#listen i noticed this detail when looking into stuff he literally cries out in pain when flashed...

[bonnies-bowling-alley]

I was reading some stuff and it's speculated that the sunglasses Monty wears might've been Bonnie's. It inspired a headcanon I have personally for Monty... Monty has Photophobia, which in short is an extreme sensitivity to light. So because of this Bonnie could have given Monty his sunglasses seeing how pained Monty gets around bright and flashing lights... Which is why Monty has them now, and when he lost them after being shattered...and Gregory flashes him with either The Fazerblaster or The Faz-Cam, Monty screams in pain compared to the other animatronic's who get blinded by either of these objects because of his light sensitivity...

I don't know I like to think Bonnie was kind to Monty when he was still around you know??

[unnerving-presence]

Hi I'm the anon that has send the request about the reader killing the killers, and I loved it!

Can I ask for a part two? Where the entity takes notice of how powerful the reader is and makes them her vessel of sorts, giving them powers and whenever Killers are misbehaving, she sends the reader to..... "teach" them a "lesson"

Same Killers please if you could 🥰

Wow I am so messed up

Of course :) I resisted the urge to elaborate on the readers power but the entity basically merged with them so they have the power of the entity in a way and they’re not as sympathetic so it’s easier for them to put the killers in their place

I love this concept so much I literally have to hold back from writing too much. if you couldn’t tell i love torturing the killers lmao

warning: graphic depictions of violence and gore. this is basically just torture stuff so if you are not comfortable with it please do not read!

Part 1

༒༒༒༒༒

Kazan Yamaoka/The Oni:

As brutal as you were, Kazan never expected the Entity to make you it’s servant. He hasn’t talked to you much ever since you’ve been restricted from going into trials, so the only way he would really know about you serving the Entity is if another killer told him, or if you had to punish him yourself.

For the first time in his life, he’s actually been afraid of someone. Nobody has been able to (alone) take him down. Now seeing as someone like you can? He’s not terrified, if anything he sees you as a little badass, but he does not want to get on your bad side.

He’s never seen you punish a killer, but he has seen the aftermath. The Hillbilly, better known as Max Thompson Jr., decided that he wouldn’t listen to The Entity, decided that he’d kill the survivors the way he wanted. All of them died too quickly for The Entity to feed on their fear, and she was not pleased. Needless to say that the poor man’s cries of pain could be heard for miles, and Kazan would never forget the way Max was desperately trying to keep his organs in place as he struggled to get back to his realm. You wouldn’t even give him the sweet release of death after you were done with him..

This is nothing like when the mob attacked, not even close. This was a new type of pain, pain that makes you wish you were dead. Kazan was never one to give up so easily, but in your grasp he feels so helpless. He doesn’t even have the energy to be angry anymore. He feels so vulnerable with his mask off, with his armor tossed to the side. His jaw is now broken, and his ribs feel like they’re going to snap at any second. You’ve barely started, and you’re already making him regret his actions in his last trial.

“I’m not going to kill you, but I am going to make it hurt.”

Michael Myers/The Shape:

At first, he doesn’t really seem to care that much. If he’s not the one in pain, it’s not really his problem. He still holds a bit of a grudge against you, meaning he stalks you, so he’s known since the start that you’re serving The Entity.

He’s surprised that you’ve gotten this far just from killing him, though he is a bit jealous. You don’t really scare him that much considering your small stature. If anything it’s kind of cute to him. Just a little thing like you running around and giving killers a little bonk on the head for not doing good in trials is a thought that almost makes him smirk. Of course those thoughts were before he’s seen you punish a killer. Now that he’s really seeing it in action, he understands why The Entity made you it’s servant. Though he is far from scared of you, he is a bit impressed at how the other killers feel a bit more uneasy when they see you pass by, some even fleeing to their own realms.

Michael can do almost anything he wants in The Entity’s realm without being punished. Hell, he even kills the survivors too fast for the Entity’s liking and comes back from a trial unscathed. Now with you by The Entity’s side, Michael isn’t as free as he used to be. Michael doesn’t know that however, and doesn’t really seem to care. Atleast he didn’t seem to care until he was the one in all those other killer’s shoes.

It’s been what seemed like hours and Michael looks like he’s on the verge of tears. With his own knife, you’ve managed to do quite a bit to him. His mask is removed, face terribly bruised with a nose bleed that seems like it could go on forever. He’s lost a couple fingers, and the remaining digits no longer have nails. His arms and chest are littered with large and small stab wounds alike, ones that you dig your fingers into when it seems like he hasn’t quite gotten the message that he isn’t in charge here. Michael’s vision occasionally blacks out, only to be woken up by a bash on the head with the handle of the knife. You’re not sure how much he can take, but you are sure that Michael will never forgive you for this.

Summoning a sharp tendril, you swiftly pierce it through Michael’s leg, waking him and receiving a loud grunt as he stares up at you with a tired but furious gaze.

“Wakey wakey Michael, I’m not quite done with you yet.”

Danny Johnson/Ghostface:

This man is so jealous. He was a killer way before you did anything special! Technically he does serve The Entity, but not in the way you do. Danny probably thinks you’re not all that since he’s probably still mad as shit that you embarrassed him like that.

He hears some of the killers talk about you like you’re a nightmare come true. Of course Danny calls it all bullshit and says you’re probably not as ruthless as they say you are. Honestly he just isn’t ready to accept that fact that you have more power over him than he does, and he’s not very fond of the fact that he can’t be an asshole to you anymore.

Danny has never heard nor seen you give one of the killers a lesson, but he has been given shockingly precise details on just what you can do to them. He’s never heard of a survivor having this much power over the killers. Well I guess he couldn’t call you a survivor anymore now, could he? Nonetheless he seems to forget that there are consequences for his actions, especially after a trial he didn’t do so well in.

Danny hasn’t known fear until this day. He displeased The Entity, and now he pays the price. He can no longer see, but he can feel. He can feel the way you pry his mouth open and slowly cut his tongue open. He can feel just how strong your bond is with The Entity, how much you’ve changed. His throat burns from how much he’s been yelling in agony. He coughs up blood as it travels into his lungs, making it more difficult to breathe by the second. It was already worse having you kill him in a trial when you were a survivor, now this torture?

“I love that look of despair on your face.”

Frank Morrison/The Legion:

As if you couldn’t get any scarier to him, now you’re serving The Entity. He hasn’t talked to you ever since you last saw each other so he really has no idea of what you’re doing with The Entity until somebody goes up and straight up tells him.

From what he’s recently heard, you’re now going around teaching killers not to displease The Entity? Sounds odd that all of this is happening in such a short amount of time but it doesn’t make it any less scary for him. He hates being scared, but knowing that if he tries doing things his way will get him punished makes him kind of worried as he tends to go a bit overboard in some of his trials.

His friends are lucky enough to not experience the horror of being tortured into submission, but they have been told what it feels like. He tries his best to comfort Susie and tells her that as long as she does things the way The Entity wants, she will be okay. Needless to say The Legion is very scared of you. Please go easy on them they’re only teenagers (except for Frank of course)

It was bound to happen someday. Frank got too angry at those pesky survivors and wasn’t thinking straight. Not even in a trial, he managed to kill 2 of them. He would learn soon enough that killing isn’t allowed outside of trials. The rest of The Legion are huddled up in a corner. Susie is sobbing into Joey’s chest as he slowly rubs her back, trying his best not to look at what’s going on in front of him. Julie can’t seem to look away, pure shock seeming to be the thing holding her still. Frank feels like all of his bones are on the verge of shattering. How is he even alive at this point? His organs aren’t in place, scattered across the hard wood floor, leaving a sour smell behind. The only thing keeping him up at this point is the hook that is impaled straight through his shoulder. He wants so badly to just die, but The Entity is the only thing keeping him alive at this moment. No matter how much blood you spill, it’s not over until The Entity says it’s over.

“Oh Frank, you know this is far from over..”

[kuroo-shitsurou]

Auxilium (College!Xiao x College!Reader)

TW: mentions blood, depression, anxiety

note: it's my first time writing and posting something on tumblr so im sorry if it's bad!! reader is gn hehe.

Late February was never a good time for Xiao.

It was the second month of the year; People were starting to adjust and adapt to the ever-changing and progressing timeline. Although, he never really understood the concept of the "New year, new me!" shtick. Humans make decisions that eventually shape their personalities. What does a new year have anything to do with that? Does a change in the year automatically make you a good person? Does it make you less of an asshole than you might already be? He never really understood.

He found it rather silly, actually. Whenever a new year rolls around, Xiao would mutter silent curses to himself because he'd write the wrong year on his papers. Other than that, there wasn't any significant changes he made in his daily routine. He was still the same Xiao; The same anxious, mildly depressed, and coffee-high art major Xiao.

Now, Xiao was a respected figure in their college (or at least, that's what he was told). He was one of the most talented artists at Tokyo University, and professors have been eyeing him for a scholarship overseas (he, along with his brooding and mysterious senior, Diluc). His keen eye for details always produce great results as most of his portraits are featured in the university's gallery of students' greatest works. Not to mention, one of his larger canvas works were displayed at the Tokyo Museum, making him one of the youngest artists to have their art showcased there.

Admittedly, Xiao was aware of how people admired his talent. Unfortunately, due to a rough childhood where his parents barely showed him any love and affection, he had trouble reflecting his true emotions onto other people. That's why other art majors often labelled him as a self-absorbed, egotistical prick.

Xiao was the last person you'd want to compliment. It's not that he'd be a dick about it or that he'd scowl at you and act as if he was better than you in every way possible. It wasn't like that at all. It's simply because Xiao doesn't know how to handle compliments. He'll still keep his stoic face, lips pressed in a straight line, but deep inside, he'd be flustered to bits. He'd try to internalize his reply, stitching together the right words to express his gratitude, but it would always take him a few minutes. The person who complimented him would've already left after he finally constructed the sentence in his head. Not that he wasn't used to it

This led to Xiao earning his current reputation, as stated earlier. He was already expecting the rest of his college years to be spent alone in his studio, working on his artworks during the wee hours of the night, high on the fumes of his paint palette and his exhausted coffee machine.

Until you came.

Kaoru was... eccentric. You were loud, you were moody. He felt like you'd be the type of person he'd hate dealing with just because you was unpredictable. You were like the rain, and Xiao hated the rain.

He must have an Archon's cursed tongue, because he got paired up with you during the first semester of their second year in college. You were a familiar name to him, as you were in the same course since the first year, but he barely knew anything about you since you were in different classes.

"Hey, Xiao! I'm _____. I hope we can be good friends by the end of the semester!" His memory of your bright smile still remains vivid in his head. He wasn't really a brooding type like Diluc, but Xiao liked to believed that he presented himself as a silent person who had no intentions of interacting with other people. So, how were you so bubbly around him? Because she was forced to do so? You were to be his partner for the whole semester, after all. Maybe it was all formalities. Yeah, that's probably it.

"Hm." Xiao gave a nod in her direction, acknowledging your existence. you heard from your friends that the young artist didn't have a pleasing personality, but you weren't expecting to be shutdown from the get-go.

"Mind if I sit beside you?"

Again, a light nod.

You felt the awkward tension between you and Xiao, and you hated it. You were a person who hated it when people are uncomfortable in your presence. You didn't want to be a bother, and you did your best to make everyone like you. Not that you were a people pleaser, nor an attention hog, but you just wanted to get along with everyone.

The lecture was going to begin in twenty minutes, so the lecture hall was yet to be filled with people. You took the opportunity to strike up a conversation with the amber eyed man beside you, who was typing away on his laptop. Something about color theory and how it affects the perspective of people on different art types? You couldn't really see that well. He was a fast typer.

"So, Xiao, I heard that your painting was displayed in the Tokyo Museum last year. It must have been an honor. I was at the unveiling last year and I saw it up-close." You started off, testing the waters.

"And what did you think of it?" Xiao cringed internally. He meant to genuinely ask for your feedback regarding his art, but it sounded so harsh that he wanted to punch himself when he saw you wince (or maybe you shuddered because it was cold and you were wearing a sleeveless top? His nerves were getting the better of him at this point).

"Well, a lot of my friends told me that it wasn't anything special,"

Ouch.

"It was a large canvas. I can still remember how it looks. But, maybe that's because I'm at the museum every two weeks," You laughed. You noticed how Xiao's breathing noticeably changed after you started your sentence, and you have to admit that it sounded a bit too mean.

"You know, Xiao. My friends told me that your art was simple. Anyone could have done it. But honestly, they couldn't be more wrong. I love how your piece was painted. Auxilium. I'll never forget what you called it. That's... Help, right?"

At first, Xiao didn't want to listen to this person ramble about an art piece he made during one of the lowest points of his life.

His anti-depressants had run out during that one Christmas. It was 2:47 in the morning. He had morning classes the following day. He had a project to submit, but he was unable to continue working because of the unbearable pain in his chest. His head was throbbing. Voices were invading his mind. Flashbacks of his parents' negligence taunted him. He rushed to grab a glass of water, chugging it down in almost three chugs. He slammed the glass back onto the counter, smashing it into tiny little splinters and cutting himself in the process. His hand was bleeding, there were bits of glass on his counter and on his floor, but he couldn't care less. He was heaving, his breathing was unsteady, he wanted to die right then and there. His vision became blurry, but he rushed back to his studio.

With a bleeding hand, he picked up his brush and began to tear into his canvas. Not literally, but he started to create strokes onto the blank canvas. Different colors, different textures (he swore some of his blood got blended in with the area where he painted the sunrise, but it's fine. No one was going to notice, right?). He screamed and cried, wanting to throw the entire easel out his window.

It was Christmas. He was alone in his apartment. His anti-depressants ran out. He was having a panic attack.

That night led him to having one of the worst breakdowns he could remember, but he also ended up with a gorgeous painting that nabbed him a place in the Tokyo Museum.

"Help," Your voice echoed in his ears, snapping him out of his trance.

"People can tell me that it's nothing more than a simple painting, but the way that the sunrise was only showing in a segmented part of the canvas? The way that there were hints of red? It kind of reminded me how a new day can resemble hope but still contain hurt. Like, the promise of a fresh start isn't guaranteed a good one, right?"

Your words rang in his ears like a gong being hit continuously. He wanted to cry. People always complimented him and congratulated him about being recognized by art critics and national museums, but none of them ever really stopped to talk to him about his art. They were there for his recognition- not his work.

"I mean, you could begin with a fresh start, but wouldn't the remnants of yesterday still take a toll on your tomorrow?"

"Hm. Interesting take. To be honest, those specks could have been my blood." Xiao spoke up, to your surprise. A small smile formed on your face. Maybe this guy wasn't so bad after all.

"My hand was cut up when I was painting that," He added quietly, not mentioning why his hand was in that state. "I think I accidentally added too much concentrated red. I couldn't blend it out the way I originally planned."

"Oh? But that makes it all the more great, though!" You beamed, "Maybe it was an Archon guiding you? I don't really believe in that stuff, but acknowledging some divine intervention once in a while can't be all bad, no?" You laughed.

"I guess you're right." For the first time in a while, Xiao actually gave someone else a small smile. It wasn't really a smile per se, but his lips curved even the slightest bit upward, and you decided that it was a win for you.

-

Fast forward to the second semester of their third year.

Late February was never a good time for Xiao.

It was the second month of the year; People were starting to adjust and adapt to the ever-changing and progressing timeline. Although, he never really understood the concept of the "New year, new me!" shtick.

It had been years since he was clinically-diagnosed with mild depression. So, why was he still that way? Shouldn't new years help him be a better person? Or something like that. Why was he still like this?

Late February meant the end of one semester, and the start of another.

What else did that mean?

His semestral feedback report (he refused to call it a report card. What was he, high school?).

"Xiao? Are you here? I bought almond tofu from Xiangling's place. Sorry for barging in, you weren't answering my calls." He heard your voice from the kitchen and he glanced at the clock on his studio's wall.

1:37 AM.

You were at Xiangling's place because you were working on a report about the history of acrylic paints or whatever it was. You were supposed to go home, but you still dropped by his apartment. He checked his phone.

[ 14 missed calls. ]

Yikes.

"I'm here." He answered meekly, but loud enough for you to hear. He felt tired. Defeated, maybe. He was blankly staring at the canvas in front of him. He has sketched the base of your face and upper body. He was planning on painting a portrait of his beloved to decorate his room with, but he couldn't find the energy to continue.

He could hear the soft "thud"s of your feet walking from the kitchen towards the studio, but he tuned it out with an annoying static he could only hear in his head.

Fuck. Where are they?

He rushed to the drawer next to his easels and rummaged around in a panic.

Where the fuck are they?

He kept a few anti-depressants in his studio because he spends most of his time here and he didn't have time to rush to the kitchen to get them if he ever got a panic attack.

"Fuck!" He cursed loudly, throwing the contents of his desk onto the floor. Some of his paintbrushes scattered on the wooden floor of his studio, marking the wood various colors. Maybe they're going to stain, but he didn't really care.

Xiao heard the footsteps retreating until he couldn't hear anything else except the constant ringing in his ears. It was annoying. It was loud. It started to make him want to split his head open.

"_____," He whispered, feeling his chest hurt and his throat tighten. The passageways helping him breathe seemed to close themselves, giving him a hard time and mocking him. It was coming back again.

Tears started to flood his vision, and they rolled down his red cheeks. He took the ponytail out of his hair and used two hands to tug at his locks starting from the roots. His breathing patterns became more erratic, but he tried his best to stay calm.

His knees and legs felt like jelly. He had to lean against the desk to avoid from toppling over.

Why? Why again? Why now? Why when you were here?

He screamed. It was loud enough for the neighbors to hear, but his care for any external entities was out the window the moment his eyes became blurry with tears.

Even though he was leaning against the desk, his legs still couldn't hold the weight of his entire body. His knees dropped to the floor, and he swore he must've dented the wood below, but he paid no mind to it. His knees were also aching, but he could deal with that later. He bent down and pressed his forehead to the floor.

"_____," He whispered again, longing for his partner. "Auxilium."

"Xiao?" The voice was muffled. His eyes were glued to the floor in front of him, but he knew it was you.

"Xiao, stay with me, honey." There was a hint of panic evident in your voice, but he was glad that you didn't let that get the best of you. You was still somewhat calm.

You kneeled down beside him, helping him back to an upright position.

"Honey, you left these on the counter outside." You handed him two tablets of his anti-depressants, and he gladly placed them in his mouth. You also gave him a glass of water, and he downed it in two swift gulps. Afraid that he might underestimate his strength, he returned the glass back to you instead of setting it down himself, nodding at you in the process.

You got into a more comfortable position where you rested your back against the wall, and you guided Xiao to follow you. It was a difficult task; He was very sensitive during his panic attacks.

His semestral feedback reports always made him anxious. He didn't have to please his parents anymore since he moved out years ago, but Xiao had this nagging feeling inside of him to do better with his academics. Nobody was really pressuring him to be a straight-A student, but did he feel like he needed to be? Who was he trying to prove himself to anyway? You knew about his sever panic attacks and how they were more active if he had a big event coming up. The first time you had to deal with it, you were still stiff and trying to learn how you could help. Now, you takes pride in yourself for being able to handle him in the ways you know would help him the most.

"Here you go, I've got you." You cooed, assisting him with moving. You laid his head flat on her lap and she began stroking his beautiful, tousled forest green locks. The highlights he had under the first layer of his hair started to fade, and you made a mental note to take him to a salon so they could get their highlights redone.

"You know, I've been listening to a lot of Coldplay lately," You started speaking, as if Xiao wasn't about to have a full-on panic attack. "Yellow would have to be one of my favorite songs. I guess it's kinda cheesy, but can you blame me?"

You used your free hand to wipe the tears from his cheeks.

"Look at the stars, look how they shine for you." You began singing, voice just above a whisper.

"And everything you do. Yeah, they were all yellow."

Xiao was a reserved person who had a hard time dealing with other people because of his inferiority complex that sprouted when he was young.

"I came along, I wrote a song for you."

He didn't have love and affection growing up. He didn't know how to be the best person to talk to. He had poor communication skills. He was a mess, to be honest.

"And all the things you do. And it was called yellow."

You were the first person who looked past his rough and tough exterior. You were the person who showed interest not just in his name- but in him as a whole.

"So when I took my turn, what a thing to've done."

"Thank you," He murmured silently, noticing that the ringing in his ears vanished. His throat was beginning to open again, and he could finally feel the steady heartbeat he had in his chest.

"And it was all yellow."

Xiao curled himself into a ball, burying his face in your clothed stomach. You smelled a bit like smoke (maybe you ate yakiniku at Xiangling's?) and your faded cologne. It smelled like home. It washed a sense of relief over his entire being. He felt safe. He felt secure. He was being held like a child, but he didn't really mind. Maybe he needed this.

"Your skin. Oh yeah, your skin and bones,"

You craned your neck downwards to look at Xiao's figure. He finally looked peaceful. You knew about his rough past. You knew about the trauma he had to go through, but you chose to look past it because you knew that he was just afraid and... alone. He needed someone to be there for him, and you would rather the world die than leave him alone ever again.

"Turn into something beautiful."

You noticed how his chest started a rhythmic pattern of ups and downs. His breathing was finally steady. He looked at peace. He looked like he was right at home.

"Do you know? You know I love you so."

You couldn't help but chuckle as you watched him sleep in your lap. How could anyone think that this softie was an asshole?

"You know I love you so."

You barely whispered the last part of the song, but it was loud enough for his heart to hear it. Xiao hated when things were unpredictable; that's why he hated the rain. But now, maybe the idea of rain wasn't so bad. Especially since you were his rain.

"I love you, Xiao."

At that moment, you knew that the involuntary smile on Xiao's face was a response that contained more emotions than his words could ever bear.

"I love you too."

[toujoursmiraculous]

Thoughts and Reaction to Gang of Secrets!

I'm very late today at writing this because life ;-; You know it's a bigger episode when they start off with a problem. Ladybug doesn't want to detransform so she's desperate to find reasons to remain Ladybug. I love how the entire time, Chat Noir knows something's wrong and wants to get her to talk about what it is, but she just tries to pretend she's fine. If anything, Chat Noir would probably be the best person to talk to considering everything he's dealt with too both with Kagami and his responsibility as Chat! She could mention that she was seeing someone but they broke up because of her secret, and she could tell him how much being the Guardian's having an affect on her. All perfectly well and good without exposing any identities or things like that with questions for details asked. Instead she puts up a front with him and pretends she's okay in front of him and it's just so sad. :/ I understand why she doesn't, probably because she doesn't want him to know how much she's struggling. But ugh my heart hurts for her. Chat: I know where we can go where we won't have to talk! Ladybug: Yes, take me there Chat! *in the theater* Ladybug: You lead me into a trap. I MEAN HE'S NOT WRONG THOUGH! Not many places you can go where it's okay or encouraged to not talk without there being an awkward silence. But that cracked me UP. Also that casual attempt to wrap his arm around her lolol still hasn't give up, I see. I also find it simultaneously hilarious and extremely depressing that Ladybug's ranting like that in the theater because of a romance movie. When your heart is broken, that's probably the last thing you want to be doing. And Chat Noir yanking her down asking that she be quiet 😂 Literally just rants her entire love life out for everyone including Chat to hear in that theater. CHAT NOIR, YOU BETTER BE LISTENING BECAUSE SHE'S TALKING ABOUT ADRIEN HERE "She takes a long time to tell him and stutters and blah blah blah" lol sound familiar, sunshine? If anything please have him recall this later and be like, wait, didn't Ladybug say girls stutter around a guy when she likes him? BAM. Then he's off on his path towards Marinette. I can dream. Ladybug: And how do you know if he loves her? IMPOSSIBLE. Adrien: No, Marinette couldn't possibly be in love with me. *eyetwitch* But at the end of the day. This is Marinette ranting to Adrien about how she had to give up on Adrien and then couldn't make things work with Luka because of her secret. Ooof. And poor Chat having to apologize for everyone because Ladybug's disturbing them XDD THE GIRL SAVES EVERYBODY'S LIVES PRACTICALLY EVERY DAY AND THEY'RE PISSED SHE'S RUINING A MOVIE THEY CAN JUST REWATCH? 😂 She's clearly having a hard time right now, c'mon people! Chat can tell she has a broken heart. This boy is so sweet. He wants her to at least admit that and talk about it so she can feel better but you know, Ladybug's stubborn. I WANT TO GO SWIMMING LET'S GO SWIMMING CHAT, WOO HOOOOOO! Ladybug acting like Chat to hide her pain just like how Chat acts like Chat to hide his pain. YOU KNOW WHAT, IT'S FINE. :') It doesn't matter how much pain she's dealing with, those pictures mean too much to her to remove them. x3 Thanks Juleka for showing us how sad Luka is now, that's very helpful. Marinette's been going into the bathroom at school to cry, and then had planned stupid looking glasses to hide her tears so people wouldn't have to know she's cried because wearing a ridiculous pair of glasses that's embarrassing is better than being asked what's wrong. Because the pain I feel for her wasn't already enough. Ugh I adore Trixx. Trixx being the voice of reason when Tikki's not there, trying to help and letting her know that Tikki may need to rest too when she's so upset it doesn't cross her mind. And the tears in her eyes when she apologizes to Tikki for not thinking of her like she should. ;-; SO MUCH PAIN. OH DANG Alya was literally a second away from seeing a detransforming Marinette lol But she did say DETRANSFORMATION or well in the English dub it'll be "Spots

off" I love Rose, she's really sweet. and considerate But she also shouldn't be touching things in others rooms like that. I never liked it when my friends went around my room touching stuff. Also didn't help that a couple of them stole from me... but it's just not a cool thing to do. Would've probably ended up much better had she not had to desperately hide an exposed Miracle Box. But then we wouldn't have had what happens so it's all good c: Marinette saying she doesn't want to be friends with the girls anymore

It hit Alya deep. Everyone else is like *le gasp* but her eyes all shrunken like that, you can tell it really got to her hard.

