#marissa’s early morning writing thoughts

[infinite-orangepeel]

if there’s one thing i’ve learned since i first started writing and posting fics it’s this:

don’t rush it. seriously, DON’T. there’s no need !! and your work will turn out ten times better if you give it some space to breathe. don’t be afraid to sit on your ideas for a while, let them ruminate and develop in your brain like you’re marinating a slab of tofu (i’m vegetarian so that works for me but if you’re not then pick your meat of choice). it’s so easy to get caught up in the idea of a self-imposed deadline or to feel like you have to constantly be posting new chapters/stories to prove yourself. all false !! let your scenes adapt and change as needed. read them, re-read them, get to know your characters and their motives/wants/dreams/fears. when i first started writing, i’d try to update my fics as fast as possible because i thought people would stop caring/forget about my story if i didn’t. turns out that’s not quite how it works. i update my current wip once every two-three weeks instead or every few days (as i was before) and guess what ? the interest, support, and love from my readers hasn’t disappeared into thin air. in fact it’s increased and better yet—i feel genuine pride in the work I’m producing. anyways i don’t know if anyone else needs to hear this, but it’s been a really important lesson for me as a writer so i thought i’d share <3

[frogmanfae]

George Karim X GN! Reader- Talented

Summary: George gets left behind and becomes overwhelmed with intrusive thoughts. That is, until a certain someone let's him know just how important he is.

A/n- I really relate to George in the aspect of always being last choice, so I really feel for him. I hope if any of you relate to this, you realize you are significant

George POV

Everyone looked around at each other as if they were deciding who to leave behind. We got commissioned to take care of a type one, a very simple case. There's no need for all four of us to go, in fact it's really a job two people can do on their own but ever since Lucy almost died going on a job with only Lockwood, he's been adamant about having at least three of us go.

"Why don't we just all go?" (Y/n) offered, though it seemed to be just a way to be nice.

"According to the house measurements the client submitted to me, it'll be crowded with just the three of you. It's a two room apartment with very little space between rooms, only about five feet wide corridor and a twenty square foot kitchen. Both rooms are about fifteen square feet. It's insensible for all four of us to go." I sigh and begin to go to the library. "Have fun, don't die."

"Wait, Georgie where are you going? We haven't decided yet." (Y/n) reaches out to grab my hand.

I pull my hand away. "As if. It's obviously me who's staying, don't act like that hasn't been decided this whole time. I'm a researcher, I've accepted that I'm only an agent when it's necessary. I'm just not as talented as you three."

"George, that's not true-" Lucy steps in.

"Go on, the sun will be setting soon." I continue to the library. "You'd best be off."

They all looked like they wanted to say something, but the setting sun was too much of a pressing matter and they all left.

(Y/n) lingered a bit after the other two. "You know, I think you underestimate yourself too much." And they were off.

I stood there for a moment, processing what they said, before going to the kitchen to get some tea and biscuits.

"Damn it..." I close the cabinet after being reminded that I finished off my preferred tea this morning and I already ate all but two of my favorite biscuits.

I start to go to the library again before stopping in my tracks mid step. On the table was a box of tea, my tea that nobody else really cared for, and a container of the biscuits I eat. Next to it there was a note written on the cloth, it was in (y/n)'s hand writing.

I noticed the cupboard was running low so I went to the store early in the morning. You really need to start putting your things on the grocery list when you start to run out, Georgie.

I smile to myself and put the kettle on. After I fixed my tea I finally went to the library and sat down in the chair opposite of the one Lockwood usually sits in.

Before Lucy came along, I'll admit I really felt something for him, so I would often sit in this chair while he spent his late nights reading magazines and worrying over bills. I've since given up on those feelings after we realized Lucy was more powerful than anyone since Marissa Fittes. I knew Lockwood would never feel the same way about a loser like me as opposed to someone like her.

But about a year after I finally let go of all my romantic interests for Lockwood, (y/n) joined our agency. It was completely on accident, we had been on a case and they were working freelance on the same one. They saved Lucy's life, then Lockwood saved their life and offered them a job and a place to stay. They share a room with Lucy just because it's the largest room in the house.

