#like has mans had anything healthy and constant for all his 18 years

[lunar-serpentinite]

have we as a fandom discussed about the possibility of harry finding it difficult to receive love because his formative years was spent almost exclusively around people who either hate him or think the worst of him, and then he is thrust into a world that not only gave him the heaviest of burdens to bear but also "loved" him in that fickle way the public "loves" their celebrities and public figures or am i overthinking things again and mixing up the psychologies of my fave characters from different fandoms

[writingsofmax]

Disarm pt. 18

Words: 2.5 K

Summary: Y/N has an unexpected visitor on a rough day.

Tags: chronically ill reader, violence, unhinged reader

Warnings: depressive thinking in regards to being chronically ill, sexual harrassment, coercion, violence, blood author's note: well.

Chapter 18- Who Decides Who's Crazy?

Edward was gone today. He was at his apartment, working. He wouldn’t be back tonight either because he was going to do another stake-out at the Iceberg Lounge. Y/N was fine with this anyway, she had that familiar dull ache at the top of her neck and knew that it would slowly grow into a full fledged migraine. It would be terrible if I was out with him and he had to stop whatever he was doing because of me. She was laying on her bed, arm over her face as she rested with the lights off. Maybe with a little luck she would be able to fall asleep before the worst of it came. Her mind was fighting her though, restless with thought. Remember when you didn’t feel like shit every day? Remember when you could do whatever you wanted, all the fun you used to have? Obviously, she remembered. You were better back then. Memories floated through her mind. There she was, first year in the city, out on her own. She always looked cute then, she had put so much effort into her appearance. None of the scrubby comfortable clothes for being at home or in bed all day had been present in her wardrobe then. She had gotten up early, gotten coffee (something she could no longer have) with money she had from a job. Remember that? You used to work full 8 hour days, 5 days a week no problem. There she was, walking through the art museum, taking time to admire each work, her mind fully focused on the experience. No constant body-checking for symptoms, no panic or fear setting in that her legs would no longer hold her up. No heart palpitations, chest pain or shortness of breath. It was just her, and a healthy body that she had taken for granted at the time, and rooms full of art. After, she had taken a walk through the park, and then had gone and done some shopping later. She never worried about energy levels back then, just did what she felt like doing. She had gone home to her cute apartment, made dinner for herself, cleaned and gone to bed. Days like that had been so commonplace back then, something she couldn’t imagine doing now. If she was lucky, now she could do one maybe two activities in a day before having to lay down to recover. Her life had been so much larger before, had so much more promise. Now her whole life had been shrunk down to the size of her apartment, and on certain days, just her bedroom. When the pain got bad on days like this, she spiraled. She was a wound pretending to be a person. Eddie would have liked you better before. You’re no fun now. You can’t do anything. Her throat felt painful as she struggled to swallow, her lower lip starting to wobble. Stop. Stop thinking like that. These types of thoughts never led her anywhere good. Besides, if she were to actually cry right now that would make the pain of the migraine ten times worse and bring it on much quicker. THUD THUDSomeone was knocking on her door. Eddie? She thought he wasn’t going to be around today, maybe he had forgotten something? Brushing away tears from her eyes, she was almost thankful for the distraction. She got up, making her way to the door, the pressure in her head throwing her balance off slightly, pain settling in behind her eyes. She opened the door to find her landlord standing there. Huh?She had no idea what he was doing there, and she suddenly felt uncomfortable, crossing her arms over her pajama shirt. Good thing I decided to put on sweatpants today. He stood there in an oversized winter jacket, eyes narrowed and darting around. He was always an unpleasant man to deal with. Gotham had more than its fair share of scummy landlords and she felt like this guy was one of the worst. However when you were sick all the time and could barely scrape by you unfortunately just had to take what you could get.

“Oh- hi, what’s… What’s going on?” She asked, genuinely confused as to why he was there. The pounding in her head was making it hard to formulate words, and she hoped that whatever this was about would be over soon so she could lay down.

“Just here to do an inspection,” he grumbled as he pushed his way past her into the apartment.

An inspection? This was the last thing she wanted to deal with right now. Her stomach flipped and her face felt hot.

“Um- I’m pretty sure you need to give 24 hours before you can just show up here,” the pain zapped her energy to be nice. Her world was so small and shitty already and her apartment was the only thing she had other than Eddie. It was her safe place to be and now he was here, unannounced, ruining it.

He ignored her and continued stalking around her apartment. “Pretty sure I can do whatever I want since I own this building.” He responded, condescendingly.

“Besides, I got a call from someone a while ago about seeing someone climbing through a window here? I just want to make sure my tenants are okay.”

His concern was so insincere and his smile made her skin crawl. That must have been Eddie, she thought. When he came back to the apartment. That had happened over a week ago, if it had been a real threat she would have been dead by now. What a useless scumbag. “Well I can assure you that I’m fine, thanks for checking on me.” Leave.

He went into the living room and she quickly followed, wanting him to get the hell out of her space. He walked over to where the space heater was plugged into the wall.

He made a disapproving sound before reaching down and violently yanking the cord out of the wall. “You can’t have this in here. It could start a fire,” he huffed. “I’ll be taking this.”

Y/N’s blood was boiling. “You can’t take that. It’s my personal property, and its fucking freezing in here. I wouldn’t need to have it if you fixed the heating and actually took care of this place!”

He smiled at her. “This is my building, ma’am, and you are endangering it by having this in here. I’m taking it to protect my property.”

She hated him. She hated this man, hated this situation. Him and his stupid smug look. She knew he was probably getting off on this in some sick way, holding power over her. It’s not like she could fight him on it, though. She needed a place to live. She wasn’t sure what the future held for her and Eddie but for now her name was on this lease and she didn’t want a black mark on her rental history.

“Okay, fine, whatever, just please leave, I don’t feel good.” She was done arguing, she needed him gone. Eddie had a back up heater anyway and she would be plugging that in as soon as this asshole was gone.

“Before I go, I need rent early this month,” he sighed, while taking a seat on her couch.

That statement took a moment to register with Y/N. She looked at him in confusion.

“Running a little low on funds, the holidays coming up and all so I’m gonna be needing it early.” He continued, as if that was a reasonable request.

“I don’t…” Y/N’s hands were shaking and her heart was pounding painfully in her chest, the adrenaline in her body and pain in her head was making it hard to focus. “What?”

He gave an aggravated sigh, and spoke slowly, as if she was a child, “I… need… rent… early.. This… month…”

Y/N couldn’t believe this was happening, she was so angry she felt like she was going to explode. She hated feeling powerless. She was thankful Edward was gone at least so he wouldn’t have to see her being treated in this way. She was embarrassed that this vile man could make her feel so powerless.

“I don’t… I don’t have it yet.” She answered, incredulously. “I still have a week left.”

“Well that’s a shame then,  I guess I could just evict you.”

The room was spinning, inky black rage was bubbling up inside of Y/N. She couldn’t believe this man, that any of this was happening.

“I know that you’ve been having someone over here most nights, two people living here when there is only supposed to be you here…” he continued, his smile widening— showing too many teeth.

“And using equipment that’s dangerous for the building,” he added, gesturing to the space heater in his hand. He was still smiling, as if all of this was incredibly amusing to him.

Y/N regretted being so assertive with him earlier, she didn’t know what to do, couldn’t think of what words to say. She didn’t want to beg this horrible man to let her stay here but she felt like she didn’t have a choice.

She stood frozen by her desk, the rage and humiliation and fear coursing through her body. Every cell in her body wanted to scream at him, to stand up for herself but she felt frozen. Her landlord must have noticed her distress because he spoke again before she did.

He stood up from the couch and made his way over to her, “Hey– it’s alright, I’m sure we can work something out.”

Y/N looked at him, only noticing then that her eyes were teary. She was shaking.

He put his hand on her arm and she wanted to scream, to shove him to the ground— to do anything.

“There are other things you could do for me..” He was much closer now, and she felt his disgusting breath on her skin, “We could come to an understanding..” his hand moved from her arm to her waist.

She recoiled immediately, and backed into the desk behind her. Her utensils and organizers shaking with the thud. Some pencils rolled off the desk and clattered to the ground.

“Get away from me,” she managed to spit out.

“Are you sure you wanna be like that?” he asked, moving closer once again, “Wouldn’t want to have to put you on the streets.” 

He put both of his hands on her waist then, one hand reaching around her back. She couldn’t get away from him, her back painfully pressed against her desk. She scrambled backwards, trying to get out of his reach and then she felt it.  Her fingers touched her brush organizer. It was an ugly thing she had gotten as a gift. It was brown, large and heavy. A thick ceramic vase that was wide and tall and didn’t fit in much anywhere else but it was good for holding even the largest and tallest of paint brushes. She grabbed it and smashed it into the side of his skull. She felt like she was outside of herself, watching him as he fell to the ground immediately, hands pressed to his head. He was on his knees, and she watched as he pulled his hands away from his head. His fingers were trembling and covered in blood. He screamed something at her but she didn’t hear it. It looked something like, “You crazy bitch” or maybe, “You little bitch,” but all she could hear was ringing in her ears, her heartbeat, her breathing. I’ll show you fucking crazy. She brought the vase down again, into his face this time as he tried to get back up. Again. And again. And again. She beat him all over it with it. It felt good. She was tired of him, and people like him taking and taking and taking because they could. Tired of getting fucked over. Tired of being tired. Tired of being powerless. Tired of feeling like a kicked dog. He wasn’t moving anymore and she stopped. The raw energy flooded out of her as she looked down at him. Oh god. He wasn’t moving. 

He wasn’t moving. 

Did I kill him? She dropped the ceramic vase to the ground, her hands and clothes were spattered with blood. Now her hands were shaking. She was shaking. Her teeth chattered. She dropped to her knees and felt his chest. He’s still breathing. What do I do now? She had attacked him but he wasn’t dead. That meant he would get up at some point. She felt panicked, pure fear running through her. She was going to get evicted, she was going to go to jail. Her life was over. Wait. EddieDuh. Her boyfriend was the goddamn Riddler, the smartest person in Gotham. He would know what to do. Still, she was terrified. It was hard for her to keep her thoughts straight.   She had to keep him here. Call Eddie, he’ll know what to do. She grabbed her unconscious landlord and hefted him up onto her chair. She was surprised she was able to lift him, but it was probably the adrenaline. The pain behind her eye was piercing now, her head on fire. She felt like she was gonna be sick. She ran to her junk drawer, digging through it messily. There. A thick roll of duct tape. With the tape in hand, she approached the landlord, hoping he wouldn’t wake up. —--- ? —--- Edward ran a hand through his hair, before leaning back to stretch. He had been hunched over his desk for hours now. He had every last detail of Falcone’s schedule down, the names of his guards, and their schedules. He went over it again and again, memorizing it. He would start his stakeout in an hour and a half, and he needed to eat before then. Pushing his chair back, he reached for his phone. He wanted to check in with Y/N for the night before she went to bed. There were several missed calls from her and a voicemail. His stomach dropped at the amount of calls. She never left voicemails either. Something had to be very, very wrong.

Listening to the voicemail, he could hardly make out her words. She was sobbing and sounded frantic. He could just barely make out: “Please… come over,” and “I need help.”

Edward’s heart was cold as ice as he left the apartment. He called her on the way out but she didn’t answer, only causing his anxiety to heighten. He was almost in tears by the time he made it to his car, fearing the worst.

He sped the entire way there. 

Next

[jtargaryen18]

Dark Commander

(Image is a manip using an original work from quirkybyte.com)

Part 1

Series Masterlist

Words: 616

Pairing: Hydra Supreme aka Commander Steve Rogers x Civilian Reader

Warnings: Hydra, references to violence, references to the Asset (aka James Buchanan Barnes), references to kidnapping, references to nonconsensual sexual situations, references to hostage killing and gore.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown and tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.

