The nearest room and close the door.

“What the hell you mean he’s here because of me?”

“I forgot you could read minds.”  Thor stated.

“It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose.” Y/n assured Thor.

“You and my brother are meant to be it’s been written in the stars of Asgard it’s a great honor.” Thor explained.

“What!?”

“My mother told me after Loki died or least we thought he did. She created a spell to find Loki a true love and it’s you.”

Is that’s why I feel the way I feel about him.

“Enough about Loki tell me about you how have you been. Have you seen Jane yet .” Y/n asked taking a sit on on the couch.

“No I haven’t I don’t think I will.” Thor answered taking a sit next to Y/n.

“Because after you leave here you have to go back home.”  Y/n expressed.

“It will be to hard.” Thor replied with a sad smile.

“I understand  it’s ok buddy.” Y/n said as she lays her head on Thor’s shoulder.

“How about you anything interesting happened after our last encounter?” Thor asked.

“I found out my mother is alive.” Y/n answered dryly.

“That’s........Amazing.” Thor proclaimed.

“She left me at the hands of people who hunt and experimented on mutants.”

“My.... apologies”

“I was five I loved her she was my world. All we had was each other. I.....I blamed myself for her death I thought if I would’ve just stayed awake or kept running....” Y/n trailed  off.

“Things would’ve ended differently.” Thor finished for Y/n.

“Ya.....what are we gonna do about Loki.” Y/n said getting up from the couch to pace back-and-forth.

“I was hoping you do something.” Thor proposed.

“I read his mind he gave the cube to Erik and told him to find an opening.”  Y/n answered.

“How did he know about your powers?” Thor questioned.

“Agent Barton told him.....Look I’m gonna go get some sleep I’m over working my brain.” Y/n said in a tired voice.

“Already.”

“I really did miss you Thor.” Y/n said with a smile.

“And I you.” Thor returned the smile.

Y/n walks out the room to her Temporary quarters Y/n lays down in her room she closes her eyes and drift off into a deep sleep.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Y/n wakes up and see she’s not in her bed she gets out of the bed and walks to the nearest window and pull back the curtains and see a city made of gold.

Asgard

Y/n smiles as she looks at every detail. Seemingly built into the rock, large structures with sweeping terraces top many of the cliffs; gleaming pyramids, statues, and columns surround Odin's palace. Another notable feature in Asgard is the-

“The Rainbow Bridge.” Y/n Announced.

“Actually it’s called The Bifrost Bridge.” Said a voice behind Y/n making turn around fast.

It’s Loki. But he looks different he doesn’t have that evil look in his eyes there soft.

“Loki.” Y/n whispered his name. “What are you doing here? What am I doing here.”

“You’re in my mind,when you saw me for the first time we became linked.” Loki explained.

“Oh.”

“Will you have breakfast with me?” Loki asked.

“Breakfast?” Y/n said with a smile.

“You must change.”

Just then two ladies comes walking in the room with to dress then they lay them on the bed and bow at Y/n.

“Don’t you think this is a little too formal. It’s just breakfast.”  Y/n stressed.

“These are Asgard customs.” Loki Informed Y/n.

“Ok I’ll be down in few minutes.”

Loki bow his head then walks out the room.

Why are they bowing at me

Y/n  walks over to the dress on the bed. The one on the left is a long and green with cross stitching on the chest. But the one on the right was long and tan light with red sugar Maple Leafs climbing from the bottom of the dress to around the neck leaving the upper chest expose. Y/n  picks up the dress and smiles.

I not really a dress girl but who could deny this one

Y/n  puts the dress on and walks over to the mirror.

Damn I look good

Y/n walks out the room not bother to fix her hair but it was already in her favorite hair style. The ladies that brought the dresses in the room walks Y/n  to the dining hall. When she gets there she see Loki waiting for her. Loki take Y/n’s hand and walks her to her sit.

“This is all so much.” Y/n  said taking a sit.

“Nonsense anything for you.” Loki said pushing Y/n’s sit in.

”Thank you...I’ve only seen Asgard from Thor’s memories but this is beautiful.” Y/n

“This is my memories.” Loki told Y/n as he takes his sit.

Y/n looks around the Grate Hall in  amazement. There’s two tables a shorter one thats the one Loki and Y/n are at then it’s the longer one where Loki has every earth breakfast food on it.  As Y/n is distracted by the architectural structure of the Castle Loki is looking at her noticing every detail of her face.

“This is really beautiful Loki.” Y/n Praised.

“Not beautiful then you.” Loki remarked.

When Y/n finally looks at Loki she see that he’s giving her the “looks” you know the see into your soul look.

“Loki, what am I doing here?” Y/n wondered.

“I want to know you better is that a crime.”  Loki answered.

“No it is not but I know there’s more to it.” Y/n disclosed.

“I want to know everything about you in exchange I’ll tell you about the night your mother disappeared.” Loki proposed.

“Ok. What do you want to know?” Y/n asked.

“Anything.” Loki breathed.

“Well I find nature relaxing, best years of my life was when I lived in New Orleans with  Gambit, November 18  is the day I control my power l just remember this overwhelming sadness that I couldn’t control.  I caused a state wide earthquake and black out even some city in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and Connecticut had black outs. Think I care to much. I’m passionate about everything I do. When I’m losing control of my powers I think of my time with Gambit and it always seem to work. I think I watch y/tv  to much.  My house is y/h . You remain me of Professor Snape a good guy in disguise.

“Who’s Professor Snape is he someone important to you?” Loki asked.

“He’s important to everyone who reads Harry Potter. You see Professor Snape was portrayed to be a bad guy but he never was he was an asshole yes  but not a bad guy. He cared for Harry because he was a piece of the woman he loved.....I’m sorry I really the loved books and movies Gambit used to read them to me.” Y/n stated with a smile.

“No it’s fine you said you were passionate about everything.”  Loki said with an fond look.

Y/n  smiles and starts to eat her pancakes. As Y/n is eating some syrup gets on the corner of Y/n’s mouth. Loki looks Y/n in the eyes as he reaches over and slowly wipes the syrup away from Y/n’s mouth with his thumb. He  then puts the pad of this thumb into his mouth. Y/n is shocked by Loki sudden movement.

“You had syrup on your cheek.” Loki told Y/n

“Um....thanks....Um the view is amazing.” Y/n  gets up and walks over to the balcony needing to put space between her and Loki. But it was in vane Loki walks up behind her.

“I’ve seen something far more amazing.” Loki

“Why are you doing this are trying to put me under your spell?” Y/n wondered.

“No I would never.” Loki said serious voice.

“Then what’s going on.”  

“I just want to be here with you.”

And in that moment Y/n  knew that Loki  was serious even asked all the times he told her he was she finally believed.  Y/n turns around and smiles at Loki she ledes in and kisses him. She then starts to get flashes of Loki’s childhood and smiles into the kiss.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Steve, with all his might, slides the heavy iron door and stealthily walks in. Secure storage 10-C is a large warehouse, filled with Metal crates stacked. Steve looks up, seeing another level. He leaps up high and holds onto the catwalk railing. Steve continues to move forward.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Inside this particular van, Selvig and a few other soldiers are  driving inside a long tunnel. With the CMS device inside, Selvig carefully picks up the small cylinder shape Iridium with metal prongs and lightly places it a slot within the CMS. The CMS Accepts it and Selvig looks at it, devilishly smiling.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

After “accepting” Charles offer to be be apart of this school Ororo went on to be known as the X-Men Storm somewhat of a caretaker of the children at Charles’s school. This was every day routine for Ororo waking up teaching children taking care of them and then probably go out scouting for more mutants with Jean or Scott but this time Charles had a different approach he paired her up with Logan. Yes you heard right the mutant with an unstoppable healing power, adamantium metal claws and no-nonsense attitude and one of the most ferocious heroes in the universe.

Logan and Ororo walk into Cerebro and see Charles. “You wanted to see us Chuck?” Logan  asked.

“There’s this mutant in Manhattan with a the power that can take the potential energy stored in an object and convert it to kinetic energy thus “charging” that item with explosive results. I need you to find him he has information on a mutant that  I need to find.” Charles informed Ororo and Logan.

“What’s he’s name Professor?” Ororo asked.

“Remy LeBeau but he also goes by Gambit.” Charles answered.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Gambit is at a bar late night drowning his sorrows in whiskey. Thinking about all the choices that led to him being here at a bar in Manhattan drinking he’s life away. He missed Y/n more then anything she was his daughter.