Since then I've began to develop the same feelings I once had for Lockwood but now for (y/n). I don't really know how to describe it, but I think I feel stronger feelings this time around. They're a lot nicer to me than Lockwood ever was, not that he's mean to me but he can definitely be a prick.

I sit in that chair with my thoughts, biscuits, and tea for about an hour before I go to my room and get ready for bed. I'm not planning on sleeping anytime soon but why wear pants when I can wear no pants?

I lay on top of the made bed for a while, and before I know it my head began to be filled with unwanted thoughts. Thoughts about how I'm a failure and untalented and insignificant.

I think about this a lot. I know that I mean something to the people around me, but that's really only three people. And it should be enough, but sometimes...

Well I don't know. Sometimes I wonder if they'd just be better off without me, though they would almost certainly die without me simply because nobody else researches as thoroughly. However, I think they would do just fine with the research (y/n) collects whenever they help me.

I look in the mirror across the room. I'm such a nerd. And a loser. I'm a nerdy loser. Wow. This is what I've become.

I cry for a while. I'm not entirely sure how long. It's not violent crying, but definitely messy and ugly and it lasts at least an hour.

I hate it when they leave me alone.

I hate being alone.

I hate that I never have good company by myself.

I hate myself.

I can't do this right now. I get up and just walk around the house. I go up and down the stairs probably six times, all the while tears are still falling from my eyes. I'm upstairs by my room when I hear the door open. I put on some sweatpants because I know how cold it gets after those three come home, the essence of a visitor still on them.

"Georgie! I'm back!" I hear (y/n) call from the ground floor.

I rush down the stairs. "Where are the othe- OH MY GOD YOUR ARM!"

"It's fine, Georgie I just need a band aid." They wave me off.

"Uh, no that needs to be taken care of! There's so much blood! Might I remind you your shirt was white before you left!" I go past them to grab some first aid items out of the kitchen but they stop me.

"Georgie you've been crying."

"What? No, I'm just... I'm a bit tired is all."

"No you've been crying, there are tear stains on your face." They bring their hand up to touch my cheek, wincing at the pain in their arm.

"Alright, no, you're in a lot of pain, go sit in Lockwood's library chair and I'll be right there."

I go to the kitchen and get a bowl of water and a rag, some disinfectant and cotton balls, bandages, and stitching supplies. I take it all into the library and ask (y/n) if they can roll up their sleeve.

"I think it'd be easier if I just took it off, don't you?"

I tried my hardest to conceal how flustered that made me feel and just nodded. They removed their shirt and sat in front of me in only their undershirt.

I wince at the sight of the fully exposed gash. "This is a nasty cut you've got, what happened?"

The cut was deep. So deep, in fact, I'm almost surprised I couldn't see their bone. It went up almost the whole side of their forearm and even a little bit up their pinky finger in a bit of a diagonal line. Bits of the surrounding skin were already turning a couple different colors, suggesting mild infection.

"I got distracted."

"Distracted? By what? And what exactly happened as a result?"

"It caught me off guard. It came up behind me and I jumped when it screamed. I pulled out my rapier, but it got caught on the side of my arm. It's been a couple jobs since I've properly cleaned the blade so it probably had a lot on it."

"What could have distracted you so much?" I take the rag and first use water to clean it before moving on to the disinfectant. "This might sting."

"Uh, you did."

"What?" I pressed the cotton ball in a bit too hard out of pure shock, causing them to inhale sharply, "oh! Sorry! Sorry!"

"It's alright..." They sighed. "It's okay, Georgie... I just felt bad about leaving you behind."

"What?" I set the disinfectant down and threaded the needle.

"Uh, can you finish stitching me up first? I don't much enjoy talking while I'm being sewn together."

I nod. "Right, understood."

I started stitching them up and almost began crying again at their occasional wince, I apologized probably twenty times throughout the whole process.

"Georgie, it's fine, really it's- gah-"

"Sorry! I'm sorry... Okay... All done." I took a fresh rag to clean the area, dry it, and then bandage it. "There... Better now?"

"A bit, thank you."