Summary: Immediately following the Battle of New York in May 2012, the world is about to learn that Hydra is very much alive, a parasite that’s infiltrated both SHIELD and the US Govt. The world is about to meet the Hydra Supreme... Will the Avengers be able to stop Hydra before it’s too late? Will they be able to stop its Dark Commander?

~~~

May 20, 2012, 11:33 PM

Undisclosed location, New York

 “Commander,” Alexander Pierce smiled at him on the screen. “Looks like you had a rough evening.”

The World Security Council Secretary sat there in his pressed black suit, in the tranquility of his huge modern office. The man’s hands were on the desk before him, fingers laced.

He could sense the older gentleman’s tension from the other side of the screen. It was obvious in the slight elevation of his shoulders, the white of his knuckles.

“It didn’t go as smoothly as we’d hoped,” he told him, not caring how rough he looked at the moment. Pierce isn’t out here busting his ass for Hydra’s agenda. “But we have a solid lead.”

Pierce’s blue eyes widened behind his glasses. “On Loki’s scepter?”

Do you fucking doubt me?

He nodded.

“We need that scepter,” Pierce told him for the tenth fucking time. “We need the Mind Stone.”

And he understood that. He didn’t need the constant reminders. He wasn’t the fucking Asset after all.

“When will you continue?” Pierce pressed.

“In two days.” He didn’t feel the need to offer more of an explanation. “I’ll keep you updated.”

Pierce didn’t like his brevity. He knew that. His superior in Hydra also had little patience with his methods.

In the days since the Battle of New York, the world was on edge after witnessing its first alien attack. The Avengers along with the whole of New York City was left weak and reeling. And he began his work for the Secret Empire. He relished his new role in the hidden Hydra network that most of America was blissfully unaware of.

Soon, people would be aware of him. His actions, his new authority.

They would fear him.

And it was their fear, their dread and awe, that he wanted.

“Is there anything else?” he asked Pierce, anxious for a shower.

Anxious for something. While he did have a solid lead on the Mind Stone, the lack of it left him feeling restless inside. He’d been on a wild goose chase for the damn stone for days now.

Frustration was poison running through his veins and it set his nerves on edge. It kept him from sleeping, prevented him from escaping into simple distractions that were readily available in this modern day.

The older man smirked. “Rumlow and his men caught a group of SHIELD operatives near one of our holdings. I’d like to tell you that they were there because they were sharp, brilliant.” He chuckled. “But they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Meaning?”

“You should go see if you have a use for any of them before they’re terminated,” Pierce said with a wink. “Half of them are healthy young women. They’ll keep one or two for the Asset. Outside of that, take what you want.”

That had him smiling. Perfect.

“Thank you,” he said. He refused to address Pierce as sir even though he knew it was expected. Even though he knew it irritated the man.

But what was Pierce going to do about it?

“Go get a shower,” Pierce finally said. “You’ve got blood in your hair.”

He did.

“Talk to you tomorrow, Steve,” Pierce muttered before ending the video call.

Blowing out an exhale, Steve Rogers rose from the chair in Rumlow’s office and stretched. He could just make out the rusty splatter of blood on the flat black of his uniform sleeves. In no particularly hurry, he headed for the locker rooms to get that shower.

After that, Steve would go check out the hostage situation.

Take what you want.

A piece of ass sounded good after the shitty day he’d had.

@21stcenturywitchcraft @buckybarnesplumwhore @bval-1 @caffiend-queen @candy-and-writing @capsicle-shield @chaoticfiretaconerd @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @coldmuffinbanditshoe @daughterofthenight117 @hv-chw3 @iheartsebandchris @imanuglywombat @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @justrae9903 @lok1sgrl @lokislastlove @mariaenchanted @marvelouspottering @maxwelllee2020 @nannies-dont-date @nekoannie-chan @nerdwholikesword @notyourtypicalrose   @peaceinourtime82 @rainbowkisses31 @rayofdawnworld @richonne4life @rissysthoughts-blog @saiyanprincessswanie @scarletsoldierrr @shygirl-00 @stargazingfangirl18 @supernaturaldean67 @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @team-iron-wannabe-man @titty-teetee @tonib666 @villanellevi @weebid @what-is-your-backupplan-today​ @what-is-your-wish​ @xoxabs88xox​ @onetwo3000​ @rosalynshields​ @naturalthrone22​ @gotnofucks​ @nerdygirl8203​ @princesssterek​ @vampy-doll​

[heyitsyn]

5 Hours Is Nothing Compared to 18 Years

Dad!Oikawa Tooru

a/n: can i just say how lucky his daughter would be?

Oikawa Tooru:

"ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴀʀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʜᴏᴍᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇʏᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴ ᴀɴɢᴇʟ-ᴍʏ ᴀɴɢᴇʟ"

papa tooru is woken up at night

word count: 1.1K

son: oikawa yozora

daughter: oikawa luna

as you turned on your side, you subconsciously reached over to wrap your arm around your husband when you felt cold sheets rather than his warm body. confused, you flailed around blindly until you gave up and decided to look for yourself. your eyes fluttered open and the darkness of your room greeted your vision but through your open door, you saw there was a faint light from the hallway. at first, you thought it was simply yozora reading his book because he couldn’t sleep. but then you noticed that his room wasn’t on the same side of the hallway. on instinct, you turned to the baby monitor on your bed-side table and noticed the familiar mess of your husband’s hair, watching him rock your daughter with a small smile on your face. of course, still groggy with sleep, you turned to your back and stretched a little bit before sitting up and grabbing your robe to investigate that light. you had a feeling that you would find your missing husband there too.

it was silent in the cottage.

the soft padding of your footsteps softly echoed throughout the hallway and you sniffed at the chilly temperature in the house. you tightened your arms around yourself before yawning then finally arrived at the destination of the light. coincidentally, it was your daughter’s bedroom and you quietly chuckled, knowing tooru probably turned it on when he arrived. 

the door was already opened by an inch so a soft judge from your arm made it swing open and you were greeted with the sight of tooru’s muscular back, slowly swaying left to right and the muscles of his body instinctively flexed to carry the weight of the little girl. deciding to not announce your presence, you kept your arms crossed and leaned against the doorframe to just watch him and let him find you himself.

but he kept his form forward.

then you heard a quiet gurgle and the whispers of your husband filled the silence.

‘i understand it’s hard to sleep, but darling, you’ll suffer later. mama has to take you to the doctor later and you don’t want to be sleeping then, do you?’

to keep yourself from laughing, you bit your lip. it was so uncommon to see and hear tooru talking like that to her. ever since she was born, his voice has taken on a permanent high-pitched baby voice, in reason of wanting to communicate with her, and despite your constant reminders that she’s too young to process it, tooru simply says, ‘i want her to hear her father’s voice’.

you were brought back to reality when you heard her ‘protest’ at her father’s comment and you saw her little feet appear to the side and they wiggled. tooru quietly laughed and he bent down, seemingly giving her a kiss.

‘oh? what did you say? you don’t want to?’

‘eung!’

although it wasn’t technically a word, the 5-month old picked up the habits of her dad after constantly hearing him say it to you and hajime.

‘luna, no ‘eung’. papa wants you to be strong! and healthy! so you must sleep!’

‘(babble)(babble)(babble)’

‘noooo, baby, its not hard. just close your eyes, okay? just close them and you will be sleeping! you’ll meet anpanman there too! you like anpanman, don’t you?’

deciding it was enough, you finally left your spot and wrapped your arms around his waist, feeling him flinch but relax when he heard your voice.

‘she likes it when you sing’

it seems luna heard your voice as well and she looked around, eyes wide in her mission to find her mother. you peaked out from behind tooru and you tiredly grinned at her, a bubble of giggles erupting out of her at the sight of you.

‘remember when i recorded you singing? she only sleeps to that during the daytime. maybe it would work if she has a front-seat view’

your suggestion made tooru nod and you listened to him start his lullaby, your own happiness being obvious by the way you gently rubbed circles around his waist. your face leaned against his bicep and your eyes fixed themselves on your beautiful girl, her inherited brown eyes shimmering from the light of her lamp beside her crib. her h/c hair was a mess and was growing steadily yet she took after her father’s hair texture. if anything, she was truly her papa’s girl at how she was a copy-paste version of tooru with an exception of her mother’s hair color. even as a baby and not even hitting her year-old age, they glinted with the same innocence and happiness you’re familiar with from tooru’s younger self.

those same eyes were steadily closing and small breaths escaped her rosy lips until they fully closed and hid away the beautiful shining orbs of your newborn.

tooru slowly quieted his voice and eventually came to a stop.

for the first time tonight, your eyes drifted up to his and you sighed at the dark circles under his eyes and you felt a slight bit of guilt of being too deep in sleep that he took care of it himself. 

‘tooru, i-’

‘no. you deserve your sleep and no busy schedule will make me not want to go and hold my baby.’

the amount of love in his voice made you smile and you held him tighter.

‘besides, i want to try for her. i want to be the father she and yozora deserve’

you kissed the skin your lips could reach.

‘yozora was also my fault. we were both to blame but we’ve worked it out, haven’t we? we can watch our children grow into great and good people’

he nodded, bring a finger up to softly ghost over her chubby, pink cheeks and tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear.

‘she’s so beautiful, y/n. so beautiful because she looks like you.’

feeling like a schoolgirl again, you hid your face into him and you giggled.

‘oh, tooru. she looks more of you than me and maybe, thats what makes her so beautiful.’

he denied with a shake of his head but he had a smile, a soft smile that would’ve been so alien to him if he was younger but now, it was always there at the mere thought of his princess.

‘you’re right in many things, love, but this is the one time you’re not. you see, she’s especially most beautiful because of her eyes. luna is lucky-so, so lucky-that out of all children, she was picked. a natural beauty since the stars and the universe made their home into the eyes of an angel-my angel.’

the pride and awe radiated from the 6’2 man towards a 25-inch baby made you smile.

tooru’s gaze was now away from the baby and into somewhere else, focus going to the abyss. you were thinking of putting luna back to her crib so tooru could sleep but your husband wanted to hold her a little longer.

‘tooru, you have 18 more years of being able to hold her. 18 years compared to 5 hours of sleep should encourage you to go and rest.’

but your voice fell deaf to his ears and you raised an eyebrow.

‘what are you thinking about, love?’

you asked and softly rubbed his arm. he snapped out of it and looked at you with a serious expression.

‘honey, baby, darling, love of my life, would you be angry if i invest in some samurai swords to ward off future boyfriends? yozora can help too’

oh gosh, there he goes again.

[verai-marcel]

Of Dragons and Love (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: Arthur didn't want to come to Strawberry, didn't want to help a certain sniveling rat escape his cell. So he decides to explore the town instead and runs into a mysterious woman whom he can't let go. 

Author’s Notes: I’m gonna take a moment and lean hard on my heritage to pull some inspiration from an old Cantonese opera. And we're gonna leave Micah in his cell because nuts to that guy. So pretend this takes place in chapter two when Arthur was supposed to go rescue him, but decided to do a side quest instead. This was written for the RDR Mini Bang! @rdrbigbang

Tags: Arthur x F!Reader, spoilers, Chinese mythology-inspired, alternate timeline, mild exophilia, insta-love, magic, smut, HEA

Word Count: 6,378

Accompanying Artwork: @danger-r-98-5 has made some wonderful art for this fic!

AO3 Link is here.

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

Arthur stepped into the small town of Strawberry and immediately wanted to turn around. He could pretend Micah was dead. He could just bide his time and wait for him to hang. 

As he rode through the small town, he passed the small jail and kept going to the visitor's center. Seeing the map of the nearby area tacked onto the wall next to the entrance, he hitched his horse and walked over to take a better look. 

"Welcome to Strawberry, good sir!" 

Arthur flicked a tired glance at the boisterous man before continuing his casual perusal of the map, waiting to see if he would leave. When the man remained beside him, he sighed, exasperated. 

"Hullo," he said without looking at the other man.

"Are you here for business or pleasure?" 

"Uh, just passin' through." It sure as hell wasn't for pleasure, and his business was his own. 

"Ah, I see. Well, please keep us in mind if you ever want to spend a day relaxing in our lovely town. This hotel is the coziest in West Elizabeth," the man boasted, gesturing behind him. "And the scenic Mount Shann and Owanjila Dam aren't too far from here."

"Alright."

"And Big Valley, just past the mountains, is a beautiful place to hunt and camp."

"Uh huh."

When Arthur continued to look at the map without any further inclination towards interacting with him, the man gave up on his sales pitch. "Well, I'll be inside if you have any questions."

"Ayup."

Finally alone, Arthur focused on the path that would take him to Owanjila. He'd been meaning to do a bit of fishing and commune with nature. Seemed like as good a place as any. 

Anything to postpone the reason he came here.

***

You weren't sure how you lived so long, not knowing what you were. You had been living with your mother for two decades, not knowing who your father was. Your mother didn't talk about him, and the one time you asked, she had simply said one thing. 

"He disappeared."

You didn't know what that meant exactly, and she did not explain. 

Until one day, on your twentieth birthday, he appeared. A large, scary looking man came to your door. Your mother paled and tried not to react, but when he held out a necklace and told her how sorry he was for leaving her alone, she broke down and cried. 

You found out that when she was young, your mother lived in a small house by a waterfall that fed a large lake. There was a growing town not too far from there, where she worked as a waitress.

One day, on the other side of the lake, a group of Chinese workers made camp as they worked on the railway that was coming through town. They were not welcomed in the town by most people, but your mother took pity on them and sold them food and other groceries, for a delivery fee. 

Somehow, your father had caught her eye, and they developed a secret relationship. When her parents discovered the love letter your father had written to your mother, she was kicked out of the house, without anything of hers to take with her. When your mother had gone to the camp to look for your father, it had been abandoned, the workers having left hours earlier to the next site. 

Broken hearted, your mother had thrown the necklace he had gifted her into the lake and left town, moving to Strawberry and giving birth to you. You had grown up here, made friends, had a few short dalliances with boys here while you grew up.

Strawberry was a small town, but there was a creek running through it, and when you had free time, which was not often these days, you loved to follow the creek to a waterfall and watch the water. You always felt an affinity with the water, felt like it always pulled at your very soul. You had learned how to swim with ease; your mother had said you were like a fish. 

Your father explained why he had left, and why he had finally come back. 

"I am a Dragon," he had said. "Great-great grand-nephew of the Dragon King of the North Sea."

He was an immortal creature, drawn to the belief of his people in a foreign land, looking for something to comfort them while they worked in dangerous conditions to make money to send home to their families. He protected them, guided them, and thus, had to follow where they went. When the camp left suddenly, he had no time to say goodbye and was nearly dragged away, the pull of his people’s belief taking him with them.

But now he was free, his people having finished their jobs. They had dispersed, either leaving for China or moving to San Francisco, where other Dragon Gods held domain and took over the belief of his former followers. So he started looking for his long lost love, who still cared for him deep in her heart, and traced the thread of emotion leading back to her.

He promised to take care of you and your mother from now on, and he made good on his promise. For the past five years, he had worked alongside the two of you, making your small farm plot healthy and fertile. 

It helped that he could make the sky rain whenever you needed it. 

He had also trained you in your small powers. Because you had been untrained for so long, your powers were weak, but over time, and with practice, they grew steadily stronger. You could breathe underwater. You could swim faster than humanly possible. And while you couldn't transform into a dragon, your hair became teal and your skin could shift into a bluish-grey tint. It was a bit unsettling the first time you did it in the mirror. 

But your most favorite power of all was the ability to shape nearby water to your will. At first, you could only move a small amount of water in a mug. But over time, you could move water in pitchers, basins, buckets, barrels, and even water troughs for animals. 

At this point, if you entered a pond, you could easily create ripples and small waves just by focusing on your energy and sending it outwards from you. 

Five years had passed since he had come back, and you had learned so much. Your life was so peaceful now that it came as no surprise when your parents announced that they wanted to move back to their hometown. Of course something had to change; that was the only constant in life, after all.

But you didn’t want to leave. You loved Strawberry. This was your home.

Your father had let out a breath, then smiled, much to your surprise.

“Owanjila does not have a spirit to guard it, since it’s a new body of water. Perhaps… you can become its guardian.”

“But I’m half-human,” you had said.

“So is Owanjila,” he said.

You nodded and smiled. Now you knew why he had been training you so hard all these years.

***

Arthur was pleasantly relaxed for the first time in a long time. He had spent all day fishing and gathering herbs after he set up a small campsite tucked away in the thicker part of the forest. It was quiet on this side of the lake, since all the travelers would go across the dam to take in the scenery. He was glad he picked a spot that was farthest from, for he didn’t have the energy to even say hello.

With a couple of large fish, he made his way back to his campsite, cooked up a fine meal with his freshly picked herbs, and spent some time writing and drawing before looking up at the stars before he fell asleep, the campfire quietly dying as his snores melded with the rest of the night.

***

It had been three months since your parents had left you here. They had sold the small farm and used the money to help you fix up a small abandoned fishing cabin out here on the far side of the lake, where you could hunt and gather on your own, trading furs and fish in town. Ever since you had become the guardian, the fish had spawned much more frequently and grew faster than normal, keeping you well fed. You figured it was a side-effect of the lake having a guardian spirit now.

You looked at your hands; yesterday, you had tripped on a step as you walked back from town, getting some small cuts on the palms of your hands as they had scraped against the gravel. Today, they had healed so quickly that there were no scars; you had never healed so quickly before. You wondered if your powers were growing and had walked into town earlier today to send a letter to your folks, letting them know what had happened.

It was late; the moon was high in the sky, and as bright as the electric lights in St Denis. You were roused from your sleep by the pull of the moon, and knew that it was time.

You took off your clothes and set them on your front porch. Walking to the water’s edge, you slipped into the water without a sound, the liquid embracing you as if you were an old friend.

“Hello, Owanjila,” you whispered as you walked deeper and deeper until you were completely submerged. Then you transformed, your skin turning bluish-grey, your hair shifting to a beautiful teal, and your gills appearing near your collarbone. You kicked your legs and swam gracefully through the water, spinning and twirling as you joyfully moved through the water as easily as you could walk on land.

Once you reached the middle of the lake, you bolted upwards, your legs kicking in unison with such speed and power that you broke the surface easily, your body shooting into the air. You let out a whoop of excitement, for it was only during full moons that you could fly this high out of the water; you had certainly tried other times. For a moment, the starry sky and the bright moon seemed impossibly close, and you held out your hands as if you could gather them all up and hold them tight forever.

Flipping backwards, you extended your hands in front of you and dove back into the water with barely a splash.

***

“Huh, whuzzah,” Arthur muttered as he was jolted awake by the sound of someone yelling. Immediately on alert, Arthur reached for his pistol and carefully made his way out of the tent, looking around. Seeing nothing but trees and rocks after circling his campsite twice, he was about to go back into his tent.

Another yell echoed through the trees. It didn’t sound like anyone in danger, more like… elation? 

His curiosity piqued, he quietly made his way towards the lake, following the sounds of the water sloshing around as if someone was swimming. Coming to the shoreline, he saw the full moon, reflected in the water, with ripples circling from the center of the reflection.

Unable to stop himself, Arthur found a nearby rock and climbed it to better see the center of the lake. Squatting down, he peered out at the water.

Something shot out of the water at breakneck speed, surprising him enough that he fell onto his ass.

For a split second, he saw everything clearly.

He saw her nude form, water glistening off her skin, the moon bathing her in a silvery light. He saw the look of ecstasy on her face as she looked up at the moon.

He saw her eyes as they met his.

Arthur’s heart skipped a beat.

Then she was gone, diving back into the water like an arrow, hardly disturbing the surface.

Sitting up, he crawled to the edge of the rock and peered at the spot, waiting for her to return. Part of him wondered if he had imagined it, and part of him hoped she was real. He had felt like he had seen something so evanescently ephemeral that his heart fluttered like a child seeing fireworks. He wanted to experience that sparkling feeling again and again. 

When his knees ached and his joints complained, he finally gave up, climbed off the rock, and returned to his tent. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but it didn’t come quickly as his heart continued to race. When he finally managed to nod off, his dreams were filled with a mysterious woman with an expression so filled with euphoria that he could almost taste her joy.

***

You were mortified. A man was camping around your lake and you hadn’t noticed? Granted, you were in town most of the day trying to sell some rabbit pelts, and then you had written your letter at the post office since you had run out of ink and bought some at the general store and didn’t want to walk all the way back to your cabin. 

But still, you hadn’t noticed. You supposed it was because he had no ill intent. It wasn’t that you could sense people, that wasn’t how your power worked; it was more you could feel out harmful intentions. People who came and went on the dam were usually harmless tourists and you took no notice of them. But occasionally that greedy mayor would come up here and consider building some cheap cabins out on the lake as tourist traps, and you would cause the lake to be extra choppy that day, splashing water on him if you were nearby. It was usually enough to change his mind.

You stayed at the bottom of the lake, waiting long enough before you slowly swam up again, moving towards the edge of the lake before you poked your head up from the water.

He was gone.

You sighed in relief and swam back to your cabin, looking around once more before getting out and back onto your porch. Grabbing your clothes, you got inside and dried off, thinking of the man’s shocked expression.

But what came to your mind most of all was that in the moonlight, you had managed to make eye contact. In that moment, your heart had pounded like you had seen something beautiful. 

Despite your embarrassment at being caught naked and in your half-dragon form, you wanted to see him in the daylight. You wanted to find out who he was, and why your heart had finally moved after all these years.

***

Arthur came out of his tent, bleary eyed as he yawned. He hadn’t gotten a whole lot of sleep, but he was, for better or for worse, used to it. The sound of a crackling of a fire and the sight of a figure sitting with their back turned was also something he was used to.

Until he realized that the fire had gone out last night and he had come to this place alone. Reaching for his pistol, he stopped when he heard her speak.

“I mean you no harm.”

Arthur, suspicious, for people who had said that to him before often would turn around and shoot him, put a hand on his pistol, but left it in its holster. Coming out of his tent and rising to his full height, he walked around to face the woman at his campfire.

When she looked up at him, he felt like he was hit with an arrow.

Those same eyes from last night met his, and he felt like the whole world slowed and became silent. All he saw was her, and he didn’t care about anything else.

***

His eyes were beautiful, like gemstones sparkling in the morning light. His hair was tousled from sleep, but it made you think of him in bed next to you. You swallowed. Why were you thinking of waking up next to him? You barely knew him!

But you couldn’t ignore the heat in your veins as your eyes traveled down his body. His very tall, muscular body. Oh gods, you felt your heartbeat quicken as you suddenly had a mental image of him climbing over you, his naked body above yours, his big hands holding your hips as he thrust—

“Can I help you, miss?” the man finally asked, his voice rough from sleep. His voice was like whiskey, flowing smoothly over your body and making you burn with need. He swallowed, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down in his throat. Oh, to lick that sun-kissed skin…

You shook your head, both in answer to him and to clear the lustful images from your head. “I’m alright, I just wanted to share your campfire.”

***

“Oh?” Arthur asked, sitting down beside her to hide his body’s reaction to meeting her eyes. When he had met her gaze, he was hit hard with desire, the sudden image of her beneath him, legs spread, her expression of ecstasy for him and him alone.

For a brief moment, he wanted to take her, to guide her to the ground and thrust wildly inside of her like an animal.

But instead he reeled himself in; he wasn’t that kind of man. He didn’t even know why he had such a visceral reaction to her. All he knew was that she was sitting here with him now, and she was beautiful. When she turned away, he felt like he was suddenly lost, and wished for her to look at him once more with those mysterious eyes. He observed her as she poked the fire with a stick, wondering what she was thinking.

“So, uh, you live around here?” he asked, berating himself immediately for such an awkward question.

“I do, just down the shoreline,” she replied.

“Oh.”

She turned to meet his gaze, and he felt it once more. A pull, stronger than any he had ever known, as if she was hypnotizing him with just one look. Unable to stop himself, he leaned in closer, her lips beckoning him.

“What are you doing?” she asked curiously.

The spell broken, Arthur quickly leaned back and sputtered, “I, uh, I don’t know, to be honest.”

The woman smiled at him, and he felt his entire world light up with fireworks.

“What’s your name?”

“Arthur.”

“Nice to meet you, Arthur.”

She told him her name, and he repeated it just so he could say it out loud. He loved the way her name rolled off his tongue. He had shivered with desire from the way she had said her name. 

“So you saw me last night,” she said after a few moments.

He smiled nervously as guilt wracked him. “Uh, yup. I’m sorry, I didn’ mean to peek.”

“It’s alright, I should’ve been more careful,” she said, a wry grin on her face. “Usually no one camps here.”

Silence stretched between them as Arthur wondered what he should say, if anything.

She brought up her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. “And there’s not much to look at anyway,” she said self-deprecatingly.

“You were beautiful,” he blurted out suddenly. He couldn’t believe she’d think that. He wanted to burn the sight of her coming out of the water into his memories so he’d never forget.

She turned her head to look at him, and he felt the pull once more, but it was tinged with melancholy. It made his heart clench. He reached out and put an arm around her, pulling her into his chest, desperate to ease the pain. “Yer beautiful,” he repeated.

***

Surrounded by warmth, you sank into his chest and breathed in his scent. His natural musk, layered with balsam and leather, was soothing to you, made you feel safe and protected. No other man had affected you like this. Was this how your parents had fallen for each other? Was it an instant attraction?

You had been taught to follow your instincts, and something about this man made you want to keep him forever. To hold him tight and never let him go.

So you reached back out to him, wrapping your arms around his broad torso. Looking up at him, meeting his surprised expression, you leaned forward and kissed him. His lips were chapped but pliable as you pushed forward, pressing your body against his.

You were met with a startled grunt. He let you go and backed away, like a shy lady from an all too amorous man.

“Y-you barely know me,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“Sorry,” you said, shrinking back on yourself. Maybe you misread him, maybe he was just saying you were beautiful to make you feel better. Maybe you were just lonely and wanted to connect with him, the first man who had made you feel something in years.

“Look,” he said, leaning forward again, “it’s not that I don’t want to, I just think, well, maybe we git to know each other a bit more first before, uh, well…” He trailed off, gesturing blandly.

You laughed. Of course. He was shy. Standing up, you reached out to him. “Will you stay a while? My cabin is small but it’ll protect you from the elements better than your tent. And it’ll be warmer at night too.”

Arthur stared at your hand for a moment before standing up on his own. “Alright. I’ll pack up first.”

***

Arthur wasn’t sure how he was convinced to stay in a cabin with a woman he hardly knew, but every time he met her eyes, everything else fell away and all he wanted was to be with her. 

He wasn’t sure how much time passed, maybe a few days, maybe weeks. But he had never been so content to just fish and hunt and spend time with his sweet lady. He learned about her parents, who had been small-time farmers near Strawberry before they moved to her mother’s hometown, leaving her to live on her own. When he had asked why, she had said it was because she loved it here and didn’t want to leave.