Gambit nod at Nick then  walks over to Y/n. “I guess is the end of the road.” Gambit commented.

“Can you promise me one thing?” Y/n Asked.

“What is it?” Gambit wondered with a curious tone.

“Don’t forget about me.” Y/n said with a sad smile.

“Never in a million years.” Gambit promised in a fatherly way.

Y/n hugs Gambit like her life depended on it.

“I love you.” Y/n sniffled.

Gambit pulls back from the hug to wipe Y/n’s tears “I love you too petit.” Gambit replied.“ This isn’t goodbye you’re gonna see me.”

Gambit shakes his head not wanting to remember what he said it makes him feel like a liar. He hasn’t seen her in years apart of him wonders if she would see him would she remember him? Gambit didn’t want to think about that he didn’t want that to be a Possibility. Gambit orders and another glass of whiskey and just when the bartender hands him he’s drinking two people approach him.

“I’m in no mood to fight so whatever business you have with me can it wait.” Gambit announced.

“You Remy LeBeau?”  Logan asked.

“That depends on who’s asking.”  Gambit stated.

“Charles Xavier he wants to know what happened in Canada with you and a mutant.”Ororo explained.

“And who might you be?” Gambit questioned as he turns around and see Logan and Ororo.

“Storm.”

“Stormy. You know my real name but I don’t know your.”

“And that’s how we like bub.” Logan Chimed in.

“No it’s fine I’m Ororo Munroe.”  Ororo told Gambit.

“I figure you were.” Gambit  downs his drink then pays for it and walks out the bar with  Ororo and Logan following closely.

“You asked nice now it’s my turn.”

Gambit pulls out a deck of cards and charge them. “Looks not looking for a fight ok you want to know what happened in Canada.  A little girl woke up in a cell across from mine crying out for her ma. Experimented on her and made her into a powerful mutant. The black out that happened on November 18 her I no doubt.” Gambit explained. “If you came here thinking I know where your daughter is you are mistaken.”

“What’s he talking about?” Logan questioned.

“I don’t know? I have a daughter?”

“I would seem that the good old Professor did more then help you crop. Look I’m not mad at you because you’ve getting me something I never knew I wanted.” Gambit said walks away.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

On a Shield monitor is a photo and record of Jane Foster. Thor looks at her, remembering all the moments they had together.

“As soon as Loki took the doctor we moved Jane Foster. We've got an excellent observatory in Traunsee. She was asked to consult there very

suddenly yesterday. Handsome fee, private plane, very remote. She'll be safe.” Agent Coulson informed Thor.

“Thank you. It's no accident Loki taking Erik Selvig. I dread what he plans for him once he's done. Erik is a good man.” Thor declared.

“He talks about you a lot. You changed his life. You changed everything around here.” Agent Coulson told Thor.

“They were better as they were. We pretend on Asgard that we're more advanced, but we...we come here battling like Bilchsteim.” Thor replied.

“Like what?” Agent Coulson asked.

“Bilchsteim? You know; huge, scaly, big antlers. You don't have those?” Thor wondered.

“Don't think so.”  Agent Coulson answered.                      

“They are repulsive, and they trample everything in their path.” Thor walks over to the side of the ship and looks out the window, lamenting about what has happened and what may come. “When I first came to earth, Loki's rage  followed me here and your people paid the price. And now again. In my youth I courted war.”          

“War hasn't started yet. Nick Chimed. “You think you can make Loki tell us what the Tesseract is?

“I do not know. Loki's mind is far afield, it's not just power he craves,it's vengeance upon me. There's no pain hat would prize his need from him.” Thor explained.

“Loki is a prisoner he can’t do anything to here I won’t let it happen.” Thor proclaimed.

“Then why do I feel like he's the only person on this boat that wants to be here?” Nick questioned.

Thor doesn't answer.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

When Y/n woke up from the dream world she was both relieved and upset. Loki had her flustered and that’s what made her upset. So Y/n walked to the combat room and turns one one of the drone.

“Who would you like to fight?” The drone asked.

“Surprises me.” Y/n answered.

The combat room changes into a living room of a middle class family house.

“Not the living room scenario.” Y/n protested.

The drone takes form of Sabretooth. A feral mutant named Victor Creed, his an animalistic mutant who possesses superhuman strength, mobility and cat-like claws and teeth and  He’s also Wolverine's brother.

You got to be kidding me I fought him one time

Without warning Sabretooth throws Y/n crashing her coffe table in front of the sofa.

“Why is it always the table and never the sofa.”

Y/n kicks Sabretooth in the chest,knocking the big man into a table on the right wall, where he crashes into the  Vases and slides to the floor in a tumult of glass shards and water. Y/n springs to her feet and swings at Sabretooth, again and again, her fist whooshing through the air. Sabretooth grabs Y/n's right wrist. With no room to dodge, Y/n drives her head forward,smashing Sabretooth's face with a glorious headbutt.  As Sabretooth staggers back, Y/n picks up a broken leg from the table and points it at Sabretooth’s neck.

“You know there’s an easier way with dealing with-“Natasha turns off the simulator and the table leg disappears out of Y/n’s hand “Anger.”

“I’m Frustrated Nat. Loki knew I could read minds so he had the cube sent somewhere without him knowing.” Y/n explained.

A red glow starts to form around Y/n. Masking her worry Natasha walks over to Y/n. “You know what’s happens when that part of you takes over.”

“But what if the Phoenix taking over stops Loki and no one gets hurt?” Y/n questioned.

“Y/n there will always be collateral damage in anything that involves saving someone or saving everyone.” Natasha told Y/n.

“Your right......I’m gonna go check on Bruce and Tony in they lab.” Y/n about to walk out the room but Natasha’s voice stops her.

“I was told to find you and give you this.” Natasha hands Y/n a folded piece of paper.

“It’s your Remy LeBeau.”

“Thank you.”  

“Don’t thank me thank Director Fury.”

Y/n smiles at Natasha then walks out the combat room.

Part 6

[pufflyhallows]

Picks & Pens (II)

Hello! I’m back with another chapter for this one. This AU is so cool for me, I hope you guys like it.

Chapter Two: The Day I Died

Warnings: language

Word count: 2,4k

a/n: I still don’t know shit about press lol

Mrs. Lennox hadn’t e-mailed you in three days. Didn’t seem much time for the outside eye, but you knew it was strange. You hoped there was nothing wrong with the interview, as you had already started working on your questions and also had plans for the extra cash coming in soon. There was a local artist whose paintings had a quite fun twist on pop culture and you liked to support him. Your living room could use some more color too.

Just when you finally had all your focus directed at the writing of your questions, Jessie popped up behind your laptop with a questioning look.

“What?” you asked impatiently, slightly irritated that you had been interrupted.

“You’re too quiet today.”

“I’m working?”

“Must be something really important to make you miss Kevin’s afternoon rage. What is it?”

“Oh, I missed it? What was it this time? The vending machine ran out of peanuts?”

“Nope. The construction site is ‘making too much noise’.”

“He means the construction site ten floors below us?”

“Yeah. You can’t even hear it!” Jessie shook her head. “Anyway, you didn’t answer my question. What are you working on?”

“An interview,” you closed your laptop.

“Ooh… is it top secret?” she wiggled her eyebrows. “Is it an A-List celebrity? Oh my God, it’s Tom Hardy, isn’t it?”

“What? No,” you chuckled. “I’ll tell you when I get the confirmation. It’s a bit uncertain for now.”

“But can you give me a hint? Like… male or female? Actor or singer? Politician, maybe? A TV host?! Give me something, Y/N!”

“Male,” you said. “And that’s all I’m giving you.”

“Male… Hm…” she squeezed her eyes. “Are you sure it’s not Tom Hardy? You know I would definitely pretend to be your assistant and sneak in that interview, right?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t doubt that. But no, Jessie, it is not Tom Hardy.”

“What a bummer. Well, good luck on the confirmation. I need to go back to that puppy coat article.”

“Puppy coat?”

“Yeah, you know… Coats for puppies. It’s quite trendy now in the winter. People still need to take their dogs out for walkies, after all.”

“Please tell me you’re putting pictures on that article.”

“You bet I am,” she smiled. “Comes out tomorrow, probably. Check the website at noon.”

“I definitely will.”

When Jessie walked away, you heard the infamous ding from your computer, announcing a new e-mail. You quickly opened the device again and clicked on the e-mail icon. It was from Brenda.

Mrs. Lennox wants to grab coffee downstairs with you at 4 p.m.