This entire exchange right here. Alya's glance at her in the first picture is piercing, like I can feel that OOF feeling in my chest when I see it. The new music dramatizes it so well that a lot of people probably didn't pay attention to it the first time around. Can we just appreciate how these animators got all these emotions so right and did such a good job animating everything for us? And those that work on the music too? Everything's so spot on. Marinette's red-rimmed eyes is so well done. "No, it can't end like this!" Awww Alix getting super upset too x3 I honestly think Alix could be the next one.... you know what I mean BUT I'll wait until the end to talk about it. Trixx pulling a Plagg and rescuing Marinette! x3 I seriously love Trixx, I really do. I know the other Kwami's got mad, but if he hadn't done that it would've been disaster, probably. And the episode wouldn't have ended how it did! And Plagg knowing it was Trixx who caused the Eiffel Tower to be all weird xD Why do I get the feeling the relationship between Trixx and Plagg would be like that of Chat Noir and Rena Rouge? And I want to point out, we got 7 whole seconds of Adrien again! Aren't we lucky? The last time we got so little of Adrien in an episode was when we had his parallel episode Lies. I don't think that'll happen this time but I do hope it means more Adrien later on. Ladybug: They're after Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Chat Noir: Okay but remember everybody likes her (so don't go thinking she's a bad person for causing their akumatizations) Yes, I read between the lines. Ladybug being able to get through to Lady Wifi and have her deakumatize herself was absolutely amazing! I know Chloe was the first to fight off being akumatized but once you're akumatized it's obviously extremely hard to break. That says a lot about Alya. "Because you're an incredible friend, Ladybug." One, AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW Two, did you notice the little jerk of her head, gesturing to Ladybug like that when she said it?? It's the little details guys that make this so good. 😍 "Chat Noir, nooooo!" Guys, we got our tiny little Marichat scene! It's not actually real, but still! (okay but why do I also get this really weird feeling like something like this may end up being real later?) Alya giving Ladybug that hug 😭 Marinette has such good, supportive friends. I love them all. x.x YES THANK YOU. Alya's finally realizing there are more things going on with her than just boys. One of the things that's always irked me since Chameleon is that any issue Marinette has, be it with Lila or otherwise, she always assumes it has to do with Adrien. Of course, at the time she didn't know she was Ladybug but she should've still listened and realized there's something else up. But now she finally is noticing and I love how she was going to respect her regardless and not push. Pushing has always been one of Alya's characteristics, but she knew whatever it was was something too big and serious to push her on. "Marinette, I'm your best friend, and I always will be." 😭😭😭 This episode brought me so close to tears so many times. Marinette admitting she's keeping secrets, lying to everyone. Admitting that that's why she draws a line between her and Adrien, and why her and Luka didn't work out. Alya saying however heavy it is, they'll carry it together (MY HEART) And then Marinette saying "If I tell you, things between us will never be the same. It's going to destroy everything, change it all." It sounds like this girl is thinking about Chat Blanc and oop there's the sound of my heart breaking again. So much paaaain. "Je suis Ladybug." YESSSSSSS Why they had to leave it off on a cliffhanger But YESSSSSSS First, the expressions she had flash on her face, the gasp 😮, then the expression like she's trying to get her mind to process. Then if you notice, Marinette gives a little nod, as if letting her know that it's true. Then the way her eyebrows furrow and pulls her into the hug as she understands all that she has on her shoulders as that music plays. I'm getting

emotional just writing this. 😭 This episode is just so amazingly good in so many ways, I don't think I can actually cover it all. I'm very impressed. I've loved nearly every episode this show has put out, even those that a lot of people seem to hate. But this one, I don't see how this could actually be hated if you're trying to think of everything that happened from Marinette's point of view, her thoughts, feelings, struggles, depression. I will say, personally I hoped Chat Noir would learn who Ladybug is first. He's been such a good partner, very thoughtful, always putting his life on the line. He's also been dealing with a lot of the same struggles. I felt like he deserved to know first. However, this isn't about who deserves what, it's about what Marinette needs. It's not that she doesn't want to tell him who she is! Don't misunderstand. There are many times throughout the past 3 seasons where she wants to or regrets not being able to. But now, Chat Blanc's in her mind. She knows what could happen if she tells him with Hawk Moth still there, so she can't do it. So instead, she tries to pretend in front of him that she's fine even though talking to him about everything would help and fix so much. In her mind, that's not an option. I just hope that when he finds out she told someone else first, he doesn't think that she doesn't trust him enough to tell him. Next I thought maybe Alix. That way it'd be more understandable to Chat that she'd know, after all future Bunnyx clearly knows and said to Ladybug that she chose her because she's capable of keeping secrets (notice how Alya said that to Ladybug in the alley? I bet Alix will find out in the near future. Maybe not this season, but she'll find out.) But that's for another time. But now Alya knows! Her best friend, the one to have her back and will no doubt have it even more so now! Watch out, Lila. Alya doesn't hold back so I can imagine how vicious she could be to her (and I can't wait). And that brings up a very interesting thought. Alya will realize Adrien has been the only one to have her back in Lila situations. Why would he do that, hmm? When everyone else was so sure Lila's an angel and Marinette must be bad for saying anything negative about her. Journalist Alya, incoming! There's also the matters of Alya bringing up Marinette's feelings for Chat Noir because duh, everybody can see how much she loves him! There are even photos of them kissing, one of which happened in front of Alya's own eyes! Though affected by an akuma, they all know that kiss didn't happen because of it. And of course, Alya has brought up twice in the show so far that Adrien and Chat Noir could be the same person. And last time Alya said that neither of them could be Ladybug and Chat Noir. Except, she's now found out that Marinette is Ladybug. So maybe Adrien could after all be Chat Noir. I look forward to seeing how their new dynamic is. I wonder how this affects their relationship with the other girls. And I'm most curious about how Nino and Adrien may react to this change. I thought during Truth and Lies both that their best friends were going to find out about their breakups. Gang of Secrets was Alya finding out. Even though I feel like another parallel episode is just wishful thinking, I can't help but think it may be a possibility. Nino and the boys are going to wonder what's up with Adrien too. They're going to wonder why he's not with Kagami anymore so suddenly. So what if i the end, Chat Noir ends up telling Nino? I could see it, if this takes place shortly after Gang of Secrets, where she tells Chat that she's confided her identity in a very close friend and somehow they agree that he can tell someone too that he trusts to make it fair. It'd be an amazing way to exercise Ladybug's trust in Chat Noir too. Then we'd have both Alya and Nino in on it, keeping their best friend's secrets for them without knowing about the other one. Oh that'd be so beautiful! And also let them keep their Miraculouses too after the charms are given to them and Alya has the ability to break

free after being akumatized. I adore Rena and Carapace so much I'd be ecstatic if they kept them. 😭 Anyway, so much potential can come out of this episode and I honestly cannot wait until episode 4!!

[sun-flower-children]

Felix with MC that has wings

A/N: Yes @demon-paradise​ I totally can write that :) awww thank you so much :’))) I might have changed some details on accident so I’m sorry in advance but yeah not too much based on canon.

When you first entered the world you were how you were at the convention. Wearing your handmade, but still well crafted, Sunstone Order Knight uniform and in a very much basic human form. When you were surprised by the feeling of a sobbing crying form you still had a normal human silhouette. When you met Anisa and Sage in the fire-lit office you still looked the same. You continued to look the same while you lived in their “secret” headwaters and learned about the world around you as well as how to defend yourself. 

Felix mentioned how he could sense the magic flowing through you and that it also felt relatively knew. You told him all you could about the convention with the glowing from inside a glass box. You don't remember quite touching it but you felt leaving the place you were at to be in the place you are now. You were trying to just not randomly let out bits of magic and not turn anyone so Felix taught you breathing excessive and other techniques to help you with control and letting gout the amount that you intend.

After touching Rime’s magical book that Felix unearthed from the depths of the study’s couch you had felt a strange stirring and a wave of tingles, kind of similar to those one would get when listening to asmr but all over the body, then immediately feeling a sharp pain in your back. The initial shock left you in almost a coma state and you woke up on your bed. You were laying on your stomach and felt an unnatural amount of weight on your back pushing down into the mattress. Experimentally stretching your arms out and feeling grossed out by the slime like liquid that was covering the bed on both sides of you. You felt a little bubble of panic popping inside of your stomach and starting breathing in slowly to calm yourself down. You focused of the soft feathery feeling that’s tickling the back of your knees. ‘That doesn’t feel so bad’ you think to yourself.

Bringing your arms in at a 90 degree angle, preparing to push yourself up, and surprisingly feel that you couldn’t. There was too much weight for you to push yourself so easily. You open your eyes a look toward the window and see that the sun had just started pushing against the horizon. Your eyes wander towards the floor-length mirror on the opposite side of the room and see that your shape on the bed wasn’t what you expected it to be. you could make out the bump for your head but then there was a giant and lengthy curve before seeing the subtle shapes of your feet.

Now abandoning the calm breathing technique you start to panic. Without thinking you flung yourself off the bed and onto the floor. The weight crushing you and pushing you to the floor. You slide yourself, shaking and struggling, reaching for the nearest chair to push yourself upwards. Arms shaking from being bed ridden for a while and creaking under all the pressure. ‘How long was I on the bed’ you think once again to yourself. Finally bringing yourself high enough to bringing your knee off the floor and immediately crumbled again, your head hitting the edge of the chair. Your groan was loud and cut through the silence that you didn’t quite realized was so deafening until now.

Enough time had passed where you were struggling to get on your knees that now the sunlight was peaking over the bottom of the window sill. Your knees gradually warmed up and were ready to bring you into the vertical position you have been working towards. when looking at your feet you was long feathers sweeping the floor and tickling your toes once in a while. Breathing hard, sweating and shaking with pain and also from being used so quickly after not moving for so long. Your back ached and you could truly stand already trying to stay in decent posture only to fall backwards and feeling the flames of pain searing up your back. Tears flowing of the sides of your face and you angrily cried in frustration. You could stand as long as you hunched over so that the weight on your back wasn’t dragging you down as much.

Looking into the mirror you saw the wings that were now behind you. The weight that you could feel pulling tender skin down and stretching it in every which a way as you moved. You were too tired to feel the shock you would have otherwise, delirious with the pain. Giving up on standing you flung yourself to the wall space by the mirror and leaned against the nearby bookshelf. The sounds of footsteps could be heard. But lighter smaller ones, not those of soldiers or even a large cat man. Too weak to properly defend yourself from whatever it maybe your curled up into a ball, arms over your head. Your new wings instinctively moving to circled around you like a shield.

The door opened and someone walked in. “(Y/N)?” a soft voice called out.

‘Felix’ you thought, recognizing the voice but not moving. Instead you made a noise that was meant to be “here” but instead came out as more of a painful groan.

He moved towards you and could hear him in the space in-front of you.

“Barista, are you...” he pauses,”...let’s get you back into the bed.” still in the same tone of voice he used before. You made a weak noise in defiance, not wanting to go through the hassle of moving again. After the faint noise of Felix muttering something under his breath that wasn’t in the speaking language, you felt some of the weight lifted and almost thought that the wings had come off. you look up seeing a rather disheveled Felix; his glasses skewed and off center. He held both your arms and led you slowly back to the bed. You were wearing someone bed gown but the back was either cut or ripped open because you could feel the cold breeze much more easily on your back.

In the new mornings light you noticed that you wings were the same color as you hair but a but darker and much more silky and shiny looking. “Like one of those L’oreeel commercials.” stumbles out off your mouth. Felix stops and looks at you, probably confused but you aren’t looking at him, before bringing you to sit down on the bed. You leaned down slowly to lay back down again, this time on your side. The wings moving out to make a more comfortable position. Felix sat down and began to explain.

Most of the information was lost on you as you kept fading in and out of focus. But you understood that the magic book reacted to you being not of this world and having magic in a way that wasn’t at all anticipated.The wings somehow had to do with some history thingy that may or may not have happened before and maybe something else happened but you didn’t catch it. Some more things happened. Something else about Sage panicking in the corner when it happened and Anisa freaking out and yelling at Felix and something else. Guards maybe have came. Did he just say that they made you pretend you were a doll in the Earth stuff room when the guards came in looking for a leaf gremlin? That’s not right.

“And that about sums up what happened during the week you were, uh, developing a new, uh...” Felix looks at your new wings and the open flesh on your back,” wings.” He sighs a deep sigh. “(Y/N) are you hungry?” That would make sense since you haven't been able to eat in a while but you didn’t feel hungry. You wanted to move and change clothes. Maybe take a shower because the slime has gotten into weird places.

The next few weeks was basically you trying to relearn how to move. You learned that you have to lift your wings with your back muscles to make it easier to walk around normally. The giant baths now became very useful with all the extra space being very accommodating of your wings. The best you had ever felt during this entire period was when the four of you went outside, not long after you showered, and you opened your wings to the fullest. Really stretching them and fluffing them out. Hearing the awes of the people around you admiring your wings.

Later that day Felix and you had a little dinner date, if you will, on one of the higher balconies. He explained that your back had started to grow two lumps and slower grew. The way he described all the slime coating your wings reminded you of that one scene from the Matrix. You accidentally said that thought out loud which then resulted in you explained what the 2009 world was like, explaining technology, then getting into the movie itself. The entire time you were explaining to him about Earth he was looking at you, nodding and asking more specific questions every once in a while.

Once the group had gotten more used to your wings and making sure that they were healthy, everything began to lighten up. Sage would make cat vs bird jokes, Anisa would try to come up with ways to make life more comfortable, which then ended with you moving to another room with a bigger door ( it was closer to Felix’s so you didn’t complain).

The first time you tried to fly, he was so worried and had his spells ready to catch you ( which did help the first few times). Eventually you got it; not being able to go for long amounts of time but could glide. Everyday working out with Sage to get those wing muscles going so that you could launch yourself vertically from the ground.

Felix thinks its so cute when your wings also react with you, though he will never tell you. The way the puffed up, to make you look bigger, when he was around his father. Or when he would kiss you your wings would relax and touch the floor. When you are really excited they would do a ton of tiny flaps. Felix would love to clean your wings for you. They are massive and it does take a lot of time but this is something that he wants to do for you because he feels like it’s partially his fault.

Felix loved you wings. Hey thought they were so beautiful and made you a literal angel in his eyes. The way they shined in the sun was almost like how you would brighten his day with your laugh. If the two of you were sitting close he would either pet your wing(s) or even closer so you wings circle the two of you. The little privacy bubble was always welcome but also made him feel like it was more intimate. At some point you would hug him and the wings would then engulf the two of you; makes him feel so safe, wanted and loved. You quickly caught on to this and made sure to do it more often. Felix will sometime get overwhelmed in public and you would use your wings as dividers and creating a safer space away from whatever stimulated him. On warmer days you would create a cool breeze by gently flapping your wings. When people try to catch you for your wings he goes full ape shit on them because how dare they try to touch and harm his dear barista, his dear angel (Y/N)

“Your wings are beautiful (Y/N) “ he would say randomly one day.

“ Aww thank you Felix. I’m so happy you like them” you said while smiling at him.

Felix looked away, trying to hide his blush, and brought his book up closer to his face. He was tempted to look at you when he heard you softly giggle but restrained himself from doing so. The rest of the afternoon would be spent stealing secret looks from each other and smiling yourselves when one sees the other doing something cute.

A/N: I might make another lil’ story, a kind of part 2, depends how well this one does :)

MASTERLIST  < for more :D

[captainseaweedbrains]

The Hunger Games: Ch. 5

I am finally getting around to writing up thoughts. Life am I right? So I’m not only behind, but starting a bit later on my chapter thoughts. 

Here are my rambling thoughts and emotions on chapter 5: 

"Good news, though. This is the last one. Ready?" I get a grip on the edges of the table I'm seated on and nod. The final swathe of my leg hair is uprooted in a painful jerk.// Girl, I feel you. We’ve all been there. #Noshaveforever

This has included scrubbing down my body with a gritty loam that has removed not only dirt but at least three layers of skin// It’s called exfoliating, Katniss, and I promise, it is good for your skin. If they can do one thing for you, it is this. 

Okay. Like Katniss, I have a soft spot for her prep team. I can’t help it. They feel like they mean well and I’m a sucker for it. Even if they are prepping her for death.  💀

He gives his orange corkscrew locks a shake and applies a fresh coat of purple lipstick to his mouth.// I wonder if SC thought of the most gaudiest looks and just rolled with it. Probably. But some of these outfit choices just seem so out there that I have such a hard time picturing it. Am I alone on this? My fashion sense is that of a bygone era. So maybe that’s why. What is high fashion? Not me. That’s what.

Octavia, a plump woman whose entire body has been dyed a pale shade of pea green // Why would you want to look like a Sim? Why is that in style here? 

"Excellent! You almost look like a human being now!" says Flavius, and they all laugh.

I force my lips up into a smile to show how grateful I am. "Thank you," I say sweetly. "We don't have much cause to look nice in District Twelve."

This wins them over completely. // Katniss!! I love you. Never change. I do love how other worldly each party sees the other. Maybe it’s a comment on colonialism in that sense shut up Terri Your English degree is showing BUT how Katniss views them as strange birds rightly so because one legit probably looks like a Sim and them viewing her as NOT HUMAN even though she definitely looks the more normal in the room and I stand by that Where was I going with this? It just feels a bit Two Worlds colliding. Okay. Moving on. 

Just how filthy was Katniss? Like she definitely bathed before coming. Twice in one day. So what is their standard here? I don’t want it because it’s probably too much effort. #lazy

It's hard to hate my prep team. They're such total idiots.// My thoughts exactly. 

I cannot stress how much I love how blunt SC makes Katniss’ thoughts. It feels so human to me and I don’t always see that in writing. It’s nice. 

Am I alone on wondering if Cinna has that eyeliner tattooed on? I don’t know why that’s always my first thought with the second being “ouch.” 

I do love how Katniss is always thrown when her pre-perceptions of the Capitol are challenged by *the few* people like Cinna. 

I saw someone point out how Katniss remembers a lot of details like the stylists and past years winners and their strategies and I’m wondering if it’s more like how I know stuff on like the Kardashians that I don’t really want to know or care about knowing. Just facts living in her head rent free. But she remembers a lot of details on the Games.

He presses a button on the side of the table. The top splits and from below rises a second tabletop that holds our lunch.// The future 1950s ads promised and Disney Channel’s Smart House made those in my generation fear. That or a super fancy automat. 

Unpopular opinion, but I absolutely hate when Katniss goes on about the food and how to make dishes. I think it’s so boring to read. Even one sentence about what everyone is eating dulls me. 

What must it be like, I wonder, to live in a world where food appears at the press of a button?//Okay, I know we kind of already have this luxury to an extent, but I too want to press a button and my food is magically there, in my home, already made. #queenlazy

My heart saddens when Katniss wonders what people do in their free time. She is a CHILD. *cries*

Okay. So I know Katniss has boasted about concealing her thoughts, but is she REALLY good at it? She gets called out a lot by practical strangers. I will cling to my headcanon that she is truly an open book and just believes she’s sneaky like that and Peeta pretends she’s succeeding at later in life. Is this canon? Maybe? Don’t @ me

SC’s commentary of sexualizing young teens and kiddos is amazing and yes, please keep coming at us like this, Suzanne. 

Also those poor, naked children. Not only were they going to their deaths, but they literally were paraded around on national television buck naked. 

I'll be naked for sure, I think...Naked and covered in black dust, I think.//An example of why I just love her narration. I crack up every time at the clear doom in her “voice”

He sees my expression and grins.//A true madman because I can only assume her face is that of horror.

I am still mad at the scaly-looking outfits the movie gave us and how they made her hair look

It crosses my mind that Cinna's calm and normal demeanor masks a complete madman.//He is a madman. We accept it and move on from here

*Peeta enters* *Cue my glee* 

*He is my favorite and that favoritism will show*

*Listen I am here for the messages on war and our consumer culture SC is providing*

*But I will not hide why I’m really here rereading these books*

*WEEPS* SHE IS RELIEVED TO SEE PEETA 

"What do you think?" I whisper to Peeta. "About the fire?"

"I'll rip off your cape if you'll rip off mine," he says through gritted teeth.//Don’t touch me. The teamwork they already share. 

Haha I just imagine Peeta has that big smile on his face all “Haha I want to die right now”

THEY’RE LAUGHING. Precious beans. 

I guess we're both so nervous about the Games and more pressingly, petrified of being turned into human torches, we're not acting sensibly.// That or you both are talking to your crushes and are feeling giddy about it. Don’t deny it Katniss. We see you

Lmao Katniss’ enthusiasm for D1 cracks me up

Cinna over here just lighting people on fire and relieved it worked properly. This man, I swear

She calls him dazzling. Be still my heart. 

Also I still don’t understand the true purpose of Cinna presenting them as united. Maybe I’ll get a refresher later on. Is it just to make them stand out more because they’re united? I don’t understand this angle at all. So #SameKatnissSame

Lmao or maybe Peeta’s the one who is all “Idk, but *sings* I wanna hold your hand...” 

Or not. But you bet Peeta is pumped. He’s not naked on national television and he’s holding his crush’s hand. Peak day for Peeta Bram Mellark, with all things given.

I do hope they are waving correctly. 

I'm glad now I have Peeta to clutch for balance, he is so steady, solid as a rock.//I’m FINE. Totally FINE that this will be how she views him for the rest of the series. FINE.

Narrator: She was not fine. 

How absolutely sad that she mentions how the Capitolites took the effort to look in the program for their names. How they waste CHILDREN’S LIVES. 

But I shall focus on her gaining confidence and Katniss Everdeen legit getting caught up in the moment where she is blowing kisses at them. The power of a great outfit, amirite? 

Someone throws me a red rose. I catch it, give it a delicate sniff, and blow a kiss back in the general direction of the giver. A hundred hands reach up to catch my kiss, as if it were a real and tangible thing.//Oh my god. So Extra

Everyone wants my kisses.//Peeta wants those kisses 

"No, don't let go of me," he says. The firelight flickers off his blue eyes. "Please.// I am crying as I think about their interaction in the same square in Mockingjay, when she tries to take the nightlock pill and he stops her. “I’ll never let go, Jack”  

SC can describe Snow however she wants, I will forever see Donald Sutherland and only that. Even when Snow is a teenager I picture Donald. The power of Donald Sutherland.

I love that she doesn’t realize she’s still holding his hand. If Portia had enough time to spray them down, she’s been holding on for awhile. Katniss, explanation?  👀 👀 👀 👀 👀

"I'm sure they didn't notice anything but you. You should wear flames more often," he says. "They suit you." And then he gives me a smile that seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushes through me. // AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

SHE FEELS WARMTH RUSH THROUGH HER

THE SHY FLIRTING

PEETA, YOU SHY SLY BEAN OF A FOX

The more likable he is, the more deadly he is.//Yeah, for catching a dangerous thing called FEELINGS. 

Katniss, how does *kissing* him help matters here? You clearly caught wind he was flirting and your first thought was *le kiss* ???????

These two, I swear

And Katniss is just so smol having to stand on her *tiptoes* to kiss his cheek. #teamsmol

Onward to the next chapter! 

[twdmusicboxmystery]

TWD 10x08: The World Before - First Thoughts

Hello everyone! So what did you think of the episode. I totally loved it! Yes, it’s frustrating to get a cliffhanger for the MSF, but I, for one, am kind of used to it by now. I more or less count on that for every finale and MSF. If it doesn’t happen (because sometimes it doesn’t) then awesome. But when it does, I’m not surprised or upset by it. 

But onto happier things. This was one of those episodes that was just dripping with symbolism. (My favorite kind! So today I’ll talk about the broad, sweeping things and what most jumped out at me (and there was a LOT that did, even on first watch) and tomorrow I’ll do nitty-gritty details. Later in the week, I have some other things to post that I’m hoping will help everyone get through the hiatus, so stay tuned for those. Let’s dive in!

This is one episode that the spoilers definitely didn’t do justice to at all.

***As always, spoilers abound for 10x08 below. Don’t read until you’ve watched! You’ve been warned!***

Daryl’s Reaction to Carol and Lydia:

Depending on what you follow online, this might not mean much to you. But the groups I’m in follow spoilers and there was a lot of talk about how Daryl didn’t seem to care that much that Lydia was gone, or that Carol sort of lost her. And the spoilers only talked about a very tender scene between Daryl and Carol. 

Well, they did have a sweet scene together, but him not caring about Lydia and not getting after Carol was utterly untrue. (If you’ve watched the episode, you know this.) 

No, he doesn’t exactly scream in Carol’s face or anything (but Daryl wouldn’t do that anyway) but he does get after her. I really liked their interactions because I feel like Daryl might just have finally gotten through to Carol about her destructive behavior. She cries, and that’s where he hugs her. It was actually a really beautiful scene.

I will grant you that it doesn’t last long, as Carol still chases blindly after Alpha not long after, but still.

Music References:

Probably my favorite thing was the musical references. Luke names and later hums a specific piece of classical music: Rachmaninoff’s Rhapsody on a theme of Paganini. 

Even if the name doesn’t ring a bell for you, I can almost guarantee you’ve heard it before. HERE’s a video so you can listen. If you can’t access this one, just google it or search your YouTube. I promise it won’t be hard to find a way to listen to it. It’s one of the most famous pieces of classical music of all time.

It was featured in a film in the 80s called Somewhere in Time that had a cult following (one of my personal faves with Christopher Reeves and Jane Seymour).

So, my first instinct was to research the song itself. Like, does it have a coda? I knew I had some sheet music from this song on my shelf so I went and got it. Mine doesn’t have a coda, but mine is also only the 18th variation.

It’s important for everyone to understand what a variation is in classical music. A variation is basically just one part of the overall symphony. Any given symphony is divided into parts, or variations. Not unlike chapters of a book. Each one is part of the overall story, but different things happen in each chapter, right? Same with Variations. All part of the same symphony, and therefore all based around and repeating the same musical themes, but all slightly different as well.

So, any given variation may not have a coda, but we need to look at the symphony as a whole. (And I can back this idea up because in the episode, Luke finds a book in the library of this piece of music and on the cover it says something like “complete preludes for piano” on it. 

So, what I’m getting at is that the 24th variation IS a coda. I found this description of the 24th variation:

Variation 24: provides a massive capstone to the entire work.  The Dies Irae theme emerges heavily in brass and strings while piano and winds recall prominent features of the subject.  A brilliant coda reiterates fragments of the theme, compressing earlier ideas within a massive acceleration. Suddenly and surprisingly there is a drop to an unexpected soft dynamic and two cadential chords from the piano mark the ending.

Obviously that is very significant. They’re mentioning, talking about, humming, and showing us sheet music for a very famous symphony that has a coda. I think our TWD coda is about to roll back around, don’t you?

But I’m also wondering about the Somewhere in Time theme. I’m sure at least some of you aren’t familiar with it. It’s an American film with a cult following. But in terms of pop cinema culture, Paganini’s Rhapsody and this film are very intertwined. There are plenty of people who wouldn’t know that symphony at all EXCEPT for the film, so I have to wonder if they chose this piece of music, both for what it means by itself, and also for the Somewhere in Time reference. Notice the “time” element of that title.

The film is a ridiculously romantic time travel story. Its about two lovers who are basically separated by time, and have to travel through time to find one another and, you know, be together forever. Sound like Bethyl to you?

And because I was thinking about that, I noticed something else. When Aaron is talking to Gracie (there are a lot of interesting things in this scene, but I’ll go into most of them tomorrow in my Details post) he tells her a story about once visiting some old Native American ruins. He says he started to wonder about the lives and identities of the people who once lived there. People who had been “lost to time.” So there was a definite theme about people being lost in time in this episode. Very significant. Actually kind of gives me chills. In a good way. ;D

Gracie:

I felt like there was a large emphasis on Gracie in this episode. Aaron talked about her to Gamma last episode, in conjunction with bikes (which we’ve long associated with kidnapping and even “missing girl” stuff) so I still feel like Gracie might be taken.

Here, when Aaron learned about Dante killing Siddiq, he kind of had a meltdown, saying he should have seen it and Dante had been part of the community for months and had even treated Gracie. I don’t think we should read into that literally. I don’t think Dante did anything to Gracie or anything. But I feel like she’s being associated with the whole Siddiq/Dante situation.

And of course we had the part where he sat with her and quizzed her on the license plates. So I feel like they’re setting up something with Gracie here, and I’ve said before that I can see something along the lines of Gracie being taken/kidnapped and Aaron going to find her, and that somehow leading to Beth. So I guess I’m just seeing this as confirmation that something with Gracie is in the works, even if the rest is just conjecture right now.