He understood why; after the first few days of just roaming the land, living off its bounty, he was quite content to just stay and forget his troubles. She would go into town and sell his furs and pelts, and when he wasn’t hunting, he would help upgrade her little cabin, fixing up small things here and there to make her more comfortable.

He had insisted on sleeping on his bedroll on the floor beside her bed, at least for now. He felt like he was working up the courage to bed her, even though she clearly had given him an open invitation to her bed. 

Every night he thought about it.

And every night, he trudged to his bedroll and slept beside her bed like a faithful pet dog.

***

14 days had passed. The new moon would be out tonight, and you were itching to go for a swim.

But with Arthur here, you hesitated. He had seen you that first night, sure. But he hadn’t seen you clearly. He hadn’t seen your skin and hair color change, your gills at your collarbone, your preternaturally fast swimming. 

As you stood at the end of your little fishing dock that was connected to the porch of your cabin, you sighed. Watching the setting sun streak its beautiful orange rays across the water, you internally debated if you should show him so you could freely act as the guardian once more. You had been feeling stifled as of late, only able to use your powers while he was out hunting, and only in secret in case he might come out of the forest at any given time.

“What’s the matter, darlin’?”

You smiled. He had started calling you his darling or his sweetheart after a week of gentle caresses as he walked by, or even a casual kiss on the cheek as you went into town on an errand. No matter how much he said it, you melted every time. It was endearing and charming to you, even though they were simple words. The way he said them, the love and care he put into those pet names, was everything you wanted to hear.

Turning to Arthur, you saw that he was dressed in his usual blue shirt and black ranch pants, looking concerned. Seeing the care he had for your well-being made you come to a decision. He deserved the truth of you.

“I need to show you something.”

***

Arthur swallowed as his sweet lady began to disrobe right there on the dock. He was shocked to a standstill, unable to move as he saw every inch of beautiful skin exposed to his view. His pants grew tight, his throat dry, and his internal instinct to protect surged through him.

“Darlin’, what’re you…” 

He couldn’t utter another sound as he watched her usual skin shimmer and then shift to a blue-grey tint. Her hair became teal colored, and slits appeared above her collarbone.

“Gills,” she said as she pointed at them, shrugging shyly. “I’m a dragon spirit. Or half of one.”

Arthur could only nod in both shock and awe. He had suspected she was hiding something, but he would have never guessed it was something like this. He took in her form, human and yet not, familiar and yet bizarre. But still beautiful, wonderful, her.

“Do… do I disgust you?”

“No!” Arthur said, quickly taking two steps to stand in front of her. “Yer still the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”

Seeing her smile shyly and look away, his need to assure her only grew stronger. “That why you could swim so good?” he asked, reaching up to caress her neck, right above her gills.

She nodded again.

“What’d you mean by half?” he asked, curious.

“My father, he was a dragon, the great-great grand nephew of the Dragon King of the North Sea.”

Arthur nodded. “Oh. Okay then.” He didn’t understand what that meant, but it sounded a bit important.

She tittered. “I don’t really know how important that is either,” she said, answering the unspoken question. “But I can swim real fast, breathe underwater, and I can control water a little bit,” she said, her excitement growing with each word. She turned to the water and put out her hand.

Ripples started to appear, and they grew into small waves, rolling across the surface of the lake.

She turned back to him, a happy glow to her eyes. “I’m so glad you’re not disgusted by me.”

“I’d never be,” he replied, pulling her into his arms. His gaze traveled along her face, admiring her hair color, her bluish-grey skin, and the gills at her neck, before looking at her smile, full of self-confidence. She was radiant and it made her all the more alluring. 

“You’re beautiful, no matter what.”

***

This time when you kissed Arthur, he kissed you back, unafraid, bold, confident. He quickly took over, his fingers gripping the back of your head as he pulled your body closer to his. You felt the rough fabric of his shirt sliding along your sensitive nipples and moaned softly.

He suddenly wrapped one arm around your waist and one around your ass before picking you up with ease. 

“I need you darlin’,” he murmured before turning from the dock and walking determinedly towards your cabin. He maneuvered you inside and shut the door, not wanting any interruptions. Laying you down on the bed, he stepped away to light the lantern before returning to you, taking off his hat and flinging it aside.

You shifted back to your human colors, your gills disappearing.

“Yer magical,” Arthur whispered before resting his forehead against yours and closing his eyes, a wry grin on his face. You kissed him back, smiling in return, acknowledging his silly word choice and accepting his sentiment for what it was: a compliment. He shared your gaze for a few moments before kissing you back as he unbuttoned his shirt, leaving it open while he climbed over you. You could feel his impatience as he pressed his bare chest against yours, his kisses heating up and becoming demanding.

“Arthur,” you breathed as he moved down to kiss your neck, his lips tracing lines where your gills had been.

“Why’d I wait this long,” he muttered, mostly to himself, as he ran his fingers from your hip up your belly. His touch was feather-light, almost ticklish as he skimmed the underside of your breast before tracing circles around your areola. 

You writhed, whimpering softly. He looked at you, keeping his gaze locked with yours as he leaned down and took your nipple into his mouth. 

"Oh, yes," you moaned as his tongue played with you, distracting you just long enough for his other hand to caress the inside of your thighs. You parted your legs eagerly. 

You felt Arthur smile against your skin before he switched to your other breast, giving you the same pleasure as his hand slid between your legs, his fingers exploring your slit. 

"This honey fer me, darlin'?" he asked in a low, husky voice. 

"All for you," you whispered. 

He let out a soft growl of satisfaction before dipping a finger inside of you. Your hips lifted up towards his touch. Moving away from your breast, he kissed his way up your neck, to your cheeks, then to your lips once more. He took his time tasting you, his tongue languidly caressing yours as his fingers delved inside of you, his thumb brushing against your bud, each stroke driving you higher and higher towards your peak that was approaching rapidly.

You moaned his name, muffled as it was by his mouth on yours. He growled in return, pumping his fingers faster, his thumb stroking you with determination.

"Ah, ah, Arthur!" you cried out as you climaxed. As you felt the pleasure zip through your veins, you buzzed with power for a moment before it faded. 

You didn't have time to think about it, for Arthur climbed off the bed and took off the rest of his clothes. He was such a big man, with muscles from hard work, scars from a rough life, and a dangerous grace to him. He had power and knew how to use it. 

And right now, he wanted to make you release over and over again. 

He climbed over you, just like in your fantasies, and spread your legs, wrapping them around his waist. Taking his hard length in his hand, he slid the tip around your entrance, slicking himself up as he watched you tremble beneath him. 

"You sure 'bout this, darlin'?" he murmured, a slight tremor in his voice, as if he was holding back. He didn't stop sliding the head of his cock along your slit, up and down in a slow rhythm. 

"Yes, yes please Arthur, just take me!" you begged. He was driving you mad with his gentle strokes. You lifted your hips up, causing the tip of him to slip inside. 

"So needy, sweet girl," he crooned before he pushed forward, driving himself deeper inside of you. 

You writhed and winced as your body stretched around his girth. He was sweating, holding himself steady as he waited for you to regain your breath before inching forward some more. Patiently, Arthur watched your every reaction, taking great care to control his movements until his hips finally came flush with yours. 

He murmured your name, his lips brushing against yours before he kissed you. His hands cradled your face as he grinded against you, the heat of his body warming you up like a thick quilt. Deepening the kiss, he angled your head so he could devour you. A low moan escaped him as his hips shifted, building a steady rhythm of short thrusts. 

"More, Arthur," you said when he finally let you take a breath. 

"I'll give you whatever you need," he replied before lifting himself up, letting the cool air touch your body. He pulled his cock out almost all the way and waited for an eternal moment while he stared into your eyes, the lust blowing out his pupils. 

Then he slammed back inside of you.

Your pleasure-filled yell was stopped short by Arthur's swift uptick in pace. He was hammering his cock inside of your tight, wet channel, and he couldn't get enough. Not saying a word, he only moaned and panted as he drove into you relentlessly, taking just a split second to adjust his angle before continuing. 

"So good," he moaned before he got up onto his haunches, taking your hips in his big hands, his fingers digging into your flesh as he fucked you like a man possessed. He growled, a feral sound of pleasure, before he reached down and stroked your clit. 

"Need… to… see… you… let go…" he panted. 

You tightened your legs around his waist, meeting his thrusts with your own enthusiastic motions, reaching for your breasts and playing with your nipples before him. 

"Oh darlin', you look so pretty like that," he grit out, his face contorted in an effort to control his desires. He was so close. So very close. 

"Give me everything!" you gasped, your body shaking, on the edge of a precipice so high that you almost felt fear.

Feeling your body grip him so tightly, Arthur let out a passionate shout before he spilled inside of you. His eyes were wild as he stared at you, his mouth open as he drew in breath after ragged breath. He moaned as he thrust one last time before crushing his hips to yours, keeping his shaft inside of you for as long as possible. 

As he spent himself inside of you, you felt your core suddenly overflow with ecstasy, your body shuddering as you came around his thick cock. At the same time, your power unleashed, making your body glow a bluish hue. 

"Darlin'!?" Arthur panicked, sounding winded, his brow creased with worry. 

The power that had unlocked within you gave your vision a strange overlay of colors. And within the warm orange glow of Arthur was a black cloud in his chest. You reached out through the haze of your afterglow and pulled at it. 

He gasped and coughed. 

You pulled again. Now that you had touched it, you knew it was bad. It needed to get out of his system before it did permanent damage. 

Arthur grasped his chest. "What…" he trailed off as he coughed a few more times before you managed to heave out the black cloud from his lungs. You quickly quashed it in your hands. 

Looking up at him, you put your hands on his cheeks and kissed him, pouring the last of the glowing power inside of him. On some instinctual level, you knew you had healed him of something. Whether it was an old lingering illness or a new one that was just about to form, it was now gone from his system. 

When you finally pulled away, Arthur looked bewildered. For a few seconds, or a few minutes, you weren’t sure how slow or fast time was flowing, the two of you could only stare at each other, lost in that foggy place between dreams and reality.

"What'd you pull outta me?" Arthur finally asked, still a little breathless.

"Something bad. An illness, I think,” you replied. You took a deep breath before squeezing his hand. “Whatever it was, it will no longer hurt you." 

Arthur smiled and pressed his forehead against yours. "Thank you, sweetheart."

***

Arthur left a day later, telling you that he'd be back once he had taken care of some people.

You didn't see him for a long time.

Four months passed before you saw him again. He looked ragged, skinnier, as if he had been through hell and back. But when he saw you, he rushed over and fell into your arms, holding you tight as if you were the only real thing in his world. 

***

He told you everything. He confessed that he had been the one to help that criminal escape and shot up the town. That he had been chased all over three states with his gang. That he had stolen money from several trains. That he had been on a ship that had sunk and was stranded on an island for days before finding a way back. 

He told you about John. He told you about how he had helped him escape the Pinkertons, had ran with him all the way down the mountain before telling him where to meet his family. Then Arthur had set off, the long way around through the wilds of Ambarino so he could lose the men who were chasing him, just so he could get safely back to you.

You saw now that his eyes were unclouded, having seen his world for what it was. You saw pain and regret in his eyes, but you also saw understanding and a clarity that was not there before. He appeared to have finally found wisdom at a heavy price.

After he had told you everything, you cooked him a meal of steamed fish and herbs. He ate quietly, as if his confession had stolen all of his words from him. 

He finished his meal and sat in silence for a few minutes before looking towards you. "I ain't a good man—" 

You shushed him. "You are more good than not, Arthur," you said. "We all make mistakes. You were just trying to do your best. That's all any of us can do."

Reaching for his hand across the table, you grasped it and pulled it to your chest, placing it over your heart. "Will you stay?" 

Arthur smiled hesitantly. "You… still want me?" 

You stood up and leaned across the table to kiss him. "I'll always want you, Arthur. I love you."

He kissed you back. When he looked at you, his gaze full of gratitude. "I love you too, my sweet darlin'. Thank you fer believin' in me."

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

End Notes: I had to end it on a sappy note, of course. Hope you enjoyed that little romp with some folklore! 

[let-it-raines]

your wonder under summer skies (13/18)

Summer in Storybrooke, Maine means one thing for its residents: tourist season. This year, for Emma Swan and Killian Jones, it means relationships ending and friendships changing all the while they attempt to figure out just what their relationship is. It’s somewhere straddling the line between friends and lovers, and there’s no guarantee of a soft landing if they fall into new territory.

rating: mature

ao3: beginning | current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 

-/-

“Okay, so I would recommend doing a buffet. I know a lot of people stupidly think that’s tacky, but it’s not. That way you have a constant flow of food and people aren’t sitting down waiting. The one thing you don’t want is people tapping their foot waiting for you two to be done with pictures so they can eat.”

“Do pictures take that long?” Liam asks.

“Oh my God, Liam,” Anna sighs through the phone, “we have been over this. Yes, pictures do take that long. This is a special day, and you’re going to want to remember it from every possible angle. Plus, you have to have pictures with family and friends, and it’s not a simple thing with a one, two click. Don’t you ever listen? I feel like you have to listen. You better be listening when my sister is trying to talk to you. She deserves a man who listens.”

“Anna, take a breath,” Elsa sighs.

“I don’t know how you’re planning a wedding with this man. I feel like I have to keep repeating myself.”

“You know,” Emma murmurs, rolling her eyes at Elsa, “there is also the option to have all of the pictures done before the actual ceremony. A lot of couples are doing that now. You can have private time with each other so that Liam isn’t seeing Elsa for the first time in front of all of these people, and it can also streamline the time between the ceremony and the reception.”

“But that first look during the ceremony is so special!” Anna whines. “You don’t want to miss out on that!”

Elsa looks up from her phone to look at Liam, and they seem to have some kind of silent conversation. Emma meets with different couples several times a week, sometimes several times a day, and while she’s used to there being questions and disagreements, she’s not used to have the bride’s professional event planner sister asking a million and two questions over FaceTime.

It’s fine, really. Anna is lovely, but she’s a lot to deal with. Emma is so used to spending time with Elsa and it being calm and soothing, so this is throwing her for a bit of a loop.

At least Liam is being nice. He’s been…kinder lately. Emma should question it when he usually likes to be a bit of an ass to her, but she’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Why did she just think that phrase?

Why is that even a phrase to begin with? Who is look a horse in the mouth? Why is it a gift?

“I think taking pictures before the actual ceremony sounds nice,” Elsa finally says, “and so does the buffet. Do you have servers or is it self-serve?”

“We have servers so people aren’t sticking their hands in the food.”

“Perfect. Can you remind me again of the contingency plan for if it rains?”

Elsa and Liam spend another forty-five minutes talking about different options and scenarios with Emma, most of that time spent talking with Anna and listening to plans, but eventually, they’ve covered everything they can and are ready to leave. Emma’s got an appointment with another couple in fifteen minutes, so when Elsa and Liam walk out of her office, she expects them to walk away and go back to work.

She decidedly does not expect Liam to linger around.

“Did you forget something?” Emma laughs, leaning against her doorframe.

“Oh, nothing big. Elsa simply forgot to ask if you were going to bring a date. Anna’s got her obsessing over making sure the envelopes are all addressed correctly, and for some reason she was tripping up over yours.”

“I promise you that I will not be weirdly offended if you guys give me an envelope that says Emma Swan instead of Emma Swan and guest. And tell her not to stress about that stuff. If someone gets offended over how an envelope is addressed, you probably don’t want them at your wedding to begin with.”

Liam chuckles and leans down against the arm of the chair that sits outside she and Mary Margaret’s office. “So, no date?”

“Eh, I don’t know. I’ve still got a month. Maybe I’ll magically fall in love again. Or at least meet a cute guy who would look good on my arm. Or, hey, maybe I can take Killian. He’s a good dancer, would be a hell of a wedding date. I feel like we should probably be each other’s default wedding dates at this point, you know?”

Liam’s smile falters, but it’s just for a second. If she wasn’t used to having to try to read him, she wouldn’t have noticed because just as quickly as it falters, the smile reappears. “He’s seeing someone, you know, so who knows? He might take her.”

“The same someone?” Emma asks before she can stop herself.

“I think so. You still don’t know who she is? I mean – you know, never mind. I told Killian I would stop interfering with his personal life, and I meant it. I can’t keep going behind his back and trying to get information from his friends.”

Emma arches a brow, and she takes a deep breath. Her heart is racing all of the sudden, and she desperately needs it to calm down.

Is this why Liam is being nicer? Because he and Killian had some kind of talk about Liam being too much into Killian’s business? She knew they got into an argument, but how does that translate to her?

Fuck.

Did Killian tell Liam that she was the one he was sleeping with?

No, no, that wouldn’t make sense. Then Liam wouldn’t be asking her if she knew who it was. He can be invasive, but he’s not about to go all FBI or something on her. And Killian wouldn’t do that. It’s against their rules.

“I think that’s probably a good idea on your part,” Emma sighs, pushing off the doorframe. “I don’t know if I’m bringing a date or not yet. Tell Elsa to stop freaking out over the little things, and if Anna gets to be too much, I’m always here to talk about the practical side of things.”

“Thank you for all of this, by the way.”

“It’s my job, but I’m happy to do it. Now go, Elsa is waiting on you, and I’m sure Killian is tired of manning the office by himself.”

“Please,” Liam laughs, “he and Skipper are probably enjoying the silence.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t going to say that. I’m technically supposed to keep my clients happy. Once I’m off the clock, though, all bets are off.”

“I understand. Goodbye, Emma.”

“Bye.”

Emma waves him away, and as soon as he turns the corner down the hall, she sees her next couple. They’re early. They almost always are, and she thinks they might have the same enthusiasm as Anna does…if not more since they ask for yet another tour of the entire grounds because they’re just not sure of what exactly it is that they want yet.

It takes some kind of herculean strength not to scream since this is the fifth tour she’s given them, and their wedding isn’t until next July.

That’s a year that she has to deal with them.

A year.

Why does she do this again?

Oh, yeah, because most days it’s not that bad, and she usually doesn’t go down the wormhole that is thinking the entire wedding industry is a sham and wondering why people get married in the first place.

Is it for the wedding or the actual marriage?

For at least half of her clients, it’s only for the wedding. She’s obviously not some kind of expert on healthy relationships and only does this because she isn’t qualified to do much else that will pay her this well, but at least she knows that it’s fucked up.

When she finally gets the Taylors out of the club, Emma sighs in relief.

And her stomach growls.

It’s the middle of the afternoon, but she hasn’t eaten all day. Damn, she could go for whatever it is they served for lunch in the dining halls today, even if it’s probably cold right now. Emma checks her phone to make sure she doesn’t have any emails or last-minute appointments, and then she heads down the hallways and through the nearly empty main dining room to get to the kitchen.

Her phone dings in her hand, and she stops walking to look at it.

Killian: Why is my brother asking you if you’re bringing a date to his wedding?

Emma: He said something about Elsa being worried about how to address the envelope.

Emma: Wait. How do you know about that?

Emma: Did he tell you that I said I was bringing you? Because I was joking? Kind of. I don’t actually have a date or plan on having one, but you would technically be the most fun date of anyone in the city.

Killian: Why, Swan, are you asking me out?

Emma: Shut up.

Killian: I would love to go with you, for what it’s worth. I promise I’ll be a better wedding date than your last one.

Emma: That’s not much of a bar you have to leap over.

Emma: Do you want to get dinner tonight? I get off at seven.

She waits for the little bubbles to pop up immediately like they have been, but they don’t. Emma doesn’t think anything of it and stuffs her phone in the back pocket of her jeans and starts walking toward the kitchen again only to see Neal and his dad sitting at the table closest the kitchen entrance.

Dammit.

She should have gone through the back doors, but this way was closer.

What the hell is he doing here?

This is where she works.

Yeah, it’s a public place (if you pay a ridiculous member’s fee, which they unfortunately pay), but something being a public place doesn’t mean he can show up whenever he wants to.

This is her space, not his. They broke up, and there’s got to be some kind of unwritten rule that he simply doesn’t show up to her place of work.

He’s already always at Granny’s, which is bad enough, and then there was the fair and the one time she saw him when she had to go to Target for some new pillows.

But this? This is different?

They could have lunch at fifty different places, and the asshole knows it.

He also knows that she’s just spotted him because he’s staring right at her.

Shit.

Does she turn around and walk away or does she walk straight toward them, ignore them, and then head into the kitchen where she hopes Neal has the decency not to follow her in?

Emma doesn’t really get to make the choice, though, because Neal is standing from his chair and walking right toward her, the smile she used to love plastered on his face.

Was it always that disturbing? Did it always look so much like his dad’s?

“Emma,” he calls out. She bites her tongue. She cannot say anything dumb here. It could get her fired. His family are members here, and she doesn’t think Regina is going to give her a pass because of her personal business with them. In fact, she knows that she won’t. “Hey, how are you doing?”

“Wonderful,” Emma says. It’s not a lie. She’s not doing wonderful at this particular moment, but in general, she’s a lot better than she was the last time she was this physically close to him. “Are you enjoying your lunch? Is there anything that I can get you?”

His head tilts to the side, and his smile widens. “Oh, come on, Ems, you don’t have to be in work mode with me. We’re friends.”

Emma grits her teeth and takes another deep breath. She’s sure everyone in Storybrooke can hear them. Her dentist is going to be thrilled. “We are not friends, Neal. You ended any chance of that when you started sleeping with someone else and started working with your dad again. We’ve been over this, and I really don’t feel like repeating myself again.”

“You’re not still mad about that, are you?”

Seriously.

How is this the same man that she fell in love with? Was she blind to all of this? To how absolutely inconsiderate he is about so much?

“I don’t let you take up that much space in my head anymore, but you can’t honestly believe that I’m just going to forgive you for all that you did.”

His eyes roll. They actually roll.

He’s the one who fucked up, and he’s the one who is trying to act like they’re friends. Yet he’s also the one who’s exasperated by her pushback.

What an asshole.

“It’s not like you waited around long after you ended things before you started fucking Jones? And come on, you always told me there was nothing going on between the two of you, but that’s obviously bullshit.”

What the hell?

How does he…no, there’s no way that Neal could know. No one knows, and there’s no way Neal, who never paid any attention to the little things in her life, could know.

“I’m not sleeping with Killian,” she lies, “and even if I was, it would be none of your business since it would have happened after I left you.”

“I saw you two walking around at the fair, and he got fucking defensive over it when I suggested it to him. He didn’t say it, but come on, it’s pretty damn obvious.”

Emma swallows the lump in her throat so she can focus on her breathing. It’s the only thing she can focus on right now so she doesn’t punch Neal and knock all of his teeth out.

What an asshole.

How dare he confront Killian like that? Why did Killian not tell her?

You know what? It doesn’t matter why Killian didn’t tell her. What matters is that Neal is the worst.

“Neal,” she says slowly, her teeth grinding, “you lost any right to know who I am or am not sleeping with the moment you fucked someone else, so please, unless you need something from the club that only I can give to you, leave me the hell alone.”

He blinks, almost like he’s taken aback by her, and his smile falls.

Good.

“You don’t have to be a bitch about it.”

She opens her mouth, a curse at the tip of her tongue, but there’s a voice in the back of her mind that’s telling her this isn’t worth it. He’s not worth it. She’s got to stop letting him take up so much space in her head like she said she’s not. He doesn’t deserve it.

So, not for the first time, she walks away from Neal.

She walks away, knowing there’s only a half of a chance that he’ll bother to follow him, and she heads toward the kitchen. It means that she has to pass Neal’s dad, and she can feel his eyes on her.

The thing is, she doesn’t care.

That part of her life is over, and she’s not going to lie to herself and say that a part of her doesn’t still hurt and won’t hurt when she has to see Neal and Tamara, but she can’t keep dwelling on it.

This summer has been strangely good, and maybe it’s not all that strange since she’s cut Neal out of her life.

“Emma,” Harry, their head chef, exclaims when she walks into the kitchen, her heartbeat racing, “I’m just about to start dinner. Do you want something in particular?”

“What did we have for lunch? I can’t remember the schedule.”

“Pasta salad.”

“Do we have any of that left?”

“In the fridge. Feel free to help yourself.”

Emma picks up a cookie from the half-empty platter next to her. “You know that I will.”

“A cookie before dinner? Are we celebrating something?”

Emma laughs and takes another bite. “Just having a good day is all.” “Well, kid, I hope that continues for you.”

-/-

“Hello?” Emma calls out as she pushes open the front door of Jones Brothers’ Boating. The obnoxious as hell bell goes off, so everyone downstairs should be able to hear that someone has come inside, but no one comes out of any of the offices, not even Skipper.

Huh.

“Killian,” she says as she starts walking down the hallway. “KJ! Are you around?”

There’s still no answer, and when Emma checks the back offices, there’s no one in any of them. She decides to walk up the stairs to the apartment, but when she tries to turn the knob, she realizes that it’s locked.

She’s got a key, could easily let herself in, but if the apartment is locked, that means no one is home.

Where the hell are they?

Emma pulls her phone out of her back pocket and hits Killian’s name. It rings once, twice, several more times, and then his voicemail message comes up.

Well, damn.

This is probably why she should have called first, but Killian never texted her back about the two of them getting dinner. He’s almost always free, and if he isn’t, they’re usually plans she can join in on, but he’s obviously MIA tonight.

Emma swipes through her phone again and calls Elsa.

“Hello?” Elsa questions.

“Hey, Elsa. Have you heard from Killian today?”

“He’s in the back of the ice cream shop. Do you need him?”

“Why is he in the back?”

Elsa groans, and then Emma hears some kind of curse that definitely didn’t come from Elsa. “One of my machines broke today, and when Leroy couldn’t fix it, Killian said he’d give it a go. I don’t think it’s working out for him. Hold on. Let me get him for you.”

“Oh, you don’t have – ”

“Killian,” Elsa yells, her voice booming through the speakers, “Emma is looking for you.”

“Fuck,” he mumbles.

Well, that sounds pleasant.

“I’m pretty sure she could hear that,” Elsa laughs.

“Aye, I know. I didn’t text her back about dinner. Give me the phone.” There are a few hushed murmurings, and then Killian’s voice comes in clearer. “Sorry, love. I’m afraid I can’t get dinner tonight.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay. I’ll pick something up and bring it to Elsa’s.”

She hears him click his tongue, and she’s probably imagining things, but she swears that he’s silent for a few seconds too long. “You don’t have to do that. We can do it another night.” “It’s really not a problem. I’m at your place right now, anyways. I can get us salads from Zoey’s. Does that sound good to you?”

“Uh, yeah. That’s fine. I’m not really sure when I’ll have time to eat.”

“Well, maybe my brain power will help us figure out how to fix the machine.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“You okay?” Emma asks, suddenly worried she’s overstepping here.

Does he not want her to come over?

No, that would be ridiculous.

“I’m perfect, love,” Killian sighs, his voice audibly more upbeat now. “I’ll see you when you get here, aye?”

“Yeah, see you when I get there.”

-/-

Elsa’s store is a mess.

Well, the front is still perfect. All of the round tables are clean and perfectly in their spots, the black and white as classic as it always is, and Elsa is still serving customers and doing custom orders for cakes and birthdays. She’s on the phone when Emma walks in, but she smiles and nods to the door that leads to the back of the store.

It is decidedly not perfect.

Mostly because it looks like Killian has taken one of Elsa’s machines apart piece by piece and he has no idea how to put it back together.