Perfect. Probably an update on the scheduling.

You replied confirming your attendance to the casual meeting and looked at your watch. It was still 3:35 p.m.

Your train of thought for the interview had been lost already, thanks to Jessie and her curiosity, so you didn’t get back to it right away. Instead, you decided to stretch your legs and walk over to Ben’s desk. He managed to make those twenty five minutes pass quite fast, getting a few laughs out of you in the process. When it was time, you got into the elevator and descended a couple of floors to the coffee shop.

You knew from experience that Sophia Lennox always arrived five minutes after the time she set. She hated waiting for people, but she did not want to make people wait for her for too long. Words you heard from Sophia herself. For that reason, you took the liberty to sit at the most discrete table and wait for her inside. As expected, she appeared after five short minutes and sat in front of you.

“Have you ordered anything yet?” she asked, signaling to the waitress that usually served her table.

You shook your head just as the waitress approached the table.

“Hello, dear. One latte for me and…” Mrs. Lennox looked at you.

“A mocha for me,” you smiled at Sam, the waitress.

“Right away,” she smiled back, walking away.

“I could start this conversation with ‘you’re probably wondering why I asked you to meet me here’, but I know you’re smart enough not to wonder. You know this is about the interview,” Mrs. Lennox started. “And let me get this out of the way and say that it’s very much confirmed. You will be interviewing him. The only issue we’re having is his schedule. He’s a very busy man, apparently. Much busier than I thought.”

You kept on listening, not finding that information surprising.

“It was his birthday a couple of weeks ago and he had taken a break from his usual schedule to celebrate. Now that he’s back, there are some things he needs to take care of before even thinking about interviews. At least, that’s what his manager told me.”

“So no prediction?”

“Actually, yes. There is a prediction, but I don’t think you’re going to like it. He will probably be available between the 15th and the 21st of December. Though it’s no guarantee.”

“Oh! That’s like three weeks from now,” you reflected for a few seconds. “And then it will be quite a hurry to write the article.”

“I know… I felt really tempted to pull the ex-girlfriend card, but you’ve asked me not to and I didn’t.”

“What, you think they would make time for it if they knew?”

“I mean, probably. It’s good press for him too,” you looked down after hearing her words. Of course it’s about press. “But all they know is that it’s for SL Magazine.”

Before you could reply, Sam came back with your orders, placing them on the table.

“Thank you.”

As she walked away, you grabbed your cup of mocha and took a small sip.

“So…” Mrs. Lennox cleared her throat. “Can you do it?”

You knew that was a rhetorical question. There was no way you could backpedal now.

“Yes. But I’d really appreciate it if you managed to get me the 15th or 16th. The sooner, the better.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more,” your boss sighed, raising her cup at you before taking a sip. “I will try to get the-”

The conversation was interrupted by Mrs. Lennox’s cellphone ringing inside her purse. She reached for it and looked slightly surprised with the name on the screen. “It’s her.”

“Who?” you frowned.

“The manager,” she slid her finger across the screen and put the phone on her ear. “Hello?”

You grabbed your cup with both hands and took a long sip as you watched the conversation.

“I’m great! How about you? Oh, that’s lovely. I believe it was Tuesday, yes. Not at all! I completely understand. Well… um…” Mrs. Lennox looked at you hesitantly before carrying on. “Yes, that’s her.”

The nervousness and apprehension started kicking in. You found yourself almost squeezing the cup between your hands, waiting for your boss to end that call and tell you what was going on.

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” she let out a business laugh. “Oh, that will get a little rushed, don’t you think? No, no. I appreciate it. Thank you very much, Miss Dawson. Of course. Bye bye.”

Mrs. Lennox placed her phone on the table and took a deep breath. She looked at you and bit her lower lip thoughtfully.

“What happened?” you asked. “It wasn’t canceled, was it?”

“No! Don’t even say something like that,” she shook her head and waved her hand at you. “Well, his manager is quite good. She looked into SL and found out you work for us, so she wanted to know if, by any chance, you would be the one interviewing him. I wasn’t going to lie, of course, and said yes.”

“Oh...”

“Look, I know this isn’t what you wanted, but it is actually a good thing, Y/N. She said she’ll squeeze us in for next week!”

“Next week?!”

“Isn’t it great? I knew they would make time for you.”

Of course, I’m ‘good press’.

“You have started on the material, right?” Mrs. Lennox asked.

“I have, actually. But I’m still doing research.”

“Okay. You’ll have to hurry a little bit. Miss Dawson said next Wednesday is the perfect day, which means you only have about four days to finish it. And keep in mind that I want to see it before you go, so we should have a little spare time in case you need to make edits,” she stopped to take another sip and you accepted that your weekend was going to be wasted on Sirius Black research. “Do you know her, by the way? The manager.”

“No. He had a different one back then,” you sounded more bitter than you intended, and Mrs. Lennox eyed you for a couple of seconds.

“I won’t ask.”

“Thanks.”

“Well… let’s get to work!”

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

With a glass of red wine on your nightstand and random music videos from YouTube playing on the TV, you typed question after question on your laptop, sitting on your queen sized bed on a Saturday night. It was going to be a big article. Two full pages with three columns of text each, according to Mrs. Lennox. She wanted the narrated type, with you describing even his motioning hands. It was going to be a handful, but you were prepared. You had done it before. This wouldn’t be any different from the Saoirse Ronan one.

As you went through his discography, you listened to all the songs you hadn’t listened before, which meant most of them. After the breakup, you had stopped listening to his music altogether. You only knew the ones that became hits and played in the radio, gas stations, stores, every damn where. It was quite annoying, actually.

You got to the last song of his latest album, released eight months ago: Love Falls. There was no music video, so you paused the TV and clicked on the song on your laptop’s Spotify to listen to it through your headphones.

The lyrics immediately caught your attention.

Have you cried yourself to sleep?

Have you felt this incomplete?

Have you ever cut yourself so deep to see if you still bleed?

Oh, another angsty song. Great.

Do you ever feel wanted?

Do you ever feel needed?

Do you ever feel happy?

Or are you just like me?

What the fuck is he talking about? He’s the artist of the decade! Of course he’s wanted. If there was something that pissed you off about the music industry was when artists tried to be ‘relatable’ in their songs, even if it meant portraying an image that wasn’t necessarily true.

I’m hanging by a thread, a rope, the noose around my neck

I choke, ‘cause every time I’m falling love falls out of me

Right. What about all the girls he’d been with? Every month there were pictures of him partying with someone different and- Well, actually, that was it. Partying. In your research you realized he hadn’t been in a serious relationship since… you.

I'm hardened like a rock, a stone, the brick inside my chest

Alone, 'cause every time I'm falling love falls out of me

Maybe… maybe he wasn’t trying to be relatable. Maybe he wasn’t projecting a fake image. Maybe he did feel like that.

I'll never forget the day I died

Love memories frozen and denied

Flower of my heart withered and dried

You took a very long sip of your wine and wiped your lips with your sweater’s sleeve.

Love falls out of me

And that was it. The song ended. You had gone through his entire discography, listened to every song and watched every music video. Weirdly, apart from the ones that were released when you were still together, that was the first song that made you feel something. The first one you actually enjoyed. It was a really good song, you had to admit. It was raw and vulnerable, something you hadn’t seen in one of his songs since the first two albums.

You played it again.

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

“Interesting.”

Mrs. Lennox was reading your material for the interview, with a pen between two fingers, ready to cross out or add a sentence.

You were sitting on the comfy, fluffy chair in front of her table, nervously bouncing your leg as you squeezed your hands together. You hoped she liked what you had prepared because you really wanted to use it.

“Oh, I didn’t know this.” She kept reading, clearly interested. The fact that she hadn’t done any edits yet gave you hope.

A few more minutes went by, no edits, and suddenly she looked up at you. Slowly, she put the sheets of paper down and took off her red cat-eye glasses.

“I’m impressed, Y/N. You really went above and beyond on this. I’m almost certain this is the very first time I didn’t have to edit the material for an interview before approving it.”

“Does that mean…?”

“It’s approved. You can use it. As a matter of fact, you have to use it. It’s perfect!” Mrs. Lennox chuckled. “You go straight to the point and ask exactly what people want to know. Not to mention the small details you’ve picked up on! Well done. This article is going to be amazing.”

You sighed, relieved. “Thank you, Mrs. Lennox. I sure hope so.”

She smiled at you. “And I’m curious to find out the answers.”

“Honestly? Me too.”