I clean up all the supplies and take it back to the kitchen to be properly dealt with later before returning to the library and sitting in my chair. "I'll have a look at that every day to disinfect it and eventually take the stitches out. Now, what about me distracted you?"

"Well... Why were you crying when I came home?"

"I wasn't."

"Yes you were, Georgie now out with it."

"I watched a sad movie."

"We don't have cable and our VHS player broke last week."

"Read a sad book."

"A whole book?"

"I had a lot of time to kill."

"Georgie."

"Fine. I was thinking about how you guys are all better than me and how I'm always going to be every one of your last choices. I'm not as talented as any of you and I never will be. I will always be George the researcher, never George the agent."

"Georgie..."

"It's true, don't deny it."

"I don't think that way. I never have."

"Don't lie to me, it's patronizing."

"I'm not lying. George, I'm here right now, aren't I?"

"So? Wait- where are the others?" I stand up, worried something had happened.

"They went to get something to eat."

I stepped closer to them. "Why didn't you go with them?"

"Because I'd much rather be with you."

I was silent for a moment before I sat down on the floor. (Y/n) climbed down from their chair and sat across from me.

"Why?"

"What do you mean?" They tilted their head.

"Why would you rather be with me? They're the cool ones, I'm the nerdy loser."

They giggle. Shit that's adorable... "Nerdy loser? Who's put that in your head?"

"... I suppose I did."

"Well... Did you ever think that I happen to like nerdy losers?"

I shake my head. "No..."

"Well. I do. I think the world would cease to exist without nerdy losers. And I'm ever so grateful for them. I'm ever so grateful for you most of all."

I sit there with my mouth agape. Grateful? For me?

"What's that look?" They ask me.

"What look?"

"You've got a look in your eyes like... Well I don't quite know how to describe it."

They look at me and I just look back at them. Then I kiss them. I haven't a clue what got into me but I kissed them. And I haven't a clue why but they kissed back. It was magical. It was like we'd set off a flare. I would never have another kiss like this in my life.

"Georgie..."

"... Shit. Shit I'm so- I am so sorry." I stand up. "Oh my god I am so sorry!"

"Georgie calm down." They reached up and pulled me back down to the floor. "I've wanted to do that for months."

"What? Really? With me?"

"Yes with you silly." They smile. "I really like you."

"You do?"

They nod. "I do."

"I really like you too."

"Well if that's the case, why don't we go to breakfast tomorrow? Just the two of us."

"Like a..."

"Like a date."

I nod. "That sounds incredible."

"Perfect." They lean in again just as the front door opens and we hear Lockwood laughing.

"Lockwood you really aren't that funny." Lucy says as the door closes.

"Shut up, I'm hilarious. George! (y/n)! We're back!" He calls. "Where are they?"

(Y/n) stands up and leans on the doorframe of the library. "You sound like you're in a good mood."

"What happened to your arm?" Lucy gasped.

"Did you guys not see that?" I nearly yelled, somewhat out of anger and somewhat out of shock. "It was vile!"

"It wasn't that bad-" (y/n) began but I interrupted.

"Uh, no it was bad! As the guy who disinfected, stitched up, and bandaged it, it was bad!"

"It needed stitches? How could you not tell us?" Lockwood looked at (y/n).

"Uh, no, don't pin this on them! It was you who didn't see the foot long slice in their arm! Was nobody there when it happened?"

"We had all split up in the different rooms. They came right after."

"God, what's the point of sending three agents when you split up? That's every horror movie ever!" I throw my hands around.

"Georgie, calm down. It's okay now. I tried my best to keep it hidden so it wouldn't concern anyone, and really I didn't think it was that bad."

"They still should have noticed."

"You're right, we should have." Lockwood puts his rapier in the holder. "I'm sorry, I should have been more aware. Is it alright now?"

"It'll need some time to heal, but George patched me up pretty well."

He nods. "Right, well... Good work tonight. Have you showered yet? You can have the first one."

"I have to wrap your arm in plastic first. You can't get those bandages wet." I lightly touched part of the bandage with my finger. "I'll go get some, go sit back in the library."