His hair is pushed off his forehead, sticking in at least thirty-seven different directions, and his t-shirt is sticking to his skin from his sweat.

He might be the only person to ever sweat here since it’s usually the coldest place in town.

Elsa’s air-conditioning bill must be insane.

“Hey,” Emma greets, putting their salads down on the table and walking up to Killian, pressing up on her toes to kiss him. He doesn’t kiss back at first, but then he’s there, his lips softly sliding over hers while his hand settles on her hip, squeezing her. “I’ve come to your rescue with food and another set of hands.”

“You’re my savior, love.”

“I know.” She kisses him again, this time much briefer, before sitting down on one of the chairs Elsa keeps back here. “Where’s Liam? Why is he not helping?”

“I’m better with fixing things. He’s manning the shop.”

“No one was there when I stopped by.” “What time was that?”

“A little after seven.”

Killian nods and pulls his salad out of the bag. “He was taking Skipper out. Thanks for this, by the way.”

“Not a problem. You think you’re going to be able to fix this?”

“I think I’m nearly there. I’ve tested it out a few times, but it’s all been for naught. Elsa is going to bloody kill me if I keep giving her hope and then take it away.”

Emma pulls their salads out of the bag, taking the lid off hers and pouring some dressing on before putting the lid back so she can shake it. “She’s got the other machines, though. Can’t she still make flavors?”

“Aye,” Killian sighs as he starts tinkering with the machine, “and she’s got a pretty good stock of all of the flavors. It’s not an emergency, but she wanted me to look at it before she called someone to come fix it. It apparently does not come cheap.”

“Look at you coming to the rescue. Getting those brownie points.”

“And access to the freezer.”

“That will balance well with our salads.” Emma stabs some lettuce with her fork. “You will never guess who was dining at the club today.”

“Cindy Crawford.”

“What?” Emma laughs as she takes a bite. “Why would Cindy Crawford be there? Also, that is the most random guess.”

Killian pokes his head out from behind the machine. “You said to guess. You didn’t say it had to be reasonable.”

“Okay, a reasonable guess then.”

“August Booth.”

“No, but that would be interesting. Is he back in town?”

“I have heard the rumor. So, who was dining at the club today?”

“Neal.”

Killian drops whatever tool he’s using, and it bangs against ice cream maker before clattering against the floor and landing near her foot. “Fuck.”

“Exactly my thoughts,” Emma laughs, kicking the screwdriver back to him. “But, you know, it wasn’t that bad. He was an asshole, of course, but it felt kind of good telling him to fuck off. He told me he thought we were sleeping together, which he apparently told you at the fair.”

“Uh, yeah, he did mention that. I denied it, of course.”

“He was always jealous of you. I don’t know why, but he hated when we spent time together.”

“Well, love, I am devilishly handsome. That’s bound to make any man jealous.” Emma rolls her eyes. She can’t see Killian’s face, but she just knows he’s smirking. “None of our actual friends have picked up on it, so there’s no way in hell Neal actually would. He doesn’t pay enough attention to me, never has.” Emma takes another bite and slams her hand down on the table. “But you know what? I don’t care. He can do whatever he wants, because I’m moving on. I’m happy and busy and life is pretty damn good even if I do have to take you as my date to your brother’s wedding.”

She keeps eating, waiting for Killian to say something, to tease her really, but she just hears him muttering to himself as he keeps working.

“You’re still cool with that, right? I know you said you’d love to, but you know, if you start dating someone else, go with her. I don’t mind going by myself.”

Killian pops out from behind the machine and walks toward her, leaning over the table and placing a soft, lingering kiss on her forehead. “There is no one I’d rather go with than you, love.”

“You don’t have to. Seriously. You know our deal.”

His beard scratches over her forehead, and he pulls away. “I know. I’d still be honored to go with you.” He sits down across from her as he opens up his salad. She gets distracted watching him. The lighting in here is all fluorescents, and it shouldn’t be flattering, but Killian’s tan still shows up, his eyes are still ridiculously blue, and there’s still something so charming about his smile. She watches it as it falls into a flat line, almost curving down into a frown, but then she sees the curve tick upward. “I’m glad you’re happy, Emma. I’ve always wanted that for you.”

She nods, unsure of what to say. “You too, KJ. You know what would make me extra happy?”

“What?” “If you could steal me some of Elsa’s birthday cake ice cream later.”

“Your heart’s desire, love. That’s all I want you to have.”

-/-

-/-

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[pacoc-a]

Half In Love 

Rating: T

Characters: Five/Vanya

Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Five never leaves, Vanya doesn’t have powers, Fluff and Angst, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Pining, Other Additional Tags to be Added 

Five is not Vanya's soulmate.

[Read on Ao3]

One day a fever comes over Five’s arm . He thinks it's a rash. He picks and scratches the itch on his wrist until his skin is raw. By the end of the week, his skin has peeled off in scabs.

It was then that he realised this might be his soulmate mark.

The mark settles itself permanently over the umbrella academy tattoo. It coils over it like a dark, ugly ‘s’ snaking a trail from his wrist down the middle of his forearm.  It’s red and bumpy and stings like a brand.

It’s hideous, he thinks.

‘Looks like a snake.’ Klaus says, peering over his shoulder.

Five scowls and chases him off.

——

When Vanya learns she is happy for him.

Even when her arm is nothing but bare she is happy for him.

‘Someone out there is going to love you with their whole heart.’  She places her fingers on his wrist. ‘Someone with this mark. And you better let me meet them when you do.’

Her fingertips are rough from the violin, but her touch is soft. He wants to kiss them. Feel the calluses on his lips. Five swallows.

‘I don’t think that would be necessary.’ He pulls his wrist away.

The truth is, he could care less about soulmates. The very idea of a ‘predestined’ other half was bogus, designed to put a make-believe ‘constant’ in an ever-evolving state. It was like throwing a screwdriver at a network of cogs that are constantly changing shape.  

But Five cares about Vanya and she cares about this,  so he says nothing. Instead, he watches her look at the empty space of skin on her wrist. He already knows exactly what she’s thinking about.

‘It’ll appear.’ He says, ‘Klaus doesn’t have his yet either. Probably comes in faster for others.’

She nods, ‘I hope so. I can’t wait to see it.’

There is so much hope in her eyes. A part of him hurts because it’s not for him.

He wonders if she’s hurting too, that a piece of him has been marked by someone thats not her.

She smiles to herself and he hopes in the cruelest, darkest part of his mind that she is.

——

‘Did you know Luther got Allison.’ Ben tells them one day between pushups. ‘Diego got his too.’

Klaus is on the floor with Ben, while Five works a sweat on the treadmill. They are the only three in one of Reginald’s endurance training sessions, Five, Six and Four. With the Monocle himself preoccupied with overseeing a mission led by the other three, Pogo is tasked with keeping them on course with the session. It means a blissful couple of hours without Reginald’s iron-clad glare scanning over the rest of the mansion like a hawk.

‘Don’t you mean Allison got Luther. Don’t be sexist Ben.' Klaus says. He is laying on the floor on his belly, his legs and arms sprawled out around him like a starfish. He spots Pogo passing by and he quickly lifts himself up and counts his pushups to two hundred and seven.

‘You know, this training session will pass by much more quickly without your inane rambling.’ Five says. They’ve been at it for the better part of the session. It's irritating. He knows the sooner he can finish this session, the sooner he can spend his free time however he wants. But he can't concentrate without these two morons distracting him every two seconds.

‘Oh lighten up Dad , we’re just talking.’

He glares at him.

‘I got mine too.’ Ben adds. He looks over his shoulder, decides the coast is clear and quickly raises his shirt to reveal a tiny scar near his belly button. It’s still raw, but the mark is clearly formed to the shape of a tiny squid.

‘Nice.’

‘What do you think it means?’

Klaus shrugs.

‘It means you two need to shut the hell up or Pogo’s gonna come and give us all double the work again.’

They shut up.

There’s a couple of minutes of blissful silence where the only sound is Five’s sneakers stomping on the treadmill.

‘I hope she’s hot.’ Ben says finally.

He thinks about Vanya in her room and wonders how in the hell he got stuck with the two biggest idiots in the Academy.

‘What if she’s a hag. Would you still kiss her?’ Klaus looks over to him.

Ben shrugs, ‘Probably. If she’s got a nice personality.’ He pauses, then adds, ‘Or a nice butt.’

‘That’s enlightening . Really.’

Klaus flips over his belly and looks over at Five, ‘Well what about you. You’ve got yours too. What do you think yours will look like?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’  

‘Why not? Aren’t you curious.’

Five stops and turns to face him. They are both lounging across their training mats, flopped over to their bellies. He scoffs, ‘Because this whole thing is bullshit. It’s just a mark. Most people don’t even meet their soulmates till they’re 50, if they even meet them.’

‘So?’

‘ So .’ He sneers, ‘It means it doesn’t matter. We’re not destined for shit. People choose to drink a cup of coffee one day when they could’ve had tea. Life is just one big, impossible equation because the numbers keep changing. It’s chaos. It’s stupid. It’s just— life. This mark’s not gonna change anything about it. ‘

They stare at him.

‘Vanya still hasn’t gotten hers.’ Ben says.

This time, the silence is from him.

Klaus lets out a small sound. ‘That’s too bad huh. Poor Vanya.’

Ben nods, then turns to Five knowingly. ‘At least she’s got you. Stupid life, huh?’

——

Five hates the noise of the Academy. They're loud and arrogant, and they make a point to grate on his nerves on a daily basis.

But they're the only family he's got so he tolerates them.

Vanya is different.

He likes their quiet. The kind that keeps you warm without saying. He likes the way her hair would fall across her eyes when she reads. He likes her even without the Academy and he'd like her still even if their father never brought them together.

But most of all, he likes that Vanya is kind.

When he limps over, and she grabs the bandages, she winces every time she sees the pain on his arm and tries her best to apply the medicine as gently as she can.

'Are you okay?' She asks him. It's a question that leaves him reeling.

He's never sure what to do with her kindness, with that honest, open way of hers that leaves him bare.

In a house like this she's the only one who ever felt real.

‘It's nothing.’ He tells her.

'It looks really bad…' She frowns, 'If you need anything else…. I can make you coffee or...?'

'I'm fine. Thanks.'

He watches while she works. When they were 10, Vanya caught a fever that kept her bed-ridden for a week.

It was the longest week of his life.

Most of it was a blur. He can recall her pale skin and the sweat that's stuck on her bed sheets like grime. He can remember the dreadful, swirling pit in his stomach as he holds her hands inside his fists and thinks that if they’d ever let her die then he will never forgive them.

Now, he watches the way the sunlight streaks through her hair like quiet gold. There’s a warmth in his belly when they’re sitting like this, sharing in each other’s quiet.

Vanya is different. Even in the Academy. Even with the mark burning on his skin like a brand.

——

Vanya waits a long time for her soulmate mark to appear.

It never does.

By the time she turns 18 she stops waiting.

It was unusual for one to never have a mark, but not impossible. For Vanya Hargreeves it's just another sign of the universe’s divine plan to constantly screw her over.

‘Figures the only thing special about me is that I’ll never be special to someone else.’ She laughs bitterly.

——

Adulthood brings in change the way a tide sweeps over a dusty shore. After Ben’s death, the halls of the Academy become hollow, the umbrella academy stripped down to what it truly was, an old man’s paranoia and a lifetime of servitude to a ‘father’ that never really cared about them past what he could use.

The organisation, restless and jaded after so many years, pulls away one by one, guided by their own compass and a healthy dose of misdirection.

Five and Vanya separate. His work is his life now. He's built a sort of prestige when he was in the Academy and he figures it's time to cash in, now that he's out and Reginald's constant disapproval matters as much as the gum on his boot when he steps out on the way to MIT.

He’s a sort of teacher, occasionally organising lectures for those brain-dead kids at university, but his real work is his research and it's thrilling to be recognised like this, to have colleagues who could keep up with him intellectually. His research grant makes life easy and Five drowns himself in work and in his papers. He doesn't think about his past life in the Academy. He doesn't talk to any of his siblings.

The only exception is Vanya.

He sets aside time in his busy schedule for her weekly calls. He'll lose his mind if he doesn't. He tells her as much over the phone while he's nursing a large mug of dark coffee. His paperwork is piled up to his head, it’s almost comically grim the amount of work he needs to do. Vanya would’ve teased him about it if she was here.

'That moron, Bill is hanging around again.' He twirls his pen, agitated. 'He keeps hanging around outside the door, asking me if I want to have lunch with the others.’

‘Maybe he just wants to be friends?’

Five scoffs, ‘Well, I’m about five minutes away from stabbing a pencil through his skull.

She chuckles to herself. The sound is a raspy, jumpy static behind the line and it calms him a little though he can’t understand what she finds so utterly hilarious with the situation.

‘Well, I can’t talk long. I’ve got to take care of this… thing, I’m doing.’

There’s a large pop and Vanya’s resounding shit! that echoes behind the line.

He frowns, 'Are you cooking?'.

‘Uh, yeah, sorry about that, I was just um— shit… I’m trying out the cookbook you sent me.’

‘Well, how’s that working out for you.’ He says. He lays back on his seat, feeling the soft leather pressing on his back.

‘Horribly.’ She sighs, ‘God. I think I’m just gonna stick to um, noodles or something. Not sure if this is going to work out.’

‘You know, you have to make sure you don’t turn it up too high or it’s gonna go everywhere. I can help you, just keep me on the phone.’

‘No you don’t have to, honestly, you’re probably really busy, and I don’t want to impose or anything.’

He’s irritated, ‘You’re not imposing if I’m offering.’

‘It’s fine, Five. Really.’ She says, though he can hear the smile behind her voice, ‘I’ll figure this out. Thanks, though. I’ll just whip something up for when you get here.’

He sighs. It’s frustrating that he can’t be there for her in times like these. Now, they’re no longer kids, and the distance that separates them is an hour plane ride away, instead of just a couple of metres walk down a hallway.

But what could he do? He wanted to pursue his career and she wanted to stay in the same city.

‘I’ll see you tonight then?’

‘Course.’ He says. ‘See you.’

He waits before she hangs up and the dial closes and leaves behind its familiar tone.

That’s when Bill comes in and promptly gets kicked out along with his tray of christmas cupcakes.

——

Five makes up for the distance by spending his holidays with her. Thats why, tonight, he is flying over for Christmas so they can enjoy hot cocoa and cheap whiskey in her shitty apartment, and then talk about the past month and everything else in between. She hates Jonathan, that cellist in her orchestra. And Mr. Kowalski’s cat that leaves cat poop near the sill. The stink always wafts inside during a windy day and makes the apartment smell like cat poop.

He tells her about Bill from the office and his incessant need to ask about his day, like it’s the most interesting topic he’s ever heard.

Vanya is the only one who he celebrates these holidays with. She’s never flown to his and that’s fine, he prefers her apartment anyway. It’s bright and sunny in the afternoon in a way that doesn’t make his head ache. The couch isn’t hard on his back, and her scent lingers on the blankets and it feels at home here, more than he’s ever felt anywhere else.

Tonight though, they leave the empty wine glasses on the table, and then they drag her mattress on the living room together. She takes a couple of spare blankets and her pillows, and he pitches up the blankets with some pegs on a coat rack and a couple of lamps until the living room is transformed into their own pillow fortress.

Vanya lays flat on the mattress, ‘I think this is the best pillow fortress ever made.’ She says, matter-of-fact.

Her cheeks and nose are flushed from the wine, and her eyes glassy. Vanya could never handle her alcohol very well. The sight of it makes his stomach twist tight though, and he doesn’t want to think about that now when she’s only a couple of inches away from him and the alcohol is making everything swim like a dream.

Vanya rolls over and he looks at him with a silly grin that makes it hard to repress his own, so he doesn’t.

‘Not that you’re wrong, but care to explain how you came to that conclusion?’

‘Cause we made it.’ She grins, smug.

He grins too.

‘And cause you’re here.’ Her eyes don't leave his, ‘I’m glad you came over. You always do.’

‘Why would I want to miss this?’ The wine is making his head spin, but her hair is splayed out around her head, and the dim light makes her eyes shine like two pairs of chocolate stars. She’s beautiful, even when she’s drunk and she’s trying her best to get under his skin.

‘Go to sleep.’ He says.

She giggles.

Five sighs, and pulls the blankets over her, ‘Go to sleep, Vanya.’

‘I don’t want to.’ But he watches as she buries herself under the covers anyway.

‘Goodnight.’ He says.

‘Yeah, yeah.’

He laughs.  

‘I hope you meet your soulmate and they take good care of you.’ Vanya yawns, and turns over, ‘You deserve to be happy, Five.’

Her voice is barely comprehensible under the sheets. But it’s like time has stopped for him. He looks at her, and his heart is beating loud behind his eardrums. He thinks about what he feels about her, and how much he wants to say.

And he thinks about her laugh, her red, drunken nose and the slow, steady rise and fall of her breathing and falls just a little bit more in love with her than before.

‘I’m happy now.’  Five mumbles against the kiss he plants on her forehead. He knows this, even when the feeling in his chest is twisting, and the words are sinking down his throat like a stone.

And maybe if he said it long enough he can start to believe it.

[misschiuahua]

Marjorie

Explicit - Part 1 of 3

Summary:

Marjorie is a colonist onboard of the Covenant, when a power surge wakes her up from her stasis and destroys her pod.

They're still six years away from their destination and she can't go back to sleep. Her only companion is the synthetic, Walter.

Nobody could fault her for feeling snappish.

However... It seems like Walter has a suggestion to make her feel better.

Notes:

So, don't think too long about this one. It's just an excuse for sex with Walter inside the Covenant.

It doesn't follow the movie (so they never land and they never meet David).

Just a nice time with a nice synthetic.

This is pure smut. You’ve been warned.

Chapter 1

They were still six years away from their final destination -Origae-6 -when her stasis pod malfunctioned. Actually, Marjorie’s pod wasn’t the only one that malfunctioned, but she was the only one that survived it.

A shockwave made a few systems burn and created a fire inside the ship. Despite Walter’s fast response to it, 7 colonists burned to death while other 12 suffocated inside their pods. Marjorie was the only one who survived, but her pod was damaged. She couldn’t go back.

She’d have to wait six years to reach their new home awake.

Walter -the synthetic -told her that -as she was unharmed -and there were no further threats to the ship, he couldn’t wake the rest of the crew.

He assured her he’d do his best to fix her pod so she could go back into stasis, but soon enough, it became clear it wasn’t possible.

Marjorie had always prided herself in being a strong woman, one that could handle adversities without breaking down. However, the day that Walter told her she wouldn’t be able to go back into stasis, she’d cried. A lot.

The idea of spending six years alone with a synthetic, travelling through space wasn’t a particularly pleasant one.

Arrangements were soon made; she got a cot and Walter procured food for her.

Marjorie did her best to keep busy, but she was a botanist, and there were no plants to look at. She managed to find things to read, research, but she still felt so useless.

Time went by slowly in space. Or so it seemed to her.

After one year and a half, it felt as if she’d already lived one hundred years on that blasted spaceship.

Walter was decent company -for a synthetic, at least. He talked to her often, because he was concerned her mind might deteriorate if she didn’t have interaction. He also made her exercise and feed well.

It was like having a nanny.

Marjorie believed she’d handled things well enough, if one considered her position.

But… After 18 months, she wasn’t that well anymore.

She snapped a few times at Walter for no reason at all; she was feeling cranky and trapped. Her skin felt electrified and sensitive and she was just so fucking…

There was a knock on her door.

“Come in.” She called, snapping a book shut.

It was Walter, obviously.There wasn’t anybody else.

She sighed. “Walter. I’m sorry about earlier.” She told him, even as he entered her room and let the door close behind himself. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but it’s not fair to treat you this way.”

He was silent for a minute. “If I may, Marjorie?” He asked, in that overly polite and formal way he had of speaking.

“Yes?”

“I’m aware of what the problem is.” He told her quite simply. “You’re sexually frustrated.”

“I beg your pardon?” Was he for real?

“You’re feeling pent-up because of the situation, so I imagine you aren’t able to find release on your own.”

He wasn’t wrong. Marjorie had always been healthy and open about her sexuality, however in those last months, she’d been unable to bring herself relief through masturbation.

Perhaps because of this feeling of being trapped inside this ship, wasting so much time, her libido had been affected. After a few -frustrating -tries, she gave up on masturbating all together.

If she was to be honest, she couldn’t find pleasure in the act anymore. Her fantasies vanished from her head, probably because the situation looked so bleak.

“As you were able before…”

“Oh my god!” She snapped. “You’ve been keeping track of this?”

“I’ve been keeping track of your health.” He pointed out, like it was the same thing.

“I can’t believe this.” She sighed, hiding her face in her hands, feeling humiliated.

“If I may?”

Now what? “Yes?” She groaned.

“My design is considered attractive to many people.” He spoke.

Wait… What?

Marjorie looked at Walter in confusion. “I… Guess.”

She wasn’t blind. She knew he was attractive in that very clean kind of way. And she couldn’t say he was terrible in general; despite her moods and her pressing solitude, Walter had been a constant companion. Whoever had programmed him, had made him quite…

“...so you would consider me.” He finished, and Marjorie realised she hadn’t actually paid attention to what he’d said.

“Consider you for what?”

“To relieve your tension.”

It took Marjorie way too long to understand what he was saying.

Not exactly to understand it, but to accept he was actually offering to…

“Are you suggesting we have sex?” She gasped.

“I’m fully capable of performing it.” Walter informed her, like he was telling her he could administer CPR. “It’s part of my programing.”

Who the hell would program him for such things? What was even the point?

“So you’re like a sex bot?”

“No. This is a feature to be used at my discretion, if I find it necessary.”

“And it’s necessary?”

“It might make you feel less stressed and snappish.”

Great. The synthetic was telling her she needed to get laid. Just wonderful.

Marjorie took a deep breath in. “That’s very…” Another breath in. “Kind of you, but I’m fine.”

Walter didn’t seem like he agreed with that, but he didn’t push. He told her that, if she reconsidered it, he’d be available.

Awesome.

***

The problem was… Once Walter presented the offer, Marjorie couldn’t think of anything but it.

She saw herself watching him more and more, and that question kept burning in her mind: why not?

For the first time in what seemed like forever, she was actually feeling something other than worry and loneliness. There was a thrill deep inside her, a desire…

It took her two weeks to decide to just go with it.

She was finishing her dinner, when she gathered her courage. “Walter?”

“Yes, Marjorie?”

“Is your… offer still standing?”

He turned to her with those old eyes of his. “Yes, Marjorie.”

“Okay.” She let out a breath. “I know you have some duties now, but… Once you’re free, can you stop by my room?”

“Yes.”

She nodded, then got up and left, hurrying to her room. She thought that asking would be the difficult part, but Walter wasn’t a difficult man -synthetic. He wouldn’t gloat or tease her about her need; he’d just go with it.

For her health, apparently.

Once she was back in her room she paced, then organized -which took like five minutes, because she didn’t have things to make a mess -then paced some more. She washed up, then changed clothes, then remembered she had three outfits and he’d seen them all.

She wasn’t trying to seduce him.

When Walter finally knocked on her door, Marjorie forced herself to sit down on her bed. She cleared her throat before telling him to come in.

He entered much like he had two weeks before, and Marjorie saw the door closing behind him.

“Just this once.” She told him from the start.

“Yes.”

She nodded. “Is there anything that…” Oh god, why was this so strange? “Anything you can’t do?”

“Nothing that will damage my body or system.” He informed her simply.

Fair enough. “And if I don’t feel comfortable…”

“Whenever you wish to stop, just say the word.”

“Right…” She was really doing this, right? “Come here. We’ll try… Kissing for a bit. I guess.”

She laid down on the bed, and Walter came and laid next to her.

“Okay.” She took another deep breath. This wasn’t looking like that great of an idea now. “Kissing.”

“Yes, Marjorie.”

He leaned down and kissed her softly. Marjorie thought he’d taste like rubber -like kissing a boot might taste like -but it wasn’t that at all. It was a bit strange -his lips weren’t warm, but they also weren’t exactly cold -and they did feel a lot like normal lips.

Walter kissed her slowly for a while, until she pressed her tongue to his lips and he opened up for her.

It was strange, but it wasn’t bad. Actually, he was a great kisser. He matched her rhythm perfectly, like he was learning and applying what he’d learned immediately. It was strange not feeling his breath against hers, but Marjorie was enjoying this.

She’d never thought she’d missed physical contact this much.

Her hand went to his nape as she pulled him deeper into her kiss. Walter’s hand dove under her shirt, but only to caress her waist, not going any further.

Marjorie suddenly felt hungrier than she’d felt in a long time.

“Walter.” She gasped against his mouth. “Here.” She pushed his hands down, hoping he’d get message without her actually having to say it.

Fortunately, he did.

His hand found its way inside her loose pants and into her panties. His finger teased her clit in slow circles, before venturing further down.

Marjorie felt a bit embarrassed to admit she was already wet and waiting for him, but she didn’t mind that much at this point.

Walter put a finger inside her and she gasped into his mouth. The heel of his hand kept pressure on her clit, as his finger fucked her slowly.

Marjorie pulled her shirt up, exposing her breasts to him. “Here. Please.” She whined softly.

Once again, he understood what she wanted without her having to explicitly say it.

His lips closed around her nipple and sucked it, making Marjorie mewl in pleasure.

At some point, he added another finger inside her, the pumping motion getting faster and harder. The heel of his hand was mercilessly grinding against her clit.

He crooked his fingers inside her pussy, and Marjorie came with a scream.

She’d missed that sweet release.

She laid there, sprawled on her back, trying really hard to catch her breath, while Walter patiently waited for her.

“Take off your shirt.” She told him, her face flushed and her skin covered in sweat. “Then lay on your back.”

Walter did as told, while she got up to get rid of her own clothes. Once she was naked, she straddled his thighs and opened his zipper, just enough to free his cock.

She pumped him with her hands -even though he probably didn’t need her help to get hard. She just wanted to feel it, to get this sense of -fake -power.

He grew hard on her hand. He was long and nicely thick, and Marjorie wondered -not for the first time -why the fuck he was even built and programed this way.

People had some weird ideas.

But then again… She was about to use him, so…

She rubbed her pussy against his hard cock, like a cat in heat, spreading her wetness on him. She then grasped him and held him in place while she lowered herself inch by inch.

He was thick and it had been a while for her, so she did it slowly, loving the stretch of him, and how his cock felt so real and so good inside her.

Walter’s hands had gone to her waist, but he wasn’t pulling her down on him. It felt like he was just giving her balance to keep her pace.

It seemed like forever until he was all in, and she was sitting pretty on his nice cock.

“Oh god.” She felt so full and so alive.

Marjorie leaned forward, finally looking at Walter again. His eyes were fixed on her face, taking all the details in.

It felt incredibly hot just then.

She put her hands on his chest and moved experimentally. Oh yes, good to go.

At first, she rode him slowly. She let herself feel every inch of him moving in and out of her pussy. She enjoyed the feeling of his body dragging across hers as she moved. His hands helped her along, but he didn’t rush her; he let her set the pace. She let her nipples brush over his chest and kissed him long and slow.

She felt languid and as if she could do this for hours.

Then, something started building and coiling inside her, and slow wasn’t that good anymore.

She straightened up and started riding his cock properly, bouncing up and down on it. She moved his right hand to her tit, showed him how to massage it for her.

Her own hand went to her clit and she rubbed it furiously.

She was really close, just so close…

Walter pinched her nipple and she came, calling his name. However, since she didn’t really need to worry about his pleasure, she kept riding him to come down, instead of just stopping.

She liked this way much better.

She dismounted him and fell back on the tiny bed, breathing even harder than before, but feeling extremely satisfied.

“Thanks.” She murmured to Walter, still not believing they’d actually done it.

He sat up. “You’re welcome, Marjorie.”

She thought he’d just leave, but Walter -always so attentive -cleaned himself up, then did the same for her.

“I’ll leave you to rest.” He told her softly, since her eyes were already closing. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Marjorie.”

“Thanks, Walter…” She murmured sleepily once again.

As far as unique events went… This was pretty great.

[schrijverr]

I Wrote My Own Deliverance

Chapter 10 out of 10

Alexander Hamilton is reborn as Alex Hambleton. He is desperate not to make the same mistakes twice, but it seems he is stuck in the narrative, unable to get out. Familiar faces pop up all around him as he attempts to keep his previous life a secret and write himself out of the story.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none, but tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag something!!