“I know,” she nodded, still smiling. “Good thing we won’t have to wait for too long. Tomorrow is the day!”

Mrs. Lennox stood up and handed you back the papers. “You know the deal or should I recap?”

“Please, recap.”

“It’s an intimate interview, as you know. This means that the only people in the room are going to be you and him. All he has tomorrow, besides this interview, is a photoshoot for a radio station or something. It’s supposed to take place in the morning, but it’s likely that it will be extended into the afternoon. And that’s why his manager scheduled our interview for 6 p.m. A little later than our usual, I know, but she’s squeezing us in. It’s not his usual either.”

“Place?”

“His personal studio. He has something to do there after the interview, apparently. Or even during the interview, doesn’t really matter. It’ll still be just the two of you,” she paused. “You need the address?”

“No, I got it.”

“Great! I think that’s about everything.”

“Okay,” you nodded slowly, glancing at the material in your hands. “I should get back to work, then.”

“Actually, Y/N, why don’t you go home? I have nothing for you here.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You don’t have to come tomorrow either, use the day to prepare for the interview. Study the material and rock on! Oh, and don’t forget to call me before you get to the studio. I want to give you my pep talk,” she smiled.

“Sure,” you smiled back, standing up. “See you in two days, then.”

“See you, Y/N. Good luck.”

********

Love Falls by HELLYEAH

[timelordthirteen]

Killing Time 25/35

Detective Weaver/Belle French, Explicit

Summary: A Woven Beauty Law & Order-ish AU. Written for Writer’s Month 2019.

Chapter Summary: Belle gets contemplative about her future with Weaver.

Notes: For my August Writer's Month prompt #6: Is that my shirt? This is a bit of filler that only vaguely progresses the plot, but it's necessary to setup Belle's frame of mind for what's to come. Also an excuse to write more flirty idiots because how could I not with that prompt?

[AO3]  

The next day, Belle was still riding high on the revelation that Charlie Dunn, the second victim, was also adopted from Nevada.

She woke up early, and was already working and on her second cup of coffee when Weaver finally rolled out of bed around seven. Whatever had been causing her headaches and weird stomach issues, seemed to have left as suddenly as it came, which reinforced her belief that it was a mild bug from something she ate.

It was essential that they obtain the rest of the birth records on the victims as well as the Tremaines’ foster children. She spent most of the morning filling out request forms for the Clark County Clerk’s Office, one for each victim, one for Eloise, and one for her husband. They probably hated her by now, but if things panned out the way she thought they would, she would buy the whole office lunch on her. Her afternoon consisted of making inquiries locally for whatever birth records were available on the other victims. That had yielded little so far, aside from confirming that three more had been born out of state.

Weaver pushed the office door open, and Belle looked up from her laptop.

“We found Eloise Tremaine’s apartment,” he announced, walking over to the desk as he took off his leather jacket.

Belle’s eyebrows lifted. “Where? How?”

He set down a piece of scrap paper with an address on it in Detective Rogers’ handwriting. “Here, and it really helps once you know the victim’s actual name, and the name of the company that actually pays for the apartment.”

She frowned. “What company?”

Weaver dropped down into one of the chairs opposite her. “Robert Tremaine’s. Perrault Developments, Inc.” Belle’s frown deepened, and he continued, “which he inherited from his uncle, James Perrault.”

“Why do I know that name?” she asked, leaning back in her chair.

“I’m told it’s the name of the French guy who wrote Cinderella.”

Her face went through several expressions before she shook her head. “I’m surprised that you know that.”

He laughed. “I don’t. Rogers’s Googled the name and half the results were for Charles Perrault.”

Her lips curled. “So you two fell down a Wikipedia rabbit hole on your way to finding our victim’s residence?”

“Something like that.” He stretched a bit and rolled his shoulders, no doubt stiff from a whole day of driving around the city. “Anyway, the apartment was in the name of the company, and it never came up in any of our inquiries for missing renters, because the rent was still being paid.”

Belle leaned forward and rested her arms on the desk. “By a dead woman?”

“By an offshore account.”

“Of course.” She sighed. “Well, that explains why we couldn’t find any credit history on Eloise if she’s been living off the company money, and paying everything in cash or with the company account.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “We’ve got enough now to get all the information we want on Tremaine’s business. Maybe there’s some other connections to our victims from that.”

She picked up the paper with the address and did a quick search to see what part of the city it was in while he was talking. “Do we have access to the apartment yet?”

“Rogers is working on it. The landlord has already been notified, but he’s being a stickler for having the warrant before he lets us in.”

“Good for him, I guess.” Belle sighed again, and then pushed back from the desk. “I filled all the requests with Clark County, and found almost nothing locally for birth records. Damon, Chelsea, and Melissa, were all born out of state, but I don’t know where yet.”

“That’s something, though,” he said, trying to be encouraging. He knew how much she hated the tedium of paperwork and formal requests. “By next week we should have all of the records back, if not sooner. And tomorrow we get to see how Eloise Gardener lived.”

“I want to go with you.” She met his eyes with a stern look to let him know she was serious and would not be left back at the office while he and Rogers rooted through Eloise’s apartment. “I want to be there.”

He nodded in understanding. “Should have the warrant before lunch.” Then he smiled. “I think that’s enough for now. Ready to call it a day?”

She smiled back, already bending down to pull out her purse. “Yes please.”

He stood and lifted his jacket from the back of the chair. “I was thinking I’d make alfredo tonight.”

Pausing with her purse strap hanging awkwardly from her hand and one arm in her coat, Belle looked at him wide eyed, starting to smile. “That’s my favorite.”

Weaver licked his lips. “I know.”

Belle sighed and closed her eyes as her head fell forward, letting the hot water run down over her neck and shoulders.

It wasn’t an exaggeration to say she loved this shower. The bathroom had been a huge selling point when they first looked at the apartment, though that seemed like a lifetime ago. It had been too easy to settle back into a routine with Weaver, and while there had certainly been solace in the familiar, especially in the aftermath of being attacked in her own home, there was still apprehension. The conversation over the state of their relationship had never really taken place, and both of them seemed loath to rock the boat while so much was happening with the case, but she had been exploring her thoughts on the matter more and more.

Her session with Dr. Hopper had touched on it as well, and Archie had openly asked her if she wanted to reconcile officially with Ian. That was the penultimate question of course, and leave it to Archie to skip any formalities or attempts to ease into the topic. He knew her too well. Still, the idea made her smile.

A few months ago it would have earned a glare or a door slam, and a firm contradiction, so this was, by any standard, a great deal of progress.

Belle finished her shower and exited the bathroom in nothing but a towel. As she padded across the floor to the bedroom, Weaver glanced up from his laptop with a raised eyebrow and let out a low whistle. She threw him a look before she stepped into the bedroom and heard him chuckling as she closed the door.

Her skin felt tingly and warm, and she knew it was from more than just the water. The last couple of weeks she’d found herself almost distracted by her attraction to Weaver, and the pleasing banter and light teasing they had established between them only made it worse. She had to admit that he was different now than he’d been when they were first together, though she was uncertain what it meant. It made her want to stay, to get back together officially, in a way that left no doubt for either of them. But it also made her want to do all manner of naughty things.

Smiling to herself, she pulled on a pair of soft cotton pajama shorts and started digging in one of her bags for a shirt. Most of her work things were back in the closet, but with only one dresser, her casual clothes were relegated to a suitcase and two duffel bags. Frowning as she pulled out everything except what she was looking for, she reached into the inside pocket of the bag and pulled out something unexpected.

A small black box tumbled to the floor, and she hesitated for a long moment before picking it up.

Belle sat on the edge of the bed and swallowed hard, running her thumb back and forth over the soft velvet. She knew what was inside, but she hadn’t looked at it in a long time. With the way she’d been feeling towards Weaver lately, she wasn’t sure she should, fearful that it might bring up the wrong memories. Closing her eyes for a second, she flipped the box open.

The diamond sparkled even in the low light from the lamp on the nightstand.

She plucked it free, turning it this way and that, and making small shapes on the floor when it caught the light just right. Holding the band, she slid the tip of her finger in and out of the ring, feeling the smooth, cool metal. Before, in the weeks and months immediately after their divorce, she would take it out every now and then, and look at it. It usually resulted in her having a good cry and stress eating an entire sleeve of Oreos. She’d only brought it with her from her apartment because it was with her other jewelry, and though she’d known it was packed into one of the bags, it had been put out of her mind.