"Yes, Dr. Karim." They said it with a taunting voice, but it made me feel something. I've always wanted to be a doctor. Whether that be a doctor of medicine or history or science or whatever I haven't yet decided. I had almost forgotten of that dream of mine.

Lucy and Lockwood went off to their respective rooms and I came to the library with a roll of clear plastic and shut the door behind me.

I kneeled in front of them as they held out their arm and silently began wrapping. There was so much I wanted to say, but I didn't dare. They probably didn't want to talk about it. I had been taking care of them, that's why they kissed me. It was the adrenaline. They surely regret it.

"Georgie?"

"Hm?"

"Are you my boyfriend now?"

"What?"

"Are we... Are we dating? Or...?"

"Well... I don't know, are we?"

"I mean... I'd like to be, if that's what you want."

"It is what I want. I want it a lot."

They nod slowly. "So... Are we...?"

"I... I think we are..." I smile. They kiss me again. "Hey, you know what would be funny?"

"If we didn't tell the others and just saw how long it took for them to realize."

"Dear god I think I might be in love, we share a brain!" I laugh.

They get warmer and giggle. "I should go shower. I'll see you in the morning for breakfast, yeah?" They get up and start walking out of the library.

"Yeah, definitely." I wait a second until I hear them go up the stairs, then I flop flat on my back with a wide smile and laugh. I don't know why I laugh. Perhaps I'm just filled with so much joy and don't know what to do with it other than let some of it out with laughter. It's almost overwhelming. Every moment I'm waiting to wake up, but I never do. Because, despite the voices in my head, I am good enough for someone. Not just someone, but (y/n). That's mad to me.

But, mad in the best way.

[makeusfly]

More Light Than Heat, Chapter 18

How Are Your Lungs? Mine Are Aching

previous chapter

read on A03

masterpost

Perry was still asleep at the foot of his bed when the sunlight roused him awake.  He glanced at the clock at the nightstand - still early for summer, even by his standards.  But he was awake now.

He couldn’t remember his dream, but he knew it had been bad.  He knew it had been about Phineas.

He knew he needed to talk to his brother, but what was he supposed to say?  You’re dating the girl of my dreams and squandering the opportunity?

He cringed at the very idea, a weight settling into the bottom of his stomach.  This was going to be a bad day; he could feel it in his bones.

The general sense of wrongness worsened when he shuffled down to Phineas’s room.  As usual, the door was cracked, just a little, and simply knocking pushed it further inward, far enough that he could see his brother wasn’t there.  His chest grew tight.  It was entirely unlike Phineas to be up before he was.  He pulled his phone from pocket and stared at it, writing and rewriting text messages in his head to ask where he was - but with how strained their relationship had been lately, he didn’t want to threaten it with such a cantankerous form of communication.

He sighed and put the phone away, forcing himself to move down the hall and into his morning routine.  Muscle memory got him dressed and to the kitchen doorway, and even stressed, he had to smile.  The Danville Gazette was at his spot on the table, and he knew the kettle on the stove was full.  It was a small act of kindness his father did for him every morning, and he most appreciated it on days like this, days when he felt he could count on little else.  He flipped the burner on and settled into the quiet.

Most mornings, he ignored the Sports section.  Today, he tore into it.  Sure enough, above the fold: a byline by Marissa Tate and Isabella Garcia-Shapiro.  It was a little strange to read her words, a writing style as familiar to him as his own thoughts, mixed in with a collaborator.  It seemed choppy in places, like they weren’t quite sure how to work together.  But it was a good article.  A great article, even.

Should he call?  He glanced at the phone again.  Too early, maybe.  Isabella’s sleep schedule was never predictable, but he tried not to wake her when possible.

The knock made it clear that wasn’t a concern.  He set the paper aside, flipped the burner off, and pulled the door open in a matter of seconds.

Her hair was pulled into a high pony-tail, tied together with a pink ribbon.  He knew memory was fallible, knew that he’d likely rewritten that moment he first met her in his mind a thousand times, each more sensational than the last.  And yet, seeing her like this brought that picture back to mind, only then it had been the sunset rather than the sunrise framing her in an angelic glow.

She was beautiful, but her smile was pinched and the wrong in the pit of his stomach spread until he felt cold all over.