Bear Trap:

This probably qualifies as more of a Detail than anything else, but it was too huge not to share. After they cross the border, Carol almost steps in a bear trap. Daryl sees it in time and stops her saying, “You could have lost a foot.” Lost shoe/foot symbolism anyone?

I’ve come to believe that the lost shoe/foot theme is directly tied to the death fake out. I won’t say much more than that except that only Daryl and Carol are in this scene. So, it might point to Ezekiel’s coming death fake out, which I think is close, or to the one Daryl is involved in, which would just be another way to hint at Beth being close.

But it’s more than that. MUCH more. Some of you may remember that WAY back, a long time ago (like during the 5b/6a time period) some of the prominent TD-ers of the time dug up some information about a Beth figurine/toy that was set to be released. They were going to release one that included a bear trap prop in the package.

Now, that figuring was never actually released. People in our fandom actually contacted the toy company to ask about it and were told that it was planned for release at one point, but for unspecified reasons, the company (that would be AMC) changed their minds and scrapped the project.

We still don’t know exactly why, though I suspect it was because TD was so active back then and they simply decided they didn’t need to give us this hint.

Lots of theories about the large bear trap circulated back then. People even wondered if it would have something to do with Beth and Shiva, which it didn’t. But it’s weird, right? I mean, why would tptb release a figurine of Beth with such a specific, large prop that never showed up in her story line and had absolutely no bearing on anything in her—or any other character’s—story?

Well, obviously TD took it as something symbolic/a clue to how she might return. Now, we have an actual bear trap as part of a sequence connected to the Whisperers, when many of suspect we may be as little as two episodes out from her return. Significant enough for you? I can’t stress how huge this little bear trap detail is.

But I can even take it further than that.

In terms of what specifically happens in this episode, it was a foreshadow of the ending. So Carol almost stepped in the bear trap, but just barely avoided catastrophe. Daryl yelled stop, stop and managed to pull her back before she stepped in the trap, triggering it, which would have been very painful. Near the end of the episode, Carol chases after Alpha. Daryl yells, stop, stop! But she doesn’t listen and what happens? They trigger the trap.

So, some pretty basic foreshadowing for the end of the episode. But the idea of that also has my head spinning, because I can’t help but compare it to other things.

First, it’s the bear trap being associated with Beth again. Because, in my head, them triggering this trap, and it being symbolized beforehand by the bear trap, is just another way of saying that something about them triggering this trap Alpha set for them will lead to Beth in some way.

But I’m also thinking about Alone. With this symbolism in mind, you could argue that Beth stepping on the small game trap at the beginning of Alone foreshadowed her getting caught in the Grady trap at the end of that episode. The sequence is similar. When the metal, animal trap is scene early on, catastrophe is largely avoided.

(Yes, Beth steps in the trap, but it only results in a hurt ankle. Nothing to worry about. They even emphasize that it’s not broken. If Carol had stepped on hers, it would have snapped her leg like a twig, and they needed her to be able to run later, so they couldn’t do a complete parallel. But again, catastrophe largely avoided.)

Then, near the end of the episode, a MUCH bigger trap is triggered. And this time, catastrophe can’t be avoided. Daryl couldn’t stop the Grady cops from taking Beth, though he tried. And he couldn’t stop the group in this episode—including himself—from falling into the pit, though he tried.

In fact, you could argue that because the rest of the group ran out ahead of him after Carol, while he stayed behind to fight walkers, this was a huge parallel to the end of Alone. Think about it. He stays behind to lead the walkers away while she runs out ahead of him. We see him running through the yard of the funeral home in the direction she went, looking for her, but she’s already fallen into the Grady trap by then.

Here, the rest of the group runs out ahead of Daryl, after Carol. He takes care of the walkers and then runs in the direction they all went, looking for them. But they’d already fallen into the pit by the time he got there. See why this is so huge?

(P.S. On TTD, they pointed out that we see this from Daryl’s POV, which was true of Alone as well. We saw everything through his eyes, and didn’t see what happened with Beth. Only what he saw.)

The dark pit they fall into reminded me of two things: 1) the cave Gamma’s sister went into with Alpha before emerging into the light, which I pegged right away as a Beth-parallel. 2) the darkness-to-light theme in general. We saw it around Beth a lot, but around others as well. So if this is the group going into the darkness, then when they re-emerge into the light, maybe that’s when Beth will show up? (a.k.a. episode 10?) Just a thought.

But for Beth, Grady = falling into a dark pit. In this shot, we see her walking into a dark corridor/tunnel with light at the other end. And this is RIGHT before she’s shot. Which I always saw as her heading into the darkness, but it foreshadows that she’ll come through into the light (survive). And now we’re seeing a replay of this in 10x08.

Virgil:

Okay, let’s talk Virgil. For the record, I don’t think he’s linked to Connie and Kelly. That was a fun theory and I was hoping for it as much as the next person, but I didn’t get that feeling while watching the episode. First off, it’s not that he’s been separated from his family and looking for them, which is what early reports of him suggested. Rather, it’s that he left his community on some kind of supply mission and he’s trying to get back to them. So, he knows exactly where they are. He’s just trying to get home.

That’s right. HOME theme. They emphasize several times that he’s going home. He says it, Michonne repeats it, etc. And remember that finding one’s way home is associated with the North Star/Sirius symbolism, thanks to Carl saying that to Judith in S6.

And where Virgil’s home is, is AWESOME! Pay attention to this TD-ers, because it’s SUPER significant. He tells Michonne that he lives in a compound on Bloodsworth Island in Tangiers sound. I had to sit back and let that sink in. We’ve always said Beth will return by water. If she’s on an island, that kind of makes every water reference we’ve ever seen around her make sense. The picture of the ship behind Hershel in 4a (Smooth seas don’t make for good sailors), the teddy bear that washed up on the beach in 7x06, etc.

I had to do some research on this place because I wasn’t familiar with it. Both Bloodsworth Island and Tangier sound are in the Chesapeake Bay area. The sound is bordered by parts of Virginia and Maryland. My point? This really isn’t very far away. Michonne mentions a 2-day trip to get there.

But given all the symbolism around this, and that this may be where Beth is…well, suddenly it seems like she really may not be very far from D.C. at all.

And then there’s the idea of the naval base. Virgil says it’s hard to find and fortified. Remember what I said about the helicopter people: that they’re probably ex-military, which is why they’re so good at security and keeping people from leaving their group once they’ve entered. It would also make sense why they’ve learned to purify water, since they’re on an island surrounded on all sides by salt water.

So what I’m saying is that this plays very well into everything we’ve been thinking thus far. We already know Danai is going to the Rick Grimes films, so to say she’ll run into Rick is a foregone conclusion. But I’ve said before that I think Rick and Beth are in the same place, or at least within the same organization.

I want to point out that Michonne quotes Rick’s line to Virgil: My mercy prevailed over my wrath. Now, on the one hand, that’s just a very obvious way of foreshadowing that when she leaves, she’ll be finding Rick. His storyline is about to come back into play, and Virgil will be part of that. We already knew that because of outside-the-show stuff. But a good example of foreshadowing at work, and we’ve seen plenty of similar stuff with Beth.

But that line is also tied to Carl’s death. I won’t go into all of this today (I will in a later post) but this is also helping me draw a line between Carl’s death and how Beth will return. I know that’s kind of a tease, but it’s also a whole other rabbit hole, so I’ll give it its own post later.

Wolves and Whisperers:

I said I’d talk more about the Aaron/Gracie scene tomorrow, and I will, but I want to point out one more thing that jumped out at me. First, when Daryl/Carol/Father Gabriel were interrogating Dante, they emphasized that Dante and the Whisperers believed they were setting people free. First Dante said it, claiming that not caring about yourself or others makes you free, and then Carol repeated it for emphasis.

Then there was the Native American story Aaron told Gracie. Both of those things are major callbacks to the wolves. One of the wolves told Morgan that what they did would set people free. And then Crazy Wolf Dude told Morgan in 5x16 that their beliefs were remnants of the beliefs of Native Americans who first settled the area, who believed they were wolves.

And I’ve said before that the wolves were a forerunner and symbolic parallel of the Whisperers, so this is nothing new, but I wanted to point out the strong resemblance in beliefs. And is it literal? I don’t know. I could see it going either way. Maybe at some point we’ll learn that the wolves were an outgrowth of the Whisperers or something.

But it really could just be a symbolic parallel as well. Even if it is just that, it would explain why there was so much Beth symbolism around the wolves and lend credence to the idea of her returning during the Whisperer arc. Just saying.

I also think Virgil has some parallels to Morgan. Again, I’ll talk about this more tomorrow, but in 3x12, Clear, when Rick/Michonne/Carl ran into Morgan, they were looking for weapons to help them fight a war against the Governor. When they found Morgan, he came across as somewhat crazy, and they had to tie him up until they were sure he wouldn’t kill them.

Similar stuff with Virgil. He comes across as a threat and is taken prisoner at first. In the end, Michonne goes with him to find weapons to help them in their war against Alpha. So there are some definite parallels there.

Okay, these were the biggest things. I’ll stop there because this is already long. Plenty more to cover, but I’ll do it tomorrow in the Details post. How did YOU like the episode?

Oh wait! One more thing. Hehe. Can I just point out the title. The World Before. I have to ask, the world before what? Something big is about to change, y’all. ;D

[whenthesunburnsout]

I can’t let go of Endgame, I’m sorry.

ENDGAME SPOILERS! (This is not what this blog was meant to be but it’s my Endgame dumping ground now. Sorry.)

So, I wrote Nothing Breaks Like A Heart to deal with my feelings after Endgame. And then I began to think... how can I bring Tony back and get him and Stephen together without invalidating the beautiful Tony/Pepper and Morgan relationship? This is the result. It’s a novel I could never write so have 1.6k of outline.

I have have a totally sappy title for this: “Learning to Live in Daylight”

I’d love to know what you think about it.

Imagine that Steve, after his travels to bring back the Infinity Stones to their proper places and times, makes one last stop before he settles down with Peggy. He has to have a spare Quantum Realm/Timetravel thingy in case his breaks, right? So he has the tech, the time and the Pym particles to go to Titan, right after the Snap, and get Tony. He gives him all the info he has and sends him 5 years into the future, before he himself fucks off into the past to his fairy tale ending with the love of his life. (Or to change stuff around to create his own branched timeline. That's sounds more in character for him.)

Only, Tony overshoots.

And so the man, who hasn't lived through the last 5 years of pain, trauma, happiness and married life with a daughter lands about 6 years into the future in a world that is almost back to normal. A world with no Nat and a new Captain America in the form of Sam Wilson, a world where Pepper has mourned him and has begun to piece her life back together. And a daughter who he already loves but doesn't know and begins to cry when he doesn't react to "love you 3000" except for a confused look. He cries himself when the little girl runs away from him and Pepper runs after her with tears in her eyes, unable to really look at him.

He may be alive but he's still lost them and he hates Steve for bringing him back so, so much. It would be better to be dead, right?

After some weeks of trying to come to terms with his new reality and new chance at life he decides to confront the one person who is as if not more responsible for the whole fucked up mess than Steve.

The doors to the Sanctum are opened by Wong who takes one look at him and lets him inside. His survival has been covered by the news, but the details have been kept vague. But Wong is neither blind nor stupid - he sees the past right in front of his eyes and can extrapolate from the rest.

"Stephen's not here," he says but Tony can smell the lie.

"Bullshit. He's just a coward afraid to face me."

Wong just stares but it somehow communicates just how untrue those words are. Tony looks around and notices the general state of decay around a building that has felt ancient, welcoming and downright homey the first time he's been here, only a few weeks ago in his own personal timeline.

"What happened?" This time the hostility is gone from his voice and as soon as he truly looks he sees the utter exhaustion and desolation in Wong's eyes and posture.

"Your death." Wong makes an inviting gesture and leads him upwards. "He took his part in it not very well."

"Why?"

Wong just gives him another look. They come to stand before a big door and something instinctively tells Tony that he doesn't want to know what lies behind it. Wong judges him yet again for some minutes. "He's still alive," he finally says. "Barely."

The door opens. Tony takes a deep breath and forces himself to face whatever lies in front of him. All thoughts of revenge, screaming and extracting explanations flee when he sees Stephen floating in the middle of the room, surrounded my bands of magic. He looks lifeless and Tony has to watch him for a couple of seconds before he's sure that the man's still breathing.

Stephen does that. But nothing else. He looks emaciated, skin stretched too tightly over bones. His hands are still shaking lightly, even now, Tony notices.

"The magic's keeping him alive?" Tony guesses and Wong nods tiredly.

"He's over exhausted himself literally to death after your funeral."

Tony shudders at that. Pepper has shown him the hologram his future self has left behind and he knows what happened down to the very last detail. He gets it, he really does, but he looks at Pepper and their daughter and can't help wanting that life even if it ended in a horrible, painful death. At least the other him got to marry Pepper and have Morgan with her. He? Has nothing. He can't just slip into the life of a dead man even if it was himself.

He doesn't ask why Stephen did that. The memory of Stephen on Titan, collapsing after looking into uncountable futures, is still fresh in his mind and he's seen the shock, fear, panic and despair in Stephen's eyes. He still hears his mournful "Tony, there was no other way". Now he knows what Stephen meant and since he had time to pour over all the research the Avengers did after the Snap he knows a lot more about Stephen Strange than he did back then when they were strangers.

He now knows what it means to be the Keeper of the Time Stone and what sacrifices it demands. Bruce has told him about the Ancient One.

Stephen has stopped eating after the final battle, Wong tells Tony, unable to keep anything down while he's been busy with keeping everything together. It didn't take long before he collapsed since he wasn't in good shape from Titan. He's being kept alive - barely - by magic in the hope that his depleted reserves can recover. He's needed more than ever since he's the strongest sorcerer around the threats haven't stopped even with Thanos defeated for good. (Something Tony can still barely wrap his head around.) As much as Stephen might wish it - and Wong knows that he does - he's simply too valuable to be allowed to die.

Tony kind of knows that feeling.

He finds himself drifting into the Sanctum and Stephen's room more and more often in the days and weeks to come. He learns a little bit about magic and talks to an unresponsive Stephen. He's just as elated as Wong is when Stephen recovers a little bit and they can dial back the magical help.

When Stephen finally wakes up he looks into the eyes of Wong and a younger Tony. He thinks he finally lost it for good or that he made a mistake, choose the wrong timeline and that everything was in vain. He breaks down crying before they can even explain what happened. It takes him a long while to recover and be able to listen, even longer before he can even start to believe.

Wong stays for as long as he can and comes as often as possible but he has other things to attend to while Stephen slowly recovers his strength in mind and body. Tony has nothing to do and spends pretty much all his time with Stephen when he doesn't try to connect with Morgan.

Pepper and him are over. They love each other but he's not the man she conceived and raised a child with and they can't slip back into their old dynamic. Too many things have happened and while it breaks both their hearts they agree that a deep friendship is much better than a relationship that just won't work. Morgan is theirs and they will raise her together but they can't be together anymore. Tony spends days crying over the end of their relationship.

So, the Sanctum and Stephen it is. He has to take his mind of things, somehow. Sometimes, Tony brings Morgan with him. Stephen has no clue what to do with her but she's lovely and he can't help but love her. She is Tony's daughter. She shines so brightly it almost hurts.

Stephen looks at Tony trying to be a father and Morgan slowly responding to his overtures and falls in love even more. He's loved Tony for ages now and the constant contact doesn't help.

Tony sees Stephen struggling with weakness and pain, sees him playing with Morgan and earnestly discussing things with Wong. He listens when Stephen tells him what happened whenever anybody but Tony wielded the gauntlet. He begins to cook because he has nothing better to do, Stephen can't do it and Wong seems to be fine to live off sandwiches.

The first time he reaches out without thinking to steady Stephen's shaking hand to help with bringing a bowl of soup to the table there is a spark between them. It's magic that even Tony can feel. They begin touching each other - carefully and innocently at first. Tony's not quite there yet and Stephen's still too fragile for anything else. A steadying hand here, a lingering touch after one gives something to the other. Shoulders touching when they sit together on the couch.

It escalates to handholding and sleeping against each other on the couch. They share a bed after a long day when Tony's too tired to go back to the place he stays. He realizes that the Sanctum and Stephen have become "home" just before he falls asleep and wakes up with Stephen cuddled up to him.

It's the most natural thing in the world to put his arm around Stephen and gather him closer. Later this day, after a mild panic attack and a short talk they share their first kiss. Tony initiates it and Stephen shakes like a leaf in the wind. Tony's not much better, to be honest. But it feels right somehow.

Tony is seven years younger than he should be and Stephen is so much older than he should be. Both are scared and scarred but are determined to find a little bit of happiness in a world they both never could have thought possible.

Little by little they do.

✨

[deadbydelight]

I'm in love with soulmate au so maybe a dbd killer of your choosing x reader with soulmate. Like name or the first thing they say. Would be awesome if you did Max the hillbilly with something written on him. Thank you if you do! 😊

This somehow took me so long to finish because of life being harsh lol but I did it and I made it sweet and fluffy cuz why not ? Hope you like !

_________________

Hillbilly x reader (soulmate AU)

You had heard about the rumors around the Coldwind farm. How supposedly a monster or something like that was haunting the place, how you could faintly hear a chainsaw sound if you were close enough to the property...

And you intended on discovering exactly what was in there. You were what you might say, an explorer of haunted places, you had a video channel as well as a blog where you had quite the number of followers and subscribers. You were curious and adventurous, a lot of people said that it would be the death of you... As the expression said, curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.

You had everything with you, a bagpack with everything necessary for exploration, a flashlight, food, water, ropes, a heavy jacket with a scarf and gloves, your phone and last but not least, your faithful camera.

"Alright guys, here I am, ready to explore the famous Coldwind Farm, you know the one ! Wish me luck!" You exclaimed happily to the camera, your breathing making cloudy pattern in the chilly air of the night.

You were well aware of the fact that no one would answer to your ask for cheering, but it was mostly for the sake of the video. It wasn't easy to stand out in all the people doing exploration stuff, let's not forget you were a lone wolf too, but you were quite proud of what you accomplished so far.

"I'll begin with a brief tour of the farm, then I'll try to get inside, so far so good, haven't heard the famous chainsaw at all... for now."

As you advanced in the unfamiliar place, you felt a shiver ran up your spine. You felt... observed. However you weren't one to back off from such a place just because you had a feeling about it.

"Damn..." you muttered as you made your way in an abandonned corn field.

You had come accross a really large tree on which several cows were hanging, grossly killed and their body pierced by hooks. You made a mental note of putting a warning for this in the video because it might shock and terrorize people and you didn't want that. You were starting to feel a little nauseous yourself, but would that stop you? Nope.

After 20 minutes of exploring you finally heard the famous chainsaw noise... But it was far from where you were at the moment.

"Urg I don't know if I'll have enough content to post this damn video... Am sure as hell ain't sleeping here" you grumbled under your breath (a bit that you would cut from the video of course).

You decided to finally go explore what remained of the actual farm, hoping that you'd find something nice and scary (some might call you crazy but hey, this was how you paid the rent so yeah). Nothing really extraordinary happened either as you went inside. The wood was creaking everywhere, eaten by thermites and the many days of rain that made the walls rot. All in all, the greatest danger here was to be killed by the farm collapsing on itself.

You sighed dramatically, deciding to stop the recording here. But as you looked down on your camera you froze. There was a very big shadow on the floor, and you knew for sure it wasn't yours. You even stopped breathing all together, a sudden wave of panic crashing through you, yet you stayed perfectly still, staring intently at your camera and the shadow. How could you not hear this guy come? Maybe it was all the noises made by the old wood, but now you could hear the mysterious stranger clearly. It was breathing so heavily, it sounded like a mix of an animal and an actual engine.

You began walking, mechanically. Acting like you didn't notice the silhouette that was clearly right behind you. It followed, walking at your exact pace so that you wouldn't hear its footsteps. So whatever it was, it had some kind of intelligence. You gulped as silently as you could, and when the abrupt noise of a chainsaw being turned on right behind you roared, you didn't think twice. You made a mad dash out of the building, throwing the camera without any second thoughts for the rents or anything video related, you just wanted to live.

The wind was cold on your teary face and it was difficult for you to run on the muddy ground, since it rained the day before that. You felt like the mud was slowing you down more than anything and you almost lost it here and there when you heard the chainsaw so close to you. In a desperate attempt, you plunged to your left as you arrived near a tree, getting mud all over you and hurting your ankle along the way. It seems like you were lucky, because whatever was pursuing you with its chainsaw literally crashed on the tree you were just nect to. It yelled, so loud you swore you could have lost an ear right here and there with the decibels. Finally, you had a clear vision of what exactly was haunting the Coldwind Farm. To your surprise it was still... Mostly human.

Still an impressive height, but its face was somehow very diformed, skin completely twisted on its face and shoulder. You could see some actual features on the face, but you could tell that whatever this guy was born as, it wasn't treated as it should have been. It's spine was totally torn and you could see that there was some effect of heavy malnutrition.

You should have run away here and there. Sprint home and never look back. But you couldn't help the slight fascination and curiosity bringing you to stay right here and observe it... No, observe him. You were now fairly sure that he was as human as you. He was still yelling, his chainsaw stuck in the tree and moving his arms wildly as if it had been... Hurt?

You got up as silently as you could, noticing that, indeed, splinters of woods were struck on his right arm. You winced at the sight, it looked really painful. You took the risk of stepping toward him, but this caused him to pay attention to you once again. He stared right back at you and you swore you lost your breathing at it.

So many emotions swirled in those pupils, almost hidden by the skin difformity. Pain, anger, sadness, confusion... But what you mostly saw was fear. He started growling at you, like an animal endangered, and it's where you noticed that even though his chainsaw was stuck in the tree and he was hurt, he still had very nasty looking hammer in his other hand, covered in what you assumed was fresh blood. You took a deep breath. After all, this might just be the end of you.

"Look, I promise I want to help you alright?"

At first he didn't seem willing at all to listen to you, still thrashing around and growling menacingly. But as you approached him while keeping your hands raised to show you wouldn't try anything he seemed to calm down. When finally you were right next to him you shivered, not exactly sure of what you were doing.

"I'll take a look at your arm alright ?"

You were sweating heavily and you could feel his ragged breathing caressing your skin. It was like trying to reassure a wild animal. You made a face  at the shards that were stuck on his arms, they were stuck deeply, blood spilling in thin tricklets. This looked painful.

"I'm going to open my bag and use some product to help you heal. Ok? Ok"

At this point you didn't care anymore, you just wanted to try to help him at least. He was still looking at you warily, but at least he stopped moving so much. You pulled some tweezer that you had in your emergency case and looked straight back at him.

"This is going to hurt. You're ready?"

He stared at you, his eyes boring into yours, then closed them, a silent way to give you the go ahead. You stopped breathing and went to work. He tensed when you began pulling out the shards but he didn't make a single sound. You almost let out a "good boy" that you thankfully kept in your head. You kept caressing very lightly his arm after each shard, trying to soothe as him much as you could.

Why did you want to help him so much? There was something in those eyes that entranced you. You saw more humanity in those eyes than a good number of people you met.

When finally you pulled out the last shard, you allowed yourself to be less tense.

"Good job. This is going to hurt too, but I need to clean your wounds."

He tilted his head at you, maybe wondering what you were doing... or why. He seemed to somewhat understand what you were saying. He grunted when you cleaned his wounds but stayed perfectly still, allowing you to work just fine. Finally you reached for the bandages, rolling it slowly around his arm. You froze as you noticed a little detail on his upper arm. There, on the malformed and bruised skin was a neat handwriting.

Look, I promise I want to help you alright?

Was this really..? You so didn't know what to do. You started panicking a bit inside. Were you hallucinating? You had lost hope of finding that one person so long ago, part of you couldn't believe it. How could you be sure anyway? This guy didn't seem to even know how to talk. You finally came back to your sense when he started to get his arm back. You didn't even realise you were gripping him so hard.

"Oh..." you blushed awkwardly, not really knowing what to say and embarassed by what you just said. "Sorry, I uh, I didn't mean to..."

You were having difficulties forming the words out of your head. Everything was going too fast. He was still staring at you, warily but also curiously. He probably had no idea of what you were doing. And to be honest, you neither.

"I need to go!" You finally cried out all of sudden, making him jump.

You didn't give him the time to react as you ran away from Coldwind Farm. You took a look back, he was still there, staring and unmoving.

"I'll come back alright?! I promise!" you yelled, and you could tell was more and more confused.

But he made a noise. As if saying "alright". This was fine by you. And come back you did. At first it was once a week. Then it became everytime you could actually visit him. You did some research on who lived here before. Turn out it was a farmer couple. They had a son named Max Thompson Junior that was never even brought to school. It didn't take you long to put two and two together, you had deduced that he had been abused by his parents, never properly taken care of and possibly never allowed to have affection in any form.

It made you sick to know that parents would reject their own kid like this... moreover he possibly was your soulmate, so that struck a chord. You still weren't entirely sure that Max was indeed your soulmate, after all he never really said anything understandable apart from noises, their intensity varying with his mood.

At first he was still wary of your visits but you warmed up to him so much, he actually got used to your presence. All that you had in mind was to see him, the more the better, the video could wait... you also discovered that he loved all types of little snacks you brought to him and you were more than happy to make him discover all the delicious food he had never even had the chance to taste before.

Once again you were off to see him, bags filled with all types of food rather than survival supplies. He was there, standing near the corn field, his eyes seemingly lost in the scenery.

"Hey Max!" You called, waving your arm around.

He jumped a bit a your voice (he was quite sensitive to sounds) but turned toward you his face lighting up and the hint of a smile forming on his mishapen lips.

"H...Hey."

You froze at the first word that were finally formed by his mouth. It had been weeks. And finally after hours of you talking to him almost non stop, even though no one took the time to teach him how to speak, he had put the effort to salute you back, just like you always did when you went to see him.

His voice was raspy and almost inaudible by the lack of use but it was there. Tears started rolling on your cheeks and your bag fell on the ground, forgotten in your rush of emotion. He whined alarmingly, not liking seeing you cry like this. Were you hurt? Did someone upset you ? Did HE upset you? His eyes were lit by  worry and panic and you hurriedly dried your tears with your arm, hiccuping a bit.

"Don't worry Max, those are not tears of sadness or pain... I'm just... so happy!"

You showed him your own arm, sleeves rolled up. There was written one small little world. One word that made you go crazy at first. After all what kind of soulmate would just tell you Hey? But right now it felt like the most beautiful word you could hear. After all, he took it upon himself to say it to you.

"You see this? This means we were made from one another !"

You abruptly ran to hug him. He didn't even move with the force but he tensed a bit, not used to the contact, but he eventually relaxed and hug you back, a light but secure grip around you. You weren't even sure if he had any idea about the soulmate thing, but somehow you had a feeling he knew. As he started slowly dancing in a circle with you still in his arms, you had a feeling that he knew.

And you couldn't be happier.