On impulse, she pushed it over her knuckle and settled it on the appropriate finger. Her hand flexed as she admired it, pleased that it still fit perfectly and didn’t look to be in any need of cleaning. She expected it to feel strange, since she rarely ever wore rings before she was married, and hadn’t on that finger since their separation. Bracelets and rings had always bothered her when she had to type or write, and throughout university and law school she was forever taking them off and putting them in her bag, finding them days later. But this ring had never been a hindrance, and she barely even noticed it as she worked. It wasn’t heavy or gaudy, and it didn't have so many facets and points as to snag her clothes.

Shaking her head, she quickly pulled it off and set it back in the box, and put the box back in the inside pocket where it had been before going back to looking for her nightshirt. Strangely, she kept looking down at her hand as she rummaged through the laundry basket. After being on her finger for only a minute or so, it made no sense that her hand would be missing the ring’s presence.

With a huff, she gave up trying to find the shirt that matched her shorts, and turned around to look for something else to wear, when her eyes landed on something of Weaver’s that had been mixed in with her laundry. She picked up his very faded and well worn Celtic Football Club shirt, and immediately pulled it over her head. The fabric was soft from years of wear and washing. It might have been her imagination, but even though it was clean there was the faintest hint of his scent on it and she pulled it up to her nose and inhaled.

Smiling, she opened the door and stood there, leaning against the doorframe until she was noticed.

“Is that my shirt?” Weaver asked, setting the laptop down on the coffee table.

Belle shrugged one shoulder and sauntered towards him, letting her desire add an extra sway to her hips. “Is it? It was in the laundry basket with my things.”

“Hmm, was it…” he said, leaning back on the sofa as a grin curved his lips. “Maybe that’s because you’re always stealing it.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Are you accusing me of a crime, Detective?”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, watching her step around the coffee table to stand in front of him.

“Do you want it back?” she asked, putting one knee on the sofa beside his hip.

“No,” Weaver replied, licking his lips. “Looks better on you than it ever did on me.”

She brought her other knee down and straddled him, holding her body away from his. He held her waist, already bunching the shirt as she leaned over him. “Too bad.”

"Why's that?"

She felt his hands slide down to her backside and then up, lifting the shirt as his palms moved up her back. His hips shifted forward, and she allowed him to pull her down just a little as a low ache settled in her core.

Her lips brushed his, teasing him with the wet heat of her breath. “I was going to tell you to come and take it.”

[dailyaudiobible]

01/13/2021 DAB Transcript

Genesis 28:1-29:35, Matthew 9:18-38, Psalms 11:1-7, Proverbs 3:11-12

Today is the 13th day of January welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I’m Brian it is a delight to be here with you today as we move through the middle of the week and continue our journey forward. And, so, let's get into the Scriptures. We’re reading from the New Living translation and we’ve been reading from the book of Genesis, obviously and we have met Abraham then we’ve met his son of promise, Isaac, we have met Isaac's children, Jacob and Esau and we are transitioning into that generation, the grand children of Abraham. Genesis chapter 28 and 29 today.

Commentary:

Okay. So, in the book of Genesis today we have encountered a very famous story, the stairway to Heaven story, where Jacob sees a stairway to heaven. And he is in a place called Bethel. And, so, many of us know the story of have heard the story, you know, from Sunday school, or whatever, but the context is that Jacob is on the run from Esau, having left his family, moving north to find Laban who’s his mother's brother's, his uncle. That's when he sees this stairway to heaven and it won’t be the last time that Jacob comes by this way, but it will be quite a long time. We spanned some 14 years in our reading today. So, Jacob gets to Laban and then the trickery begins. And we we’re mentioning that. There’s like this kind of trickery in this family going on and it spans many generations. So, Jacob's in love with Rachel, He makes a deal that he'll work for his uncle for seven years, in order to marry Rachel and the deal is done. Seven years goes by, right? The wedding happens and a wedding night happens, and Jacob wakes up to find the wrong girl. So, he's going to get both of the sisters as wives in the end but he’s gonna have to work another seven years for the woman that he loves. 14 years for two wives who are sisters. Like we’re in a different time right now. This is thousands of years ago but even thousands of years ago, you can only imagine the family dynamics there. And it's even more complicated because Jacob loves Rachel. This is the woman that he wanted to be with, but Rachel isn't having any children. It's Leah the firstborn sister who is having children. So, you can only imagine the animosity and the bitterness that is beginning to build, and we will see it unfold. But by the time we finished our reading in Genesis today Jacob had not only left his family and made it all the way to Laban, he had been there for 14 years and children were born to him - Ruben, Simeon, Levi, Judah. These names should sound somewhat familiar if we have any familiarity with the Bible at all. These children will grow up to become adults and have tribes of their own. We have met the beginning of four of the 12 tribes of Israel today.

In the book of Matthew today we’re…we’re seeing Jesus move around the countryside and in…and in and among the villages and the villagers and he does quite a bit of healing today, many miraculous things. And…and by the way, these stories that we’re reading in the book of Matthew, most of them we will also encounter, nuanced a little bit differently, but we will also see them in Mark and in Luke. So, we have plenty of time as we take our journey together through the Bible, but also as we move through the Gospels for several months just sitting at the feet of Jesus. We’ll have plenty of time to examine lots of things from lots of perspectives. But what we see is Jesus healing. So, that like there's a resurrection story today, there’s the one with the issue of blood, which is a very famous story today, and then we encounter two blind men who were just screaming to Jesus to “have mercy, would he have mercy” and…and he heals them. One thing of note about the miraculous, at least as it relates to Jesus is what he says to the blind men, “don't tell anyone about this.” And the Bible says, but instead, they went out and told everybody basically. But what we need to notice is Jesus posture. Like you would think a miracle worker, that could get something really going quick. News could spread very, very quickly and Jesus could get an enormous amount of power very very quickly, but He's not looking for that. What we see is Jesus isn't playing the world's game at all. It’s like He's marching to the beat of a different drummer. He’s…he’s living as a human being was intended to live. Yes, we know where the story goes, and we know that Jesus will…will hang from across and die and be resurrected and we…we often make that the long and short of the story with Jesus, like that…that He came to die, He did and that was that. But there's these three decades of His life, right? And there's these three years of his ministry, before all of that happened. And, so, looking into what Jesus message was about and looking into the way that He conducted Himself reveals something really profound. Let's think about it. It was just less than two weeks ago that we began this journey and we got to the book of Genesis chapter 3 and we…we saw the…the serpent in the tree and member that story and how the whole complexion of the story changed when mankind realized that it was naked and ashamed and so it's been hiding ever since. We talked about deception and then as we've continued through the book of Genesis and all of the readings that we've done so far we've…we've seen the results. Like we’ve seen the flood. We've seen all kinds of really difficult things, and we will continue to see them. We see the effects of mankind's trade. God, union with God and perfection was what we were intended to have. Instead, we change…traded it for knowledge, a knowledge of good and evil. And, so, what we see beginning to happen upon the earth in the Bible is mankind's knowledge doing what man's kinds knowledge can do. Here's an example from the book of Matthew. Jesus is doing these miracles and the religious people, they were known as Pharisees or Sadducees, but the Pharisees out and among the people, the leaders, the spiritual caretakers of the people say about Jesus, “He casts out demons, because He's empowered by the prince of demons.” Okay. They have lost the plot and they are in charge of the spiritual welfare of the people. They do not in any way recognize this is God made flesh right in front of them. They can only see that He has some surprising powers and they're trying to figure out what His game is. And, so, they're saying these things not understanding that they're saying them about the God they serve and the God that they are leading people to worship. Like that’s how twisted the trade was. Like we can have all the knowledge of good and evil that we want but if we don't have God we are just here trying to make it work and we make it work by subjugating each other. And that doesn't work. So, Jesus, He's here doing something totally different looking for something completely different. For Jesus, healing the miraculous, the restoration of things is just normal. He doesn't need it broadcasted all over the place. It's just normal. Wholeness is supposed to be normal. Healing and health is supposed to be normal. So, I encourage us to continue to listen closely, listen closely to the words of the Savior. Listen closely to the stories. Look into those stories and watch what Jesus is doing. Remember this. Before that tree incident with the serpent in Genesis 3 sin was not a category and Adam and Eve were upon this earth sinless and in perfect union with God. It was as it was supposed to be. Thousands of years, thousands of years passed and that had not happened again until Jesus came. Jesus shows us what a restored sinless, integrated, humanity looks like in union with God. He didn't only come to die. He also showed us how to live.