~~~~~~~~~~~

“- Oh my god, you have been roommates with Aaron Burr for over a year!”

Alex winced. He’d hoped everyone had forgotten that detail, but it seemed not as the entire room exploded once more. With a last “What the shit, Alex,” from Laurens the room fell quiet to look at him expectantly.

He shrugged and said: “I made my peace with Burr, he’s pretty cool.”

And with that the whole room was send into disarray again.

“How!” John shrieked, “He murdered you!”

“Yeah and he had his reasons. I hate to inform you, but I was the one that said yes to the duel and insulted him the whole way through.” Alex shot back, “Besides, I thought we had just established that this time things can be different. If I can believe in Aaron, I can believe in myself. So far he’s been nothing but civil to me, he’s just another student wanting to live his life.”

It was quiet for a moment and Alex offered: “And Betsy already punched him, so even-Steven?”

“Only you, Alexander.” Eliza face palmed.

“I try.” he grinned.

“Wait,” Angelica said and Alex was scared of what she remembered, “You already knew at the party. Why did you come if you knew you would get punched?”

“First of, I didn’t want to assume and I only put the pieces together when the fist was already flying at my face. Second, I kinda did deserve that.” he told her.

“That’s not exactly healthy.” John pointed out, but he shut up after a look from Alex, the other had too much dirt on him and John was honestly the last who could talk about fighting as a coping mechanism.

Alex stuck his tongue out, as he turned and grabbed his phone: “Speaking of the party and Aaron, I probably need to find him before he does something stupid with his self-esteem issues and blame complex, like no offense, but our last meeting was not the most important thing ever.”

“You died.” Lafayette pointed out.

“Happens to the best of us,” Alex shrugged, “Case and point.”

“Ego much.” John grumbled and Alex just smiled as he called Aaron anonymously, the man probably wouldn’t pick up otherwise.

“Ah, yes, with me, Alex, your favourite and only roommate.”

“No, I’m not here to yell at you. I would have done that already if I wanted to.”

“Yeah, naturally, I never come back on my words.”

“They’re here yeah, already yelled at me and stuff.”

“I cannot with a 100% certainty promise that you will not get punched, but I am willing to try and convince them otherwise.”

He hung up and turned to the others: “Aaron is coming over, be nice.”

“Why would I be nice.” John pouted, arms crossed.

“Because, my dear Laurens, I have forgiven him and he could use some friends.” Alex explained.

“I’m with John here, I don’t want to be his friend.” Eliza mirrored John.

Alex smiled and said: “I know, Betsy, I know, but he hasn’t had it easy either. Even more of a nay-sayer and all around stick in the mud this time around. He has no one, you know how much it sucks to have no one.”

“Theodosia?” she asked, but Alex could tell her bleeding heart was giving in.

“Hasn’t come back, yet.” he smiled sadly at her.

“Alright, I won’t punch him then.” she threw her hands in the air.

They turned to John, who moped: “Whatever, but I’m not going to be nice.”

“Oh come on, man.” Herc said, “Making fun of Burr was always fun, it’ll be like the good old days when we were right and he told us to shut up.”

“You have a warped idea of fun, mon ami.” Laf told him.

“Like you weren’t there every single time to join in.” Herc shot back as they dissolved into squabbling.

Alex smiled and finally felt like he could take a breath. He had his friends around him again and no matter what the world threw at him, he could take it. He was home.

A knock at the door shook him out of his musings and he threw a look over his shoulder as he walked over to the door. Before he opened it, he warned: “Be nice.”

Aaron was indeed standing there and Alex greeted him cheerily: “Aaron Burr, sir.”

“Alexander” Aaron greeted with a wince.

“Come on, don’t be like that. If I had known you would become more boring, I would have never written another public document to fuck with you.” Alex grinned.

“Don’t antagonize him, Alex.” Eliza called out.

“Yeah, we all know how that turned out last time.” John huffed.

The comments didn’t really help, because Aaron winced as he started to back away, clearly on the brink of running.

“Guys, please try to be civil.” it earned Alex some disbelieving snorts, “Look at him, he’s about to cry. Are you gonna make Aaron Bartow cry?”

“Oh, it’s Aaron Bartow now?” John huffed.

“Yes. Yes, it is.” Alex said, “Just like you’re John Lawson and I’m Alex Hambleton. We’re not the same people anymore and I forgave Aaron a long time ago. He deserves people who know and understand as much as the next person.”

“You forgive me?” Aaron voice sounded so small and fragile that all retorts that might have been, died before they were spoken.

“I do.” Alex told him, “I saw your face, you know? When you shot. You were bracing for a bullet and when it didn’t come you looked so heartbroken and surprised. Van Ness had to drag you away. I don’t forget easily. I know I’m abrasive and a loud mouth that has an opinion on everything, who makes rash decisions, so I don’t blame you for wanting to protect yourself.”

Aaron looked at him wordlessly, unsure of what to say.

Alex grinned: “I’m aware you have a stick up your ass, but are you going to stare at my handsome face the entire day or am I going to get a hug.”

“You’re an asshole.” Aaron told him as he clutched the other tightly.

“I’ve been told.” Alex replied, merely holding on just as strong.

It took a while before either let go, but Alex was planning to hide for today and standing in the hallway with his door open was not ideal, especially as time went on and more people got the news, so he pried Aaron off him and led him inside.

He turned back to properly close the door when it was slammed open by none other than Tom, or Thomas Jefferson, he wasn’t sure who he had in front of him.

“You.” he pointed at Alex, whose eyes grew wide as he held up his hands, probably Jefferson he thought, “You motherfucker.”

Jefferson slammed down his hand and seethed: “This, really? You and your fucking pamphlets have to- Ugh! It’s always fucking you with your big ego and thousands of words that don’t even make sense most of the time and-”

“Hey, dude, calm down.” Alex cut him off, “What got you so mad?”

“This triggered my memories.” Jefferson admitted with venom, “Not the history lessons, not my face in buildings, not my legacy fucking me over or even that stupid musical. But you and your constant need for attention.”

“Ah,” Alex is quite unsure about what to say and one look at the others confirmed that neither did they, so he weakly offered, “At least you remember?”

“Like you think that’s a good thing, I read your stupid pamphlet, Lord knows I did, and it sucks, asshole.” Jefferson snarled, “We both know that.”

“It gets better when you find people.” Alex said, gesturing to the others, who waved awkwardly.

“Maybe, but I don’t really have anybody, now do I?” Jefferson told him and Alex would’ve never thought he’d see the day where he sympathized with Jefferson, though in front of him was Tom as well, not just Jefferson anymore.

“I thought we were kind of friends?” he replied, “I like debating with you and we agree more this time and, look, I know people we knew.”

Jefferson looked at him as if he had three heads as he slowly said: “You, Alexander Hamilton, you- you want to be friends? With me? Did you hit your head? Like is there something wrong with you and are you missing your memories? You hate me.”

“No, I hate Thomas Jefferson and if I recall correctly, your name is Tom Jamesson.” Alex replied, “And if you look closely, you’ll see Aaron Bartow sitting there. Besides, I think I can handle more debating in my life.”

“Only you would keep someone in your life to fight with them.” Tom said with a faked annoyance, “Though my name is actually Thomas Jamesson, so get your fact straight.”

“Well, then, Thomas, welcome to my humble abode, now please shut the door behind you before nosy strangers come in.” Alex said when Thomas’ reply wasn’t a blunt no.

Thomas snorted: “You published your life story again and you’re worried about nosy strangers.”

“It’s about the principle of the thing, I wanna do it all official, maybe hold a press conference, get a dinner thrown in my honor, make a long speech that everyone is forced to listen to. It’ll be great.” he grinned.

“The fact that I believe you is disturbing.” Angelica piped up.

And so they roped Thomas into the fray that was their little Revolution crew as they talked about their life now and their life back then. They compared notes on what was different and what was the same.

Apparently the Schuyler sisters were now childhood best friends and Angelicas memories had triggered those of the others. Eliza remarked: “Peggy was so sad she couldn't come to slap you into next week, but she has her internship.”

“Not looking forward to that.” Alex winced, “And I thought she liked me?”

“She does, she just likes fighting more.” Angelica commented humorously, “Being able to have opinions and do stuff, has really gotten her out of her 18th century shell.”

“Good for her.” Alex nodded.

“That’s what I said!” John exclaimed excitedly.

They moved on to Lafayette, who told them it was same old French noble blood and being send off to America for better education and to explore the world. He pouted over not being as close to Washington anymore, but brightened when he told them about the tea they drank together every other Wednesday.

John didn’t say anything about his father, besides the fact that he was a Senator and still a dick, or other family for that matter, but he was ecstatic that he would be able to become a Doctor this time around and he loved his study dearly.

Thomas didn’t really say much either. He was still struggling with connecting his two identities and what that meant for him. When asked about James, he sadly said: “If I saw him, we didn’t recognize each other.”

“Hey, we’ll find him if he’s out there.” Alex comforted him, then joked, “He probably remembered and tried to stay as far away from here as possible to avoid seeing me again.”

It got a small huff of amusement out of Thomas.

Alex looked at Aaron to ask about him, when his phone rang. Nervously he picked up: “Hello, yes, this is Alex Hambleton speaking.”

“Ah, you’ve read it then.”

“I understand.”

“Within the month?” Alex asked surprised, “Then I get to keep my scholarship? Thank you so much, sir!”

He turned to the others who were waiting expectantly as he grinned: “Looks like I’m getting registered and my plan for world domination is still on track.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Herc yelled, getting cheers from the others.

Alex smiled in the midst of his friends with a future bright and obtainable. A story ready for him to write how he saw fit, unbound by mistakes of the past.

He might be an old story in a new place, but there was always room for a rewrite. They were already on the second draft anyway.

[maddiefriendlovesbilly]

Spencer x Ghost?

Spencer x Ghost

(AAAAA- it has been months since you sent this to me, and all i can say is im so sorry) Side note I have my friend @lethalbreadkills helping me with this one!

For reference: Maddie (maddiefriendlovesbilly) is green, Jimmy (lethalbreadkills) is red (((its 4:30 at the time i have joined this so im dead braincell wise sorry yall))) and Orange is stuff we decided together :3

Also this is so very chaotic im so sorry for this anon but this has been in my fuckin drafts for SO LONG and this is the only way its getting finished (its now 5 am uwu) im so sorry for all the shitposting i do its a mess. I shouldnt have been allowed here. (we finished at about 5:30 am its hell <3)

Sphost? Ghencer?? Sphoster??? I adore and despise them all equally.

We have decided that it should be BeanieGhost

Anyway I think this ship is really cute

They’re both so neurotic I can only imagine the chaos that would ensue

One of them starts a rant on some topic and the other joins the hell in

I’m an advocate of LETTING SPENCER INFO DUMP BECAUSE HE DESERVES IT OKAY

And Ghost would let this dream come true???

I would die for both of them and if Spencer told me I had to die I wouldn’t even complain, no questions I’d just be like “Aight.” I trust him that much.

(Not sure I trust Ghost’s judgment enough to do that unquestioningly; sorry Ghost)

Back on topic

I can’t imagine these guys on anything that comes close to society’s definition of a date

It’d be more like “hey you wanna come on this hunt with us?” “maybe, depends if there’ll be snacks” or like chilling in Spence’s room binging the entire star trek: original series in one sitting or “oops sorry about that level 11 entity that attached to my soul and is now wreaking havoc in your house, wanna make out later to make up for it?” “Fine but you also have to play three rounds of Call of Duty with me afterward”

They wouldn’t be romantic often but like highkey? I can see them throwing themselves into the line of fire for each other with a recklessness only they could survive

We can’t forget that Spencer is a more than 60,000-year-old overpowered demon/god/entity/thing, which, yes, could throw a slight wrench in this ship for multiple reasons, but I choose to make angst out of it instead.

Side note: Ghost is a chronic conspiracy theorist (and you can’t tell me otherwise) and every once in awhile Spencer will offhandedly say something like “Y’know I helped the Egyptians build the pyramids” and Ghost just goes fucking feral.

Look, I’m not saying Spencer IS touch-starved and most likely has issues creating and developing relationships and therefore avoids interpersonal connection, especially offline, but I AM saying he is prime material for it. (thats a lie thats exactly what shes saying don’t believe it) (I’m projecting okay dont judge me) (loser imagine projecting)

Imagine with me for a second: Why does Spencer willingly stay with a family who locks him in their basement with only minor complaining? He’s a near all-powerful entity just released into the world for Spence’s-sake - If he wanted to, there’s no telling what havoc he could wreak! So why doesn’t he? Why would someone so powerful, so terrifying, so dangerous that a group of people decided to seal him away forever stay with the first family he finds in sub-par conditions for years - especially someone who’s seen to be as high-maintenance as Spencer? Let me hit you with a theory: He’s chasing the feelings of validation, safety, and love - no matter how rarely it’s shown - that a family can provide. Being socially isolated for even a few years can do a number to a person’s psyche (I should know, I’m projecting onto this character right now), let alone thousands.

Now maybe Ghost can’t match thousands of years in isolation, but damn if he doesn’t have a few years of crippling loneliness on his record too.

I can see the two of them learning how to be vulnerable around others together, emotionally and physically; learning how to open up and how to talk through issues; and some third point, because points are better in threes.

(May I suggest that these losers are both trans but thats just me adding in my own projection lmao)

(You absolutely may)

Imagine the conversation thats just “so i have a murderer in my head thats an ass” “rip to u ig sounds like a you problem :///”

imo spence has trouble expressing emotions other than like,,, annoyance and haughtiness, its like sort of his go-to defence, so showing Ghost his emotions is a big step for him

I hear you, and i say yes good. (found this one headcanon that i kinda live by where he was uh, either autistic or adhd i dont remember but theres that too) OH yeah that would be at thing huh. Spencer: *is emotionally vulnerable @ ghost* ghost: oh shit im trusted??? Oh fuck uh.

Yeah so like…. Ghost and spence showing emotion at eachother is kind of :flushed: ghost be like: whats an emotion. Imagine having emotions fuciiing loser hhaha,,,, *laughs nervously*

Ghost is also very emotionally distant with most people so it would probably be like “what??? The fuck?? Emotions?????? You have those???”

Ghost and Spencer be like *gay*

So another idea is that maybe Spencer realizes Ghost doesnt play any games [like the uncultured SWINE he is] and decides he must [remedy] this and so he introduces him to like, nintendo first. (some bitches thought that said nintendo fortnite. Im bitches) and theyre playing like, mario kart or smash or smth and Ghost gets really [fuckin into it]

Ghost and spencer: *literally in eachothers laps playing fucking wii tennis*

Spooker: what are the- *TOAST FUCKING SLAPS A HAND ACROSS HIS MOUTH* shut up you dont wanna know what happens when its mentsonssbfdjfsd (sorry i had a stroke uwuwuwuw)

(Theyre in denial we don’t judge in this house)

They will not hesitate to play dirty either, they will straight up push each other over and vaguely flirt

Ghost is losing and straight up fucking goes “ur hot” and spencer actually dies and boom ghost is the winner. sparkle emoji Magic sparkle emoji

“I am Not a HomoSexual:™:” “Yeah, sure you aren’t” “Screw off”

Pet-names-ish: Asshole, Gaymer-Boy, casual insults, Mr. Spirit Bitch, Mistake, Loves Ghosts More Than His Boyfriend What A Fucking Loser aka Gay-ass

Pros:

They both open up a lot most likely. Gain someone to trust since they’ve sort of been through the same things (though on much different scales)

I can see soft hours of hanging in each other’s bedrooms

Spencer is a tsundere you cant tell me otherwise youre just a coward if you disagree

So is Ghost so this can only go well

Every time Ghost has to solve a case at the Acachallas Spence is just peaking out from his basement like “the fuck is this?? Hot Man??????”

Enemies to lovers 500k (Gets Hot and Steamy :flushed: NOT CLICKBAIT!!!!11!!!!! 18+!!!!!!! GAY LOVE StORY!!!!!!) Lemonz!!! Made from teh Sexiest of Wattpaders UWUWUWU YAOI Boys Love don’t like don’t read!! (this is so fucking stupid jkfnd) I hate this with a passion Q^Q. All my years of being a basic watpad fanboy have helped me to the moment i bring maddie to tears

The steam is just like,,,,, holding hands and being angy all the fuckin time the steam is literal because their anger translates into actual steam

Cons:

Their angst has nowhere to go and it just sits between them like two raccoons at a dumpster-style mexican standoff

They really start off hating each other huh. Like, I know this can still lead to healthy relationships but neither of them are very good at healthy relationships with people he hasn’t known for his Whole Life so that’s an Oh No.

They totally feed off of each other’s stupidity (but this could be seen as a pro too so take that as you will) as well as anger - im talking one-upping each other kinda shit

Its ridiculous honestly how intense it gets, like they straight up need intervention sometimes because they dont realize they can just STOP

Conclusions:

I think this would be a relationship that would that a lot of time and hard work to make work, but i think in the end it would be really super cute!! Like it would make no fuckin sense to anyone else but somehow they’d understand each other and help each other through their similar issues. Also theyre both big nerds in different ways and i think they’d have just ranting sessions back and forth over and over and it would be soft!!!!! So yeah, i think it would work, at least, i want it to :D

So. Maybe?? I feel like it could, but they’d need to work pretty hard to make it healthy and not constant fighting. Could be stupid amounts of cute and wholesome but also could be stupid amounts of oh no and pain, depending on how the two act. If they learned how to get along with each other and work past their differences it could be super cute and soft. Just a very, er, bumpy beginning. And middle. And end. (this makes me very nervous,,,,why did you mention an end) (wouldnt you like to know weather boy) (TvT) UFDUNS bumpy but soft . Agreeing with the loser gay, want this to work it’d be interesting :3

[faedawayyy]

A Useless Guide to the Carmichaels

DISCLAIMER: this is a bunch of headcanons that i’ve come up with. OBVIOUSLY since synn and katie and nadine and meg in a way have characters that are tied to their family...BUt these are my original headcanons for the family, so if things aren’t quite right or sound different, it’s bc they’re my most developed family and it’s the way i’ve written them in canon verse!

SYLVIA CARMICHAEL - GRANDMOTHER

sylvia’s family are russian and came over to england after the war. her father was a general and her mother was a seamstress and she was raised in a very, very conservative and upper-class family. she went and studied at st andrews in edinburgh and that’s where she met hank carmichael, who her  father always pushed her towards from the moment he knew of him.  sylvia carries a lot of her family values and clashed with her GEN X kids because their ideologies were so different. for example, she sturggled edwin’s sexuality and oliver’s more liberal mannerisms. it doesn’t stop her from trying to “guide” her grandchildren.

HANK CARMICHAEL - GRANDMOTHER

hank was born and raised in england. his father was an extremely wealthy banker, his mother died when he was young but he never really thought about her because his father never spoke of her. he was raised mainly by his aunt while his father worked around the clock. they were an extremely wealthy family and when he was old enough, hank attended boarding school. he never really had parental guidance and his creativity always ran wild. he was trouble at school, but smart enough not to get caught.  after he graduated from st andrews and moved in with sylvia, he invested his entire trust-fund into a book publishing business, which is still successful to this day. he’s a huge family man due to not having one when he was younger

second generation.

EDWIN CARMICHAEL

edwin is the oldest of sylvia’s and hank’s children and always worked hard to be a people pleaser. he was often referred to as the golden child and the absolute brightest star in his mother’s sky. from an early age, he showed interest in entertainment which hank inspired and supported.

things changed for edwin in the middle of high school when he decided to come out about his sexuality. he was severely bullied and his relationship with sylvia broke down. he STILL hasn’t got the best relationship with his mother, especially after he married his husband, but they stay civil for the rest of the family’s sake. 

he now works in property and lost his confidence in acting when he was bullied.

OLIVER CARMICHAEL

SYNN’S CHARACTER, BUT HERE IS HOW I INTERPRET HIM. oliver is the second oldest child of sylvia and hank. he was rebellious from the start. he never enjoyed trying to live up to edwin’s golden standard, he hated the events and the social climbing. he just wanted to be a regular kid and have regular experiences, but it never happened for him.  when he was 18, it hit him that he was an adult and sylvia and hank have 0 influence over him. he took his trustfund, travelled and got the hell out of violet springs. however, just like with everybody else, age caught him up and he ended up settling in london with a woman he met while backpacking in australia.  he likes his children knowing their family, so he reluctantly shows up to family events but you’d never catch either of them in violet springs if they didn’t have to be.

JAMES CARMICHAEL

james is the middle child and arguably the most successful of the carmichael’s. he was never the favourite and had a streak in him that caused him to clash with hank from a young age. he was a loveable rouge who grew into a loveable white-collard criminal. he was smarter than he let on and had endless ambition.  like edwin, he attended university but instead of picking a profession that hid away from his true ambition, he invested his entire trustfund into a studio in los angeles where he planned to make amazing films...it paid off. he married his wife (patricia) who he met when she worked as a set designer on one of his projects, but it wasn’t all happily ever after.  james played around with money a little too much and tried to take out his competition in shady ways. this led to things getting too much for him and he faked his death almost a year ago. all of his family beside mason believe him to be dead.

JOHNATHAN CARMICHAEL

completely synn’s character, the father of theo

SINEAD CARMICHAEL

sinead was the only girl of five children and completely used it to her advantage. she watched the way her brother’s and father knew how to dominate rooms, conversations and other people. she grew up with the mindset that she could have absolutely anything she wanted, as long as she worked (or cheated) hard enough for it.  sinead dropped out of school at 15 and almost gave her mother an hernia. she blew most of her trust fund on a sweet 16 and then a sweet 18, anything that was left went on her 21st. she’s a very “live in the moment” woman and cares little for consequences.  she actually ended up teaming up with james and starring in a few of his earliest projects before becoming an actress in her own right. she’s blacklisted by a lot of hollywood producers for her refusal to submit and listen to direction. she’s head strong and does what she likes. 

third generation.

RUBY ROSINI - ADOPTED DAUGHTER OF EDWIN.

when ruby was adopted by edwin, there was all round excitement from every single member of the family; a little, brown-eyed girl from italy arriving on their doorsteps. she was so different from the majority blue-eyed children who filled the family tree. the cousins all immediately became protective of her and loved getting to know who she was as a person. now they’re grown up, she’s viewed as a cousin and it’s easy to forget that she was ever adopted or came from anywhere else. 