______________________

All the fluff for this sweet boy , I hope it's good enough aaaa

[justagirlwithastorytotell]

You are stronger than you think

This year started off as the best year ever… kind of. I spent the week before and during the holidays with the man I love, watching him interact with my family and enjoying being in the same space. After a few days in his city, I was thinking that I could do this every day and be with him here. A week of cuddles and laughs and great sex wasn’t enough but we made the best use of the time that we had.

My boyfriend lives on the East Coast with this family and I live in the South near my family. We met at a work conference and a few years later worked out the details and started down this crazy LDR path. We committed to meet as often as possible and to make it work. Love.

I left him on the East Coast and came back to the South to my dog dying. I’m grateful that it happened how it happened but I’m remorseful that I didn’t do more for her. I’ll always love her.

Back to life as usual as we knew it. I was so wrapped up at work the week I got back that I didn’t notice I was missing something. My period! Funny because the day after it was late he casually asked about it, which he’s never done before. We never even talk about my period. Like never. It’s crazy how spiritually connected people can be.

Makes me think back to my ovulation day the last time we were together. I texted my best friend and said oops that same day. I know we should’ve had sex but he pulled out. I wasn’t going to miss out on these limited opportunities to have the ultimate connection with my man. I love sex with him.

He told me don’t worry that it was late it was probably just stress. I made a commitment to take a test if it wasn’t there by the end of the week. Secretly, I already knew the deal. My breasts were sore and the usual pre-period symptoms never came. I bought the test three days before I committed to taking it. It watched me every day.

I woke up Sunday morning scared, nervous, etc. I took the test as planned. Just as I expected. Got back in bed for the rest the day and cried. I sent a picture to my best friend but avoiding her calls all day. He was in church all day so it give me a reason to be distant for the day. My mind was everywhere. How would this affect me. How would this affect him. What would it mean for us? Before we had sex for the first time we talked about what we would do if, so I already knew what he wanted. How could I be so careless and caught in the moment to throw it all away.

It took me three days to tell him. Over a text message. Not how I wanted to tell him. The next day we talked about it briefly and then it all started. :)  He wanted to know what I ate, if I slept well and what I did. He fussed at me for not taking care of the baby. He called just to check on “us.” He’s such a good man.

Morning sickness is for the birds! Every day my breast got more sore and seemingly bigger.

We talked about our future. He wanted to keep it. We talked about making it work and being a family. He’s not crazy about the idea of abortion. I’m just scared. I missed my first actual appointment to confirm, but it’s all part of a plan. I rescheduled with an amazing supportive relatable Doctor. I cried and cried and asked her to double check the results. Both times positive. She gave me a follow up appointment and also referred me to an abortion clinic. This is real.

He arrived to town a few days later. He immediately touched my stomach as soon as he got in the car. My man and my baby. Our family. I can see this.

We cuddled all night and had the best sex in the morning. Literally. The best sex ever. We partied and enjoyed each other. As always, another wonderful weekend over to soon. We talked a lot. The pros and the cons. He’s not for the abortion but he’s supportive.

Back to life as usual while we figure this out. The next thing I know I’m called into HR and fired on the spot. I hold it together until I get to my car and break down. This is too much. Demoted and then fired. The car accident. The store. The Dog. Pregnancy. It’s just too much. Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. Looking back I realize that I am directly at fault by not speaking up for all of the most recent things in my life and vow to not make those same mistakes twice.

We fuss  more frequently now. He’s very distant about the pregnancy. He engages, but he is short. He’s no longer calling to check on “us” like he had before.

I set the consultation appointment at the clinic. 9 am on February 6. I arrived to be greeted by Pro-Life supporters. Shuffled into a room with no electronics, no sounds or tv and all the other girls lost in their own minds. I pay the receptionist and pee in the cup and wait. And wait. I moved to another room and wait more. Finally the tech calls me to the back. She tells me to fill out the paperwork and get undressed. I expect her to leave while I undress and expected something to cover myself. She was anxiously waiting and provided none of the “comforts” that I expected. Minimal instructions and conversation and she shoves the cold ultra sound wand into my vagina. I look at the screen and see it and listen for a heartbeat. I’m am relieved that it is too small to hear a heartbeat. As I redress I asked for a different doctor because I realize who the doctor is. The tech said he’s the only one. Well. No choice. Blood work and then onto the doctor’s consultation. The doctor was halfway through his rehearsed lines by the time he looked up. Awkward. He and I use to hang out years ago. It was actually comforting to see a familiar face. Even given the circumstances. We talked, he explain the options and answered questions. On the way out, the receptionist gave me the price and the information for the day of. I broke down in the car again. Alone. We committed early on to not tell too many people and not telling our families. That commitment left me with no one to talk to. My man wasn’t around. No one to understand my feelings that I barely understood myself. Pregnant and unemployed facing an expensive procedure.

He seemed annoyed when I want to talk about certain aspects. He says “we already talked about it.” He’s short when it comes to it. I have not 100% made up my mind. He asks about the appointment and the picture. I never show him the ultrasound because I didn’t wanna make him sad and tried to shelter him from the process.

The only thing I knew for sure is that I was pregnant and although I felt alone, as grumpy as he seems, my man was by my side. I feel like I’ve been picking at him. He’s on my nerves and my nerves are getting to me. I try to lay off, we are fussing more. I need more attention and he is needing more alone time to process it all.

The procedure is set for 9 AM on February 17. He comes in town late the night before. He doesn’t touch my stomach when he gets in the car. He’s quiet. When we get home he asked to see the ultrasound and asked a few questions and just sat quietly. I have a bad cold so we have to keep some distance, we barely even sleep close together. We talk the morning more of. I try to have sex to ease my nerves, it doesn’t work, he’s not into it.

My friend picks us up to go to the appointment. He makes one final plea “we don’t have to do this, we can make it work.” Honestly, I know he didn’t want this and I’m not sure I did either. I think and think, he’d be a great father. I’d figured out the mother thing. Our families will help. But we are so far apart and I want to share pregnancy and parenting with my partner. We arrive at the clinic. I’m so scared, both the physical fear of the procedure and emotional fear of what this means for us is overwhelming.

Again, they herd us from room to room. I analyze everyone there. All different ages and races and demographics. Some people have been there for a procedure before. I wonder where all of the men are. The paperwork only ask the father’s age and state. No specifics incase there are none. I couldn’t imagine truly being alone in this all.

Pills and needles to prep for the procedure. I’m half awake and half asleep. The tv in this waiting room is showing a murder series similar to Law & Order. It seems like forever before they call my number to the pre-op room. Paperwork and shots. Enter the procedure room which looks like a regular doctor’s office and kind of like a science classroom. The doctor and two nurses walk in and give a brief explanation. She inserts a shot into my cervix that burns. I hear the suction machine turn on. Everything is blurry from my tears. I feel the doctor stretch open my vagina so she can empty out uterus. I’ve never felt this kind of pain coming from some many different places. I have lost my voice due to my cold so I silently crying out in pain and try to close my legs. The nurses hold them open. I can feel everything. I’m trying to count down with the doctor to know avail. I remember her yelling you have to slow your breathing. All I could think about was his disappointment with me.

Finally it was over, I laid on the table crying from shame and pain. They make me get up even though I could barely move. I walk to the recovery room where myself and another girl are painfully out of it. Less than 10 minutes after the procedure they make me get up and walk to the bathroom to pee and get dressed. It’s all over. They signed me out and returned my phone. I call him to come. He’s on his way. He’s not here yet. I call him again. He seems annoyed. I get in the car and try to act normal. He asked if I’m OK. I lied. He sits on the other side of the car. We get home and I fall sleep on the couch. I wake up and he’s across the room, quiet. We go out later for food and pads. I guess I shouldn’t be embarrassed about that kind of stuff. I turn in early.

We woke the morning after to his phone ringing. He spends an hour and a half talking about work. I wanted him to talk to me. I try to be understanding that he’s trying to take his mind off of it. I want to know how he feels. Are they going to talk to me? Finally he opens up. He says “I feel like I killed my kid.” I immediately break down and I try to justify and express comfort. Minimally heated conversation and we get up to start our day. We grab lunch and then he has to work to do. We are apart most of the day and I just want to be together. We catch up for dinner and enjoy our final hours together. He leaves so early the next morning. He was wearing a very nice suit. He was cute.

I love him and I know that he loves me but this was hard. I wanted to be in his arms. I wanted to let my emotions out and cry with him. Barely 48 hours together for us to healing isn’t enough. I cry the whole way home from the airport like I normally do, except I have to pullover a few times to get it together this time.

Fussing is at an all-time high with us. Every week and something else. I’m dealing with this by needing attention and interaction and support. He deals with it by retreating within himself and wanting alone time. This is not a good dynamic for the situation. Anxiety peaks. This pretend not pretend undiagnosed depression anxiety attacks me. I didn’t think I was fit to raise a kid. That was a huge part of my decision. I could barely take care of my dog.

I continue to prep to move to be closer to him. It takes my mind off of things. We talk about it. I prep my family and friends. I’m in love with the idea of really starting a future with this man. Then it hits me. Mid conversation he says, “before you were the mother of my child, now you’re just my girlfriend.” I’m shocked and hurt. I feel as though I am forever spiritually connected with this man. We created a child in love and although we elected to go an alternate route based on the circumstances, we created something beautiful together. He apologized and clarified but it still stuck with me and stings so deeply.

We continues to plan our future despite the short term hiccups. We are excited for our plans. We’re fussing again, we knew it was going to be tough but damn.

The follow up appointment comes. I walk past the same protestors. I find enough confidence to yell “I’m back bitches” which made everyone else laugh. This is really over. I walk into the same room where the procedure was. I immediately flashback to my experience the time before. I hesitate before I am able to climb back onto the same bed. The ultrasound confirmed that my uterus was empty. This is really over. But was it really over? I think about the what ifs everyday. What if it ruined our relationship. What if I would’ve been more careful. What if we would’ve kept it.

Another stinger, “you already didn’t want to have my child.” These really are painful to me. I propose we take some time off to breath. We talked through it and move on. It’s probably just the distance, the situation, the COVID quarantine. That’s what has us short fused. The plus to quarantine is more interaction. More communication and also more time to think and reflect. I realize how upset I am and how insecure I’ve become. Sometimes valid insecurities and some not so valid. I put on weight. My hips got wider. My small breast got smaller. I think back to him not wanting to have sex the last time he was here. I think back to our conversations become a chore. All these insecurities weigh on me and in turn on our relationship. We commit to dates and things to make our LDR more exciting. We talk about anniversaries. I think about us being together. Living together, eventually. I decide that will get engaged eventually get married on September 16, our kids birthday, as a special memory for us.

These large scale arguments are coming more frequently. We end up in a heated text argument at five in the morning. He reveals that he felt rejected. I never thought of that. I immediately tried to reassure him that that’s not the case. I never tell him I planned our family out time and time again and I enjoy being partners and I’d eventually enjoy being parents with him. We make up, minor fussing.

I finally move the ultrasound from the same spot it was when he put it down that night. He was the last one to look at our child’s picture. It’s forever a part of me and I make a mental note that I want to find a special way to remember it.

After reflecting on his feeling of rejection, I realize his hurt and my hurt were similar but unique and there was not one way for us to cope together. Yet I had been upset with him for not coping how I wanted him to cope.

For the first time in months I saw the signs of a distant period. It was like the first time all over again. I didn’t know what to expect, what products to use, my hormones were crazy and it was a reminder of my journey over the the last three months. Quarantine gave me all the time to think. I tried washing TV to keep my crazy hormonal mind occupied but all the families and babies made it worse. I was grateful that I was not pregnant during this confusion, scared and alone alone. But also scared of the future and not seeing him soon or again. Not knowing when this would end.

After more words and heated text messages, we realized we weren’t happy with the current situation and maybe better apart. We ignored each other for days. I called him because I missed his voice. It was also the first day of what would’ve been our second trimester. The day when morning sickness would end and the dangers of the first trimester would pass and we could make the announcement to everyone. Coincidently, such a joyous occasion was spent in a cold conversation about if and when and where and why this relationship could or should maybe would resume or continue or end or evolve.

Abortion is tough. It’s a lot to deal with every day forever. My biggest fear was losing my identity along with my freedom and my man. All I wanted was to be crazy in love, young wild love, excited for adventures and growing into a lasting relationship. I never signed up for the most emotionally taxing experience of my life.

Abortion is tough. If I knew then what I knew now would I have had one? Would I have kept it? Who knows. There is no one answer that fits for everyone. It’s not easy in any capacity, in any aspect in any way shape or form. I’m 100% sure I would’ve been more careful. I would have reached out for emotional support way sooner and realized that this wasn’t something that I could endure in silence. And I 200% would’ve love my man that much more for standing beside me picking me up and supporting me through a situation that neither of us knew the ramifications of.

Abortion is tough. Remember you are not alone. It is a badge of honor to take charge of your future. It is not a cloak of shame.

[freshprinceofverone]

For the “Things you did for me” ask meme : 18 Juliet/Benvolio and 15 Tybalt/Mercutio

This has taken so long I’m so sorry, but I’ve decided to write two prompts in one fic so…

I hope you enjoy world-building and long descriptive passages because I have written a lot of that. It’s also kind of a reflection about the notion of letting go(???)

Benvolio/Juliet: Held me while I cried & Tybalt/Mercutio: Trusted me enough to show vulnerability

Enjoy!

It was snowing in Verona. The summer fever that had taken hold of the city only a few months before had sweated itself out. Mercutio and Tybalt had both been severely injured during a duel. The next day, Juliet’s hand had been promised to Lord Paris, and she and her husband Romeo had tried to take their lives. The feud between the Montagues and the Capulets and the ensuing bloodshed had only ended when Friar Lawrence had spoken with Prince Escalus and they had exposed how both families’ selfishness and hatred had nearly cost them what they treasured most. Peace had been reached thanks to Friar Lawrence’s negotiating skills: Juliet and Romeo had accepted to reconsider their wedding as an engagement.

The summer passions had indeed dimmed as the weather had cooled and the weeks had passed. In their stead came strong, secure attachments – less romantic perhaps but also less deadly. Juliet had been introduced to Benvolio and Mercutio. They quickly became friends and even learnt to enjoy each other’s presence without Romeo. Juliet braided Mercutio’s hair, or tried to sit on both the boys’ laps at the same time and they laughed so much people in the streets stared at them.

At the start of the winter Juliet had invited Tybalt to join their friend group. All involved parties thought she took a risk, but perhaps they had used up all their hatred during the heatwave, or perhaps they understood the value of friendship better once they had nearly lost so much; in any case the five of them became firm friends.

As everyone became used to Romeo and Juliet’s engagement, it became less of a subject of conversation. At the same time, the two lovers themselves seemed to become more casual.

Benvolio in particular was grateful for the change. He had no reason to object to Juliet – far from it – but Romeo tended to be obnoxious about his love life. Besides, as time went by, Benvolio started to believe that she and Romeo were not as well-matched as they had once thought.

**

Romeo, Juliet and Benvolio were strolling in the snow-covered streets, holding hands. Juliet’s gloved fingers seemed tiny in Benvolio’s. The three of them had started holding hands ironically and the surprised looks it produced in strangers had persuaded them to do it regularly, Juliet always standing between the two cousins.

A few feet behind them walked Mercutio and Tybalt, arguing. It was so usual for them that the others hardly took notice. Only Romeo could sometimes be persuaded to listen.

“Hey Romeo!” called Mercutio. “Help me prove a point!”

Romeo rolled his eyes but let go of Juliet and fell back. Benvolio was left holding her hand, and suddenly the situation felt terribly awkward. When the three of them were together it felt right: they were young and cool and they did not care for strangers’ disapproving looks. If Romeo went away however Benvolio was left holding his cousin’s fiancée’s hand. So after a few steps he dropped her fingers, clearing his throat with a sound that could have been a very small “sorry.”

Juliet smiled but did not say anything, so they continued to walk in a comfortable silence only broken by the argument behind them that was continuing with Romeo. Silence was always comfortable with Juliet, it mostly meant that Romeo was not chattering away. Words were sometimes superfluous.

Behind them, the argument was centred on whether the weather was cold enough in Trento – about 100 kilometres north of Verona – for there to be penguins. Mercutio said that yes, Romeo argued that penguins lived in Antarctica and that if it was really cold in Trento maybe they had razorbills, and Tybalt mostly expostulated that the other two were stupid.

**

That night Tybalt was awoken by a noise outside his window. He quickly lit a candle and saw someone softly knocking on the glass pane. It was Mercutio.

Tybalt opened the window and Mercutio climbed clumsily through.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he whispered angrily. “This is literally the second floor.”

“Well I evidently climbed to – and then through – your window,” answered Mercutio a little too loud.

He was drunk, and his hair and coat were covered in snow. He sat on the carpeted floor.

“Listen,” he said, “I was with Romeo, and he’s in bed now…”

“And you-…?”

“Well I’m a bit drunk…”

“Oh are you?” said Tybalt sarcastically.

“Romeo was way drunken-er than me y’know.”

Tybalt huffed: “If that’s all leave now.”

“Oh, sorry…” said Mercutio standing up uneasily. “I just wanted to talk to you…”

Tybalt was cross. Once he was awake he would not go back to sleep before sunrise. He might as well spend his insomnia talking with a friend, or at least someone with whom he had common friends.

**

Soon they were both sitting on Tybalt’s bed – Mercutio had been given a glass of water and a change of clothes. Tybalt was impressed with his own civility.

“Romeo and Juliet aren’t engaged anymore,” finally said Mercutio.

Tybalt’s mind went blank. Mercutio nearly upset his water as he lied down on his back.

“She’s the one who called the shots,” he continued. “And… This is weird, am I sobering up if I want to confess stuff to you or am I even more drunker than I thought? … Anyway, it’s kinda like it was before: Romeo, Ben, and me, except… it’ll never be the same will it? You’re not going to like go away or anything…”

Thoughts were swirling in Tybalt’s head. He tried to cling to the idea that if Juliet was single he had his chance, but the thought kept being chased by new others.

“It’s never going to be the same yeah…” said Tybalt, still lost in thoughts.

“Cool.” Mercutio’s tone brought him back to reality and he shook his head.

Mercutio sat up, finished his glass of water and placed it on the floor.

“You know I tease you and stuff but… it’s easier to be detached and ironic than serious … and arguing is just a way to not address the changing nature of our relationship and feelings… Whoa I’m getting so deep I can hardly see the surface right now!”

Tybalt deemed that their conversation felt more like he was getting repeatedly slapped in the face by what Mercutio was saying.

“Anyway!” he concluded. “Sobering up now gotta go!” He sprung up, grabbed his clothes, and bounded to the window. “Thanks for the water, I’ll send the clothes back tomorrow… today, later… Soon! Byeee!”

Tybalt leapt after him but as he got to the window Mercutio was already touching the ground. The sky had become lighter. Tybalt still did not feel like sleeping.

**

It was early morning when Juliet paid a visit to Benvolio. He was having breakfast – Romeo had stayed out late and did not seem ready to face breakfast, let alone the ordeal of getting up.

“Hi!” said Juliet. “How’s Romeo?”

“Probably hungover, what’s up?”

Something was off.

“Can I talk to you?” she asked sitting down on Benvolio’s bench.

“Of course. What’s the matter?”

Juliet told in detail how she had plucked up the courage to talk to Romeo about their engagement, and how they had gone back on it. It did not feel right out of the context of that summer. They would presumably stay friends though. “But I feel horrible for inflicting all this pain on him for no reason? Because he’s sweet and he’s one of my best friends in the world and I just leave an engagement because I feel I don’t love him enough? How selfish is that!”

Benvolio shifted on the bench and opened his arms around Juliet, who squeezed him in hers. He closed his arms around her and they embraced each other for a long time, rocking gently to and fro. Juliet started shaking with repressed sobs, and Benvolio only hugged her more firmly. She cried, and still Benvolio held her in his arms, until her sobs subsided.

“Thanks,” she said as their embrace loosened.

“It’s ok. You’ll both work it out somehow some time.”

Juliet made a watery smile and said, “Also I kind of have a crush on someone but I want to take it slow this time, even if he did happen to like me too. Plus it would only make things worse for Romeo if he thought I’d left him for his own cousin…”

“… His what now?”

**

As spring came around the corner Mercutio and Tybalt were discovered to have been together since the end of January. (“You could’ve told us!” complained an offended Romeo while the others, remembering the summer’s events, rolled their eyes.)

Sometimes Benvolio and Juliet held hands but no one thought anything of it. They took their time, and summer was well underway when Benvolio asked her out. Romeo was not as hurt as they had feared he would be.

Sometimes we need to let go of the burden of our past selves in order to find the path to our happy endings to come.

[witchqueenofthemoon]

BODY AND SOUL Part 18 (Duncan Shepherd/Mackenzie Stone Millory AU)

BODY AND SOUL MASTERPOST

Author’s Note: Lots of little details for this part--which was a joy to write, by the way. I cried a little over some of the bits towards the end--to write something I love so much is truly moving again and again. I listened to Hozier’s INCREDIBLE new album, Wasteland, Baby! a lot for this part, a HARDCORE #Duckenzie album (Movement, As It Was, Sunlight, wowwwwowowowwww).The hook/lingerie stuff got pushed to 19, because I want it to be from Duncan’s POV/wanted us to see Kenzie in the lingerie through his eyes (for...obvious reasons), and also because when they get home (now at the beginning of 19 rather than the end of 18 as I originally planned) they’re gonna be too sleepy to have a long fuck since they’ve been at the beach all day/I needed something fun for their Monday night. So, that is coming soon. I wanted this part to be joyful and really fun and very romantic, and I think I succeeded with that. Kenzie thinking of her Momby playing John Denver during car rides is my nod to my own mother doing that very thing when I was growing up. A very special thank you to Diah (@impiorumrequies) who helped me with all of Pilar’s Spanish phrases (both she and Pat are my characters, not AUs). The picture Duncan takes of Kenzie in the house is based on the one @ghostwithangeleyes used for this Millory Honeymoon edit (I was actually the anon who requested that one, and I love it SO MUCH--it was a huge inspiration for this part too)--the original is a pic Billie posted on her Instagram here (I realized when I saw her bikini closer it had colored dots, not black ones, but whatever, I wanted Kenzie to have a black-and-white polka dot bikini, so I left it that way in the story). Both of the photos Kenzie takes of Duncan are based on actual photos of Cody: the second one here, and this one from his Instagram from when he was in Costa Rica at the beginning of this year (@hi-ilovedamien I may or may not be hoping you’ll make some Duckenzie Insta edits with them lol xoxo). Here are Kenzie’s cheapie sunglasses (I ordered them for myself lol). Here’s her wrap dress. Here’s her beach hat. Here are her sandals. Here’s her beach bag. Here are Duncan’s sunglasses in this part. Here are his Armani sandals. Here are his swim trunks. Here’s the buckling beach blanket--I want it so bad now, I might have to buy it this summer. Here is Duncan’s $200 Crate and Barrel picnic basket, which I also want really fucking badly now...but it’s $200 fucking dollars. Here’s their beach towels. Duncan’s jet is a Falcon 900LX, the same kind the Koch brothers have--since Beau Willimon based the Shepherds on the Kochs, I thought it made sense to give Duncan the same kind of private plane (Annette and Bill have their own planes, the Falcon is Duncan’s personal plane). The Shepherd Cape Cod house is something like this, though not quite--the Shepherds’ beach house is white and surrounded by a gate, and the interior is a little bit larger, the couch is longer, etc. I had to feature Hozier’s DINNER & DIATRIBES (also from Wasteland, Baby!) at the end of this part--a nod to @deanfinite including it on her BODY & SOUL playlist (thanks again for making that, darling--wow, what an honor!), and a song I will forever associate with Duckenzie now. As ever, those of you who are following along and showering me and Duckenzie with so much affection--I love you all.

Kenzie had been beyond surprise when she saw Tyler approaching her and Claire at their barstools, from the far corner of Jack Rose--the day had already been so surreal (this week has been the most surreal of my life and it’s felt like a year and like the blink of an eye at the same time), and her argument with Annette (Annette’s eyes flashing, Kenzie falling down into their dark well, blood chilling in her veins) was still humming in her nerves, making her jittery. Some days are diamonds, she thought of that old song by John Denver, Momby used to play it during car rides, some days are stone. I think today is both and diamond and a stone, and my whole life now seems to be days that are roller coasters of emotions. How can I be so happy and so upset and so confused all in one day? And so, so, so happy.

Tyler had looked good; he had looked clear-eyed and happy and she could tell that when his eyes fell over her, they held nothing but affection, and if anything, that was the worst part. I wish you hated me just a little, Kenzie thought as he leaned beside her chair, his shirt unbuttoned just-so. Because I know I broke your heart, even if you never said it. When she saw Duncan coming, Kenzie’s heart had lept into her throat--god, this probably looks bad, she thought, and she could feel the wave of jealousy coming off him as though it were literal heat, as though someone had turned a blast of hot air onto her skin, fluttering at her cheeks. His blue eyes had looked at her with smoldering attention, and Kenzie knew again, knew utterly, that Duncan was wildly, deeply, and utterly in love with her. It dipped its fingers, his love, down into the center of her, scooping her heart out and pressing it into his lips. And she hadn’t, not for a moment, wanted him to feel hurt. If only I could shield him from ever being hurt again, she thought, if only I could spare him pain, for I love him, and his pain is mine, and I can feel it in his gaze, and I know he doesn’t want to feel it, I know he feels guilty over his own pain, but I know he feels it just the same, looking at the man I used to love.

Later, in the BMW, she’d felt the raw rush of his pain again, her hands in his hair, his stubble, when he’d murmured “he still loves you” into her mouth and she heard the ache in him, the echo of his own words said so many times already behind it (I love you, Kenzie) and she’d wanted nothing more than to hush it away--Kenzie hoped with all her being that Duncan knew, in that moment, that he was the only one for her. I only love you. It frightens me too, she thought, but I would die for you, this I know, I’d do anything it took to be with you, I’d swallow my own pain a thousand times, because the hole you would leave, if I didn’t, would howl in me, it would rip time apart, because to be with you is my destiny, Duncan Shepherd, in this world and all the worlds to come and all the worlds that came before.

That morning she woke first--Duncan was sleeping with his head tucked down towards her, his hand under his chin, an eyelash on his cheek (she brushed it away, gently), and Kenzie wondered if this is how he’d looked sleeping as a child--every line of worry had faded from him, and his breathing was so small she’d felt a wild, tiny burst of fear until she noticed the breath from his nose stirring the small hairs on his arm. Someday, he’ll die, and so will I, and that makes every moment we are together precious beyond all words. If we’re all reincarnated endlessly, I think we are written into every lifetime, he and I. I think we will find each other every time. I think so. I don’t know how I know that. But I think I know that now. Kenzie leaned down over Duncan’s wondrously beautiful face, molded from the first clay, most divine, by the gods, waxing romantic and idealistic in their artistry, pressing her lips into the softness of his cheek. He stirred just a little, but didn’t wake yet, and she could see the delicate dip of moisture she’d left on his skin, glistening for a moment, then drying. Like an invisible tattoo. Kenzie got up carefully; me first today, she thought, and tip-toed to the walk-in closet, glancing long at her naked reflection in the huge mirror as she did (hair tangled, god, my hips are huge, my eyes look nice today though, they’re so bright lately, god, you really are in love aren’t you Kenz), struck again by its colossal beauty, heart hammering. It seemed to shimmer with a gold sheen in her eyes as she watched herself in it, throwing gold dust over her body--how odd, she thought, it must be a reflection from the frame. Some kind of trick of the light. This mirror is so strange.