Prayer:

Jesus, we enter into that. We so often want You as an add-on. We want to live the life that we want to live but we want You in our back pocket as a get out…a get out of jail free card or some kind of insurance of something or another when You have invited us out of the world and in and to actual life. But it's…a transition is...is gonna be rocky. We’re gonna have to surrender so many things and learn how much we are clinging to and how little faith we might have. But we’re ready to learn. And we’re gonna have to learn that moving in this direction, the path of restoration, the path of sanctification, the path that leads, the path that leads to wholeness, that is going to by default set us apart. By default we are simply not going to be playing the same game anymore. And that can be a lonely path. And we see that borne out in Your ministry and in Your life. So, Come Holy Spirit, show us what it's gonna look like to become Christlike and what that's gonna mean. As we begin to just ponder surrender. We pray this in the name of Jesus our Savior. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is home base, it…it's the websites, it’s where you find out what's going on around here. I say that most every day.

I mentioned yesterday the Promised Land films and just the opportunity to kinda zoom in and see some of these places and I mean, like I can’t ignore it. We were in Bethel today, right? With the stairway to heaven, and Jacob seeing this and setting up a memorial stone. This is a place. This is an actual place. We have filmed this actual place. And the geography is so fascinating because indeed the geography looks like a stairway all around. All around the area, the tiered kind of staircase steps of the of the earth rising up. And, so, these are places that you can see. We've created this resource for that purpose. I mean all of the resources we create at the Daily Audio Bible are to take the journey of the Bible in a year deeper, more comprehensive. How much can we learn about ourselves and about the Bible and about the God of the Bible and about the God that's beyond it all, the most-high God who is our Father? This is the goal. So, kind of seeing some of these places and knowing, “yeah, this is a place on earth. This isn't a fairytale I’m reading. This is an actual archaeological place.” And seeing what it looks like is really helpful, at least it has been for me. So, reminding you the Promised Land films are available in the Daily Audio Bible Shop. We will send you the DVD edition. You will instantly have access to the downloads, to the high-definition downloads of the films. And, yeah, dive deeper. Check that out. It's in the Daily Audio Bible Shop in the music and films section.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com. There is a link on the homepage, and I thank you humbly and profoundly as we get launched into this new year for your partnership. We wouldn't be here. And this is year 16. So, we’ve been a community for a long time but we wouldn't exist if we were not in this together. And that has always been true. And, so, the beautiful thing is that we have been in this together. So, if Daily Audio Bible is bringing life to you, if it's bringing like some kind of awakening, the Bible is actually doing what the Bible does, then thank you for your partnership. There’s a link on the homepage. If you are using the Daily Audio Bible app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or the mailing address, if you prefer, is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement you can hit the Hotline button in the app, the little red button at the top or you can dial 877-942-4253.

And that's it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hello, my names Alexis I’m 15 I just started listening to Daily Audio Bible in about the middle of last year and I am really appreciative for this platform and for Brian and it’s really helped me grow closer to God. And lately I’ve just been feeling like a failure to be honest. Like, I’m fearing man more than I’m fearing God and it’s really been hindering me from like…there’s so many things that I know God wants me to do but I just care more about what the world thinks of me than what God thinks of me and it’s just not good. So, I’d really appreciate your prayers for spiritual maturity and boldness of the Spirit. Yeah, that’s what I really need. And I’m sure my mom is listening to this. So, hi mom. Love you. Okay, thank you. Bye.

Good afternoon everybody this is God’s Smile here. Well, it’s chucking it down with rain again. Well, I like a fine mist. But I woke up this morning when I coddled to the bathroom really early hours and there was this beautiful…I…I often look out of the front bedroom window when I’m up for a few minutes and try and stretch my legs a little…and so I was looking at this beautiful layer of frost because we don’t really get snow especially where we are in England because we’re by…by the sea…by Southport sea and not far from the salt there. You know it doesn’t really last unless we get a lot of snow which is nothing compared to the Canadians. So, what was I saying? Oh, losing me train of thought. So, it was really nice. And I thought, I’ll take a photograph of that later on. And, so, later on I get up and it’s all gone. Our weather is so unpredictable. But I just wanted to call in and say thank you Facebook DAB Friends for Peter’s request for prayer. Thank you, thank you, thank you for holding me. I’m up today, the first time in weeks. Isn’t that wonderful? I’ve been up with Tom a little bit, but I haven’t been up and been able to color. Now that Tom’s back home the Lord’s said, “go on, get up there or get down there.” And, so, I’ve had two hours where I’ve been doing my two most favorite things which is the color and listen to DAB. So, isn’t that wonderful? Isn’t God just wonderful? Times ticking away again. So, I send you my love. I send you so much love. Kiss kiss. Love God’s Smile.

Hello everyone I am Rachel from Oregon and I’ve been with you guys for a few months now and I have been listening even more consistently for this last month and I’ve only called in one other time to pray for a couple people but I just want to say that I really really appreciate this community. And I usually don’t get into podcasts or anything audio or videos whenever people refer me to all of them, but I discovered this one on my own and I’m so glad I did because it really encourages me and ministers to me a lot and I just appreciate it. Brian thank you so much for ministering to us so faithfully every day so many years of your life now. And all you guys out there, thank you so much for being so vulnerable and honest and open and genuine. I can hear people’s heart cries for the Lord and just really encourages me as another broken human that there’s this wonderful community of people out there who love Jesus who really really need Jesus and aren’t afraid to admit it because I really really need Jesus. I am so broken, but I really appreciate all you guys and just know that I’ve been praying for so many of you even though I don’t call in, even though you guys feel so…so low/ And all the things that some of you are going through. I’m praying right there with you. I am your sister in prayer and Christ is interceding for you and I look forward to meeting all of you in the kingdom of heaven someday. I feel like you guys are actually my family. And it’s amazing. I love you. Thank you for everything.

Good morning this is Steve from South Carolina. I just started listening to the Daily Audio Bible just a couple of days ago, beginning of the year and I feel like I found a brand-new community and I thank you for that. I thank you for welcoming me. Two things I’d like to share I’d like you to pray about with me if you would. One is, today is my last day of official work after many, many, many years in Christian ministry. I’d appreciate your prayers for God’s reassignment and new adventures ahead. And secondly, my daughter has aggressive breast cancer. And as you might imagine I’m very concerned for her and her well-being. So, pray for a miracle of healing if you would please. And thank you so very much for doing what you’re doing. Thanks for being a praying community and a caring community. And thanks for believing God for great things in 2021.

Hello DAB family this is Greg and on behalf of my wife Begita from southwest Sweden. There’s snow on the ground here and that speaks of God’s promises. We thank you Brian for the promise of this year and thank you for the past year of your and China’s readings. China congratulations on the imminent arrival of your first baby a few months to go and we are really glad about that. And to hear Jill’s voice. I listen to DAB chronological today. Sorry I’m still working on being a double DABber. And she’s such a bright spot. The…the…the warmth and the light of the DAB campfire definitely flows through her voice as it does yours Brian and did through China. So, yeah, my prayer request was regarding how to reach people in a small community here where we live where people are largely indoors. You know, it’s northern country Sweden, so it gets dark early and so on. And even as I was making the prayer request wondering what to say DAB here a knock came at the door and it was a local businessman who wanted some carton boxes that we had. And I’m just thanking God for the He answers prayer even before it’s out of our months. You know, so we had a good chat with him, and I was able to ask him what His faith in Jesus is. But I’m just praying for different ways of outreach, whether it’s making tracks or community events anything such that we can do. But that’s partly why…why we’re here. And I just want to thank you once again for this community and what God has done through you in my life and my wife. All right, God bless and will catch up later in the year. But I will be listening. I now.

Hi this is Emerald Stone. I’m gonna call myself Emerald Stone because I’m from the Emerald Island of Ireland. I think this is my fifth year since I began to listen to the Daily Audio Bible. It’s so lovely to hear so many accents from around the world. I’ve heard Australian and English accents and lots of American accents. I don’t know if I’ve heard many Irish accents but I think I heard Brian before saying he was in Ireland. I just wanted to introduce myself and say happy new year to everybody. And I’m on day five. I’m two days behind but it’s just great to hear everyone and to start something fresh and new. And God bless the Hardin family. God bless our world at this time. Praying for our nation of Ireland going through level V lockdown again and the numbers are increasing. So, just very aware of that in these days and to be praying for the world at this time and in particular America as well. And thank you for your prayers in the past. And I just want to wish everyone a happy new year and I’ll call in again. It’s great to download the new app and see this new feature on it as well, which I’ve never tried before in order to give the prayer requests in. So, that’s really handy. So, God bless, and I’ll be praying for those people who have rang in with the prayers. Bye.