THOMAS CARMICHAEL - SON OF OLIVER 

thomas is the oldest son of oliver and like his dad, he’s a bit of a free spirit but unlike his dad, he’s a lot more laidback and less likely to clash or argue with anyone. as far as carmichael’s go, he’s quite wholesome and kind and oliver will 100% say that it’s because he was raised away from the madness of their family.  however, growing up away from the others isn’t as good in his eyes as it is in his dad’s. he often feels boring and on the outside, he will always do his best to fit in with the other guys and is easily manipulated. as a child, he got into trouble so many times from listening to the shit brody and leo used to tell him to do. even to this day, he’s overly loyal and attached to them because he’s desperate to feel a real part of the family.

KATELYN CARMICHAEL - DAUGHTER OF OLIVER

katelyn is the oldest of the third generation and oliver’s daughter. she’s blunt, witty and doesn’t mince her words. unlike most of the women in her family, she cares little for appearances or staying in certain social circles. she’s a drama teacher in a high school and enjoys living a normal life, but does dip into the funds of her family name every now and then to have a bit of fun.  she’s a blast at family parties and everybody is always excited to see what scandalous or stupid thing she’ll do next to annoy her grandmother. 

ANASTASIA CARMICHAEL - DAUGHTER OF JAMES 

the oldest of james’ children and undeniably the real favourite. she’s an overachiever and type of girl who was good at everything in school and still is; she’s athletic, artistic, academic, a good mother, an amazing business woman, she’s smart, she’s intuitive, she’s healthy and rarely loses in competitions with her siblings or anyone else for that matter.

anastasia has her daughter, darcy, and is engaged to ryder banks. there’s no love there but like her grandmother, she understands the importance of appearances. you’d have to be crazy if you thought she hasn’t had a string of affairs and STILL has them. however, she also has standards and is very selective over who she lets get close. 

darcy is her #1 priority and she’ll fight fiercely to make sure she always stays that way.

LEONARDO CARMICHAEL - SON OF JAMES

leo is james’ oldest son and again, like anastasia, kind of set the bar in the early days for the rest of his siblings. when it was the two of them and mason, everything was about leo and anastasia, they grew up in constant competition; leo tended to always fall short of his sister’s achievements. however, as they grew and the two of them came into their own, it was clear that leo was never going to be one to be in the shadows for too long - starting with gaining the attention from girls as he grew through high school. even girls in brody’s and miles’s year were heart-eyes over him and he was a few years older.  yet, just like with the rest of his siblings, he was promised and later engaged to somebody that his father handpicked for him to ensure the carmichael wealth wouldn’t dwindle out and fall into the wrong, new money hands.  OOC//i could write more but it doesnt feel right bc he’s now katie’s character. obviously i have my own ideas/fiancee for original leo! 

MASON CARMICHAEL - SON OF JAMES

mason broke the trend of extroverted, go-getter type kids and ended up being the quietest and youngest of the bunch until miles was born. he was a big momma’s boy growing up, and even though he’s never really felt like the favourite, he always enjoyed the company of adults and quieter environments compared to his siblings who would thrive around kids of their own age.  mason is wise beyond his years and it’s a running joke that he was supposed to be born first. he is the only one that knows james isn’t dead and was trusted with this information because even though brody was the favourite by a longshot, james knew mason would keep it quiet and be less affected by the secret.  mason both hates and loves being a part of the carmichaels. he loves his family but also hates the madness that comes along with it.

BRODY CARMICHAEL - SON OF JAMES 

brody never really had to work to be the favourite of his parents - he just is. he had the right amount of intelligence, cockiness and charm to keep adults on side throughout his whole life. ironically, out of everybody in the third generation, he’s probably the biggest fuck up too but the adults turn a blind eye to it because it’s him.  a huge reason he’s favoured by james is because he was clearly enough for charles to allow him to marry his oldest daughter, disney. this was such a big deal for james because charles has a LOT of connections (shady and not shady) in the entertainment industry and he knew the merger between the companies would keep the carmichael legacy in tact for generations.  brody usually rises to being the favourite and is slightly smug about it, but he also cracks the most under pressure and has had dozens of meltdowns over the span of his life growing up.

MILES CARMICHAEL - SON OF JAMES

miles is the youngest...son...of james. james has no idea that patricia had an affair and that miles isn’t actually his son. miles has always struggled severely with keeping up with his siblings. he developed common but crippling mental health issues in his pre-teen years such as depression and anxiety. it started with acting out and being a “problem child” but quickly developed in being too scared to leave the house. he locked himself away and wasted away his young years not really interacting with anyone outside of his immediate family. on top of that, he had he achievements of brody, mason, anastasia and leo to remind him of what a failure is...eventually he just stopped trying.  these days his siblings are supportive and aware of how he can get. his cynicism is literally his humour and he’s just taking one day at a time.

BELLA CARMICHAEL - DAUGHTER OF JAMES

bella was dubbed the next brody. all of her siblings adore her and so do her parents and grandparents. she’s the second child who can do absolutely no wrong in anybody’s eyes. bella was a young star and worked in hollywood making tv cameos long before she started school. she had two lives; her school and dance life, and her celebrity life. she grew up with more life experience than other kids and this made her painfully cunning. she knew exactly how to get people on side and had whoever she wanted wrapped around her little finger.  she and brody were hit hardest by james’s death. bella was all over the place and gained a little weight - something she wasn’t familiar with after being petite her whole life. she’s now just trying to stable herself again.

THEO CARMICHAEL - SON OF JOHNATHAN

SYNN’S CHARACTER

HERA CARMICHAEL-RUSH

hera is the middle child of sinead. she too is inteligent and calculated but she’s also the opposite of the james’s girls. hera has never worked a day in her life and has no intention to. she’s a socialite and just like her mother, does what she wants when she wants to. she lives off of mommy’s money (because her dad bailed on them and honestly, fuck him). hera also came out as bisexual at a christmas party because she knew it’d make sylvia uncomfortable. she’s a wind up and enjoys getting a rise out of people.

OPHELIA CARMICHAEL-RUSH

ophelia is old enough to remember the messy divorce of her parents and adopted her mother’s bad-ass and care free attitude towards it from that day on. she hates her dad for what he did to their family but doesn’t let it hold her back and when she turned 18, she took him to court to keep her name on the inheritance of his million dollar winery business...and won. she’s the trailblazer for her quieter and more introverted siblings. she’s someone who knows she’s gorgeous and uses her looks to her advantage. 

LUNA CARMICHAEL-RUSH

luna has always been shy and hid behind the bolder personalities of her sister’s. she used to feel boring because of it but has quickly accepted that’s who she is and she’s happy with it. as she becomes 26, she’s starting to feel extremely embarrassed and insecure about her lack of experience with anybody. yet, her father walking out makes her find it hard to connect with and trust people. she has high standards and no standards at the same time and is really lost in terms of her romantic relationships. HOWEVER, she is thriving in her career and mason has featured her as an actress in many projects. she currently attends rosewell and enjoys the french culture.

DAMUS CARMICHAEL-RUSH

damus is a pastiche of every criminal and calculated act a carmichael before him has committed. he actively seeks out trouble and due to not being able to find his “place” in the family, he seems to like to win the affections of his elders by getting involved in dodgy dealings that they’ve set up - particularly those of james and johnathan. damus gets a rush out of being in on his family’s darkest secrets but he also feels like a spare part - the one who gets put into dangerous scenarios because the others are too precious to do so.

third generation age order: - katelyn  - anastasia  - leo - thomas - ophelia   - mason  - brody - hera - luna   - ruby - miles   - bella  - damus 

fourth generation (work in progress): - darcy and wren, children of anastasia  - fleur and dixie, daughters of brody  - victoria and peter, children of mason  - jacob and harlow, son of theo

[sailorsei]

Vicar Max x Fem!Captain

Word count: 5.1k (I can’t write a short fic to save my life)

Summary: The Vicar has a hard time hiding his feelings until his Captain is terribly injured.

Warnings: 18+, smut!, blood, rapt bites, drinking, etc.

A/N: First Outer Worlds fic! Hope yall enjoy! This is pretty self indulgent jjdksjsdsj. The reader has the background as my outer worlds OC so I guess this could be oc x vicar max too but whatever lol. take place after the empty man quest.

I had never been one to open up. I never had been one to have close friends. Not on earth, even when my “aunt” had sent me to countless therapists and counselors, not when she signed me up from after school activities, and certainly not now, when I’m traipsing around Halcyon as some sort of freelancer. Never in a million of years did I think that I would be in a different solar system, trying to help some scientist guy revive hundreds of thousands of people, while also avoiding being caught by The Board. But here I stood, waiting for my rag tag group of friends to finish up their drinks before heading back to my ship, The Unreliable.

Stellar Bay was nice aside from the constant presence of monstrous creatures outside its walls, among other things. Nyoka and Ellie drunkenly laughed over some joke they had made as they stood from their seats at the bar. They somehow held each other up even though they could barely stand. Parvati, Felix, and Vicar Max were engaged in a discussion about the recent tossball match. I waited for them to exit the bar before following behind. I looked up at the sky as we made our way over to the elevator pad. The skies here were so much more beautiful than on Earth. I may have had a miserable life on Earth, but sometimes, I missed it. Sometimes.

I was so lost in thought that I hadn’t noticed Vicar Max had slowed down just a bit so he could walk beside me. He cleared his throat and I snapped back to reality.

“Something troubling you, Captain? You hardly said a word at the bar.” He said. I looked at him and could see his concern. Was it coming from his Vicar side, or his Max side, you wondered.

“I’m fine, Max. Just… Reminiscing.” I replied, looking forward. We all stepped onto the elevator pad and I pulled the level for it to bring us up to my ship.

“May I ask what about?” He asked. I looked out onto the small town, taking it all in. I considered lying, saying something bland to get him off my back. But he was my friend. He deserved a real answer, as much as my instincts said not to.

 “Just about my life before Halcyon.” I replied, turning to him. Max nodded slowly, considering how to respond. I didn’t talk about my old life much, besides the highlights.

---

Parents were killed in a car accident when I was 5, my mother’s business partner took me in. Raised me, well, my nanny raised me. Woman was a saint. I kept my head down in my school years. Focused on my studies, I didn’t want to get attached to anyone. The thought of losing someone again scared me. When I was 25, my nanny of my childhood had contacted me, saying she couldn’t take it anymore. She revealed that my “aunt”, mom’s business partner, had had my parents killed so she could take control of their business, after a heated disagreement between them. Mom wanted to run a compassionate pharmaceutical business. Aunt Lydia had other ideas. My nanny had then revealed, I was supposed to be in the car.

 So my aunt had to play the good friend role, and take me in. I went to go blow the whistle on what my aunt had done, when I was ambushed and drugged. I woke up in a space suit and in the frozen chamber on The Hope. My aunt standing before me. I weakly tried pushed against the pod door when she simply sighed.

“It’s no use. It’s sealed from the outside.” She said. I tried again when she yelled my name to stop.

“Why?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“I couldn’t have you expose me. Everything I worked for would have been ruined.” She said. She walked up to the pod, inches from the glass.

“I know it won’t mean anything, but I am sorry for what happened to them.” She rested her hand on the glass for just a moment, before retracting it. She backed away and turned to leave when she looked back. “I hope you can make a life for yourself.” She walked away. The next thing I remember is waking up to Phineas reviving me.

 --

 Max decided to not press the issue further, giving me his usual spiel of if I needed to talk, he was there for me. And I silently thanked him with a nod. It’s not that I didn’t think I could trust him with what was going on in my head, I was afraid that if once I opened up, it wouldn’t stop.

 --

 I made sure Nyoka and Ellie were tucked into their cabins, shutting their doors so they could sleep off the impending hang overs without interruption. I grabbed a snack from the kitchen and said goodnight to the rest of the gang and headed to my room. The view of space was something I would never get sick of. I laid on my bed and just lost myself in the stars, and soon, to sleep.

I woke up to hearing ADA saying that there is only one bathroom for the millionth time. I got up from my bed, rubbing my face. I slipped on some fresh clothes and made my way to the kitchen. Everyone was in the kitchen, talking to each other, while SAM cleaned around everyone.

“Mornin’ Captain!” Parvati chirped. She turned her attention back to a little gadget she had been tinkering with. I offered a small wave to my crew as I made my way over to the fridge to get some water. I could feel Max’s eyes on me as I was standing at the counter. My cheeks warmed up from the supposed attention and turned around, nonchalantly, to see if my suspicion was right.

Max averted his eyes quickly and I tilted my head slightly. Did I have something on my back? Was my hair messy? I was going to ask him when Felix called for my attention.

“Hey Boss, so, you’re like 95, right?” Felix asked. I looked at him confused, but did the math quickly in my head.

 “I believe so. Froze at 25, to be awakened 70 years later. Why?” I leaned against the counter, crossing my arms.

“Since you’re the oldest, you make all the rules around here.” Felix said, looking like he just proved some point that you were unaware of.

“I mean, I feel like being Captain trumps that, but I guess?” I replied. Felix sheepishly whispered “Oh yeah…” before turning back to what he was doing. The others giggled at that.

I pushed off from the counter and started to make my way down to ADA when I heard Max call my name. I stopped at the stair I was at and looked up at Max.

“What’s up, Max?” I asked.

“Oh, I just wanted to make sure you were ok, after last night. I, uh,” He paused for a moment, he seemed nervous. I tilted my head, curious.  “I didn’t want to press.” He cleared his throat.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I was just in a weird head space last night. Thanks for the concern, but you’re the one that seems to have something on his mind, do YOU need to talk about something, Vicar?” I rose a few steps, crossing my arms. Even though I was just two steps away from him, my head had to tilt back a bit so I could still maintain eye contact. He stood at 6’4”, whereas I was 5’4”, so I had to do this often.

Max stammered a bit before answering.

“Nothing is the matter, Captain, I assure you. If you’ll excuse me.” He nodded and walked back towards the kitchen. I stood there, baffled, but turned and walked down to ADA.

“ADA, why are humans so confusing?” I asked, mostly rhetorical, as I typed away on the terminal.

“I’m not sure how to answer that, Captain. Humans are truly an enigma.” ADA replied.

“Ain’t that the fuckin’ truth.” I said, amused. “Anyway, let’s head to Groundbreaker. Gladys has a side job she needs done.”

“Right away, Captain.” ADA replied. The ship roared to life and headed towards Groundbreaker.

 --

 Walking off the ship, Max and Parvati followed close behind.

“Do you mind if I go see Junlei while you talk to Gladys, Cap?” Parvati asked. When I had first gotten to Edgewater, I had quite the crush on Parvati. But she soon showed interest in Junlei and I reeled back my feelings. Didn’t need to complicate the crew.

“Of course, Parv. Just meet us back on the ship in like, 20 minutes.” I replied. Parvati nodded quickly, and took off to see her girlfriend. It was sweet how smitten she was.

Max and I walked in silence towards the Rest-N-Go, when Max cleared his throat.

 “If you don’t mind me asking, Captain, I’m curious. Did you have any paramours when you were on Earth?” He asked. I looked at him, and kind of laughed.

“Are you asking if I was seeing anyone while on Earth? You’re not going to lecture me on pre-marital sex are you?” I asked. Max quickly tried to back pedal on what he asked when I nudged him with my elbow.

“Relax, Preacher Man. I’m teasing.” He rolled his eyes at the nick name. “I had a few people I saw every now and again, but never anything serious. Attachment issues really get in the way of healthy relationship.” Max went to inquire more when we arrived at Gladys’ office.

“Well look who it is, hello sweetheart. Did you get my message?” I nodded and Gladys pulled out a cartridge with information on the job and handed it to me.

“Now you be careful. I would hate to see my favorite freelancer get gobbled up by some rapts.” She cooed.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. I have quite the crew with me.” I rested my head on Max’s arm as a sign of trust but I felt him tense up. I chose to ignore it and waved goodbye to Gladys.

We stopped by Belle’s Shells for ammo, but the walk there was weird, to say the least. Max refused to make eye contact, and then made up some excuse that he needed to go to the ship immediately and just about sprinted to it. I scowled but turned back to the vendor when Parvati strolled up.

“Why did Max just literally run away from you?” She asked. I turned to her as the vendor grabbed more ammo from the back.

“I have no idea. He’s been acting weird lately. I tried to ask him about it but he clamed up. I thought maybe men would be easier to read in the future, and in a different solar system. But it seems I was wrong.” I said, huffing in frustration. “It’s fine though. He doesn’t have to open up about stuff he doesn’t want to. But I do think it’s funny how he always is asking me how I’M doing but as soon as it’s him, he just shuts up.” I looked over at Parvati to her holding in a snicker. I put my hands on my hips and looked at her with curiosity.

“Oh! Sorry! I don’t mean to laugh, Captain, just... I agree. Men are just that weird here. Yep.” Parvati nervously smiled. I wanted to press her further but the vendor came back with an arm load of ammo. I handed some to Parvati and headed back to the ship.

 --

 Parvati and I put the ammo in the cargo bay and then I headed to ADA, using the navigation terminal to head to Roseway. Gladys wanted me to check out a crashed ship that might have been holding some chemicals that are super hard to come by.

 We landed on the Roseway landing pad and I geared up to check it out solo when Max stopped me.

“Captain, you’re not going alone, are you?” He inquired.

“Yeah, I am. It’ll be a quick in and out, and I didn’t want to bother anyone for that.” I offered him a smile and went to leave when he grabbed my hand. I looked at my hand and then at Max. He quickly let go.

“Allow me to join you, I would hate myself if anything happened to you.” He waited for me to respond.

“I’m 95, Max, I can take care of myself. I’ll be back before you know it.” I winked at him and headed out before he could protest.

 --

 Max paced by the door of the ship for what felt like hours. She should have been back by now, Max thought. Max considered going out to make sure things were alright when Ellie told him to chill out.

“She’s fine Max. I’m sure she’s just having a hard time finding whatever the fuck that old lady wanted her to find.” Ellie leaned against the door frame. Max considered that but still, he was worried.

“I still would like to know for sure. We should make sure our Captain is okay. ” Max said, checking the ammo in his gun.

“Sure, that’s why you want to check. Wink Wink.” Did she just say wink out loud, Max thought.

“I’m not sure what you mean, Ellie.” Max replied, anger bubbling up.

“Please. Everyone on this ship knows you have the hots for the Captain. Just tell her already.”

“Ellie, that is just—“

“Vicar, sir? I think you should tell her too.” Parvati appeared next to Ellie. Max rolled his eyes. “Now, listen, sometimes you need to take a chance? If the Captain hadn’t told me to take a chance, Junlei and I wouldn’t have gotten to know each other better. Just consider it.” Parvati walked away before Max could respond.

“You all can stay here but I’m going to go check on her.” Max walked over to the door and opened it to find the Captain standing on the other side. Max turned bright red. Had the Captain heard? He went to ask her how long she had been standing there when he looked down to see the huge bite mark on the Captains side, blood soaked clothes shredded around it. The Captain went to speak when her legs gave out. Max caught her just in time.

“Ellie! Get everyone now! The Captain is hurt!” Max picked the Captain up bridal style and rushed her to the cargo bay. He laid her down on the cot that was left there from the previous Captain and moved it to the middle of the bay.

 Everyone rushed down, Parvati holding all the medical supplies they had on hand. The Captain was out cold, and the bleeding was getting worse.

“Okay, first we need to clean the wound!”

“What if there’s teeth embedded in her side?! We need to make sure!”

“Then get to checkin’!”

The group quickly got to work trying to save their Captain.

 --

 Everything sounded far away. Like I was wearing ear muffs but also was several rooms away from a loud party. I tried opening my eyes but even that was too much effort. My body felt like it was hit by a train. I tried to focus on what I could hear, since that was the only thing I could do.

I think I’m in my room. I hear Max. I heard Parvati. I think I hear Felix. My hearing is starting to get less muffled.

I think I hear Felix ask how I’m doing. Someone feels my forehead. I think it’s Parvati, her hands are calloused from all the work she does.  She says my fever has gone down. Felix sighs in relief. I hear a chair pull up and someone grabs my hand, holds it. I think it’s Max. Parvati and Felix’s voices are gone now. It’s just Max.

“Why did you have to go alone?” I can barely hear him when he says this.

“Law… I will do anything you want. Anything you name it. Just let her be okay.” He lifts my hand and kisses it. He presses his forehead against my hand and just stays like that for a while. I hear him quietly cry. I want to let him know I’m okay but my body doesn’t listen. Even moving a finger seems impossible. But I’ve already beaten the impossible. I was revived on a 28% chance of survival. I needed to let Max know I’m okay.

I muster up all the strength I have, and it’s not a lot, and by some act of God or Law or whoever, I lightly squeeze his hand. Max snaps his head up and I know he’s looking at me, searching my face for a sign of life. I try my luck again, and I squeeze his hand again, weaker this time, but I manage. Max gasps lightly and lets out the breath of air he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Don’t ever go alone again.” He simply says. He kisses my forehead and I fall back asleep.

 --

 The next time I gain consciousness I’m alone. But this time I’m able to open my eyes and move. My side is killing me, my throat is dry, and I’m starved. I slowly try to sit up, swinging my legs off the side of my bed. The thing about being in space is you never really know what time it is. We’re not on Roseway anymore. I wonder if we’re in orbit or had left entirely.

 I try to stand. With the help of the chair by my bedside, I’m able to. My legs are wobbly but I’m able to keep my balance. I’ve had to have been out for days. I slowly make my way over to my door but I stop at the stairs. I really want to know where everyone is but I don’t know if I can manage the stairs. It’s only 3 steps but in the state I’m in, it might as well be 30. I decide to try to step down when the door opens to reveal Max, holding some food.

We stare at each other for what feels like forever. All the feelings crashing into us like waves at sea. I must have leaned forward too much as I start to fall forward. But I don’t hit the floor. Max catches me with ease, at the expense of the snacks he had brought for me. He holds me to his chest, but he soon is clutching me. Trying to make sure I’m real and standing in front of him. I hear his heart racing and his breathing waver. I nuzzle into his neck as a way to bring him back from his racing thoughts.

“Are you okay?” He breaks the silence. I nod against his shoulder. He slowly lifts me up and brings me back to my bed. I reluctantly let go of him when he sits on the edge of my bed.

“How does your side feel?” He lifts up the loose shirt I’m wearing to make sure there’s no bleed through.

“I’m fine.” I croak out. Right, throat is still dry.

“Let me get you something to drink.” He says, he quickly leaves the room and comes back with a cup of water, and also the snacks he dropped. He gives me the cup and I drink it slowly, not wanting to choke. I hand him the cup back.

“You really gave us a scare.” He says, looking at his hands. I look at him and sigh.

“I’m sorry. Damn Rapt came out of nowhere and then my gun jammed—“ Max looks up and there’s tears in his eyes. I shut my mouth and lean forward and pull him into a hug. He hugs me tight, making sure he doesn’t hurt my side. I rub his back. I hear him chuckle and pull away, confused.

“Look at me, you’re the one that was at death’s door and I’m the one in tears.” He wipes his tears away.

“It’s okay to feel that way, though.” I reach for his hand, squeezing it. “How long have I been out?”

“Almost a week.”

“A WEEK?!” I gape.

“Rapt saliva is quite hard to work out of the bodies system. Plus Nyoka found some medication to keep you sedated so you wouldn’t try to move or do anything while healing.” Max said, sheepishly.