Kenzie stopped as she went into the closet, heart falling down into her stomach and then catapulting back up into her throat--tears immediately pricked her eyes as they fell on all her things, organized so meticulously, across from Duncan’s perfect monochrome wardrobe.

Oh my god, he did this for me. I can see his love in this. He organized my things so carefully; by style and color. This is so beautiful. This is art. Kenzie felt as though she could see the aching sensitivity with which he’d touched her things; she felt she could go back and watch in her mind’s eye and see his face, the affection in his gaze as his fingers trailed against the softness of her clothes, lined her dresses and shirts carefully beside each other, touched her shoes with such care--her eyes fell on the heeled sandals she’d been wearing that night, a long, long week ago, the ones he’d untied, kissing her feet--oh, baby. You did this for me. You made this so beautiful and so perfect, for me. She felt a tear course down her cheek, and Kenzie hugged her arms against her naked belly, sniffing quietly so as not to wake him in the room beside her. I never thought, in all my life, I could feel so wonderful, so wildly, so completely happy. There’s so much joy in my heart when I look at this, I could dissolve into it like stardust.

She went to the drawers underneath where he’d carefully hung all the clothing from the standing rack; these drawers were organized meticulously too, oh my god, even my underwear, and she blushed. She shut the drawer, heart twinging, opening the one beside it, in search of her bathing suits--we’re going to the beach today, and not just any beach, Duncan’s private fucking beach at his Cape Cod house, fuck. She found them neatly lined alongside her bras (according to color, whites and creams blending into pink, red, gray, black), pulling out her favorite bikini, white with tiny black polka-dots, slipping the bikini bottoms over her hips, pulling the top over her little breasts, carefully tying the back with her arms crooked behind her (I bet he’ll like this little number, she thought, smiling down at it, loving its coolness on her skin). Then she rifled through the dresses he’d lined carefully above her, finding the navy beach-wrap dress with white flowers she loved so much and had worn on several vacations with Momby (one had been with Tyler, she thought, shivering a little, remembering last night and the way Duncan’s jealousy had thrilled her, made her anxious to be alone with him, to reassure him, I’m yours baby, all yours, kiss me, fuck me, touch every part of me, I’m yours, body and soul and fuck had they reassured each other, Kenzie could still feel the soreness in her ass where he’d penetrated her)--Kenzie pulled the dress down off the hanger and wrapped it around her body, pulling her tangled hair out of the back, stepping quietly out of the closet as she did. She glanced over at the bed--Duncan was still fast asleep, his closed eyes only vaguely visible over his back and the crown of his dark auburn-and-russet hair. My love, sleep a little longer, I love to see you so sweet and so quiet this way. She quietly padded out to the living room, her eyes falling on the roses on the coffee table; Kenzie dipped her face down, drinking in their rich scent, suddenly struck with sadness for the day soon to come when they would wilt; I’ll hang them upside down over our bed to dry, she thought, and then I can smell them at night and never forget how much he loves me, because their scent is his love, and so is the sight of them.

Kenzie moved on to the seldom-used dining room; she moved around the cherrywood table (in her mind’s eye Kenzie saw Duncan lay her down on it and pull her roughly onto him, between his legs, pressing needy kisses against her breasts--I can’t help it, she thought, smiling, blushing at no one, into her hand, I want him to fuck me on every surface of this place, in every corner and everywhere and always) to where a long, ornate chest rested in one corner--Kenzie opened it carefully, and her eyes fell on the telltale object she had hoped to find: a wooden picnic basket, painted white, with brown leather straps and gold embellishments. Ugh, this is lovely, she thought, pulling it out carefully and peeking inside--there where small white plates strapped to the inside of the lid, a cheese knife and a bottle opener between them, four wine glasses in sturdy compartments in each corner of the interior, a cutting board, napkins lined in blue and white, and several sets of cutlery. Kenzie wondered idly if he’d ever used it with another lover; selfishly, she hoped not. She gripped the straps of the basket and went back out to the kitchen, setting it gently on the black obsidian island. Kenzie went over to Duncan’s imposing black espresso machine, pulling two of the little copper espresso cups down from where they rested in the tray atop it, its shiny exterior winking at her in the sun streaming through the window over the sink as she pulled the portafilters out, carefully dispensing grinds into them from the grinder beside it, biting her lip, hoping the sound wouldn’t wake him; not yet. She glanced at her succulents that lined the window as the espresso machine ran two doubles into the cups silently, streamlined, sepia crema rising--there were a dozen plants in all, in their little terracotta and glass pots, each growing cheerfully, their green-and-red leaves seeming to wave at her, and she grinned. I love them there and Duncan said he loves them too. I’m so fucking happy. Who needs drugs when you’re in love like this.

Kenzie went to the fridge, pulling out the bottle of orange juice within, going to the cupboard; she noticed someone (maybe Duncan, maybe the housekeepers) had placed her cheap little glasses--most of them from Target--next to Duncan’s ornate Waterford glasses; the little one with peonies on it, the glass he’d pulled from her hand to crush her longingly against him the night he’d slept in her futon with her--was near the front. Kenzie pulled it down and poured orange juice into it; then, carefully, she gathered the three cups in her hands (the two with espresso clutched in one, a delicate balance of fingers, the orange juice in the other), and watching her footing in the long wrap dress, trod back to the bedroom. She watched Duncan’s back rise and fall, still fast asleep, as she carefully set the two cups and the glass on his night-side table--Kenzie pushed her hair over her shoulder from where it had fallen into her eyes, glancing at the silvery alarm clock (7:42) and then she climbed carefully onto the edge of the bed, her hands falling on his arm and along the back of his neck; then she pressed her face down into his neck and kissed him under his ear, her lips lingering, biting at his earlobe. The musky scent of him filled her nose, and Kenzie felt a twinge down between her legs; that smell kindled her need, brought thoughts of him devouring her into him in the watchful eyes of the mirror (that mirror) last night barreling to the front of her mind. Fucking her so good that she drifted into delirium just to think of it. Beloved, sharing all the secrets of your body with me, I never want it to end, my dearest love. Devour me again, and again, and always. Duncan stirred, turning towards her; his eyes opened, hazily, their blue fire piercing into her, snatching her breath as they always did. His arms lifted and immediately pulled her down into him, demandingly; his lips pressed into hers, his tongue probing into her mouth, and Kenzie fought to resurface from the depths into which she immediately plunged in his arms.

“Good morning, angel,” he murmured into her mouth, hands falling down the softness of the wrap dress, searching for the opening, finding it as her thigh came free; Duncan’s hand went up the incline of her calf and pressed between her legs to the smoothness of the bikini over the lips of her cunt, and Kenzie couldn’t stave off the burst of desirous laughter that erupted from her mouth as she facetiously tried to twist away--”Fuck, Duncan, baby,” she whispered into him as he continued to press his mouth into hers, “Good morning to you.” She could feel the weight of his cock pressing into her thigh under her knee; he’s always hard in the morning, always. “I made you an espresso. But I want some of your orange juice.”

Duncan pulled away from her with some reluctance, glancing over his shoulder at where she’d placed the various cups. He reached for the orange juice (she watched his eyes rove up to the mirror, as if surprised to see it in the daylight, then back down), taking a careful sip from his prostrate position (she also noticed his eyes fall down the peony print on it, affectionately), then handed it to her; as she took it, Duncan pressed his face into her neck, the sweet smell of the juice falling into her from his mouth, and sucked at the sensitive skin there. “You can have as much as you want, baby,” he whispered, and his fingers fell down to her thigh again, trailing there, greedy.

“Baby, be careful, you’re gonna make me spill this,” she giggled again, but Kenzie thought who cares, honestly, who cares, keep kissing me, baby, you’re so fucking gorgeous and I always want you to kiss me, fucking kiss me. She drank deeply from the glass as his mouth worked at her, then she turned her face back into his, letting her tongue press between his open lips, and Duncan moaned. “I’m gonna fuck you right now if you don’t stop that,” he whispered. Kenzie pulled away from him; “Is that a threat, baby?”

“It’s a fucking promise,” he said, pulling the orange juice out of her hand and pushing it back onto the nightstand, reaching back to press her, harshly, flush against him; Kenzie felt the hardness of his cock against her belly now, and she tried to steady her mind as he bit into her neck, his tongue flicking out to leave a wet little trail on her skin. “Baby, it’s almost 8, we should probably get ready soon, shouldn’t we?” Duncan groaned into her, resting his nose along the side of her face. “Ugh, yeah...I guess we should...maybe we should cancel the beach after all.”

“Aww, Dunny, no, I wanna go--” and Kenzie turned her face to nuzzle her nose into his, closing her mouth and pressing a soft little peck on his bottom lip. “I really wanna see your plane, too.”

“Aggh, okay, fine, baby,” Duncan pulled away from her reluctantly, sitting up in the sheets, rifling a hand through his sleep-tossed hair; even sleep-tossed, baby, it looks so fucking good, Kenzie thought, still in the pillow, her eyes falling over his graceful features. I wonder if I’ll ever look at you and not feel struck dumb by you, lost in your face, your eyes, your lips, you, baby, Dunny, my beloved, you. “Thanks for making me a coffee.” He reached over to the espressos, grasping both, handing one to her carefully; Kenzie sat up too, kissing him again as she pulled it from his hand. “I found your picnic basket,” she said, staring at him as she sipped at the bitterness, carefully, her other hand reaching out to trail along his arm. Duncan stared at her; Kenzie fought off the shiver she felt at his eyes. They look at me with devotion; those incredibly radiant eyes. Now I’m always caught in the gaze of a god of beauty. “It’s so lovely, I can’t wait to use it today.”

“I’d forgot about it, actually,” he smiled at her, finishing off the espresso, setting the copper cup back on the nightstand, his hand coming around to press at her thigh, eyes still intensely focused on her. “I’ve never used it before; I bought it a long time ago, on a whim; maybe someday I’ll find someone to use this with, I remember thinking. And it’s been in that chest ever since, for years.”

“I guess it was waiting for me.” Kenzie grinned at him, her espresso cup now empty, too. Duncan pressed his face down to her, the bitter taste of the coffee mingling between their mouths, her hand coming up to cradle against his hair.

“Kenzie, I was waiting for you,” he said, and she shivered a little, pressing into him. They stared at each other for another long moment; my sweet Hades, come out into the sun with me, Kenzie thought, and pulled away from him, climbing out of the bed. He whined after her. “Time to get up, baby,” she replied, turning her nose up in mock-severity. “You can kiss me on the beach.”

Kenzie went into the bathroom to where all her things were lined up on the sink opposite Duncan’s; she loved the picture of it, his minimalist bottles and jars, her colorful containers of perfume and makeup. She reached for her brush, pulling it down into the tawny tangle of her hair as Duncan came up behind her, now in a tight dark grey pair of briefs in the same style he always wore--his hands came around her in the mirror, drifting up to her little breasts in the wrap dress, and she grinned at him, turning her head to the side so he could kiss her jaw as she continued to brush her hair. He reached for his toothbrush and the tube of toothpaste on the counter over her shoulder, and Kenzie couldn’t help but admire him again in the reflection as she set the brush down; how lovely to spend the whole day with you, she thought. How lucky I am. But it isn’t luck, is it? It’s how things are meant to be. Me and you, baby. Kenzie admired the small dusting of hair in the center of Duncan’s chest, the fall of his belly (his bellybutton was concave, and Kenzie thought of her own, which pressed outward just a little), the trail of hair leading down into his groin, the coiled strength in his upper arms, the staggering loveliness of his hands, which looked always akin to something painted by Michelangelo, the gods’ perfect daydream of hands. Those hands on my body, what ecstasy, she thought, reaching for her own toothbrush.

“You know,” she said, staring at him through the bathroom mirror as she ran cold water over the bristles of the brush, “I’m wearing my bikini under this.”

Duncan’s eyes flicked toward her and rolled up a little, and he leaned down to spit into the sink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and reaching for her, his hands (your fucking hands, love) coming up under her breasts to grip her ribs there, possessively. “Fuck, Kenzie. Don’t tell me that. We’re not going anywhere if you don’t stop it, baby. I’m gonna throw you on the fucking bed and fuck you all day instead.”

Kenzie made a face and stuck her tongue out at him, which was covered in toothpaste. He laughed at her, moving his hands down to the dip of her waist. Kenzie twisted away from him and he let go, reluctantly. “I told you I wanna go to the beach,” she said with mock severity. “Do as I say and get ready, Dunny.”

He pouted at her. “Fine, Princess Kenzie.”

Kenzie rinsed her toothbrush, grinning at him again. “I like that. Princess Kenzie.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him, teasingly.

“You are. You are my fucking Princess, aren’t you, baby.”

“Uh huh. And you’re my Prince.” He smiled at her (absolutely intoxicating, my Prince, my Hades pulling me down from a field of flowers into your dark smoldering kingdom of bones and pressing your ardent kisses into my body, baby) and went to the closet, his eyes skirting back over her as he did. “You should see the stuff people are saying online,” he said, turning away from her as she followed him out, disappearing into the walk-in, obscured from her for a moment.

“Like what,” Kenzie followed him into the closet, too, reaching for a pair of beige flat sandals with laces similar to the heeled sandals that rested beside it (those sandals he’d unlaced on that first night, pressing her into him and Kenzie knew her life was about to change forever, somehow, I knew) on her side of the shelves. She slipped them onto her feet (her toes unpainted but neatly trimmed--when Kenzie got a pedicure, which was very seldom, she asked for clear polish only), leaning down to tie the laces. Duncan glanced to her from where he was rifling through one of his lower drawers--then he knelt down, quickly, still in only his dark gray underwear, and gently pushed her hands away, carefully crossing the lacing over her ankles, the gentle caress of his fingers making her legs break out into goosebumps instantly, and Kenzie’s heart slammed against her breasts. He’s so wonderful. Fuck. Baby. You call me angel, but you’re my angel too.

He finished tying the laces (double knots) and looked up at her from where he knelt before her; Kenzie could see the devotion dancing in his gaze again, and felt frozen under it. How can you, Duncan Shepherd, be looking at me this way.

“Thanks, baby,” she whispered.

“They’re saying we’re the most beautiful couple they’ve ever seen, that you’re a princess, a queen, and I that should marry you. And I am inclined to agree.”

“Dunny. We’ve been dating for a week.” Kenzie’s heart slammed into her ribs again. In a colossal tidal wave of abandon, she allowed herself to indulge the thought for a few seconds; imagined their wedding, surrounded by a thousand flowers, imagined a flower crown around her head with crystals threaded through it, imagined how beautiful he would look, his hair falling so perfectly, his blue eyes looking at her with the same reverence she saw in them now, clutching her hands in a dappled sunset, surrounded by loved ones, pressing cake into his cheek, both of them laughing. Then she willed herself to bury these thoughts; god, could anything be so wonderful...Kenz, it’s already happening, you’re surrounded by wonder already, how is any of this real in the first place. Kenzie felt dizzy suddenly as Duncan stood up, his hands reaching for hers. He gazed down at her.

“I love you, Kenzie.”

“You’re still in your underwear, Duncan.”

“I don’t care. I love you.”

“I love you too, baby,” and she went up on her tip-toes (I just can’t reach you otherwise, can I, baby, she thought with a thrill) and kissed him. “Now, get dressed.” She turned her back to him, pushing away her needs and her disappointment and her daydreams of their imaginary wedding (I’m inclined to agree) and the allure of his blue eyes as he looked after her hungrily--time to pack us a picnic lunch for the beach, she thought, time to spend all day with you, in a dream.

------

It was about an hour later when they left the penthouse; Duncan was carrying the picnic basket now stocked with a picturesque array of foods from his seemingly-always-perfectly-stocked futuristic silver fridge, as Kenzie was starting to notice--clusters of wine-colored grapes, a wheel of white brie, tiny, round, crispy baguette crisps, several small cuts of cured charcuterie sausage, cold chicken, golden pears, little gherkin cucumbers--and another basket in his left hand, this one with two bottles of wine (a white and a rose) and a six-pack of Corona cerveza, which Kenzie had been delighted to find on the bottom shelf of the fridge (he does drink beer after all, reassuring her once again that he was indeed human) and one perfect green lime. Tucked under his arm were two luxuriously huge jacquard-woven cotton white-and-navy beach towels, which Kenzie had squealed in delight over when she found them in the linen closet in the bathroom. He had a different pair of sunglasses on today; these were round black Saint Laurent with very thin frames, and made him look like a famous musician to her, effortlessly cool--his shirt was a collared button-down Hawaiian-style with a print that reminded her of the dappled floor of a pool, and he was wearing navy blue Burberry swim trunks with a white tie around his abdomen, and black thonged Armani sandals--today Kenzie had noticed how well-pedicured his feet were in the sun, the prettiest feet on a boy I have ever seen, she thought, shyly. Kenzie tucked her hair behind her ear in the soft wind, glancing around--mercifully no paps, she thought, good thing because Harris has today off--shifting the buckled navy-and-white beach blanket she carried to her other arm, a slouching straw beach bag over her shoulder with sunscreen, one of her books (Jane Eyre), a cardigan, her phone, her earbuds, her cheap little round rosy-golden sunglasses, and her wallet. She clutched the edge of her straw beach hat in her fingers (it had a black ribbon around the crown) and smiled at him. Duncan gave her a little smile in return as they walked to the BMW, the sidewalk quiet today--the sky was clearest blue, with no clouds, and it was already quite warm, in the low 80’s. Samuel was idling there on the corner--as Kenzie looked up he came out of the driver’s side and reached for the buckled blanket she carried, grinning at her, lifting it carefully from her grasp. “Thank you, Samuel,” she murmured.

“You two look like you’re about to go to a photoshoot,” he replied, cheerfully. He was wearing dark sunglasses today and Kenzie could see her reflection in their shiny surface, her hair drifting around her shoulders, the dip of her wrap dress. “You are stunning, Miss Mackenzie.” She grinned at him, toying with the tiny rose-gold necklaces she’d put on today--three charms, a celestial sun, a crescent moon, and a planet with rings. Duncan carefully placed the two baskets in the trunk which Samuel had opened for them, then tucked the towels in beside them--Kenzie’s heart swelled to look at the beautiful things all lined up neatly there before Duncan shut the lid with a snap, beckoning her away from her thoughts and into the backseat as Samuel got back into the driver’s side. “C’mon, baby, the jet’s waiting for us at Dulles.” Kenzie slid in behind him, her hat in her lap, She looked up at Duncan--he was gazing at her (I’m always caught in his blue-fire eyes, licking at my skin) with a serene expression, and he reached for her hand, twining his fingers through hers.

“I’m so happy to spend the whole day with you,” he said softly, leaning down to kiss her. Kenzie’s breath caught in her lungs--my life is this charmed thing now, this beautiful dream, only it’s not a dream, it’s really happening, you’re really mine--at the scent of him, woodsy and musk, and she returned his kiss, closing her eyes, lost in the moment and the feeling of his hand on her cheek as the car pulled away from the curb, and the air smelled like sunlight and cool green grass, the windows down and the warmth on her skin. Samuel played Etta James again today--at last, the skies above are blue...my heart was wrapped up in clover, the night I looked at you...I found a dream that I could speak to, I dream that I can call my own…

-----

At the airport Samuel pulled into a designated area for cars near a lot where several private planes were lined next to each other, partitioned into a small bunker--”Come on, baby,” Duncan murmured to her, pulling away from the cradle of their embrace, where they’d been lost in the touch of each other on the way, leading her gently out of the car, his blue eyes glinting at her over the rim of his sunglasses--Kenzie let him pull her up, let him grasp the edge of her straw hat to carry it for her, his other hand holding hers tightly, and he led her to a jet on the end, white with red curving ribbons of color along the sides--900 LX, Kenzie could see printed on the tail, serial numbers along one of the side-engines. Its stairs were already extended to the ground, anticipating them--the pilot, who was white and middle-aged with a large nose, a dark brown mustache going gray around the edges, and squarish sunglasses was standing casually near it, sipping from a Fiji water bottle, a cigarette in his other hand, almost entirely smoked. He gave Duncan a little wave as they approached, and Kenzie noticed him look down over the dip of the sunglasses at her, smiling a little, curiously. His gaze was gray and friendly.

“Duncan,” he said cordially. “And this must be the famous Mackenzie Stone.”

“Pat,” Duncan said, nodding at him, then smiling down at her. “The one and only.” Kenzie shyly readjusted the strap of her beach bag. “I dunno about that,” she said, a mortified blush in her cheeks. “Nice to meet you, Pat.”

“The internet’s in charge these days,” Pat replied, cheerfully. “And it says you’re famous now. Welcome aboard, Miss Stone.” He inclined an arm toward the plane’s steps, and Duncan’s hand went to the small of her back, pressing her slowly toward them. Kenzie grasped the silvery railing, gathering the edge of her wrap dress in one hand so she wouldn’t trip, and stepped up into the plane; she glanced over her shoulder at Duncan, who nodded at her encouragingly. Inside, there were several rows of seats--7 rows in all, two seats per row except for the last, which was one long seat with two seatbelts. A woman of indefinite age with coffee-colored skin, in a smart white blouse and fitted black pants, smiled at her as Kenzie got to the top--she wore mauve lipstick and dark eyeshadow, and had her dark hair tied back in a glossy ponytail.

“Miss Stone,” she said, holding out a carefully manicured hand; her nails were dark red, and her smile was warm. Kenzie grasped her fingers, smiling back. “I’m Pilar, buenos días. I’m your stewardess today. Please do not hesitate to let me know if you need anything. I’ve been taking care of Duncan since he was five years old.” She had a very slight accent, a vague lilt at the end of her words. She glanced at Duncan, her eyes bright on him. “I watched him grow more and more handsome everyday.” Duncan looked away, clearly embarrassed at her flattery.

“Pilar used to slip me extra cookies when Mom wasn’t looking,” he said, then looked down at Kenzie affectionately. “My partner in crime.” Pilar laughed; it was a wonderful laugh, her head thrown back with abandon, the sound of it seeming to emanate from the pit of her belly. “Always,” she replied. “We’ve just switched to extra gin and tonics these days.”

“Speaking of which--” Duncan said, and Pilar nodded, grinning at him. “Claro, Duncan. Please get settled, I’ll let you know when Pat says we’re ready to go. Is Samuel here?”

“You know he is. I can’t seem to get him to take more time off, no matter how hard I try.”

Pilar looked down the stairs to where Samuel was carefully carrying their picnic baskets towards the plane; she let out a little squeal and carefully rushed down the steps on her black pumps, trotting towards him to give him a long hug; Samuel’s big white grin was visible from where they stood at the top of the steps. Kenzie smiled towards them; Samuel really is the best, everyone who works for the Shepherds is so wonderful. I never really realized how many people are constantly working behind the scenes for the wealthy. When Duncan takes over Shepherd Unlimited, we have to make sure they’re really being taken care of. Kenzie went through the side-door of the jet, hesitating over the seats; Duncan pointed towards the back, where the long seats were. “Let’s sit back there, Kenz, yeah?” Kenzie nodded and made her way there, setting her beach bag on the floor, sitting and looking up at him carefully. “Everyone is so wonderful, Duncan, everyone who works for your family, I mean. We have to make sure they’re all getting paid fairly. We have to make sure they have good benefits--when you take over the company, I mean. I’m just...so moved by everyone.” Kenzie pushed the apprehension she felt over being so forward with him away; surely, he must understand what I’m saying. He’s my dearest love and he will listen to me.

“I agree. Mom hasn’t been very transparent with me about that sort of thing and I plan to go over everyone’s salaries and benefits as soon as I take over for my Uncle.” Duncan sat next to her, reaching for her hand, taking his sunglasses off to look at her. Kenzie reached her fingers up to his cheek and Duncan turned his face into her palm, closing his eyes, as if the feeling of her alone moved him beyond words. Oh baby, she heard his mind push the sweetness of the emotion in it towards her, you are such an angel, I’ll do whatever it takes to deserve you. I have to. You deserve only the best of everything, including the best of me. Her heart ached inside his words; she was nodding to him before she realized. “We can make so many people happy,” she whispered.

“Kenzie. Listen to me. I want to make you and Madeline members of the board of directors for Shepherd Unlimited.”

Kenzie’s fingers were still on Duncan’s cheek and she gasped a little; he opened his eyes and stared at her, his gaze unflinching, and put his hand up against hers, keeping her fingers on him.

“Duncan. What.”

“Kenz. I mean it. Please say yes.”

“I--fuck, Duncan, I--”

“I know you can do this. You’re so brave and so brilliant and so kind. I need your help, baby. I need your help to make Shepherd Unlimited into what it needs to be to help people. I need you.”

At that moment Pilar stepped back on board the plane, carrying the picnic baskets; Kenzie could see her through the open pathway between the plane’s plug door and the seats, the curtain there pulled to the side. Samuel was behind her with the beach blanket and their beach towels, and he and Pilar were chatting amiably, not having noticed the heightened nature of the looks on Duncan and Kenzie’s faces or the way Duncan held her hand against his face. Kenzie let go of him and looked down at her bag, rifling in it for her phone, attempting to keep the other two from noticing her expression; her head was pounding, and she could feel Duncan’s eyes (blue flames) on her, feel the warmth of his emotions still, falling over her. Pilar and Samuel were slipping the baskets into a fridge towards the front of the plane, beside the door to the cockpit, and then Samuel waved to them; Kenzie smiled at him from her bag and Duncan gave him a little nod, then Samuel turned and kissed Pilar’s cheek in an affectionate gesture before he climbed back out. Pilar came towards them, and Kenzie fought to straighten her face, pulling her phone out of her bag and clutching it tightly in her hand. Duncan’s fingers came against her thigh, and his touch immediately began to soothe her nerves; it was medicinal, healing, and utterly trusting. The board of directors, she thought, dumbstruck. Me and Momby. Oh, my god, Duncan. Annette will actually explode.

“Pat says we’re ready to go,” Pilar said, her dark brown eyes shifting between them. “I’ll get you that gin and tonic as soon as we’re in the air, Duncan. Mackenzie--what would you like?”

“Umm,” Kenzie’s mind felt blank, like a chalkboard someone had wiped clean.

“I make a strong mimosa,” Pilar wiggled her eyebrows, sticking a little bit of her tongue between her very straight, white teeth.

“That would be wonderful. Thank you, Pilar.”

“You look a little green, mami. Do you get airsick?”

“Um, no, no, I don’t think so.”

Duncan squeezed Kenzie’s leg a little, his eyes on her with an expression of concern. I didn’t mean to bring it up too soon, they seemed to say, though his thoughts were indistinct to her right now. I didn’t mean to upset you. Kenzie slipped her hand under where his was against her thigh, opening her palm to him, threading her fingers into his. “I’m okay, just excited, I guess.”

“I have to say this--don’t get upset with me, Duncan, miho--but ¡qué parejazo!--you are a very, very beautiful couple,” Pilar said, and Kenzie could see the way the woman’s face was flushed with the sincerity of her words. “No wonder everyone online is so obsessed. Like a prince and a princess, ay dios mio. Like royalty.”