[bayalexison]

Bay’s Writing Summary 2020

Welcome to another Bay's writing summary. Some Foul Play and, gasp, a new fandom? Okay, let's get started!

POKEMON FICS

-Foul Play (Chapters 19-26)

Yes, I'm still chugging through Foul Play. I didn't exactly get to finish the rough draft due to some writing burnout the first few months and then other writings later, but I'm getting closer. In terms of backlog, I'm up to 29. Recently I announced that the story should end by 34/35 chapters so I'm getting there!

In terms of updates, I managed to post all of the Poni Island arc! That arc I added in after that one Pokemon anime episode in the Sun/Moon saga and happy I finally posted Ch 24. I posted less chapters than in 2019, but it was still decent amount of updates all things considered.

-At the Pokemon Daycare- I wrote this for Canalave Library Yuletide. I went with the prompt "Ethan needs to grow up" and wrote a story about Ethan being frustrated with losing to Silver. I struggled with the first couple of scenes but then after switching to Lyra's POV the next couple scenes I was able to write it much quicker.

FE3H FICS I started writing FE3H fics during the summer whenever I wanted a break from Foul Play. List of those:

-Wolf and Bear- A Felix/Bernadetta fic I wrote loosely based off my Black Eagles/Crimson Flower playthrough. For that playthrough I was only allowed to recruit sword and magic based students, hence why Felix was recruited and not his friends. That then led to Felix angst that wasn't intended lol. Also start of my love for Felix/Bernadetta.

-Head Over Heels For You- A spicy Felix/Annette fic I wrote for the Netteflix and Chill Bingo. This was the first explicit writing I did in three years, but I'm proud with how it turned out.

-Overnight Stay- Another Felix/Annette fic written for the prompt, comfort. Loosely inspired by some interesting info from the datamines where the Blue Lions route was gonna be much more dark than it already was.

-School of Hard Brawling- Balthus fic I wrote as a submission for the Balthus Zine's application that I then later get invited to. Also kinda last minute Byleth birthday gift even though I didn't intended it to haha.

-There's one fic I wrote for Solaris: A Balthus Zine. However, I can't preview/post it yet and probably not allowed to until preorders started. Once I'm in the clear, I might update this post with the link.

-Spark- My third Felix/Annette fic that I wrote for a gift exchange. Annette helps Felix with Reason magic, and the two have a heartfelt conversation over their not so great relationships with their fathers.

2020 sure is a year, huh? Despite a lot of stuff that happened that year I still managed to do quite a bit of writing.

I didn't get to finish Foul Play as originally planned, so for 2021 I would like to finally have the fic finished. At the same time, I think I would like to do more FE3H fics. I might be able to balance Foul Play and shorter FE3H fics, so hopefully I can do that.

Writing FE3H is interesting. I thought I would be writing a lot of Dimitri/Byleth but instead I wrote a lot of Felix/Annette and Balthus haha. I didn't get too much comments and I was upset at first but I do appreciate the comments I did get! I did a couple posts on FE3H's zine scene and I've been thinking again about that. There's been a lot, and I mean a lot, of FE3H zines popping up that I'm losing track lol. Many I passed over due to not having good writing samples and/or no time to do that. There are a few I've been keeping an eye on, but on the fence of trying out. I might make an attempt at applying and have my expectations in check.

One other thing is I'm thinking of trying out original work. At the moment I only brainstormed the basic premise and a few characters but I would like to work on it some more. Probably this is something I might pick at if I don't feel like doing Foul Play or FE3H stuff.

So yeah I guess that's it for my 2020 writing summary! Hopefully I'll make good progress in 2021!

[allie1804-fan]

Ile de Re (Chapter 1)

I wrote this fic  last year, mostly while on holiday on this lovely island.  If you are on Archive of Our Own, you may have seen it before. Written before Matrix 4 was announced and before Covid so sorry that the timelines are no longer realistic!

Summary

Keanu meets a chef to help him prepare for a movie role. Events conspire for them to spend even more time together than they planned and despite the large age gap, romance ensues.

1 2 3 4 5  6 7 8

April 2020

Keanu hung up the phone and quietly fist pumped to himself. He’d just had news that a new project had been green lit. It was one he’d been collaborating on for some time - where he’d play an American chef, somewhat down on his luck who was establishing a new restaurant in a rural French town. The thing that thrilled him most was that the project afforded him the chance to finally learn how to cook – at least a bit - because he’d need to demonstrate some skill in the film itself and to ‘find’ his character he wanted to understand more about the craft of being a chef – especially the passion that drove them.

He went to his office and pulled out his laptop, opening a file holding details of some chefs who Erwin’s team had tracked down that fit the bill in terms of the knowledge they had and their personal experiences. He dropped an e mail first to a chef names Yves Le Gouhier and another to a woman called Claire Bonnevin. They each had restaurants in LA but were French natives who had trained at home before heading to America to open restaurants of their own. He hoped that the guy would say yes since he felt he’d probably relate better to his experience however he checked out both of their bios and looked at restaurant reviews on line.

A few days later, the decision was made for him as to who would give him the coaching as Mr Le Gouhier was out of town for at least a couple of months, establishing a new restaurant whereas Ms Bonnevin was able to fit him in for some daily ‘classes’ starting the following week. Whilst mildly disappointed, he also recalled that he’d actually eaten at Ms Bonnevin’s place once and had really rated the cooking which mixed homespun flavours with Gallic finesse - the seafood there was to die for.  He responded quickly in the affirmative, and ever the perfectionist, asked if there was anything he needed to bring or any preparatory work he could do before Monday. Claire replied that if he could let her have a working copy of the script and tell her what his favourite meal was before the weekend – they could work on the skills he’d need to demonstrate in the film and, depending on what the meal was, also aim to make his favourite meal to a good standard by the end of the week. If he had some friends who’d like to eat what he made, then he should ask them if they were free.

“What a question!” he pondered, thinking about what his favourite meal was. Keanu was a man who liked to eat - so much so that he needed the counsel of his trainer Denise to keep off the pounds in between films! Would it be a good steak with garlicky greens and crushed potatoes?, veal with a cream and mushroom sauce, roast lamb with flageolets and dauphinois potatoes – this task was just making him hungry!  He decided on the latter thinking it would be a challenge and fitted with the style of cooking they had at “Le Chat Botte” which was Claire’s restaurant. The pressure of feeding something he’d made that wasn’t bacon and eggs or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich was both thrilling and unnerving. He messaged his sister Kim, his mother and friends Rob, Alex and Josh who were all pleased to be free although they joked that they might need to go to Macdonald’s to fill up afterwards!

Monday came around and Keanu pulled up at “Le Chat Botte” at 9am prompt. Entering via the service entrance as instructed, he walked into a spotless kitchen with gleaming stainless steel work stations, hobs and ovens  ranged along one wall and a large wooden kitchen table in the centre which had 2 sets of chopping boards in different colours along with a variety of knives, spatulas and other cooking implements arranged side by side in the centre of the table. No-one was in sight though Keanu could hear the sound of a voice coming from an adjoining room. Walking across the kitchen he stuck his head round the door of what turned out to be an office where he saw a petite, dark haired woman he recognised (from her bio) as Claire Bonnevin  - she was speaking to someone on the phone in French. She raised her hand to him in greeting, mouthing sorry and hurried to complete the call.

“Oui, Oui, je te rapellerai demain  - mon nouvel client vient d’arriver, oui oui c’est lui, donc il faut que j’accroche.  D’accord d’accord, je sais. Au revoir”

Claire turned to Keanu blushing - she had the distinct impression that he’d understood that she’d just referred to him in her conversation.

“so sorry about that – that was my restaurant manager back home in France just giving me an update on my dad  - he’s not been too well recently so we’ve been talking every day” Her English accent was excellent with only a slight gallic note.

Keanu stuck out his hand

“Nice to meet you Ms Bonnevin and no problem – you didn’t need to rush them off the line on my account”

Claire smiled and shook his hand, “I heard you were impossibly polite! – of course I did, I was eating into your paid time – nice to meet you too by the way. Keanu grinned - Claire could feel the colour rising in her cheeks again  - she wasn’t exactly sure why - maybe it was the directness of his gaze or the brilliance of his smile.

“So, are you ready for your training?”