“I mean, that’s for the best. I would have wanted to go hunt down that rapt and show him whose boss.” I chuckle and lay back down. Max brushes hair out of my face and caress’ me.

 “Are we going to address the elephant in the room?” I ask. Sometime the direct approach is the best. Max’s face grows pink, but he nods.

“How long have you had the hots for your Captain, Preacher Man?” I say, smirking. Max rolls his eyes at the name, but is smiling.

“It’s hard to tell. It feels like I’ve known you for a lifetime. Your courage and confidence drew me in, but your good heart and honesty were the real kicker. I do hope that this doesn’t cause any issues with me being on this ship. I understand if you would like me to return to Edgewa—“ Max’s words were hushed when I kissed him.

I pulled away to see his expression. Max was wide eyed and speechless.

“Now Max, did it ever occur to that perhaps I may like you back? Perhaps Captain also had the hots for Preacher Man?” Max smiled and pulled me into another kiss. This one deeper. I rested my hand on the side of his neck, pulling him more into the kiss. I started to lean back onto the bed when Max pulled away, concern on his face.

“I don’t want us to get ahead of ourselves, you’re still healing, remember?”

“Max, I haven’t gotten laid in over 70 years.” I pleaded. Max seemed hesitant still.

“If anything hurts, we stop.” Max stated. I nodded excitedly and grabbed him by the collar of his robes and crashed my lips against his.

Max rested one hand on the bed for support and the other on my cheek, his legs still hanging off the side of the bed. I rested a hand against his chest and the other around his neck. His lips left mine and kissed down the side of my jaw, down to my neck. I groaned lightly, and Max pulled away.

“Did that hurt?” He asked, worried.

“Max, I was moaning.” I said, flatly. He whispered “Oh” and went back to kissing my neck. I smiled to myself. He was such a goofball.

I slowly dragged my hand down his chest, down to his stomach, and then to the front of his pants. I rubbed his hard on through his pants. At that point he had stopped kissing my neck and was panting into my shoulder. I used my other hand and guided him back to my mouth so we could continue kissing. The kiss was very deep, as if he was trying to distract himself from me palming him through his pants.

Max’s free hand snaked its way up my shirt and started to massage my chest, rubbing my nipple with his thumb. I opened my mouth at the sudden feeling and Max pulled my lower lip into his mouth.

At this point, I just wanted to make Max feel good and loved, so I decided to unbutton the front of his pants and slide my hand into the front of his boxers. Max groaned when I ran my thumb over the tip, precum leaking out. Max slowly reached for my hand and pulled it away.

“I want to focus on you for a bit.” He said. He looked at me for approval to continue.

 “Yes, Vicar.” I said breathily, batting my eyelashes. I could see his eyes glaze over with what could only be pure lust. He pressed his lips to mine and devoured me. He now was fully on top of me, shoes kicked off, pants half way down his thighs.

His hand ran up my thigh and stroked my pelvic bone, making me shiver. He slowly traced the hem of my shorts, pulling them down and off, dipping his hand in. His finger traced along my slit, dipping in a finger. He growled lowly at how wet I already was.

“Is this all for me?” He asked, kissing my neck. I nodded.

“Use your voice, Darling.” He said.

“Yes,” I breathed out.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Vicar.” And with that, he began to massage my clit with such precise motions.

I cried out from how great it felt. I hadn’t been pleasured like this in so long. I wasn’t the most experienced, even when I was on Earth. Max inserting another finger brought me back from my thoughts. I held onto his arms, my head pressed back into my pillows. He moved my shirt up so that my chest was exposed and pulled my nipple into his mouth.

I was just a moaning mess soon after. Max would pump a few fingers in and out and then go back to massage my clit. I was so close. My first orgasm in over 70 years was highly anticipated. I pulled Max’s mouth back up to mine and moaned into his mouth as I rode his fingers through my orgasm.

Max rested his forehead against mine as I came down from my high. Orgasms were definitely the same as I remembered. I looked up at him through my half lidded eyes and I must have looked a mess.

“Perhaps we should stop.” Max said. The way I looked at him must have said it all as nodded.

I sat up and stood. Max tried to stand too but I pushed him back down so that he was on his back, me hovering over him.

“Your turn now.” I said. Max tried to protest but I kissed him, hand returning to his hard on. I palmed him through his boxers for a moment before slipping my hand in, stroking him.

He pulled down his boxers so I would have better access, and I gladly started to him a few more long strokes before I scooted down the bed.

Max’s eyes rolled back into his head when I licked a long strip up his dick. He gripped the bed sheets in his hand, white knuckled. I took him into my mouth and began to bob up and down. One hand found the back of my head and lightly gripped my hair. His hips began to press upwards as I would bob down. Max moaned as I ran a hand up and down his thigh.

“Darling, if we are to continue further, you must stop your beautiful movements.” Max said, clearly on the edge. I licked one last strip before looking at him. His hair was pressed to his forehead with sweat, cheeks flushed. He was so beautiful.

“If you don’t mind, I would prefer you be on the bottom, I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” He said. I shrugged and switched places with Max.

Max took his shirt off, and then mine. He was toned underneath his holy garb. I admired his body until he climbed on top of me and I looked at him. The way he looked at me took my breath away. I don’t think I’ve ever been looked at with such love.

He kissed me again as he rubbed himself along my slit. We both groaned at the feeling. He slowly entered me and I groaned loudly. He buried his head into my shoulder as he began to pump in and out of me slowly. The bed creaked with the movements, and I prayed that no one else was happening to be passing by my room. I’m sure everyone knew what was happening since Max had been gone so long now, but you didn’t need anyone to hear it.  

“Oh Law, you feel so amazing.” Max moaned into my ear. I ran my nails gently down his back. The sound of skin on skin filled the room.

“Oh, Vicar…” He was hitting all the right places. Something about being called Vicar was really turning him on. He started to thrust deeper, bottoming out. He began to kiss me again, while he snaked his hand between us and began to rub my clit.

I could feel another orgasm coming. His fingers were like magic.

I clenched around him, crying out again, moaning his name over and over.

Max began to pick up his pace, chasing after his own release.

He kissed me harshly as he came, painting my walls white. His thrusts were erratic as he came down.

He rested his head against mine as we breathed hard. He kissed my nose before pulling out, I could feel his cum leaking. He laid beside me and I cuddled into him. We stayed like that for a while before I spoke.

“So, what are we then?” I asked, suddenly nervous. I had definitely used for just sex before, but I didn’t care since I didn’t want to have a relationship. But now? I didn’t want to lose Max.

“If you’ll have me, Captain, I will be by your side until the end of my days.” Max said. I looked into his eyes to find sincerity. I cried for the first time in a long time. Max alarmingly held me and rocked me until I calmed down.

“Sorry, I just haven’t been like, loved for real, in a long time.” I said, embarrassed.

“It’s okay. I can’t wait to shower you with all the love you deserve.” Max said. The water works were about to happen again when a loud bang rang out in the room from the door. Max and I froze in place.

“Are y’all done in there? We have places to go and bits to earn!” Nyoka’s voice rang out.

“Nyoka! I just got laid for the first time in 70 years, give a bitch a break!” I yelled back. I could hear Nyoka groan in disgust and walk off.

“I suppose I should shower since I haven’t in a week.” I said, standing slowly, legs feeling like jelly. Max rose from the bed and kissed me.

“I think I better help you with that. Don’t want you to hurt yourself.” He winked, and now it was my turn to roll my eyes.  

[kadeu]

Accepted — Lee Junghee

♠️   Lee Junghee aka. Tomo looks like Kim Taeri (actor) ♠️   She was born June 07, 1993; making her 27 years old ♠️   This Human is Asexual  and a One of Spades ♠️   She is an Employee at Dragonfire Hotsprings

Biography

Lee Junghee is the child of Lee Donghyun and Choi Minkyung – both partaking in a middle-ranked, military-based lifestyle. SILENCE was what lingered around them more than often, wounds that would seemingly never heal decorating their hands. Since childhood, there was this constant FEAR tumulting in the back of the small girl’s head, words her mother had whispered; if they someday don’t make it home, please take care of the family’s assets and their HONOR. Young Junghee often just shook her head, tears in her eyes – those were things she did not want to consider or ever think about, if their lifestyle was this DANGEROUS, why didn’t they just stop? At least do it for her? Even throughout the years, the coldness towards her was just growing, she knew that her parents were exhausted, the most minuscule spark of joy had been EXTINGUISHED by their dedication to their rank and work. Something that Junghee just could not understand. Her father had come home injured more times than she could count, her small hands barely able to hold the alcohol-doused cloth to his wounds while her mother tried to ARGUE with him at the same time. In her father’s eyes, there was no way they were going to retire at their mediocre ranks, as he had called them. Though she was still too young to fully understand, Junghee was certain of one thing: There was no reasoning with her father – the man did WHATEVER he wanted, no matter if injured, dirty or poor.

And that was the quality she had earned from him. If everyone else was doing whatever they seemed as appropriate in their own minds, then Junghee could do the same. She did not see herself entering the military when she hit puberty, her age and hormones only putting more emphasis on her THICK-HEADED attitude. There was no way she was going to lose a leg to defend their position over the Joker or try to start fights with other factions when she did, in fact, not give a damn about any of that. From her side, there was no understanding of any of these military tactics and the rise to power, even though she should have been thankful having been born into the SPADES, if she had been slightly more unlucky with her free-spirited mind, she would have been DEAD long ago. And deep down, Junghee had taken note of that. It took many months of collecting rations, stealing useful items for survival and many hours of observation before she had taken the pen into her hands and had begun to write her APOLOGY to her parents. Until her 18 years of life, she had put off the enlistment, every year she had another excuse, most of the times being that she wanted to make sure she was healthy and mature enough to finally serve the Spades rightfully in their mission. And when there were no more excuses, she knew she had to take her way out as quick as possible.

Junghee made sure it was a working day when she decided to leave her youth behind. Parents asleep, she left them her letter on the bedside table, breakfast next to it – one LAST favor. Her soles hit the ground quickly, feet dragging her body along as fast and as far as possible, chest heaving with deep breaths as she ran away. Backpack filled with food, she knew she could make it the next few days.If you’d ask her where she had gone, she wouldn’t really know what to answer. Junghee was NAIVE, not knowing her surroundings, just WANDERING through dark alleyways, trying to keep her identity a secret. Her name was quickly ditched, adopting the name of TOMO, an old lady with crystal ball in her hand, living in an abandoned building had given her; she said it meant she was a SMART GIRL, and Tomo liked that. She kept the marking on her arm covered at all times, never trusted anyone who tried to act superior than her or tried to give her tips on how to survive. She didn’t need no know-it-alls in her life. Idiots.

Being a wanderer for many years, Tomo had found herself in more TROUBLE than she could have ever imagined, the muscles in her legs strong from running away from her problems over and over. Surprisingly, she encountered more than enough interesting personalities along the way, studying from them instead of listening to the authorities and learning what is right. Once-have-been-highrankers would indulge her into the seemingly ENDLESS stories about how everything would work, who would do what and how broken the entire the system was with PASSION. Soon enough, she knew how she could play the bureaucracy to her own gain. After all, everything was written down somewhere, that’s how others would write their HISTORY – but not if she fumbled with it. What had started out as shady-looking crumpled up papers that she had kept in her bag, quickly turned into entire stacks of neatly filled out paperwork that would be sent around the city and left in the mailboxes of important enough people.

Around the same time, at the age of 21, she had gotten herself into a fight with someone she probably shouldn’t have started a fight with in the first place. It had been a petty fight, something that Tomo could have avoided, but at the end of the night and the early morning hours, she had found herself SLUMPED over against a wall, holding her arm that had taken enormous fire damage. Not knowing what to do, she thought that this fight might be the end of her if she wouldn’t do anything to HEAL her wounds as soon as possible. However, that faithful morning, the owner of the Dragonfire Hotsprings had DRAGGED her in, and taken care of her in her feverish state. Even if time would tell otherwise, Tomo would swear she had been in a coma and had woken up to the most graceful and sophisticated woman she had ever seen in her life. To show her gratitude, Tomo agreed to work for her at the Hotsprings, keeping the place clean and in order, learning about the healing qualities of the waters and taking care of the customers.

Since then, she has rarely left the onsen, spending most of her time lost in books, forging documents and fulfilling the owners wishes.

Personality

Tomo is a very ROBUST person. She probably considers herself as the TOUGHEST human around due to having spent most of her life roaming around, lurking in the shadows and opposing herself to any sort of threat that was coming her way. She is INDEPENDENT and CAREFREE, she does not mind anyone’s business unless she is trying to ruin their reputation or going through their personal letters she just happened to come by… 

Tomo is SECRETIVE about her identity and doesn’t like giving out her real name. She’s very VOCAL about her wants and thoughts, and will not hesitate to call someone out if she thinks they are behaving oddly. Even being a serf, she does not care about her rank at all, she sees everyone as being the same idiots. Due to this nature, she can be quite HOT-HEADED, always ready for a confrontation and she usually thinks of others as LESSER THAN HER, unless they prove themselves to be honest and trustworthy to her. On most days, she is quite IMPULSIVE and does not think about consequences to her actions too much, she just rather does things however she feels like. 

In correlation to people she trusts, she is a RELIABLE FRIEND, even if honest work is NOT her thing. she often slacks off in secret and will treat herself to any services they’d offer the high-rankers in the middle of the night IN SECRET. All-in-all she is quite SMART at what she does and how she organizes her life. 

Factions are something she does not care about at all, she will treat everyone equally, in the most neutral way possible, unless they show any sort of disrespect towards her. She will SUBCONSCIOUSLY prefer to interact with lowrankers as they seem more relatable, but she also enjoys playing around with highrankers just to annoy them. 

Congratulations Laura your app has been accepted and your personalized plot drop will be sent to you soon

Please follow and welcome @tomokadeu to Kadeu!

[docholligay]

The Time Traveler’s Bullshit

@katrani comissioned me to write out my full review of The Time Traverler’s Wife, my most hated book of the year thus far, and I feel like it won’t be dethroned. nearly 3,000 words and I skipped a whole section I was going to write about, ENJOY

Three dollars and ninety nine cents will buy you a Big Mac. It will buy you four hours of downtown parking in my city. Three dollars and ninety-nine cents will buy you a latte made with burnt coffee at Starbucks. For Three dollars and ninety-nine cents, I can get a can of terrible beer and have a dollar left over for tip. All of which would have been a better choice than what I ultimately spent that three dollars and ninety-nine cents on, which was this book. 

I am careful to read hyped books out of their time, so that I’m not influenced by something that has been so lauded no book could ever hope to reach those heights. So when this first came around, and I saw many women talking about how much they had loved it, I figured I would just read it later. I buy books used, so this is generally what I do even outside of worrying about being affected. 

I finally picked this book up after a reader of mine told me it reminded them of my writing. 

After reading it, several years after all the hype, I have one question: Are women who fuck men okay? 

(“Why not just straight women, Doc?” you may rightly ask me, and I, unfortunately, am forced to answer that I know a number of bisexual women who also enjoyed this book, leading me to believe that the trouble is far worse than previously imagined.)

I found this book to be borderline insulting, and if I didn’t know any better, I would have claimed this book was written by a man. The entire way through I felt the constant assault of the idea that this reminded someone of ME. What have I been doing wrong all my life, I asked? I should probably give up writing. 

Let’s go into the book itself!

The core of the novel hinges around the idea that Henry goes through time without wanting to and with no consious conrol, and so in a sense lives his life out of order. This is a fascinating idea but for the fact that book’s main hinge is the relationship between Clare and Henry. 

Who Henry meets, as an adult out of time, when she is six. 

And proceeds to groom her to be his wife someday. 

Oh, it isn’t put that way, of course, it’s simply that they end up married and so, I suppose the author might say, it’s only natural that Henry interact with her when he comes the “the Meadow” nearby where she lives. But this sort of “things are already decided” that the author is extremely fond of does not remove this intensely squicky framework from their relationship. Henry begins with Clare when she is six years old, and it comes on VERY fast that they are supposed to get married. She is at a sleepover, still as a literal child, ELEVEN YEARS OLD, when the Ouija board spells out his name as the boy who likes her. 

The book takes pains to describe how he won;t have sex with her until she’s 18, but how difficult it is for a thirties to forties man not to have sex with her when she’s 15, 16, 17. I want to say there might be a part where he describes it when she’s 14, but I can’t find it in the book right now, so we’ll pretend it’s not there. “But they’re married in the furute!” one might say, listen if my wife had to resist having sex with sixteen year old me, and didn’t see me as a fucking child, I would think she was gross. It’s gross for a thirty-something to forty -something dde to struggle not to fuck a teenager, period, end of story. 

All of this is wrapped in the book’s idea that this is romantic, instead of the idea that Clare’s “date with destiny” is tragic. She doesn’t ever have a boyfriend, because she is “waiting for Henry”. She sleeps with one of Henry’s friends before he and Clare ever officially “meet” and bursts into tears because she feels as if she has been unfaithful. Meanwhile, Henry is out having girlfriends like no one’s business, and “Well Doc he doesn’t know” why is Clare the one who has to bear this arranged marriage? 

Clare herself even alludes to the way she’s being groomed to be the woman he wants in a way that I DO NOT THINK the author intended, as the author is desperately wrapped up in the idea that this is sexy and romantic and not deeply fucking unsettling. 

Pretentious-ass Henry is dropping German into a casual conversation with a thirteen year old so that you know he is learned and cool, and explain that it’s from Rilke, one of their (note: Not your, but OUR) favorite poets. 

Clare responds: “You’re doing it again!” 

“What?” 

“Telling me what I like.” Clare burrows into my lap with her feet. Without thinking I put my feet on her shoulders, but then that seems too sexual, somehow, and I quickly take Clare’s feet in my hands again and hold them together with one hand in the air as she lies on her back, innocent and angelic with her hair spread nimbus-like around her on the blanket. (Sidebar: I can only fucking imagine that the sort of people that are into this are the sort of people who think nothing at the idea of some Victorian gentleman marrying his attractive young ward, as apparently there’s no problem with having seen someone as a child and then having them marry you! It’s not deeply fucked up at all!)  …..

“Henry?” 

“Yes?”

“You are making me different.” 

“I know.” 

These brief asides are meant to make us feel that Henry has done enough to assuage his guilt, that we are meant to forget that what he is doing is wrong. The book goes so far as to have sixteen year old Clare be the aggressor with a 37 or so year old Henry, as a way of trying to tell us, “Oh look none of this can be Henry’s fault” and an absolutely cringeworthy section where Henry goes and beats up a kid who took Clare on a date and proceeded to assault her. (She dates him to prove she’s not a dyke wow what a great book and thank you for reminding us that Clare never wants to see anyone else for her own sake even as a teenager, very healthy)

All of which would make me a hell of a lot more mad if I managed to like Clare even a little bit. But it’s not at all surprising that I don't--Clare is hardly a character in this story so much as she’s a cardboard cutout that exists for Henry. 

Each of her desires and thoughts revolves around him, from the time she’s a child, save for minor pouting incidents when Henry either won’t tell her something, or disagrees with her. But she always caves, but for the exception of having a child, another horrible thing we’re meant to feel sorry for them in, but I, at least, never really do, as they know the problem, they know how horribly Henry’s life has been affected, and yet they persevere. I find myself asking why in the fuck they don’t use donor sperm, but I suppose that would not fulfill Clare’s real use as being Henry’s vessel. It might have been very touching to write about their experience of infertility if they were likeable at all, or the chapters were anything but flat and emotionless despite dealing with really high-emotion topics. It’s essentially Clare saying “I want a baby inside me” and having a series of miscarriages. I’ve read more compelling narratives on online message boards. 

Not to mention when Henry suggests adopting and Clare says “That would be pretending” bitch fuck ALL THE WAY OFF. I repeat: WE ARE MEANT TO LIKE THIS CHARACTER. NOTHING ABOUT HER IS SHOWN AS A NEGATIVE. 

A fair amount of time in the book is spent describing how hot Clare is, and it’s a bit cringey to read about a super hot redhead with great tits and also rich, who’s a visual artist, and then flip to the back and see a redheaded visual artist as the author. It’s not that I don’t believe that authors are ever allowed to find themselves in a character, quite the contrary, but one hopes that there would be a level of detachment or at least plausible deniability. But no, Clare is nothing but wish fulfillment for the author, but unfortunately cannot fulfill any of ours. I get the sense that these characters are far more complex and layered in Niffenegger’s head, but they fall completely flat on the page, sketches of annoying human beings. 

Clare seems to have been raised in an Austen novel, where the home is noted for its architecture and we ‘dress for dinner’ which could be intensely compelling if they ever went anywhere with it. But we don’t. Because of course Clare’s raising in a straightlaced, extremely wealthy family has no affect on her and she is a very cool girl who is laid back and likes the right music and poetry. (Sidebar: The name dropping in this novel is SO TIRESOME. Every band, artist, poet, etc has to be named and identified so your are aware of how absolutely well-read and smart and cool Niffenegger is) 

The we’re meant to feel for Henry when her family finds out that he is half-Jewish which I suppose is meant to be shocking when he doesn’t practice or isn’t different in any marked way from her family? The character has no Jewishness in him but as a side note and dare I say for shock value. Her family isn’t even written as believably against the union, as no one can resist super cool hipster protag Henry DeTamble (Even his name sounds INSUFFERABLE) 

The problem, of course, is that the very wealthy can buy their way out of many problems, meaning that an author has to have a particular deftness of hand in order to make you feel something for them. This is not that author. Any sympathy one might have for Clare goes immediately out the window when she’s complaining about having only a small room for a studio in which to create, while she’s living off the INTEREST from her trust fund, and hiring a cleaning service because neither of them is willing to vacuum. Not her trust fund. The INTEREST from her trust fund, which means there must be so much fucking money in there we all want to scream. 

Of course, Henry goes into the future and wins the lottery so they can give her a new studio, I shit you not this is a thing that happens in a novel where we are supposedly meant to identify with the characters and feel for them. They buy a nice house with a separate studio in the backyard, not even in the house, just a large brick edifice where Clare can do whatever she wants because these people don’t have consequences until Henry’s death, and by the time he dies, we’re all thanking God that at least there’s one thing they can’t weasel out of. The book has the audacity to have them, later, describe having a private box as one of their “little indulgences” friends a private box is the realm of $1,800 dollars for ONE showing of an opera, and while I am a believer in the good of occasionally saving up to do something that is an experience, there is no way I would describe that as an ‘indulgence” but these people have such wealth that they never need worry about anything at all, except the central point, which is that Henry drifts in and out of time and we would like to sentence a child to that. 

Henry himself is a collection of traits rather than a person--it is so important to the author that we know he is a real punk with great musical taste, that he knows German and poetry and Chicago--it’s all rather a laundry list of the long-haired, tall, punkish but very classically learned boyfriend Niffenegger would like to have rather than someone who has a heart or a mind.  But the luck of it all is that she clearly cares about henry far more than she does Clare, and so he gets a bit of fleshing out with a tragic anime backstory and all that, and from time to time we see bursts of real humanity in his character. 

Their love, even if it were not burdened by the exceptional trouble of CLARE BEING GROOMED AS A CHILD, has the weight of air. Henry is a womanizer with a drug problem, but then he meets Clare, hot rich redhead who proves she’s known him her whole life, and suddenly the magic swelling violins are in the background, love has found its day, and no more is ever said about it.The book refuses to get anywhere deep into how they feel about things and why, it is only glancing blows that seem to suggest an emotion rather than allowing ourselves to get into their minds.  