“Ugh, Pilar. Thank you.” Kenzie looked at Duncan as he said it and saw the blush on his cheeks, and his delighted grin at her sincerity. Pilar shifted her gaze onto Kenzie again, her expression tinged with both immediate affection and concern. You don’t even know me yet, and already you’re so lovely, Kenzie thought, a wave of appreciation washing over her. I think I have to do this. I think I have to accept what Duncan is proposing. I think I need to be on the board of directors and be fucking brave and fucking do this for him--for everyone. I can help everyone in the company if I do this and so many people who aren’t in it, too. And Momby will be there too, if she accepts. Why wouldn’t she? Annette may hate me, but Momby loves Duncan already.

“Thank you, Pilar.” Kenzie’s voice trembled a little, and Pilar leaned down to her immediately, grasping the hand Duncan wasn’t holding, her other hand coming up against Kenzie’s hair to rest gently on her shoulder, her face full of sympathy. “Mami, you are doing just fine. Don’t you worry. It must be hard to suddenly be in the spotlight this way. But I can see how much this boy loves you. In fact, I have never seen him this way. And es tan conmovedor...it’s very beautiful to see. You will be happy together. I can see that too. I’m gonna make you a very strong mimosa, and you’re going to have a beautiful day together.” Pilar squeezed Kenzie’s hand, then she straightened and turned to pass through the aisle, closing the curtain behind her. They heard an audible click and Pat’s voice fell into their ears from overhead. “Hey Duncan and Mackenzie, we’re all clear for take off, should be about three hours, skies are super clear and the wind is with us, don’t see any delays. I’ll check back in when we’re on our way down. Enjoy Pilar’s strong libations, Mackenzie, she’s infamous for them.” The loudspeaker clicked off and the Kenzie felt the plane drift forward. She snapped her seatbelt together, phone in her lap, and Duncan snapped his in turn beside her before leaning into the side of her hair, his lips pressing into her ear.

“Kenzie, baby, are you okay?”

“Mmhmm. I’m okay. I’m just...everything is...everything’s so…”

“You don’t have to explain, Kenzie. I love you.”

Kenzie lapsed into grateful silence, looking into his lovely face, her heart full. She sniffed a little, pushing her tears back; she could feel the plane drifting towards the runway, and her stomach did a somersault; I told Pilar I don’t get airsick, but I guess that isn’t entirely true. I feel sick right now. I feel overwhelmed in the wonder of everything again. Right now she felt as though her heart was trying to leave her body. The plane accelerated and she gripped Duncan’s hand harder; he leaned into her and her head fell on his shoulder, his chin coming gently against the crown of her hair. Kenzie closed her eyes as the plane went faster and faster, trying to concentrate on the warmth and pressure of Duncan’s hand; then she felt the plane lifting off the ground and the empty drift of its ascent into open air. She breathed out, slowly--she could feel Duncan breathing carefully, measuredly, beside her, feel the rise of his chest under the crook of her arm resting at his side. She thought of Pilar’s words, the sincerity in her eyes: you will be happy together.

------

A few minutes later they were still sitting quietly that way; Kenzie had been drifting inside the feeling of Duncan’s hand, the woodsy smell of him under her nose, the feeling of his jaw against her head, the slow incline of the plane; she opened her eyes as she heard Pilar come through the curtain again with a bar cart, upon which was a dish of round ice cubes, a plastic tumbler of gin and tonic for Duncan, and a plastic champagne flute of mimosa for her. Pilar handed Kenzie the flute with a napkin pressed to the side, her warm hand touching Kenzie’s fingers gently, then she handed the tumbler to Duncan with a napkin underneath it. “Enjoy, vida bellas. Call me when you want another.” She gestured to the round buttons on the far edge of the armrest of Kenzie’s seat, and then Pilar winked at her; Kenzie smiled up at her and nodded against Duncan. I love her. Pilar turned the bar cart back around as Duncan unbuckled his seat belt, carefully easing away from the soft weight of Kenzie’s head, pulling the tray on the back of the seat in front of him down to place his drink on it, then he turned to her and looked at her for a long moment--Kenzie held her mimosa, her fingers chilly on its icy, smooth surface, feeling frozen inside him. I’ll always get lost in his eyes. And not just because they’re so beautiful--but because they look at me as if I’m the reason for their beauty. And that’s what shakes me. She took a deep breath.

“Baby. Okay. Dunny. Duncan. I accept.”

“Kenzie.” The smile that broke over his face crushed into her heart like flower petals falling in a spring storm. “Thank you. Baby. Everything we can do. Everything we will do, together. With you by my side, I know we can do wonderful things with the company. Things that will help the world.” He reached for her hand; Kenzie felt overcome with the rawness of the emotion that drifted between them, and she smiled back at him, tears in her eyes.

“Baby, let’s take some photos today,” Duncan said, pulling his phone out of his back pocket, opening his camera. “I wanna save memories from this day. I wanna look back on them later. Our first full day together, no one else.” Kenzie grinned at him; this sweet angel. Duncan pressed his hand against her cheek for a moment, then moved it to angle his phone. Kenzie lifted the mimosa out to him; it caught the morning light through the plane’s row of small windows, and Duncan lifted his drink with his other hand, his index finger reached out as they clinked them together, tucking around the incline of her hand between thumb and forefinger; he held his phone up and snapped a photo. He held it up to her for her approval; Kenzie gazed down at it, loving the graceful shape of his hands and the desirous affection with which he’d reached for her, the dancing golden line of light reflecting off her flute. She nodded at him, cheeks burning. “Good, baby. Really good.” He grinned at her (the smile of an angel) and she watched him type, though he had his phone angled so she couldn’t quite make out the letters.

Kenzie opened the Instagram app impatiently on her phone in her lap; the first photo that popped up on her feed was the one Duncan had just posted. At the bottom he’d included a caption: Stealing away to a secret hideaway for today with @kenzielouwho. I am the happiest man on earth.

Kenzie’s cheeks burned, her heart full to bursting. Duncan reached out for her hand and she felt his face lean down to her, lips against her cheek. “I can’t wait to be alone with you, baby, really alone.” The whisper of his mouth against her made her shiver. She turned her face into him; into his mouth, this mouth that’s mine, this mouth that is a part of me as he is a part of me, as he is the other part of me, once lost in the darkness, now illuminated in the light. And what a bright light we are. What a brilliant light we will be.

“Dunny. I love you. I love you so much.” She looked up into his eyes; his were glittering with a sheen of moisture, and she breathed against him, her words soft, her hands caressing down his arms to soothe him. “You are my special one. The only one.”

He blinked, then closed his eyes and let out a little sigh, as if overwhelmed by her touch and her words. Kenzie watched as tears gathered along the edge of his eyelashes and she fought back her own, and concentrated, pushing her thoughts into him with golden fingers; the size of the love inside me for you is greater than I am; how can something within me be bigger than I am? But it is. I know it is. I wish I could show you, pull it out of me and let it fall over you, a weightless armor for you to wear, and wearing it, you’d always be fearless, and you would never need to cry about anything, Dunny, because your heart would know that mine holds it, always. I’ll love you until the stars fade and the universe is swallowed in darkness. I’ll love you with all of me, in every lifetime, with all of my body and every bit of my soul, forever.

--------

Kenzie had drifted off into sleep against him about an hour later; she’d been idly scrolling through Duncan’s Instagram, leaving hearts and starbursts and kiss emojis on his posts (red carpets and black-tie events and photoshoots and one that she particularly loved of him laughing on the deck of some opulent place, looking into the camera with the sunset fading behind him; Mom got my good side, he’d written below--all your sides are your good side, baby, she thought, you are the most beautiful boy I have ever seen). She tried to avoid the comments--they left her stomach in a ball of anxiety--but Kenzie noticed Duncan had liked and left hearts and heart-eyes and comments (my baby, I love you, you look so beautiful here, and so on) on almost all of her photos. She’d also noticed she had over a million followers now--yikes. As she did this, Duncan threaded his fingers through her hair quietly--he’d seemed unable to speak for awhile, lost in the intensity of his emotions, and she had pressed her head into the crook under his arm, that spot of mine, until she felt his breathing quiet and his body soothe under her touch, and in his embrace, eventually, she’d fallen into a slumber wherein she dreamt about finding a dead deer under a flowering tree; in the dream, she’d laid her hands carefully on its matted fur, and pushed life back into it; reversed time, her dream-self had thought, I pulled time back so it left the thing that happened in a future still unwritten and I brought the life back from the dark place it went into when the deer shuddered its death-rattle, and the deer had gotten up and walked away, and in the dream Kenzie had thought yes, that’s it, that’s the way of it, the right of it. But then she woke up--woke up to the sound of Pilar pushing the little bar cart back through the curtain, handing her another mimosa with her warm smile. When Pilar had left again, she sleepily leaned away from Duncan, setting her mimosa down on the tray in front of them, and he looked down at her affectionately, his phone in this other hand--Kenzie saw he’d been on sothebys.com, looking through the “upcoming auctions” section. My boyfriend is rich enough to casually browse priceless antiquities like he’s shopping on Amazon.

“Pat was just on the speaker,” he said to her softly, “We’re starting the descent into Yarmouth now. The drive from the airport is only about five minutes, and then we’ll be right on the beachfront, baby.” He trailed his large hand down her arm, then onto her thigh. “Were you dreaming?”

“Uh huh. There was this dead deer...I had a white dress and a golden headband with leaves on it--and I touched the deer and brought it back to life. It was so strange. The other day I had this dream where Claire was choking and I literally did something to open the skin of her neck and get the thing out that was choking her, and then she was okay. What the fuck does that mean?”

Duncan gave her a puzzled look, re-buckling his seatbelt. “That is weird. I’m no expert on dreams; I wonder if it means anything. Maybe we should go see a psychic or something,” and he grinned at her. Kenzie made a face and stretched; Duncan lifted his hand up to press it down her waist as she did, in a longing moment of abandon. “I keep thinking about last night, baby,” he leaned into her, whispering. “I keep thinking about that mirror and how it feels like it always belonged with us somehow, I keep thinking about how beautiful you looked in it--” Kenzie couldn’t help it--Duncan looked so beautiful, his hair falling in perfect waves, his eyes so impossibly blue, staring into her, the light shadow on his jaw, the curve of his cheek as the now-midday sunlight from the plane’s small windows fell against him, his straight nose and full lips and the way he reached for her with his beautiful, graceful hands, the tenderness and aching lilt in his voice--thoughts of last night fell down into her too, the musky smell of him as he had fucked her, filling her to the point of madness, the commanding voice he’d used to tell her to open her eyes, to watch them in their passionate embrace--and she forgot the strange dream in the space of a moment, her mouth coming up to his, lost inside the immensity of his arms (the greatness of my love for you angel is as vast as the universe and you fill me up so it grows more and more and its beauty staggers me), she heard his thought, tinged with blue flame. As the plane descended, they barely noticed--Kenzie felt his eyelashes brush against her cheek as he kissed her, pulling her into him, needy; and by the time it had landed and the steps had descended and Pilar came through the curtain to tell them they’d arrived, Kenzie and Duncan were breathing fiercely into each other, reality obscured by lust and Pilar’s strong drinks, mislaid in the scent and the feeling of the other, trying to resurface from the private place between them into whence they’d strayed in the space of moments.

“Mis amores, the beach is waiting for you,” Pilar said as they pulled away from each other, cheeks flushed and breathing heavy. “You can continue where you left off when you get there.” She was grinning at them, and Kenzie leaned down to grab her beach bag as Duncan pushed his sunglasses onto his nose, as if to hide the brightness of his eyes, the heavy vibration of their desire for her. He turned to Kenzie and gave her another kiss, this one a small peck, his mouth closed; wait till we get to the beach house, she heard him press into her, and the wave of want inside the thought made goosebumps break out on her skin. Pilar helped them carry their beach equipment down the steps, and there was already a dark SUV waiting for them, a service from the airport--they carefully lined the baskets and towels and blanket in the trunk with the driver’s help, and Kenzie slid into the backseat, Duncan behind her.

“We should be back by 5,” Duncan said to Pilar before he slid the door shut.

“Si, Duncan, Mackenzie. Enjoy each other.” Pilar grinned at them mischievously again and turned away to where Pat was having another cigarette--Kenzie saw him pass one to her as the car drove away. She reached for Duncan’s hand; so close to being alone with you in the sunlight, baby, she thought, and relief washed over her as he clutched her tightly. He was right about the ride being short--4 minutes and 50 seconds later, the driver was helping Duncan with the baskets and the buckled blanket while Kenzie gathered the beautiful beach towels in her arms, breathing in their freshly-laundered scent. The Shepherds’ beach house was a huge, classic white Cape Cod-style, with two decks and a wide driveway facing the street, enclosed by a padlocked gate that Duncan had hopped out of the SUV to press a code into as the driver pulled up. As the driver went through, Kenzie could see the white stretch of beach visible behind the house, and no other residences were close enough to spy--Kenzie saw two other similar houses about a two dozen yards down the street, but they seemed to either be empty right now, or their residents inside. Kenzie looked back at the house; and it seemed to look back at Kenzie in quiet contemplation, ocean-minded and easy. The driver placed the baskets on the doorstep and Duncan thanked him; Kenzie hopped up behind him as the man walked away and drove off. “He’ll be back around 5,” Duncan murmured to her, and used a keycard from his wallet to open the door. It swung to a living area with a long, expensive-looking brown leather couch and easy-chair, seashells and gold paperweights and books on the shelves, a stone-lined fireplace in one corner. Kenzie moved through it to the kitchen after him, where he placed the picnic baskets on a tasteful island in the center of the room (not like Duncan’s obsidian island, but nothing is as beautiful as that is). The kitchen had long counter-tops and a spotlessly clean dining table with seven chairs, and Kenzie could see a long deck through the window of a pair of sliding doors; she felt giddy at the wide stretch of sand she could see beyond it.

“Fuck yes!” She couldn’t help it--this is fucking great, she thought, rushing to the door of the deck, yanking it open, feeling the sea breeze cascade over her hair and cheeks as she did. Kenzie stepped onto the deck and hopped a little, up and down, with pure delight. She could see seagulls wheeling above them; long seagrass stretched along the beach in clusters, and the sand seemed impossibly light in the dappled warmth of the sun and the deeply blue sky. Duncan followed her out onto the deck, smiling at her with an expression of pure happiness--she couldn’t see his eyes for his dark sunglasses, but he laughed as she hopped up and down again, falling against him.

“Baby,” she said into him, breathlessly. “This is so beautiful. We should come here every fucking day.”

“I agree. Fuck work and everyone who isn’t you, angel.” Duncan gathered her against him and his kiss tasted like the sun, its warmth reaching into her and pressing around her lungs. “I think we should go down to the sand and eat lunch and lay in the sunlight.”

“Oh fuck yes,” Kenzie agreed. “I just wanna look at you for the rest of the day, baby.”

“Ugh, baby,” and Duncan leaned down to her again and his hands came to the tie at her waist, undoing it before she even thought of stopping him--his hands (those hands) slipped down to the bare skin above her bikini bottoms, sliding against the softness of her waist and belly, and his tongue went into her mouth, and Kenzie couldn’t stop the little moan that came out of her, the smell of him like sandalwood and damp earth, her hands coming around his neck. Duncan’s hands went down around her ass, clutching her there for a moment (last night how you fucked my ass and filled me up and came inside me there how you fucked me so fucking good baby) and he moved them further down still to grip her at the back of her thighs, lifting her into his arms, her head hovering above his, their lips still crushed together. Duncan carried her, kissing her, pressing her against him, back into the kitchen, then into the living room--Kenzie gasped as he threw her down onto the long leather couch, tossing his sunglasses onto the easy-chair, pushing the dress away from her body; he kneeled down to where she lay against one of the throw pillows, watching him with desire and delight, and pressed her legs apart, insistently, staring at her--then Duncan licked his lips and Kenzie let out another little moan; she brought a finger up between her mouth, biting into the pad of it, lost in his eyes again. Duncan grasped her bikini bottoms in his two long hands (those fucking hands, fuck) and yanked them down from her thighs in one strong motion; they pooled around her ankles and Duncan pulled them away from her feet, his lips kissing into her knees for a moment--then he pressed her legs apart harshly again, his lips coming up the inside of her thigh, slowly, carefully, with concentrated attentions--his tongue slid up the delicate, sensitive incline of the space between where her thigh met her hip bone and down to where the lip of her cunt began--Kenzie’s body shuddered with the knowledge of where it would go next, and she whimpered into her finger, eyes half-closed now.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he whispered, and she felt his breath against the wetness he’d left on her skin. “What do you want me to do to you? Tell me. Command me.”

“Duncan, eat my pussy. Suck my clit. Do it right now.”

He groaned into her at that; Kenzie could see the mound of his erection under the thin fabric of his swimming trunks from where he knelt. He pressed his hands on either side of her thighs, wrenching her legs apart even further so her cunt was lifted up to his face, the lips of her vulva shuddering as her muscles spasmed in arousal; then he pressed his mouth against the bud of her clit and laved his tongue out against it, achingly slow. Kenzie shuddered violently; a prolonged moan erupted from the back of her throat, and she felt his mouth smile against her. He paused, his lips pressed into her, and Kenzie bit into her lip, hard, trying not to beg--but the sensation of him was too much to bear.

“Bay-beeee,” and she heard her own voice as if removed from it, as if floating beside herself, “fuck me with your tongue, Dunny, fuck me good with your mouth--”

Duncan didn’t need another prompting--he sucked insistently at her clit as her pleading bled out into whimpers again, his grip pressing her thighs apart, making her core ache with intensity and need. Kenzie could feel how wet her cunt was growing--she felt dampness leaking down into the pucker of her ass, felt droplets of his spit falling into the folds of her vulva. Duncan pressed his tongue into her clit again, then probed down into the canal of her pussy, then back up, and her hips bucked up into him, slowly, into his mouth, to welcome him inside her. Duncan’s blue eyes opened from where they’d been closed in concentration; Kenzie tried not to gasp as she stared into them, feeling dazed, bewitched in his stare--not every girl gets eaten out by a fucking angel, she thought, fighting to keep her gaze inside his, her heart fluttering wildly as the intensity of his attentions between her legs caused a hot, rising swell there, her orgasm already threatening to arrive full-force into his mouth.

“Kenzie, come for me, Princess,” he murmured into her, and Kenzie’s head fell back, her eyes falling up to the ceiling, unable to stop herself. Princess, oh my god. I am your Princess, baby. You’re my Prince, and I’m your Princess. She couldn’t help but feel a kind of carnal satisfaction at the word--I’m yours, your princess, now fuck me good. “Fuck your Princess good, baby,” she said, and watched his eyes come up from where his mouth worked on her, a promise in his gaze: oh, I fucking will. Suddenly she thought of the dress Morgan had sketched for her; the dress she would wear to the Gala, resplendent and divine. Wait until you see this fucking dress, baby, she thought. Your Princess all in gold.

Duncan sucked at her clit again, his fingers coming up demandingly to press the lips of her vulva away from the bud, and Kenzie shuddered, feeling the wave of her release riding up now--the most beautiful boy in the whole fucking world is pressed between my legs right now, sucking on my clit, and he calls me baby, calls me angel, calls me Princess, calls me divine, a goddess, and he wants me to come, and fuck, I’m gonna--

“Gonna come now, gonna come hard, baby--” And Kenzie’s hips bucked up harshly into his mouth now and Duncan continued to press his fingers into her so the lips of her cunt were spread under them and his mouth was pressed with careful immediacy around her clit, his tongue working into it as she moaned, her mouth wide and raised up, and his other hand came into the wetness that rushed out of her between her legs, fingers probing into her cunt to feel it spasm out her release in waves, her muscles clenching around him.

“Yes, baby, good,” he whispered into her, his breath on her clit making her shudder again and again as she came down. “I love how you feel when you come under my mouth like that, fuck--” He licked his lips (oh my god, those lips) and Kenzie pulled his face up with shaking hands, pulled his wet mouth against hers, tasting and smelling her own release on him--then she said “my turn baby, it’s my turn now,” and he moaned and she pressed him into the couch beside her and slid down, softly, between his legs, pushing the dress off her shoulders, undoing the tie at the back of her bikini top and tossing it to the floor, so she knelt between his knees naked for him, her cunt still spasming from the memory of her orgasm, kindling her desire to please him. Kenzie pushed her hair back, then her fingers went to the tie on his swim trunks, little fingers working quickly. “Uhh, Kenzie, angel baby,” he whined, and his hand came up to press into one of her little breasts, his thumb fondling over her nipple, his eyes (blue flames, storms, demanding) shining at her, all his attention focused on her, his mouth still wet from her. Kenzie reached down into the waistband of his trunks and her hand fell on his cock, thick and hard (so big, filling me up when he fucks me)--she pulled it out, gripping it tightly, as she moved her other hand down between her legs to slick the wetness from her orgasm over her fingers. Duncan watched her do it with hunger shining out of his beautiful eyes--”Fuck, Kenzie,” he whispered, and she shushed him, bringing the other hand, her fingers now soaked in her release, along the length of his cock, and using both her hands to lather it from the bottom of his shaft to the head, easing it into the sensitive hole there. Duncan’s head fell back and Kenzie felt the shudder in his thighs--then she dipped her head down brought her tongue over the head, bringing spit out of her mouth to slide down his length obscenely.

“I need you to come in my mouth,” she said, and she looked up at him, making sure to stare--making sure he saw the demand in them. “Fuck my mouth, Prince Duncan. Fuck my throat and come in my little mouth, baby.” He nodded (Prince Duncan, rapturous in his beauty), his lips falling open a little, and his hands came up to her head, gripping into her hair, gently at first, then more harshly. She slid her mouth down into his length, willing her throat to open and take him in--she gagged for just a moment, then felt his thick cock slide down into her throat until her lips were at the bottom of his shaft--Kenzie closed her eyes, steadying herself, then she moved back up and began to bob her head while he was still buried inside her --she felt Duncan lift his hips up into her, lost in her mouth, then back down, and into her again, so he was fucking her throat with slow, measured concentration--Kenzie closed her eyes, feeling tears gathering at the edges of her eyes at the intensity of his length inside her this way, but she continued to move her head, feeling spit drip down the side of her chin. Duncan reached out to wipe it away, and she looked into his eyes as he did--his were full of deep, coiled lust--but that same wildly ardent adoration of her twined around it, and Kenzie realized she’d stopped breathing. She lifted him out of her throat to gasp a breath out--then she plunged his length back down into her, and Duncan shivered violently, a deep moan tearing from his throat, and he said “Kenzie, baby, I’m gonna come in your mouth n-now, okay--”, his voice shuddering as he tried to hold back, and Kenzie nodded and pulled back so his cock was just between her lips, then she felt the wet heat of his release coat her tongue and the back of her teeth and a long rivulet of his white come ran down from the side of her mouth, drops falling on her knee, and her eyes fluttered closed as Duncan’s gaze went hazy on her, lost inside his orgasm, and he groaned as he watched her, his hand coming up to grip her throat gently, tenderly, but possessively, needy, his cock still delicately held in the front of her mouth as every drop shuddered out of him into her. He quieted and Kenzie swallowed, licking her lips--Duncan leaned forward and his tongue came out to lick his come from the side of her mouth where it had dribbled out, and then he kissed her, needy again, his mouth open, and she could taste both her release and his as they tongues came together.

“Fuck, Kenzie, that was fucking incredible,” he whispered into her. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Duncan,” and she smiled up into him, loving the hair falling on his forehead and the soft feeling of his fingers under her jaw, falling down into her golden hair. She reached down to where she’d discarded her bikini top and pulled it back around her little breasts; searched for where Duncan has discarded her bottoms and slipped them back on, standing on post-coital wobbly feet. Duncan leaned back to look at her for a long moment, carefully, tenderly slipping his cock, now going limp, back into his swim trunks. Kenzie stuck her tongue out at him, wiping at the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, and he laughed.

“Baby, I wanna take a picture,” he said, pleadingly.

“Oh, yeah, Mackenzie Stone, covered in sex, here she is everybody!”

“Please, baby? You look so beautiful.”

“Fine.” Kenzie rolled her eyes facetiously as Duncan pulled his phone from his back pocket--he held it up to her and Kenzie struck a pose, hands on her hips, dipping her legs together, her mouth smiling open, her eyes skirting to the side on a whim. “There, that’s the best Instagram pose I can do.”

“It was perfect, look,” Duncan held his phone up to her after a moment--he’d posted it with the caption Princess of the beach @kenzielouwho followed by the crown, celestial sun and wave emojis and she felt raw under the adoration in his gaze as he looked at her. She glanced down at the photo. Aw, I do look sort of cute, she thought. “You’re just good at taking pictures, baby,” she murmured to him. Duncan shook his head. “No, you’re just really that fucking beautiful, Kenzie.”

“Ugh, give it a rest, Mr. Shepherd,” Kenzie turned, squinting at him over her shoulder. “Help me bring all this stuff out, I’m starving.”

“Yes, Princess Kenzie,” Duncan replied, his tone obedient and playful, and she felt a secret thrill; I love it so much. I love telling him what to do and I love it when he obeys me. He’s so fucking beautiful and he’s mine. I love his devotion. Kenzie slung her beach bag over her shoulder, tucking the towels under her arm and grasping the basket with the beer and wine in it in the other hand--Duncan grasped the picnic basket and the buckled blanket and followed her out onto the deck and down the little wooden steps to the side, where there was a path that led a short way to the beach. It was hot and sunny now and the heat felt good on her skin, soothing away the intensity of the post-coital comedown she’d felt inside. She set the towels down carefully on top of the basket and as Duncan set the picnic basket down beside it she reached for the buckles under his arm, helping him spread the blanket out on the hot white sand, lifting her face up to kiss him for a moment.

“This was such a good idea,” she murmured to him, and Duncan smiled at her, nodding, his sunglasses back on the bridge of his nose. “I love it here, I knew you’d like it,” he replied. “I love how hidden it is from everything, I don’t even think most of the paps know about this house. They don’t seem to know about the Deep Creek cabin, either. I can’t wait to take you there, baby. It’s so beautiful there.”

Kenzie sat on the blanket, contentedly, and Duncan came down beside her, crossing his legs and reaching into the basket with the drinks, pulling out the frosty bottle of rose. Kenzie opened the picnic basket and handed him the bottle opener and he worked on the cork as she brought the plates and cutting board out, placing food on it carefully; the grapes and cheese and cold chicken. She popped some of the grapes into her mouth--”Gimme one of those, baby,” Duncan said, and she pushed one between his lips; they lingered on her, kissing her fingertips, before he chewed and swallowed, pulling the cork out of the bottle with a satisfying pop.

“I sort of mentioned something to your mother the other night at Busboys,” Duncan said, looking at her over the edge of his sunglasses, pulling out one of the wine glasses, filling it to the brim and handing it to her. Kenzie gawked at it, unable to suppress her grin, grasping it carefully. “Sheesh, baby, thanks--and what? You mean Momby knows about the board of directors thing already?”