Keanu chuckled and responded with what he thought was the expected reply “hell yeah” but Claire didn’t react, “maybe the Matrix reference was unintentional” he thought – she was pretty young after all, (her bio said she was 35) so maybe she was one of the few whom it had passed by!

“So let’s go through to the kitchen and get started” she said leading the way back to the room where Keanu had entered earlier.

For the next 4 hours they talked through and tried out some of the particular skills that would be needed in kitchen scenes. Whilst they worked, they got to know each other a little with Claire wanting to find out about Keanu’s food knowledge and experience and Keanu quizzing her about her beginnings in the industry. He discovered that she grew up on a tiny west coast island in France called L’Ile de Re” where her Dad still owned a restaurant called, like hers in LA, “Le Chat Botte”.  He no longer worked as a chef there but lived in the little village where it was, hence the manager being able to keep Claire appraised of his health.  She’d learned her craft there and then moved on to train in Paris, New York and then LA to establish her namesake restaurant in the US.

For her part, from what Keanu said, she could see that despite not having grown up in a house where people had a passion for cooking, he nevertheless clearly had a passion for food  - from the humble sandwich to fine foods from around the globe. He was also a quick study, picking up the knife skills needed to finely chop onions and garlic on film that he’d need. She was a patient teacher, though she would occasionally break into French when she was struggling to communicate the exact technique such as when at first he couldn’t master the rotation of the knife needed to chop finely:

“tient tient, comme ca” she said, placing her hand over his to show how the blade needed to rock back and forth over the garlic.

At 12 they broke for lunch at which point Claire challenged Keanu to make her his best sandwich from the ingredients on hand. He asked her what she liked and created a layered club sandwich which she declared excellent. By the time he left at 1pm, Keanu was convinced that she was an excellent choice of teacher and one he’d enjoy learning from. He could hardly wait for the next day when they were going to study cuts of meat by going to Claire’s favourite butcher.

The week progressed with a mix of hands on cooking classes and continued trips to suppliers which served to explain the importance of provenance and quality ingredients. They also worked on timings  and started to plan the stages of creating the menu Keanu had planned for Friday’s lunch.

On Thursday Keanu tried out the dauphinois potatoes and was thrilled with the result - he was really starting to enjoy cooking and his rapid growth in skill. Claire praised him warmly and suggested he try a dessert as well for the next day.

“You could try something simple like a mousse au chocolat but I think you’re ready to really wow them”

“Oh yeah?” Keanu grinned “With what?”

“A tarte Tatin”

“What!, are you sure?”

“Absolutely – you’re an excellent student - let’s do one today together, you’ll master it I’m sure”

She showed him how to prepare the sugar and butter in a special tin that could go on the stove and then in the oven to finish. They prepped the apples placing them rounded side down in the tin and proceeded to caramelise the butter and sugar until it was a gorgeous molten mahogany. Then he learned how to make the shortcrust pastry using cool hands to rub the butter into the flour then bring it together to a dough which rested in the fridge. Once rolled out, he placed it onto the cooled apples, tucking in the edges round the sides. The result when they turned the tarte out (upside down to reveal the apples) was amazing – sweet, tender apples with the sugary caramel cut a little by freshly grated lemon rind and a melt in the mouth pastry to top it off.

“See!” she smiled, “I knew you could do it”

“No, you did it!” he grinned

“Well, OK so today we both did it but tomorrow it will all be down to you”

Friday came and Keanu got to the restaurant at 8am wanting to have as much time as possible to get everything perfect.

By 11.30 the lamb was resting, his gratin and tarte were in the oven and the beans were simmering gently.

The meal was beginning with a simple salade aux lardons  - it was time to dress it with the vinaigrette he’d made earlier. He started to toss it gently but some lettuce flipped out over the side

“Watch out you don’t drop too many said Claire – unless you want lots of children’ she laughed!

“What?” Keanu asked, shooting her a quizzical look.

“it’s a saying we have in France that the number of leaves you drop when you’re tossing the salad tells you the number of kids you’ll have.

“Oh right” he chuckled, “that’s cute, but it’s way too late for that”

“What do you mean?, you’d have time to have them if you wanted, surely”

“I’m too old Claire”

“What, you must only be what?”, she paused to look at him and consider his face “…. About 45”

“Ha ha” Keanu laughed heartily.

“No, I’m fifty five”

“Merde” she exclaimed “ce n’est pas possible!”

Keanu shook his head and smiled - he loved how she reverted to French when she was reacting spontaneously to something.  

“I’m afraid it’s true, so even if I had a wife or even a girlfriend, I still think it’s too late to be having babies. I might be dead before they’re 20 or 30.

Claire’s face clouded over

“Sorry I didn’t mean to be all maudlin” he said

“Don’t worry, it’s just my mother died when I was 25 so I know that’s hard – but people die all the time, young and old.

“Ain’t that the truth” Keanu agreed quietly, remembering his own past.

“and lots of guys have babies when they’re older. Maybe you shouldn’t rule it out”

“Maybe maybe, anyway, enough serious talk, we should raise a toast before our guests arrive”

He poured himself and Claire a glass of wine.

“Here’s to satisfied customers!” she said

“and here’s to you for being such an amazing teacher – I can’t believe you’ve got me this far so fast”

“well that’s really down to you” she replied, smiling, “you work so hard and learn so quickly, it’s very impressive”

“I don’t know about that!” he said blushing, “Anyway, let’s not get ahead ourselves, I haven’t served it yet!!

They put down their glasses and Claire went to see if the guests had arrived at the table they had set aside in the restaurant. Meanwhile Keanu busied himself with finishing the salad and carving the lamb which he was happy to see was just the right shade of pink. He put it in the warming oven and also took out the tarte Tatin praying that it would be as good as the one yesterday when he turned it out later. Finally, with the main course as ready as it could be, he took the salad and some French bread through to the dining room.

The meal went down a storm - at the end Keanu stood and raised a toast to Claire

“Thank you for all your kind words folks but we really need to toast this amazing lady who has taught this old meat head some cooking skill. He took her hand and placed it over his heart

“ thank you, thank you, merci beaucoups, I’ll be forever grateful!”

Claire laughed and blushed.

“Just wait until next week when we’ll have you working in the restaurant kitchen, then you might not be such a fan!”

He laughed

“That may be!”

They said their goodbyes to Keanu’s amazed guests and went to clean down the kitchen.

“How’s your dad by the way?”

“Oh about the same apparently – no better, but no worse, he just needs to take it easy and stay off his damn bike”

“Oh, a pushbike or a motorbike?” Keanu asked, his interest peaked

“A push bike – he’s not a racer guy like you!” Claire saw Keanu pull up each day often on different bikes so she knew about his passion for them.

“everyone goes everywhere on bikes on the Ile de Re” she continued - it’s a cyclist’s paradise with cycle paths across the salt marshes and oyster beds and through the forests. But he had a heart attack last year and whilst he is supposed to exercise, he just pushes himself too much and that worries me”

“Do you have any other family there to keep an eye on him?”

“No, I’m an only child and there are no aunts or uncles either.

“Is your father still alive? She asked.

“Yeah – well at least I haven’t heard otherwise! He left my mother when I was three and I haven’t seen him since I was 13.”

“Mon dieu that must have been tough growing up without a dad”

“Yeah well I had my mum and my sister - he wouldn’t have been a good role model anyway”

“I could see today that you adore Kim and your mother”

“Yeah, yeah  I do - family and friends are my rocks to come back to  - after every project that’s what I look forward to”

“You know you’re not at all what I expected!” Claire stated.

“Oh, how so?” he asked

“Well, a couple of people I mentioned you to said they heard you were a nice guy and very polite but I guess I just expected someone more ………..starry, you know!”

Keanu burst out laughing.

“Well I’ll take that as a complement” he said

“you should – you’ve made it a very easy first week of teaching” she smiled

“Well thanks” he said the colour rising in his cheeks.

They finished up in the kitchen and Keanu took his leave saying he’d see her at 9am prompt on Monday for his week in the working kitchen.  He’d enjoyed her company so much that he’d almost asked her to dinner but held himself in check. She was so much younger than him and he knew his feelings weren’t entirely platonic. She was very cute with olive skin, beautiful eyes and a slender yet not too skinny figure – he didn’t really have a type but she hit the spot with him. He’d just have to quash those thoughts, focus on the learning and keep things on a friendly footing.

https://allie1804-fan.tumblr.com/post/625977593110364160/ile-de-re-chapter-2