The bulk of the description of their love is sex. Sex sex sex. I get it, they are hot for each other, I am trying very hard to get over the fact that they are married when Clare is 22 and Henry is thirty, but you’re giving me nothing to pin their relationship on but the fact that they enjoy railing each other and Henry has been around since Clare was a child. I don’t understand the why of their relationship even once, it all seems so accidental, and I wanted there to be a lesson, or something to be said about humanity and relationships, but I found nothing save for maybe the idea that women are fully engrossed in their relationships and men basically luck into them and then drop out from time to time? But even that is far far deeper than I think the novel deserves credit for. 

The side characters are somehow worse, mainly racist stereotypes or one note characters who ALSO exist to have their lives enhanced by the protagonists. Even their friends only exist so that Gomez can have the hots for Clare for years, because Everyone Wants To Bone Clare. 

The writing itself is terrible too, written in the style of a script, almost, rapidly shifting between first person narratives in a matter of one or two paragraphs, often, helpfully telling who is talking by, I shit you not, putting “CLARE:” or “HENRY:” before the paragraphs, so we can enjoy who it is that is navel gazing and picking over the conversation without saying anything really, save for how badly Henry wants to fuck his super hot wife, who may or may not currently be a teenager, and how desperately Clare loves him, and has loved him since she was a child, for reasons that remain unclear. 

It’s padded out and ridiculous and reads like some of the drafts when I am being a complete garbage pile, and thank you to the person online who had already typed this out so I didn’t have to:

Henry:

Clare is wearing a wine-colored velvet dress and pearls. She looks like a Botticelli by way of John Graham: huge gray eyes, long nose, tiny delicate mouth like a geisha. She has long red hair that covers her shoulders and falls to the middle of her back. Clare is so pale she looks like a waxwork in the candlelight. I thrust the roses at her. "For you."

Please try to read that with a straight face and get back to me, i could not manage it, and it was early on the book, and this sort of thing goes on for pages, if you don’t like hearing about how pale Clare is, and that she has red hair, her two most dominating character traits, you are in for a very, very rough time. 

The narrative voice of the characters is identical. I mean, I suppose I should thank whatever god is responsible for this clusterfuck for the CLARE and HENRY bits because otherwise I would have no clue who was talking from moment to moment. Does NIffenegger think all people think alike? That their internal monologues are the same? It seems to me she must because I can’t figure any other way that one could write two characters and have them, even when their opinions differ, sound like the exact same person. 

I did enjoy the letter at the end of this story--and this is where I saw where my reader connected me to this book--it almost seems as if it was written for a different novel, a novel about a doomed love between two people that truly loved each other and had rich inner lives. It’s beautiful, or it would be totally removed from this novel. 

This review has, in itself, gotten to be as rambling and listing as the novel, and so I will let it rest here. I read incredibly fast. This took me something like five or six hours to read. It was a waste of every single one of those hours and I wish I had gotten a Big Mac instead. Save yourself, save six hours, save three dollars and ninety-nine cents, and read literally anything else. 

[shannygoatgruff]

My Brother’s Keeper - Chapter V

Genre: Psychological Thriller

Characters: Modern Ivar X Modern Hvitserk

Rating: MA 18+

Overall Warning:  Dark story told from an emotionally distributed person’s POV with graphic and sadistic material including rape, terror, torture, kidnapping, drug use, slash, implied incest, necrophilia, and insecurity. Heavy trigger warnings.  

Chapter Warning: Angst, talk of violence, drug use

Summary: Mama always said to be their brothers’ keeper. Now there is absolutely nothing these two won’t do for each other.  Boys will be boys…

Chapter V

I can't figure out why I'm so edgy today.  For all intents and purposes, I should be pretty fucking happy.  I had a great time last night.  I slept well, took a good shit this morning, and had a delicious breakfast with Ivar.  Instead of pancakes, today, he made French toast.  I was thoroughly impressed.  

I even worked on a few things in the basement while I waited for Thora’s morning classes to be done.  I meant it last night when I told her I wanted to spend the day with her today. I just wish that I was in a better mood now.  ‘Cause right now, everything is annoying the fuck out of me.  

Sometimes, I can’t stand how childish Thora is.  I mean, she’s a grown-ass woman, so why does her room look like a five-year-old’s?  Everything in here is a hideous shade of pink.  Stupid fucking unicorns, teddy bears, and little porcelain things decorate her shelves and her bed is always perfectly made up with a fluffy pink and white comforter. It’s just all so…innocent. 

I shouldn’t be all that surprised – her room reminds me of her.  Sweet…girly…fucking perfect, just like her. It’s fucking sickening. Sometimes everything I love about her, the fact that she’s so different from the people I like to party with is the one thing about her that drives me fucking insane.  

I need to get out of this room and get some air before I break every fucking thing in here. 

I walk out of her dorm and outside into the chilly afternoon.  The autumn breeze is cool on my face and helps me focus on something other than my uneasiness.  It’s so crisp out here, today.  Believe it or not, this is my favorite time of year to party.  I don’t know what it is about the fall, but people seem to be out more than they are in the spring or the summer.  Maybe it’s the wonderful colors of the season or the smell of the decaying leaves?  Whatever it is, people seem to come out in droves and I’m fucking here for it.  There are so many more adventurous people that are willing to party this time of year, it gets my blood racing.

Jesus, am I still thinking about partying?  Normally, the day after Ivar and I go out, I just concentrate on being with my girl.  Being with her helps me put my life back in perspective. She’s my reminder of what my other life is going to be like when I get this hunger under control.  She helps dull the cravings for a few more days before the gnawing starts again and I need to feed it.  I know I’ve been wanting to party more often than I usually do, but it’s never been the next day.  Being around her is supposed to help me forget about it.  

But, right now it’s not working.  

I need to get myself together because when I’m with Thora, she depends on me to take care of her.  I do for her what Ivar does for me.  Besides giving me something else to concentrate on other than finding the next one, when I’m with her, I just want to comfort her. Especially, since she cries a lot. She's like a little girl that's not in control of her emotions. Whether she's happy, sad, or scared, the tears are the same. I know it sounds weird, but I like when she cries. I think it’s because I can usually make it all better. At least, I'm so busy trying, that partying doesn't cross my mind…not a lot anyway. 

Today, though, I can’t comfort a damn soul.  Not with my heart about to jump out of my chest.  This fucking anxiety is overwhelming. I had fun last night so I shouldn't even want to again this soon.

I should be able to ignore this. It's not like I can't function without it. It's more irritating than anything, like a constant nagging. I like I can hear it calling me from far away, but it's getting louder by the minute. I bet it was because I had to rush last night. I was so busy trying to finish before that guy died and shitted on me that I finished too quickly.  That’s got to be the reason.  That is exactly why I  hate rushing.

If we go out tonight I'm gonna do it slowly; take my time and do it right. I'm going to do everything I want and I won't give myself a time limit. That's the only way to make my palms stop sweating and get my heart to stop beating like I’m running a goddamn marathon. Yeah, going slow will make it better. It has to because I hate this feeling.

I reach my forefinger and thumb into the small change pocket of my jeans and retrieve the two pills there.  Without hesitation, I pop the two Klonopin in my mouth before taking a healthy sip from my water bottle.  I wish I had something stronger. That reminds me that Ivar and I need to visit that guy he knows across town to reup on party favors.  What kind of hosts would we be if we didn’t keep libations to put our guests in the mood?  We’ve really been slacking, lately.  I know for at least the past week, I haven’t been all that impressed with our selection.  I’ve just been reaching in the bottom of the bowl and using whatever I pick up.  I haven’t been properly stoned in at least 5 days.  This shit is amateur hour. But, it’s better than nothing to take the edge off. 

My hand shakes as I bring that guy’s lighter to the end of my cigarette, but it stops as soon as the taste of menthol enters my mouth. My lungs open up, clouding with thick smoke and a sudden calm washes over me. My eyes close on their own as the head rush takes over. It's not as good as I’ll feel when these pills kick in, but it'll do for right now.

Thora’s arms come around my waist and I roll my head over to look at her. She looks like she's worried about me. I have been a little quiet today, and there's no good explanation I can give her. She just thinks I'm not feeling well.

I'm not.

"You okay?" Her lips poke out in a pout as she rests her chin on my arm. She can't see the bruise on my shoulder under my long sleeve shirt, but it hurts. I think it happened carrying the blonde from the front seat to the warehouse. It was hard to maneuver him from the way he was sitting in the car to draping him over my shoulder. I must have bumped up against the car door or something because now I have a huge bruise.

Trying not to flinch, my arm comes around her shoulder and I pull her closer to me. "Fine." For the most part that's true. I do feel better holding her, I just don’t know long this reprieve will last.

"Let's go for a walk." She grabs my hand and I follow behind her. 

My lips start to turn up into a smirk and Thora turns to me and smiles. I feel a little twinge of guilt because she thinks my look is about her.  Honestly, I’m thinking about the fact that her campus is crawling with people that I could party with. If Ivar were here right now, we'd have a fucking field day. There are so many bored people around just looking to have fun. We could have our pick of them and show them the best time. There no telling some of the shit we could get to if we just let our imaginations run wild.

As the leaves crunch under my feet, I watch the way Thora kicks them with each step she takes. She's so graceful and childlike; she's going to make the perfect mother for my children. This hobby is just that, a hobby. I don’t understand how Ivar can doubt my decision.  Watching the impish way Thora moves, the concerned way she stares, the careful way she worries about me, I know that when this over it'll work out with us. She's exactly the transition I need from this phase of life to my next one.

She loves me and I think I love her. At least that's what I tell myself all the time. I love that I'm going to marry her and that she's going to raise my children. I love that she's so innocent and that she knows that I won't hurt her. I love the way she needs me. That means I love her, right? It doesn't matter really. I will love the life that I'm supposed to have with her.

Her hand grips mine tighter as we approach the people standing in the middle of the quad. Something is off. They're all huddled around one guy, hanging on his every word, whispering to each other, shrugging, and offering sympathy every now and again. Thora's arms wrap around mine and her head leans on my shoulder like she's feeling their pain. "His boyfriend didn't come home last night," she says quietly to me.

I look from her worried blue eyes to the blue-green eyes of the dark-haired man standing there. His red-rimmed eyes are swollen from crying and yet look sunken in on his pale face.  The look of terror in his eyes is reminiscent of the way Thora looks when she talks about Ivar. He's petrified and for some reason, my stomach starts to drop because of it.

The toe of my Doc Marten creates a small hole in the ground as I twist my foot to extinguish the cigarette. I can't stop staring as Thora moves to stand in front of the tall, brunette. She must know him.  Looking at her face, I can tell she’s feeling his pain.  It's enough to make me want to hurt him so he can stop hurting her. 

"Kalf, still no word?"

Fresh tears spring to Kalf’s eyes when he shakes his head. "We fought last night.” He uses his entire hand to wipe the tears running down his face, “A few people said they saw him dancing at Danger, but then he just disappeared.”  His voice starts to crack with each word as his fear starts to get the better of him, “We fight all the time, but he always comes home. He hasn't called or anything. Erlendur always calls."

"Maybe he just needs time to get his head together." My voice comes out soft and unsure. I don't even know why I spoke. 

When Thora's teary eyes turn in my turn in my direction, my throat starts to close.

Erlendur. This Erlendur is the guy from last night, he has to be. He was the one at Danger. He was the one that talked about his boyfriend with Ivar as we walked to the car. 

Shit! His name was Erlendur. He wasn't just the blonde tramp that we met at a club, but a kid; a college student with a boyfriend and friends, including my girl. He had a real-life like he was a real person. Why the fuck did he have to be real? He was just supposed to be a good time, not a person with a life outside of that moment.

By the time I open my eyes and steady myself on my feet, Thora's arms are around me again. I can't stand to be around her right now. Those innocent blue eyes are tearing into me at a level like I've never known before. Thora is hurting and it's because of me. She's worried about her friend because of something I did. I'm supposed to be the one to protect her and I've done just the opposite. 

Kalf's concerned eyes for Erlendur are exactly how Thora's eyes cloud over with concern for me. "Hvitserk? Are you alright?"

My head shakes as I try to keep myself from throwing up. "I don't feel so hot. I'm gonna take off." I offer her a smile to keep her calm, but she doesn't seem to be convinced by it. Her forehead is warm on my lips and her body is soft in my arms, but this is all I can give her right now. The guilt is like molten lava creeping up my neck. I know my cheeks are turning red and the pounded in my head lets me know right away that this isn't going to end well. "I'll call you later." 

Turning to Kalf, I stuff my hands in my pockets and refuse to meet his eyes. "I hope your friend turns up soon."

I barely manage to get around the building before I bend at the waist and try to catch my breath. I hate to hyperventilate. My hands rest on the top of my thighs as I try to control my breathing. I'm almost gulping in the air but it isn't helping. The only thing it's doing is making my throat burn and my lungs feel like they're going to explode. 

"Fucking, Erlendur. Motherfucker." Muffled curses pour from my lips, while I stumble my way to the car door. The wheezing in my chest doesn't stop, but it slows when I focus my attention on the fact that that fucker had a fucking name. 

I don't give a fuck about him or what we did to him. It does bother me though that the people he left behind are worried. They have no idea how we partied with him. They don't know that my face was the last one he saw before he stopped breathing altogether. Would Thora cry if she knew that Ivar beat him and skinned parts of his body? Would she be devastated if she knew that his skull was probably cracked when I slammed his head on the table repeatedly? Would it break her heart to know that we set him on fire and stood around to watch his body burn?

I can't hurt Thora. She needs me and I did this to her. I can't handle knowing that.

I don't know how I make it home, but when I look up, I'm already barefoot and climbing the stairs. 

I feel sick, shaky... confused. I don't know what to do. The only thing I can do is open Ivar's door and close it quietly behind me. He's taking a nap, but he must have heard me come in because his head rises from his pillow right before he pulls back his covers. 

My movements are slow, but I manage to make it to his bed and tuck myself in close to him. "Erlendur. His fucking name was Erlendur." My voice cracks while I try to catch my breath. "He was real, Ivar. He had a name and a life and friends, and…"

"Shhhh, baby.  It's alright." His voice is a gentle whisper and his safe arms wrap protectively around me. He lovingly rubs my back while rocking me softly, "I'm here, Serk."

Nodding my head against his chest, I feel the tears slip from my eyes. "Make it better." This is where I need to be. “Hold me tight.”  I just need to be in his arms and let him protect me as only he can. "Promise me you won’t let me go."

His warm lips kiss the tears falling from the corner of my eye before he presses them to my forehead, “Never,” I feel him whisper against my skin.  

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[hippriestess]

Part 4 - I’ve Been Duped...

It was to be expected that some of those who brought us some of the less essential Fall releases would also respond to Smith's death. One of worst was the first to arrive and it came from perennial recyclers Secret Records; a repackaging of 10 live tracks from the 2002 “A Touch Sensitive” DVD – already reconfigured multiple times – on an LP titled, and this absolutely beggars belief, “Best Of” and credited to “The Fall & Mark E Smith”, a credit never once used on a release in Smith's lifetime (a few gig posters, yes but never a record). Released just 3 months after Smith's death for about £18-20, this received the derision it deserved and, judging from the number of copies for sale on Discogs and their current asking prices, it appears to have sold just a little more than fuck all.

But even this was overshadowed come March 2019 when Ozit/Dandelion released what has to be The Worst Fall Release Ever. Pressed into horrid orange vinyl, the contents of “Mark's Personal Holiday Tony Tapes” were staggeringly poor. Proudly labelled as “Non-Record-Store-Day Release” (was it turned down?) the record boasted just 8 tracks. The album tried to elide its rotten contents by calling all the tracks “Mark's Personal Holiday Tony Tapes”. Track 1 was a 6 minute version of “Last Nacht” from “I Am Kurious Oranj”. The released track doesn't actually feature within the 6 minutes so this is probably an outtake and therefore probably not owned by Beggars Banquet. There is a drop out lasting several seconds that has gone uncorrected and it's about 4 minutes longer than it needs to be, confirming the brevity of the version used in 1988 to be bob on. Tracks 2, 4, 6 and 8 are live tracks from 1981, all of which had already been released on the otherwise unimpressive “Northern Cream” DVD. What is barely credible is that tracks 3, 5 and 7 are also “Last Nacht” but not further alternates, rather being Track 1 cut into 2 minute pieces and simply repeated! Did they think we wouldn't notice?! Utterly awful, thoroughly exploitative and an absolute disgrace. They also stumped up a 30 minute DVD of MES being interviewed. This bore the thoroughly unappealing title “30 Minutes On A Manchester Slag Heap”. I only ever saw this for sale on eBay but a couple of clicks confirmed that it was Ozit/Dandelion product being sold by them through that channel. The cover was of a slag heap rather than of MES. Enough said.

OK, let's tidy up, what's next?

The immediate future sees 2 vinyl releases in the August “drop” of the now-staggered, socially-distanced RSD2020; a double LP of “[Austurbæjarbíó] - Reykjavík Live 1983” on the now inevitable splatter vinyl and a single LP of  “Cerebral Caustic” on multi-coloured “bonkers” (their word, absofuckinglutely not mine) splatter vinyl because of course it is. That's all for RSD this year, a move which represents far better judgement by the organisers. A studio album out of print on vinyl for 25 years and a properly sought after live release on the format for the first time? Yeah, that fits well with what RSD was meant to be back when we all queued up for a “Bury Pts 2 + 4” 7” in 2010.

Now, a fun wee question mark was raised over “CC” when the RSD website credited the release to Demon rather than Cherry Red. It appears Demon have the Permanent Records catalogue and have also announced clear vinyl reissues of “The Infotainment Scan”, “Middle Class Revolt”, “The Twenty-Seven Points” and, perhaps most interestingly, “The Post Nearly Man”, all on clear vinyl with expanded artwork from Pascal LeGras. It looks as though these are coming in under the £20 mark (£25 for T27P) and I reckon they'll be popular – I fancy nabbing MCR and TPNM myself. A bit of a downer that all of these, except, oddly, “The Post Nearly Man” were recently rescheduled from September 2020 to January 2021 but hey ho – probably Covid-related, much like everything else.

As for Cherry Red, whilst one report had it that “Are You Are Missing Winner” was next, they are finally releasing a 3CD/2LP edition of “Imperial Wax Solvent” in October. This includes the much-discussed original mix by Grant Showbiz and a previously unavailable live set from shortly after the album's original release. This is, basically, exactly what we wanted. Hurrah! Can't wait.

Thanks to the speculation re: AYAMW, there was a little disappointment in come quarters and I can certainly see a healthy audience for a straight single LP pressing of that as it was only ever available on a picture disc vinyl before. Here's hoping they won't go for a double splatter vinyl with unnecessary extras (“Where's The Fuckin' Taxi? Cunt” on vinyl? Come on, SPARE US).  

To yr present authors surprise, an expanded edition of “The Frenz Experiment” was announced for release by Beggars Banquet/Arkive in October. I had reckoned a new vinyl edition was likely as it was the only studio album on BB not yet afforded a new pressing and the addition of a second LP with various singles tracks was no surprise either, given that there are similar packages available for “TWAFW”, “TNSG” and “Bend Sinister”. A very pleasant surprise however is the inclusion of the group's Janice Long session from 1987, their only unreleased Radio 1 session. Also, “A Day In The Life” has been licenced for the this also (it was the only studio recording from the era missing from “5 Albums”). The Long session and “...Life” are only on the CD version. As such, this release very much follows the pattern of the “Bend Sinister” reissue from 2018 and is likely inspired by the near ecstatic reception and healthy sales that release enjoyed. Nice that the CD edition is £12 this time, having been more like £22 for “Bend Sinister”.

Let Them Eat Vinyl are responsible for the illustration...they are planning an almost ludicrous onslaught of Fall vinyl. Their website currently lists an almost unbelievable THIRTY ONE Fall LP releases for the three months running September to November. Thirty-one. Now – this includes “Interim” which is already on the shelves but it also includes the “Live From The Vaults” releases. It was assumed from the inclusion of two of these on Cherry Red's “Dragnet” 3CD box that these were part of the Fall Sound Archive deal that MES cut with CR in the years before his death which makes this a bit interesting. Also, LTEV are also claiming they will release “The Post-Nearly Man” on vinyl in October, which clashes with Demon's schedule – they originally had Smith and The Fall's albums for Permanent Records releases slated for reissue in September but all except TPNM have been moved. Meanwhile, “Cog Sinister” are about to release TPNM on CD! After being unavailable and highly prized for 2 decades, we're now set for 3 separate reissues within 2 months!  Anyway, the vast majority of the remaining LTEV are discs from the 2 “sets of ten (really eleven)” although also included are the excellent “I Am Pure As Oranj” and the first vinyl edition of “The Light User Syndrome” since its original release in 1996. Caveat Emptor, as the saying goes.

Narnack are also hinting that a 3LP “Fall Heads Roll” isn't too far off. Having teased this for a couple of years, Early in 2020, it was announced that the label was folding. This announcement was deleted and Narnack immediately moved on to asking fans to suggest what additional material could be added to this new version. Never one of their best, there would have to be some impressive outtakes to persuade yr persent scribe to cough up.  

Elsewhere, Phonogram have yet to succumb to new vinyl pressings of their albums, despite the prices fetched on the collectors market for these, especially “Code-Selfish”. This may be partly due to what seems to have been a relatively low take-up for their 6CD box set from 2017. Titled “The Fontana Years”, this was just the 2CD editions of the three albums from 2007 in a box. It therefore looked weak next to the “Singles 1978-2016” box set as well as providing nothing attractive to the faithful who already had them. It hit the shelves at £35-40 a time and, unsurprisingly, remained there and can now be scored for around £20.

The much requested expansion of “The Real New Fall LP” with the original, very different mix of the album has yet to appear. At last count, contractual wrangles between the UK and US were said to be in the way but who knows? If “Levitate” can reappear, surely this can too.

Of course, we never know what else the less-salubrious end of the market will have for us but we shall approach with due caution.

The cold reality: what we get now is all there is. Mark E Smith now exists for Fall fans on paper, on magnetic tape, on vinyl and in combinations of 0 and 1. A sad fact. But it is clear that the appetite for The Fall is, if anything, increasing. Hindsight is presenting The Fall in a particularly clear light. In such a stylised, filtered and carefully marketed world, full of covert strategies and manipulative messaging, The Fall are reassuringly flawed, human, real. Their jagged edges, their constant state of flux, their DIY presentation and their disinterest in convention draws in the curious. The quantity of music suits an insatiable, want-it-all-and-now culture and, having made their albums for the vinyl format as well as bringing us so many magnificent 3-4 minute singles, their music is almost perfectly suited to today's market place where vinyl albums mix with song-by-song streams. People who love to write about music always loved The Fall and it seems that this is every bit as true today as it was in the days when we never had to wait any more than a few months for a missive of some sort, be it an album, a single, a Peel session or even just an entertaining interview.

Given that The Beatles – the most lauded rock/pop act of all time - have finally reached a generation to whom their blithe optimism means absolutely nothing, it is impossible to say how anything in music will be regarded 20 years from now. But for now, at least, The Fall endure. Their vibrations remain intense and powerful. And we, the people, dance to the waves.

Nine out of ten? Nah. Ten out of ten. Top marks.