“Not in so many words, but I asked for her help--when I take over for my Uncle. I guess I wasn’t sure yet exactly what I meant. But now I know I want her--and you--to have some clout, the power to make decisions that can combat and overrule Annette. Because I know one thing, Kenzie--Annette is going to combat us with this every step of the way. She’s not going to let either of you come in without pushing back. So we need to be ready for that.” Kenzie handed him a fork, a knife and a plate, and he took them gently from her, nodding gratefully. She smiled at him and jabbed her knife into one of the cold cuts of chicken, lifting the whole thing up to her mouth and biting into it ravenously. Having sex all the time sure makes you fucking hungry, she thought, deliriously drifting in happiness. This chicken is like, the best chicken I have ever fucking had. Everything tastes so good lately. She swallowed, reaching over to her beach bag and slipping on her gold-framed round sunglasses, pulling out the bottle of sunscreen after it, placing it on top of her bag as a reminder while they ate.

“I’m not afraid of your mother, baby,” she murmured, and she reached out to brush a finger across Duncan’s knee as he poured some wine for himself.

“I know you aren’t, baby, but I am. That’s why I need you and Madeline so much. I have to completely restructure the way Shepherd Unlimited functions as an enterprise--I have to convince the other shareholders that this is what’s best for everyone. I can do that with your help, I’m sure of it. I know we can do it together.”

Kenzie pulled one of the pears out of the basket and handed it to him--he gripped it from her hand, his fingers trailing along hers before lifting it to his mouth, his teeth ripping a chunk out of it with abandon. Kenzie pulled a sleeve of the tiny baguette crisps out too and ripped them open.

“I understand, baby. That’s why I’m going to do it.”

“Kenzie, please know how grateful I am. I don’t ask you this lightly. I know it’s going to be a challenge. I love you, Mackenzie.”

“Duncan.” Kenzie handed him one of the crackers, gently. “I love you too. I know. And I love eating with you like this. I love sitting here alone with you on this beautiful beach. I love you and I’m here for you and I’m with you, baby.”

“I want to buy the Post and give Candice executive powers over the operations. What do you think? Are you okay with that? I want to protect it from my mother and I want to protect you and your coworkers. I want to dismantle the show and Gardner Analytics. And I want to shift the Foundation’s goals. I want it to become a real Foundation. One that nurtures.”

“The Shepherd Foundation for Arts and Sciences.” Kenzie breathed out the words before she even realized what she was saying--Duncan paused, and she couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but she saw the coiled movement of his hand as it came down to his knee in thought.

“Kenzie. That’s perfect.”

“Thank you, Mr. Shepherd, I expect to be well paid. And tip your waitress.”

Duncan laughed; it was a real laugh, genuine and from the gut, from the well of his heart, and Kenzie’s own heart clenched to watch him; he’s so beautiful and we are so fucking happy when we’re together, I’ve never felt like this with anyone, and we are going to do so many wonderful things, and I could just die my heart is so full---of him, and everything we’ve already shared with each other, and everything we will share--the days ahead will be so full and no matter what, I know we’ll get through them, we’ll be together through all of it, I can feel it, like he wrapped a blanket around me in the cold, soothed me with coolness in the heat. My special one. My Duncan. Duncan leaned across the cutting board and pulled her against him; his mouth was sweet with rose and pear and grape and she ran her tongue for a moment against his teeth and he groaned happily into her.

“I’m gonna go fucking jump in the ocean,” Kenzie said. “It’s fucking hot out, baby.”

“Not if I catch you first.”

Kenzie hopped up to get away from him; Duncan reached out and the tips of his fingers brushed her ankle; she squealed and took off across the sand, glancing behind her as he came after her, discarding his shirt to the ground--Kenzie waded knee-deep into the waves, yelping as she felt his arms come around her, his lips pressing down into her neck, tickling her skin and making her writhe in his grasp. “Kiss me, baby, kiss me, Kenzie,” he pleaded, and she did, her sea-damp hands coming into his hair and pressing him into her, and then she pushed him harshly and he stumbled back into the water, falling under a wave. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna get you for that,” he sputtered, grinning and coughing. Kenzie screamed in facetious fear, grinning back at him as he caught up with her and dunked her under the next wave--she came up spitting the salty sting from her lips, her hair soaked down her back now, and moved out into the water away from him, kicking off to swim out a little; swim so he’d follow her, and he did; he did and his lips crushed into hers as they floated in the sunlight, the taste of the ocean on his mouth, and his hands finding her under the water, finding her body and pulling her into him, his eyes on her, reflecting the water, making her shiver at their beauty; she grinned at him and pressed her fingers into his torso, tickling, and he kicked away in the water, laughing again, and then she wrapped her arms around his neck as they trod the waves beneath and rained kisses into him, his sea-soaked hair and his eyelids and his nose and his mouth, reaching up to taste her in turn. Icarus, fallen into the sea to be with me. Poseidon, come up from beneath the depths to be with me. Apollo flown down from the sun, to be with me. Ares paused from his rage, turned to me. Dionysus, grapes on his breath, kissing me…my Hades, my beloved, pulled from the dark, warm in my arms, here on earth, with me. With me.

------

Kenzie sat cross-legged on the beach blanket, Jane Eyre open on her lap (she was about halfway through--she’d read it before but it had been years since she revisited it--Jane was about to find out about Rochester’s mad wife in the attic, and Kenzie imagined, wildly, that Duncan kept his own secret mad wife in a closet hidden in the penthouse somewhere), one of the big towels tucked around her back from where she’d used it to dry off, slathering her limbs in sunscreen, her gold-rimmed sunglasses at her eyes, her straw hat with the black ribbon on her head, her hair, now drying in the sun, blowing in salty, golden strands around her face. They’d cleared the food away from the blanket but the wine glasses still there, Kenzie’s tucked between her legs, a little left in the bottom, Duncan’s balancing in the sand, empty, one of the Coronas, half-drunk with a wedge of lime floating in it, beside it. He laid next to her, his pool-dappled button-down under his head, his eyes closed against the afternoon brightness; Kenzie gazed at him as she rubbed sunscreen on her thighs and the back of her neck (he’d rubbed some on his chest and shoulders and she had gently smoothed some over his face a few minutes ago, admiring his unblemished skin and the chiseled beauty of his features as he lay still, obediently); his fingers were resting on the toes of her right foot, crooked under her knee, and she couldn’t tell if he was awake or asleep.

His hair had dried in luxuriant curls, and it seemed lighter in the direct sunlight; almost golden like hers. She could see the light dusting of sand that had brushed into the side of his cheek, into his stubble, along the curve of his jaw--Kenzie almost felt like crying to look at him this way, in this angelic sweetness.  She pulled her phone out of her beach bag and opened Instagram, checking that the sound was off; I’ll take this one in secret, she thought, but I want everyone to know too, baby, I want everyone to know that you’re mine, an angel in my arms every night. She brought the phone down close to his cheek; Duncan didn’t stir, and she could see the small rise and fall of his belly in the quiet breeze. She brought the photo back up to her eyes; just his cheeks and the corner of his eyelashes, grains of sand, and the curls of his hair. He really does look like an angel. She posted the photo with three emojis: the angel, the heart pierced by an arrow, and the celestial sun. Duncan stirred a little, and Kenzie realized he really had drifted off to sleep, his face turning toward her, his other hand tucking over his eyes, the hand on her foot gripping tighter, as if in his half-sleep he worried she would leave. She leaned down and couldn’t resist the urge to press her lips into his cheek; it was salty and gritty with sand, but it still smelled like him; woodsy musk, sandalwood, jasmine soap, and that lingering scent underneath, the smell that was him, a smell without a name or description. Just him.

Kenzie glanced at the time; it was a little past 3, and there was still time to drift in this moment, his hand warm on her foot, the sun drying their sea-soaked skin. She thought let him sleep, drinking off the rest of the wine in her glass, topping it off with more from the bottle nearby quietly so as not to wake him, and went back to Jane Eyre. 

------

It was about half an hour later when Duncan stirred awake; Kenzie was on the last page of her chapter, munching on one of the tiny cucumbers they’d packed, and she looked up at him, her hand coming across to his hair, gently.

“Kenz, I had a dream too,” he murmured, pressing his fingers into the corner of his eye, rubbing it as she stroked his salt-kissed curls. She imagined him doing the same thing as a little child, felt sure it was something he had done his whole life (like the tick he has when he’s nervous, rubbing against his jaw and the bottom of his lip).

“Oh yeah? What was it about?”

“I was in pain...terrible pain. I think I was dying. I was on the ground and I couldn’t get up--I couldn’t feel my legs. I was talking to my grandmother..she looked different than I remember her, though, her hair was up, and Adelaide usually wore her hair down...I was begging her to take me into the house...I don’t know what house. I don’t know what I meant. I said, I can be with you forever. And she said...she said...go to hell. I couldn’t believe that. And then she left me there, in terrible pain.”

“Oh, baby, what an awful dream. It was just a dream, though. That never happened.”

“But--Kenzie. After she left. You were there. You leaned over me, your face full of compassion for me. You looked...different, but the same. Your hair was darker and down around your shoulders, a little bit shorter. You were all in black lace, but you had little gold jewelry--the kind you wear for real. And you leaned over me and you were soothing me. But you called me a different name. You called me Michael. And then...then I woke up.” As Duncan spoke he closed his eyes, as if to remember the images from the dream, and his hand came up to the crook of her legs where they were crossed. She grasped his fingers and kept her other hand in his hair, soothing through it.

“I’ll always be here for you, baby,” she whispered. “As long as I’m alive I will. I love you. You’re the only one for me.”

“Kenzie,” he opened his eyes and stared at her; they were clear despite his sleep. “You’re the only one for me, too. And I know that...I know it. As absolutely as I know the sun is going to rise in the morning and set the evening. As absolutely as a tide going in and out, or thunder coming after lightning…”

“That’s lovely, baby.”

“Still, all the same, I know it, Kenzie.”

She grasped his fingers; Duncan moved his head into her lap, and Kenzie pressed her legs closer together to cradle his cheek. “I wish today could last longer,” she said down to him, and he nodded against her, replying. “Soon we’ll go to the cabin and we’ll have days together, days to be alone together--I’ll show you the woods and we’ll make a bonfire, we’ll drink wine and fuck and watch the stars, baby.”

“Oh, Duncan. That sounds so wonderful.”

“I can’t wait, baby. I can’t wait to really get away with you for awhile.Today has just made me want it even more. This week is going to be so long. And the Gala is on Friday. My Uncle’s going to be there, too. If you think my mother is bad...just wait. And he’s dying. So he’s really his best self these days.”

“I’m not afraid of him either, Duncan.”

He pushed himself up on one arm, up into the crook of her neck; “I don’t doubt it,” he whispered. “You’re so beautiful and so brave and I love you so much. You’re my moonlight, baby, my Persephone, breathing life back into me when I thought I was dead...”

Kenzie could feel the waves of emotion coming off him, like an endless tide of warm shadow; could feel the confusion still huddled in the lining of his thoughts from the dream he’d had while he slept, and she felt drunk off it, drunk on him and the closeness of him, not just his body, but what was inside. Duncan looked at her for another long moment, pushing himself further up to sit facing her; his hand came against her cheek. He didn’t speak, but she felt the waves grow stronger for a moment; felt his desire to soothe her in all things, to protect her and care for her for the rest of her life, for as long as she would let him--it was like he was pressing his lips against the deepest part of her, and it was so intimate it made her want to scream in its intensity, made her want to scream in the ecstasy of the feeling of him touching the lining of her hidden self; a part of her no one had ever touched and she hadn’t even really been sure was there. But she could feel his invisible fingers on it, and it shattered her. She turned her face away from him, tears immediately coursing down her cheeks in a cascade of overwhelmed emotion. Duncan leaned towards her--”Don’t cry, baby, please don’t cry.”

“I’m crying because...I’m happy. Baby. I’m so happy. So happy, but the happiness wants to tear me to pieces, it wants to rip me apart. It’s so much; it’s so big. It’s like all of the world is inside it. When I look at you, it’s like I see the world too. The universe. Everything.”

“I know. I know.”

She shuddered; the tears wouldn’t stop now. Duncan pulled her against him and she let a sob fall into his bare skin; he held her that way for a little while, his hands in her hair as she cried, her tears falling along his arm, the sound of the surf and the seagulls in their ears, and Kenzie couldn’t be sure, but she thought maybe he cried a little too, cried so his tears fell against her hair and into the sand, though he didn’t make a sound.

------

Soon it would be time to go. Kenzie was putting her things away in her beach bag, a nostalgic melancholy already falling into her mood--work tomorrow, she thought, and the magick of this weekend over, at least, for now...I guess I shouldn’t be too sad, the magick that is between Duncan and I grows stronger every day. But the world keeps trying to get between us, doesn’t it. Well, I won’t let it.

She glanced up to where Duncan was sitting, his back toward the beach house, his face toward the ocean--he had his round Yves sunglasses and his shirt on again, and his expression was as melancholy as she felt; his arms were crooked around his knees, hair on his forehead, blown by the breeze over the sea, and his lips were almost closed, open tinily, almost imperceptibly, wistful. The sun was hanging low in the sky now, scudding behind some wisps of cloud that had appeared, throwing very small shadows over him. She grasped her phone where it lay near her bag--lifted it, and snapped the photo of him--a photo she would come to love fiercely in time, though she didn’t know it now. She added a black and white filter and was struck by the romanticism of it. Hades comes to earth, she typed, and spends a day in the sun with his Persephone. @duncanshepherd my heart belongs to you. She hit Share. He looked over at her, as if re-emerging from a dream; his eyes were concealed behind the sunglasses, and his thoughts were imperceptible to her right now.

“Ready to go, baby?” She asked, softly. He sighed a little and cocked his head to her. She cocked hers too, half-mocking, smiling at him coyly from where she kneeled in her bathing suit and sun hat. His melancholia seemed to lift at that; affection washed into his cheeks, and he smiled back.

“Today was perfect, Kenzie, wasn’t it.”

“Yes, Duncan. Today was perfect. I will never forget it.”

“Me either.”

-------

Pilar welcomed them, now sun-kissed and smelling of sea salt and sand, back into the jet with her deeply friendly smile--she gave Kenzie a knowing look as she took the picnic basket from Kenzie’s hands, and Kenzie wondered if Duncan had left any marks on her neck that she hadn’t noticed. Or maybe I just look really fucking happy, because I am, she thought. Duncan asked Pilar for another gin and tonic, and Kenzie asked her for a vodka tonic--after Pat’s cordial voice came over the speaker again to tell them they could take their seatbelts off, she brought the ice cold plastic tumblers to them, setting them gently on the tray in front of Duncan--Kenzie had pressed her earbuds in, her head on his shoulder, fighting the urge to sleep as her eyes fluttered closed. “So much sun makes you sleepy, reina,” Pilar commented, nodding to her affectionately. Kenzie nodded and smiled at her--she heard Duncan thank Pilar quietly--then a ethereal masculine voice with a lively guitar floated through her earbuds, blocking the rest of their conversation from her hearing...

Honey, this club here is stuck up / dinner and diatribes

I knew it from the first look of / the look of mischief in your eyes

Your friends are a fate that befell me / head is the talking type

I'd suffer Hell if you'd tell me / what you'd do to me tonight

Pilar walked away from Duncan, glancing at her affectionately again, her dark eyes skirting between them with that admiring glint. Like a prince and a princess. The song continued in Kenzie’s ears, lilting, choir-like chanting and clapping resonating.

That's the kind of love I've been dreaming of

Her eyes fell over Duncan, who was looking down at his phone. Instagram. He was on Kenzie’s profile and she blushed to see he’d noticed the two pictures she’d taken of him when he wasn’t looking. He expression was surprised, then shy, then he turned his face to her, eyebrows raised, and held up the one of him sleeping, sand on his cheek. What’s this, he mouthed, his eyes dancing. She smiled at him, timidly.

That’s the kind of love I’ve been dreaming of

He looked back down for a moment, going to the other one, of him staring out at the ocean in his dark glasses, a look of melancholy on his face. He held that one up to her too--his smile now seeped in emotion.

Now that the evening is slowing / Now that the end's in sight

Honey, it's easier knowing / What you'd do to me tonight

I love you, he mouthed to her.

I love you too, she mouthed back. Then he kissed her, and Kenzie closed her eyes, the music and the evening-soft touch of his mouth drifting into her, and she thought Eros carried Psyche into the clouds, again.

That’s the kind of love I’ve been dreaming of

That’s the kind of love I’ve been dreaming of

[dazzling-ji]

aesthetic themed ask list

flower crown: when did you last sing to yourself?

probably halo? still riding off the performance high tbh

fairy lights: if a crystal ball could tell you the truth about anything, what would you want to know?

can’t think of anything that i would want to know immediately that i couldn’t just wait for confirmation in prayer about...

daisies: what is the greatest accomplishment of your life?

so far? taking the steps necessary to actually pursue my dreams

1975: what is the first happy memory that comes to mind, recent or otherwise?

kbbq with friends

matte: if you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living?

probably tell my parents how i feel about them, same to my friends

black nail polish: do you have a bucket list? if so, what are the top three things?

not really. i have things i’d like to do, tho

pantone: describe a person close to your life in detail.

as in a human being? um, she has obscenely small hands. her face is like shiny and red perpetually. she is tiny. she gets really excited over the smallest things, i.e. her cats or the sight of a corgi. lowkey highkey hates her hair unless it’s short. bane of my existence.

moodboard: do you feel you had a happy childhood?

bruh i wish. literally still trying to console younger me with each day.

stars: when did you last cry in front of another person?

lowkey cried in front of my therapist as i told him i don’t cry in front of people. idk if he noticed or not (IT’S CUZ HE KEPT STARING AT ME WITH THOSE BIG SAD EMPATHETIC BLUE EYES. I DON’T NEED EMPATHY!!!) but the tears were threatening and i was threatening the tears.

plants: pick a person to stargaze with you and explain why you picked them.

bruh, had to describe a human for the last one but this time i won’t. my best friend nam shin iii. because i love him and he’s great. wish he were real so i could teach him english and he could teach me korean and i could help him romance his girlfriend. 

converse: would you ever have a deep conversation with a stranger and open up to them?

i did when i was first meeting my therapist lol. i don’t trust people enough to do stuff like that.

lace: when was your last 3am conversation with someone, and who were they to you?

probably ye olde tiny handed one. she’s the only one who would try to stay up that late with me. doesn’t mean i don’t have to deal with her sleep delirium.

handwriting: if you were about to die, and you could only say one more sentence to one person, what would you say and to whom?

it’d either be to myself or my mom. something along the lines of letting them know their worth.

cactus: what is your opinion on brown eyes?

they aight. blue eyes are really scary 90% of the time. brown eyes make more sense to me.

sunrise: pick a quote and describe what it means to you personally.

“different doesn’t mean wrong” said by one of my late faves, who i honestly felt was a kindred spirit 99.999% best friend match to me. not gonna get into why the quote is so deep to me, all i’ll say is it allowed me to breathe.

oil paints: what would you title the autobiography of your life so far?

indigko

overalls: what would you do with one billion dollars?

pay off debts, travel, save, give to charities/church, save some more, maybe make a trust fund? 

combat boots: are you a very forgiving person? do you like being this way?

with God, yeah. by myself? depends. i can be kind of hypocritical and times.

winged eyeliner: write a hundred word letter to your twelve year old self.

guess i know what to tag this ask meme now

pastel: would you describe yourself as more punk or pastel?

punk for sure.

tattoos: how do you feel about tattoos and piercings? explain.

super cool. was thinking of getting either a septum or normal nose ring. wish tattoos made a bit more sense on dark skin, but either way they’re super painful so maybe i lucked out.

piercings: do you wear a lot of makeup? why/why not?

i don’t. don’t wanna ruin my skin and i like the natural look over a beat face. i like people looking realistic if that makes sense?

bands: talk about a song/band/lyric that has affected your life in some way.

so many people to talk about, but my ex-fave prince helped me realize i was ace.

messy bun: the world is listening. pick one sentence you would tell them.

i wouldn’t. at least not rn, don’t have anything revolutionary to tell em. maybe something like “Please remember we’re dealing with human beings” or along those lines, because I’m tired of reading about racists and human rights violations who real life be forgetting that aside from differences in race/gender/sexuality/etc/etc we are all human and worthy of love.

cry baby: list the concerts you have been to and talk about how they make you feel.

stromae @ msg - super fun! wish the people behind me didn’t try to waste my time and sit at a dance music concert.

nai palm @ brooklyn (i forget the venue) - also super great. it was great to actually see her irl, and allowed me to realize i can actually socialize without too much problem.

garth brooks @ mercedes benz - yikes ppl in the south RLY like their country music huh?

kimbra @ brooklyn (also forget the venue) - LIVE MUSIC CAN BE SO EXPERIMENTAL AND FUN. kind of reminded me of what i’d heard seeing prince irl was like.

grunge: who in the world would you most like to receive a letter from and what would you want it to say?

NYU - You have no outstanding balances. We have a $1 mil scholarship that will be applied to your account as of today. We love you. In fact, we’re gonna wipe away all your student loan debt and ensure no one in your family has to worry about paying for anything ever again in their lives.

space: do you have a desk/workspace and how is it organised/not organised?

my desk always gets cluttered with papers and stuff. but i really do prefer working at a desk rather than a bed. 

white bed sheets: what is your night time routine?

stall as long as possible until i REALLY need to go to sleep. grumble as i lazily brush my teeth and rinse my retainer. lie in bed and watch youtube for anywhere between 30 min to 3 hrs before actually turning off.

old books: what’s one thing you don’t want your parents to know?

call me crazy, but i want my parents to know about me and *gasp* like what they realize. like lemme tell em i’m ace and have them not freak out, idk. 

beaches: if you had to dye your hair how would you dye/style it and why?

blue or purple. but probably a wig or something impermanent. 

eyes: pick five people to go on an excursion with you. who would you pick and where would you go/what would you do?

THE FAB FIVE. WHY AM I SO DUMB. we’d go makeover their next person on queer eye OR even better we’d just hang out

11:11: name three wishes and why you wish for them.

1. the aforementioned letter from nyu because i deserve it, ok?

2. a life i don’t feel like i have to run away from because i hate living like this but feel powerless to change it.

3. a cool best friend i could go cool places with, because i wanna go cool places

painting: what is the best halloween costume you have ever put together? if none, make one up.

i cosplay’d as Taemin during the Ace era. It was cool because it basically was my style, so I felt super confident all day looking my best.

lightning: what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done while drunk or high?

I do neither. But the craziest thing I did half-asleep was convince myself I could still talk to the aforementioned tiny handed weirdo and answer her questions though my head was firmly planted on my pillow and i was neatly tucked under my sheets. like i really thought homegirl could read my thoughts and find the answers she needed to her questions. 

thunder: what’s one thing you would never do for one million dollars?

like donald trump

storms: you on only listen to one song for the rest of your life, or only see one person for the rest of your life. which and why?

maybe one person - i’d see myself the way God sees me so I wouldn’t be so powerless against my insecurities and the fake people in the world all the time.

love: have you ever fallen in love? describe what it feels like to realize you’re in love.

idk? i’m ace and aro and very aesthetically drawn, so i really don’t know if i ever have. 

clouds: if you’re a boy, would you ever rock black nail polish? if you’re a girl, would you ever rock really really short hair?

i prefer myself with longer hair tbh.

coffee: what’s your starbucks order, and who would you trust to order for you, if anyone?

hot chocolate if i wanna blend in. otherwise a strawberry acai refresher. i trust any of my friends because it’s really not that deep.

marble: what is the most important thing to you in your life right now?

gaining self-confidence so i can step more firmly into my calling.

fin.

[multifandomimaginesandstuff]

In The End | Part 3

In The End: Part 1 Part 2

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairing: Isaac Lahey x Reader

Author: (me) multifandomimaginesandstuff

Word Count: 1505

You ran your fingers gently through Isaac’s hair. You sighed heavily when your hand came back covered in sweat. He wasn’t getting any better. His breathing now came in labored gasps and his face had become even paler than it was before, if that was even a possibility. He looked as if he was the breathing form of death and you hated it. You felt so helpless. Scott was in distress and the love of your life was dying and Stiles was getting antsier by the hour.

Lydia was distraught by the death of her best friend; everything was a mess and with night approaching at lightning speed a plan needed to be made. You sat on the bed, in the room that you shared with Isaac slowly. You didn’t want to shake him awake after he had just fallen into a fitful slumber. You knew that the sleep would be filled with nightmares, but at least you would be there to try and keep them at bay.

You positioned yourself so you were looking at his face. You didn’t want to think the worst, but if he were to die in this house, you wanted to remember every little detail about his face. You wanted to remember the curve of his lips and the way that his nose twitched while he slept. You wanted to remember Isaac in peace, not in pain and dying.

The plan to escape had been made, and you hoped that it went as you had all discussed, but you all knew that would never happen. It never did. The five of you would try and get about halfway through the plan and then the giant ass monkey wrench would get thrown into the mix and you would all be royally screwed.

You shook your head. You didn’t want to think about any of this. You just wanted to be in your living room with Isaac as the two of you watched reruns of Star Trek. You wanted to be warm in your OWN bed, not one that was set up in some rickety dank freaking haunted shack. Why the hell did you even let Isaac talk you into this? All you had to do was put your foot down and he would have listened to you, but no, you just had to make him happy and go along. A lot of good that did all of you.

You closed your eyes and hoped that a cat-nap would help with all the crap that you would soon have to do. You were just starting to drift off when another scream pierced the stagnant air of the house.

You jumped off of the bed, making sure to tell Isaac to stay where he was first, and ran out into the hallway. You met with Scott and nodded before running in the direction that the shriek had come from. You knew who it was.

Your fears were confirmed as Scott kicked down the door and rushed into the room. It was Lydia.

Stiles was on the ground with Lydia’s head in his lap. His whiskey brown eyes were filled with sorrow as he looked down at the lifeless body of his lover. The tears that made tracks down his face were all too familiar to you now. They were the same fat droplets that made their way down Scott’s face the day before..

“We’re getting out of this house tonight. I don’t care what we have to do, but no one else is dying here.” The finality in Scott’s voice brought a little hope into the room.

Maybe the rest of you could actually make it.

***

“So, why has nobody noticed that we’re gone yet. I mean we told your mom one night and I’m pretty sure that we’re pushing the second one here.” Stiles’ voice held some of his old snark, but it would never be the same, not with Lydia gone.

Scott shrugged. It was the only answer that would be given in this situation.

An eerie silence fell over the first floor room that you were all gathered in. The raspy voice of Isaac was the one that eventually broke it, “how the hell are we going to get out of here?”

A look of thought came over the face of each boy, but you were the first to formulate a plan. “What if we burn down the house?”

All heads whipped around to look at you, but no one spoke, so you continued with your thought. “I mean, there is lore everywhere saying that if you burn the house a spirit is attached to it will perish, so what if we gave that a try? The worst that could happen is… well… we die, but we’re going to die if we stay here anyways so let's take the risk.” You cringed at the open mouthed stares that were coming your way.

“Okay, miss freaking Winchester, how the hell do you think we will get out of this house before the grandma keeping us here burns out? She has the doors sealed! If she doesn’t go before the house is ash then, well let's hope we make good freaking fertilizer for the new plants that’ll grow!” You sent a glare at Stiles.

Now was not the time for the pale boy’s sarcasm. You were trying to think of a way to save his skinny ass and he was giving you nothing but sass.

“What if instead of the house...we burn the bones?” You smiled a little as Isaac made a suggestion.

“Yeah, okay Dean. You got salt over there Mr. Righteous?”

“Y’know what Stiles? Why don’t you take your pessimistic ass and check?” A small smile made its way onto your face as the lanky male complied.

***

The four of you were standing in the basement of the rotting shelter, looking down at the hole that had been ripped in the floor to find the bones of the dead woman. “Stiles, if you ever tell another horror story, I’m going to rip out your tongue and stick it in your pocket.” The boy laughed nervously, knowing that you would follow through with your threat.

You poured salt over the bones and lit a match. In your time in Beacon Hills you had done many things, but this was never something that you would have ever thought would be happening in all of your life.

As the bones were burning you heard a screech, one that you would never forget. It was the screech of a desperate spirit, wanting so badly to be saved from the fate that it was being sealed to. You clung to Isaac tightly as it grew louder, and even in the state that he was in he pushed you behind him, something that he always did when there was danger near by.

When the spirit of the girl finally came into view you knew that the plan had worked, she was almost completely burnt out and when she was finally gone everyone in the room heaved a sigh of relief, that was until Isaac collapsed.

  “Isaac, Isaac please! It’s over, you have to make it out now.” You looked up to Scott with pleading eyes.

“We have to get him out of here Scott, this house is killing him!” Scott nodded curtly and pulled Isaac up into his arms.

“Stiles, go try and open the door, Y/N burn the house down.”

You could see the sorrow in Scott’s eyes as he realized that burning down the house meant leaving the bodies of Lydia and Allison behind, but you could also see that he knew it had to be done. It was with a heavy heart that you began sprinkling salt all across the decaying mansion.

You ran outside once you struck the match that would hopefully end all of this. You stood between Scott and Stiles and cried with them as you watched the house burn with the body of your friends inside. “What are we going to tell people Scott.” The brunette shrugged.

“It’s an old house, not all of the wiring was in good condition and it caught fire, we barely escaped alive.” You nodded, all too familiar with lying to the police, but this time it was different, you weren’t covering up the justified death of the newest bad guy to come to Beacon Hills, no this time you were covering up the death of pack, of family.

Isaac coughing is what finally made the three of you start moving. The black blood had finally stopped flowing from his mouth, but he wasn’t out of the woods yet he still needed more help than any of you could give him. You looked back at the house one more time before turning back and moving on. It hurt too much to think about the people that you were leaving behind.

The only things that mattered now were right here with you, the pack that you still had, and the boy that you loved.

(Wow you guys it’s literally been a year since I last posted on this blog...I guess I just got out of writing but for some reason I just got a wild hair to maybe start again so who knows what the future may hold. My style of writing had changed a little, but hopefully you all will still like it when I post new stuff, but here is the end of In The End, FINALLY! I hope that you all have a nice morning/afternoon/night or whatever it is where you are! (Sorry for any mistakes the majority of this was written a year ago, I just kind of added onto the end.))

[icat8]

Boy on the Train

Request: I was wondering if you could write this story (Spider Man): a girl meets Peter Parker and instantly falls in love, she is also a new Avenger. So Spider Man and her are partners and Spider Man flirts with her (not knowing who she is). She ends up being kidnapped and Spider Man/Pete must save her. @rawrimanugget

A/N: Sorry this took so long! A lot of stuff came up this past week :P But thank you so much for requesting this! Anyone who wants to make a request, please do so! I had a lot of fun with this (also I totally went overboard lol)

Masterlist

You were in the middle of reading your favorite book for the millionth time when the subway train screeched to a stop in front of you. Not wanting to lose you place (or any reading time for that matter), you continued to read the words on the page as you stepped into the train. Your mother probably would have yelled at you for being so distracted had she been there, so thankfully she wasn’t. Just as you were about to look up to find a seat, you felt the train lurch forward, and gravity did its dirty work. As you fell through the air, you prayed that you wouldn’t get hurt and more importantly that your book’s cover didn’t bend.

Fortunately, the expected impact never happened. Instead, a pair of strong hands squeezed your arms, keeping you in place.

Oh no, you couldn’t help but think. I just pissed off some creepy subway rider, and now he’s going to kill me for falling on him and skin me and throw the remains in a dumpster and…

“You okay?” your rescuer’s voice asked from above you, disrupting your thoughts of violence.

Strange, he doesn’t sound that mad…or menacing for that matter.

You slowly looked up to see a teenage boy about your age with a worried look on his face. You couldn’t help but get lost in his chocolate eyes.

“Uh, you okay?” he asked again, immediately bringing you out of your trance.

Your eyes widened and you let out a cough in embarrassment as you stood up straight.

“F-fine. I’m fine,” you stuttered a quick apology. “Thank you.”

He gave a soft smile that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and he said a quick, “No problem.”

He slowly started to turn around, about to find another place on the train.

No! I can’t just let him walk away! you desperately thought while looking around for a conversation starter.

“Your shirt!” you cried out.

He quickly looked down at his shirt, brushing it off, while asking, “What? Is there something on it?”

Good, he stayed.

“No, it’s just it’s for Midtown School of Science and Technology!”

“Yeah, that’s kinda where I go…”

“Really? I just started there!” you exclaimed with way too much enthusiasm.

“Oh, that’s cool. Name’s Peter by the way,” he replied, sticking his hand out.

You all too readily reached out to grab his perfect hand.

“Y/N,” you smiled.

You started to feel the train slow to a stop, and a second later Peter waved and said, “Well, this is my stop. See you around I guess.”

And there goes the most perfect guy ever, you sullenly thought.

An hour later, you stepped out onto the top floor of the overly large and slightly intimidating Stark Tower. It was your first day working with the Avengers, and you had no idea what to expect. The second you had walked into the overwhelming tower you had immediately forgotten all about the boy you met on the train.

“Hello?” you called out to the virtually empty floor, but no one responded.

“Helloooooooo!” you tried again.

This time a voice over the intercoms yelled back, “Hey! We’re in the meeting room. Just head down the hall in front of you!”

Shrugging, you did as you were told until you came to the door of a large meeting room. You quickly made sure to pull your mask over your face—something you probably should have done before even entering the tower—and turned the knob.

When you stepped foot into the room, you were slightly underwhelmed. You were expecting to see the entire team, but instead all you saw was a large monitor with Tony Stark’s face on it and a guy sitting at the table with a blue and red costume on. Strangely, he was jumping up and down as if he couldn’t wait for whatever news Stark had.

It took you a second to realize that the hero wasn’t wearing a mask, and he didn’t seem to notice your arrival. You knew that secret identities were sacred and something that should be respected in the world of heroes, but you couldn’t help yourself. You looked closer at him and realized exactly who it was: the boy from the train!

“Glad you could finally join us, Clairvoyant,” the billionaire smirked from the screen, pulling you from your thoughts.

Peter jumped in his seat in shock, quickly pulling the mask over his face as if you totally hadn’t just seen him.

“Sorry,” you mumbled in response to Tony, quickly getting into a seat of your own. “I still don’t know how to use the subway to go anywhere. I never used them back in my old town.”

“Whatever. Let’s get to the important stuff,” your new boss shrugged. “As you can tell, the team is out on a mission right now, so we can’t be there. But there’s still some shady business going on in New York right now according to our sources. Possibly Hydra stuff, but we don’t know. We need to do recon on the meeting that’s going to take place soon, and that’s where the two of you come in.”

The boy across from you almost gave you a heart attack when he excitedly yelled, “I can do it, Mr. Stark. You can totally count on me! I’m always ready to do whatever’s necessary!”

“Yeah, Spider-Man, I know. You won’t let anyone forget you’re ready to help,” Tony chuckled. “But it’s going to be the two of you working together. Y/N, I assume you know about Spider-Man and his powers.”

You nodded in agreement.

“Good. So Spider-Man, this is Clairvoyant. She can read minds from a distance amongst other newly developing powers. Basically, she’s perfect for a stake-out. Now that you’re both up to speed, I’m going to send you the case file. Go over it and do as it says. And for God’s sake please don’t try to intervene.”

He looked pointedly at Spider-Man at this last sentence.

A second later, the file appeared on the screen, and you both took your time reading it, making sure to not miss a single detail. Once you were ready to head out, you made your way towards the door.

“Where you going?” your new partner called out.

“Out the door?” you answered. “How else are we going to get to the location?”

“Through the air,” he replied with an air of haughtiness, hands confidently placed on his hips.

You raised an eyebrow under your mask see and retorted, “I read minds, not fly.”

“Who said anything about flying?”

You couldn’t see his face, but you were pretty sure he was smirking.

What is he talking about? You wondered just before you felt yourself being hoisted up into his arms.

Without warning he jumped out a nearby window (much to your dismay).

You grasped onto him as tight as possible, eyes shut. You wanted to scream, but you were so terrified that you couldn’t let a sound out.

“Cool, huh?” Spider-Man chuckled. “Being in the air is just such a great feeling, and you can see literally everything. I do all my best crime-fighting from up here. It’s a lot easier to catch the bad guys when you have the upper field. Actually, I stopped about five muggings just last week like this.”

Through all of his ramblings, you could feel yourself easing up and enjoying the ride. In fact, you started to enjoy it a bit too much.

Dang, I did not realize that Peter had this much muscle on him when I first saw him on the subway! you thought. And man, his suit highlights some pretty great aspects…

After several minutes, you finally arrived just outside of the criminals’ meeting location. The plan was for the two of you to hide in a nearby warehouse where you were to listen in on their conversation while Spider-Man sent out a drone to give you video footage of the transaction.

“Ladies first,” Peter said as he held the door to the warehouse open, waving his arm ceremoniously in front of him.

You giggled at his exaggerated chivalry.

Once the two of you were set up, and you were just waiting for the suspects to appear, you took a seat on the floor by a window. Spider-Man eased himself down next to you, unsubtly placing his arm right around you.

“You know,” he said, “I really like your costume. It’s really easy on the eyes.”

“Um, excuse me?” you squeaked in response.

Is he hitting on me? you wondered as butterflies started to form in your stomach.

Peter coughed out a quick reply. “I mean, it’s just really nice. Like, nice color scheme and stuff.”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” you say.

“So, you mentioned that you weren’t from around here. Do you have a lot of family nearby? Lots of friends? Boyfriend maybe?”

You smirked at his last question.

Just as you were about to respond, a loud commotion started outside. It almost sounded like gunfire. Spider-Man bolted up and ran towards the door.

“Where are you going?” you yelled out.

“To go take care of the bad guys,” he called back.

“But Mr. Stark told us not to intervene!”

“I can’t just let these guys get away with this! I’m a hero, and it’s my job to stop guys like them! I’ll be safe, I promise!” he said before completely leaving the building.

Several seconds later, you had a weird feeling in your gut. Someone was behind you; you could feel their thoughts but not quite comprehend what they were thinking. Just as you turned around to confront your assailant, the world went black.

Pain. That was the first thing you felt. You couldn’t open your eyes or hear anything because of the searing throb in your head. More importantly, though, you could feel that your mask was not on your face.

It took you several minutes to completely come to and even then the world was slightly foggy around you.

“Glad to see you’re awake, sunshine,” a gruff voice said from above you.

You choked out a response. “Who are you?”

“One of the men you were spying on. You see, my business partner and I had a feeling we may have some heroes snooping around our little exchange, so we set up a distraction. We thought we’d catch ourselves a real Avenger, but instead we found you,” he explained.

“So why am I here? Why not just throw me out?” you questioned.

“I think you’re way more valuable to us than any of the others, especially since you have that pretty little mind-reading head of yours. A lot of groups would pay a nice sum for a girl with your powers.”

Another man—a lackey you assumed—walked into the room and informed your captor that there was important business to attend to.

When the two men left the room, you began to panic.  

How do I get out of here? I can’t be sold off to some villain organization!

That’s when you realized something very important: Tony had been helping you train a new ability. In theory, you should have been able to enter someone else’s mind and leave thoughts for them, but you had very minimal success thus far.

No—I can’t sit here and do nothing. I have to at least try. But who could I contact anyway? The Avengers are way too far away…Peter! I can call Peter! I just hope he’s close enough!

You mustered all of your strength and energy, thinking of your partner. You pictured him in your mind, hoping that would help form the connection you needed.

Spider-Man, please hear me! Please! Just follow our connection. Please!

You repeated this mantra over and over again for what felt like hours. You almost had no energy left to give when you suddenly heard a commotion outside of your door.

Gunshots reverberated down the hallway along with cries of pain right after. In a matter of seconds, the entire building was dead silent.

The door to your room slammed open, the boy you had been praying for standing right in front of you.

“Thank god, Clairvoyant. I thought I’d never find you!” he cried as he threw himself to the ground next to your crumpled form. “I’m sorry. This was all my fault. I should have just stayed put like you told me and—Hold on—I recognize you…from the train! I didn’t know--“

You cut off his sentence, lifting his mask just enough to press your lips to his. At first he sat rigidly, almost as if he was startled, but he quickly gave into the kiss. It was the most amazing kiss you had ever had, and you didn’t need to be able to read minds to tell that Peter felt the same way.

[daveyjacobss]

take me with you | jack kelly

reader x jack kelly

[newsies]

request: “Can I request an imagine of meeting Jack in the refuge and he helps you escape/become a newsie?” - @notafraidofstopping876

summary: Love sometimes shows up in the least likely places, and not every love story has a happy ending.

a/n: this is really late and probably not what you wanted bc it’s angsty and sad but this is what happened so.... i’ve literally been writing this for like a month bc i kept stopping and then coming back to it. it’s pretty long, so that’s good, but it’s not the best. sorry, hope you enjoy it !!!

__________

Maybe it hadn't been the best idea, but Y/N would never admit that what she'd done was wrong. She knew the consequences when she did it, and she accepted them when they came. She just didn't expect them to keep coming.

She'd known about the Refuge, and she had heard horror tails passed from kid to kid about what it was like in there. She had stupidly assumed they'd been exaggerating. And yet, still, she wouldn't apologize for what she'd done.

She was in her small bunk, shared with another girl, one night wrapped in a thin blanket when Snyder walked in, dragging a boy with him. She shivered violently, trying to keep her breathing quiet as she listened to them.

"You won't be getting out of here this time, Kelly," Snyder spat venomously. He threw the boy into one of the bunks and stomped out, slamming the door harshly and locking it behind him.

"Is he okay?" She wasn't sure who had spoken, but by the sound of the whisper it was someone younger. It should've startled her, but it was no secret that no one actually slept in the Refuge. Slowly, Y/N stood on her shaking legs and stumbled over to the boy. He was about her age and his face was a bit beaten up. He groaned when he moved, clutching his stomach. She could only assume that they hadn't been gentle when apprehending him.

She placed a cautious hand on his shoulder and he looked up. She sucked in a breath when his eyes met hers. A small murmuring began to spread through the room as the other children seemed to recognize the boy.

"It's Jack!" Allie, one of the younger girls, cried out. She could feel fear squeezing her heart the minute she said it. This couldn't be Jack. Jack, as in Jack Kelly, was the main reason half of the kids in there - including Y/N - were still alive. Jack Kelly stole food, clothes, and blankets for everyone. He had escaped a little while back and ever since he'd been helping all the other children locked up in the Refuge. Y/N had never actually seen him before, she'd always been part of the distraction. But if it was really him they were all doomed.

Tentatively, Y/N picked up a wet rag and softly dabbed at the cut on Jack's arm. He looked at her with confusion, but it quickly turned to gratitude as the bleeding started to stop and some of the dirt was wiped away. The entire room was filled with panicked whispering as everyone tried to keep their voices down, but couldn't control their worry. Y/N tried to stay calm as she tended to his wounds, but she could feel her breathing becoming rapid and her heart was pounding, pounding in her chest.

When she had finished with the cuts and bruises on his face and visible arms, she hesitated. There were definitely more injuries under his shirt, and possibly on his legs, but she couldn't very well start peeling his clothes off. She cleared her throat slightly, and whispered to him.

"We can save the rest for tomorrow," she said, cursing her voice for being so shaky. "You should sleep." He nodded, his eyes already closing. She could tell how exhausted he was, and so with the help of a few other kids they got him into one of the beds. She tried to sleep as well, but she stayed anxiously awake for the entire night.

__________

Y/N was out of bed the minute the sun started to peek over the horizon. Most of the other children had fallen asleep or simply wanted to stay in bed as long as possible. She didn't blame them, but she couldn't sit still any longer. There was a need to do something crawling around under her skin.

She had cleaning duty that day, but only for the windows. Quietly, she grabbed her supplies and started her job. By the time some of the other kids were finally getting up and the sun had reached the sky, she was already done. She worked quickly when worried, her body racing to keep up with her thoughts. She went to put away her supplies, dumping out the dirty bucket of water. She was about to put it away when she thought better of it. She filled it with clean water and grabbed a few clean rags. She snuck them back into the room where Jack was laying, still unconscious.

Then she stole some fabric (that would get her another few months if anybody found out), thinking it would be helpful in nursing Jack. When she returned to the room everyone was up and at it, working on their daily jobs or caring for others who had grown sick. She started to repeatedly organize her supplies at the side of Jack's bed anxiously, waiting for him to wake up. She felt bad waking him, after seeing how tired he'd been. Her hands fidgeted with anything she could find.

"You'll spill the water if you keep moving it that fast." She looked up, startled, to find Jack looking at her curiously. She felt her breath hitch the same way it had when their eyes had met the first time, this time amplified by the sound of his voice.

"Sorry, I get, um.... I get anxious." She blushed slightly, looking down.

"Last time I was here they separated the boys and goils," Jack pointed out, raising an eyebrow. Y/N sighed.

"Yeah, well they ran out of room and just started throwing kids anywhere they could," she grumbled. He nodded as if this made sense, but he wore an angry expression similar to hers. He went toe move slightly, but groaned at the sudden pain it brought. She watched him with concern, waiting for him to calm down, unsure of how to comfort him.

"We should probably clean those," she said, receiving a confused look from him. "The wounds, you should probably let me take care of them." He gave a slight laugh and she furrowed her eyebrows at him.

"You askin' me to take my shirt off?" He smirked. Her face went red immediately and he laughed again, but his hands moved to unbutton his shirt. She gave her attention to wetting a rag and preparing some fabric while he did so. When she looked up, ready to clean his cuts, she found that her heart was beating considerably fast in her chest. He was lying there, shirtless. And, yes, there were cuts and bruises splattered on his abdomen and chest, but he was beautiful. And she was staring. And he had noticed. Embarrassed, she gently cleaned any dried blood and caked dirt that was resting on his skin. 

"What's your name?" He asked while she worked.

"Y/N," she answered absentmindedly. He nodded, letting the silence settle between them. Eventually, she had him sit up so she could wrap the worst section on his body. His stomach had a long gash moving across it, surrounded by blacks, blues, and purples. Once she had secured the bandage, she started to clean up everything, standing up to take her supplies back to where they belonged.

"Ya think these kids'll survive without the food an' stuff I been bringin'?" She stopped, halted by his question. When she turned to face him she could see the slightly pained look in his eyes. She didn't say anything, but she could tell from how his expression changed that he knew exactly what she thought.

All of them were already dead.

__________

In a mere few weeks, Y/N and Jack became quite fond of each other - and everybody knew it. While he had been bed ridden, she had been the one to take care of him every day. After that, he continuously looked for her and made it a priority to spend time with her. At first, she'd been slightly annoyed. But he was nice and funny, and blindingly attractive. He was optimistic, at least around her, and it was refreshing.

He started to take notice of how different situations affected her and tried to help with her constant anxiety. He asked once why sometimes she started moving and didn't stop, and why she moved so quickly, too. She had stuttered out an explanation of how sometimes she just couldn't sit still. He had shuddered at her description of how her skin tingled and her body felt consistently out of place and uncomfortable.

One day, Jack had miraculously gotten his hands on a piece of paper and some charcoal. Y/N was beginning to get sick, so he spent the day looking after her. When she fell asleep, he began to draw her. From memory, he created a picture of her laughing. It was rare that she really laughed, but on a particularly good day he had told just the right joke, and she had giggled uncontrollably. When he was finished his drawing, he flipped the paper over and began to sketch an all too familiar landscape.

"Where's that?" Her voice startled him, thick with tiredness and slightly raspy. Her eyes were only half open, but she was looking at his sketch. He grinned slightly moving so that he was next to her and she could see the drawing better.

"That is Santa Fe," he answered. "It's this great ol' city in the west, way better than New York. There's people that care 'bout ya out there, and they do thing like plantin' crops an' swimming the Rio Grande. One day, I'm gonna find the money and buy a train ticket there."

"Hey, Jack?" He hummed in response, adding a few more details to his landscape. "When ya go, ya promise to take me with ya?" He looked down at her in surprise. She was closing her eyes and he was pretty sure she would be asleep again soon. She was paler than usual, and her face was sunken in. He knew that if he lifted the rough blanket from her body he would see how thin she'd become. Her breathing evened out quickly and he relished in the way her chest rose and fell.

"Yeah," he whispered, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face. "I'll take ya with me."

No one dared to wake Jack and Y/N, all the other children knew how little those two slept. And every single kid in the place was well aware of Y/N's worsening condition, and the toll it was taking on Jack. The only disruption Jack and Y/N's sleeping bodies received was someone spreading their blanket as much as possible to make sure they both got enough warmth.

When Y/N woke up in the middle of the night, Jack was sleeping next to her. She smiled softly at him, basking in the warmth their close proximity brought her. She pushed herself farther into his embrace, freezing when she heard the crinkling of paper. Carefully, she grabbed the drawing Jack had been working on. Even in the dim moonlight, she could tell that on the other side of his sketch of Santa Fe he had drawn her. She felt her cheeks go slightly red, but she smiled. She found the piece of charcoal and scribbled down a few words on the paper before folding it up and putting it in her pocket. Her sad smile was interrupted by a loud cough the shook her entire body. Clutching her chest, she fell asleep once more with his arms around her.

___________

"How'd you get thrown in here?" Jack asked while he laid a cold rag over Y/N's forehead. Normally, she would've tensed at his words, nervously avoiding the question. But she was too tired and weak to do anything but whisper an answer.

"I stole food." She coughed loudly and Jack visibly tensed up. "I was starvin', so I stole food." Jack's hands were clenched into fists and his brow was furrowed. His thoughts were racing through his head a million per second as he looked at her. She was sick, so very sick. And she was starving again, just has she had been before she'd been taken to the Refuge.

"When you get strong enough again," he whispered urgently, "we're gonna get out of here." She looked at him with wide eyes as she could see the gears turning in his head. "It's not too hard to escape, but you're going to be able to walk and jump to be able to do it."

"Go without me," she croaked.

"No, I'm not - "

"Jack. You deserve to live your life far away from this place. I'm not gettin' any better and I might never get better. You have to go without me."

"I'm not leaving you." His jaw was set and she could tell there was no changing his mind. He stood up to go finish his daily chores, a slight anger evident in his face. She waited until he was out of sight to allow the tears that had been gathering in her eyes to fall.

__________

Y/N was getting better. She was walking and she was breathing a bit better. She still coughed, but she looked healthier. Jack's excitement grew with every day that her condition improved. She still spent most of her time in bed, but she was quickly gaining strength. He thought she was due for a full recovery.

She was lying. With every step she took her body was in pain. Every cough rattled her bones and stabbed her chest. Each time she got out of bed she had to fight to breathe through the pain and exhaustion. But she needed him to think she was better, or he would never leave.

So she spent many long, painful days working to convince him and to dull the pain. Until one day, when Jack seemed to decide that she was strong enough. It was almost bed time and it was already dark out, but they were the only ones in the room. The day had been filled with particularly hard chores and everyone else was still out working. Jack had insisted that Y/N stayed in bed to save her strength.

"C'mon," he said, walking swiftly over to the window. They were lucky enough not to have bars on one of their windows. She made her way over to him as quickly as she could, trying to conceal her heavy breathing. She looked down to find that there was a large of pile of something that they would land in if they jumped out. She couldn't tell what it was in the dark, but she couldn't help but think how lucky they'd gotten with the entirety of their escape plan.

Jack climbed out the window and dropped the ground, hitting the pile with a soft thump. He smiled up at her encouragingly, holding out his arms.

"Okay, all ya have to do is jump. I'll catch ya." His voice was soft and comforting, but she still hesitated. Her hand slipped into her pocket, the tension in her shoulders leaving slightly once she felt the paper she had stashed in there. Carefully, she climbed onto the windowsill and jumped. She held her breath to keep from screaming on the way down. Jack's arms wrapped around her before she even hit the pile. He was holding her close to him, and for the first time in a long time she felt safe.

She looked up at him slowly to find him staring down on her. On impulse, he leaned down and crashed his lips on hers. His lips were warm, she found, and softer than she'd expected. His arms wrapped protectively around her waste brought a sense of security. When they pulled away they were both breathing loudly. He went in for another kiss, but she stopped him.

"You'll get sick," she warned him. He smirked slightly.

"I don't care," he mumbled. His lips were on hers again and his grip on her tightened. She pushed him away this time, attempting to catch her breath.

"We have to leave." Her voice was hoarse when she spoke, and her chest was heaving up and down to get some air. Immediately, Jack grabbed her hand and started to run. She let him pull her along, trying desperately to keep up. There was no possible way she could mask how hard breathing was becoming for her. Her whole body ached and her lungs burned, but she kept going. She kept going because she knew he needed to be very far away from that horrid place. But the running was taking a toll. She hadn't moved that much in months, not just since she'd gotten sick, but since she'd gotten caught and sent to the refuge. Everything hurt. She could feel it happening, she'd been waiting for it to happen. She hated that it was happening.

"Jack," she gasped. "Jack, I need to - we need to.... stop. We have to rest. I have to..." She was fighting to get control over her breathing, but it was no use. Jack pulled her into an empty alley and sat her down so that she was leaning against a wall. He crouched in front of her, fear dancing in his eyes.

"Y/N? Are you okay?" He questioned cautiously. There was a lump in his throat and a sob that was threatening to come out. She shook her head no, coughing violently. He sat down next to her, taking her into his arms. Her pulse was getting slower and her breathing was fading away. He kissed her the top of her head, taking in a shaky breath. "I love you, ya know that?" He couldn't bring himself to speak any higher than a faint whisper. "I need you. Ya can't leave me now. We were gonna run away together, remember?"

"I love you too," She breathed out. "I'm sorry, Jack. I'm so, so sorry." He could feel her chest stop moving up and down. He could feel her heartbeat stop. He looked down to find her eyes closed and her face peaceful. She could've been sleeping. That made him cry harder. Because, this time, she wasn't going to wake up. They weren't going to get to have anymore late night talks. He was never going to get to see her laugh again. He wasn't going to have her by his side every day. Without her, he didn't have anyone. He let himself hold her tighter, silently sobbing into her hair. He froze when he heard a paper crinkle.

Slowly, he reached into her pocket and pulled out that paper she had stashed there. It was the drawing he'd done of Santa Fe. He turned it over to look at the sketch of her. In the bottom right corner, she had scribbled down four words.

"Take me with you."