Something was very, very wrong.

“Just the man I wanted,” she said, her tone flat even as she ended on a chuckle.  “Can we-”

She made a vague gesture towards the garage, unable to finish her request, but she didn’t have to.  He took her hand and pulled her inside.  Once the door closed behind her, he tried to let go, but she grasped him tightly, following him into the garage as if she didn’t know the way.

The door creaked as it rolled open, revealing her car inch by inch.  Self-cleaning, it sparkled in the rising sun.  He went for his toolkit while she popped the hood.

Talking to Isabella was one of his favorite things to do, easily in the top five, but this working side by side in comfortable silence was up there too.  As the tools clinked against the engine, he could feel her anxiety melting away, could feel her sinking into the task and the serenity of the moment.

It was obvious, though, it wouldn’t last - her face gave away that there was something she wanted to talk about.  While he sometimes needed a push to come out of hiding, he knew she would talk when she was ready.

“Phineas and I broke up.”

His hands continued working automatically as his brain caught up, processing what she said.  When he looked up, his brow was knit in concern.

“I’m fine.”

Eyebrow raised.  She smiled.

She giggled, and it was so perfectly natural that it was almost eerie.  “Guess I don’t belong with my first crush either.”

Ferb had known Isabella since she was six years old, had been the first person to recognize she was crushing on his brother, had seen her fake grin as she pretended she wasn’t devastated by his obliviousness.  He’d seen her drowning in heartbreak, desperate for a lifeline.  He tried to remember if he’d ever seen her like this: not hopeless, but resigned.

In fourteen years, he never had.

He stood up straight, holding his hands very still.  “What happened?’ he asked, his voice just above a whisper.

She shrugged, her eyes skittering across the floor.  He kept his gaze steady until, finally, she sighed.  “Nothing happened, Ferb.  We just aren’t ten anymore.  We don’t want the same things.”

He held his breath, clenched his fist, rooted himself in place, awash with the feeling that this was his fault.  He’d spent so long assuming Phineas would want Isabella, he’d never even bothered to question it.  If he’d thought to ask, maybe he could have prepared her for this.

For worse or for better, he changed his mind, set his tools down, and crossed the garage to wrap her in his arms.

She tensed up at first but didn’t pull away, and after a moment, she sank into his embrace.  There was a small sniffle muffled into his shirt, and that made him feel worse.  He’d held her dozens of times in the last fourteen years, and she’d never been afraid to cry in front of him before.

Without letting go, he pulled back just far enough to look her in the face, but she still wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“I’m okay.  Or,” she continued, possibly realizing that he didn’t believe her, “I will be.  As long as you meant it.”

It felt like ages had passed since that conversation, but he knew exactly which one she was referring to.  He gave a small nod before pulling her back into his chest.  His lips brushing against her ear, he promised, “You won’t lose me.”

He felt some of the tension escape her shoulders but part of her still seemed tender.  Her smile, when she pulled away from him, was fragile but real.

She really was going to be okay.

And if he’d stopped to think about it, he had known that all long.  Isabella was the strongest person he knew - one boy not returning her affections, even if that boy was Phineas, was never going to be enough to break her.  He knew that.  But she deserved to have everything she wanted, to be not just happy but happiest .

It was hard to imagine her with anyone else, and not just because she’d wanted it for so long.  She and Phineas were the best people he knew; it was difficult to picture anyone else deserving either of them.

They didn’t speak as they went back to working on the car.  She was obviously lighter, but he could still tell she was holding something back.

That was okay.  She knew where to find him when she needed him.

It didn’t occur to him to congratulate her on the article until they’d finished and she’d driven off to meet her former troop for a girls’ day of laser tag.  Figuring he’d send her a text, he went to retrieve it from the kitchen counter.  

“You are...surprisingly calm.”

His mother and the affianced couple were sitting at the table.  Candace took a sip from her mug, her face indeed serene.  “It’s just the rehearsal dinner.  It’s not like we’re scrambling for a wedding venue.”

“The wedding venue would be better,” their mother said.  “We’ve got contingency plans for that!”

Ferb was just about to ask what happened when Candace noticed him and his raised eyebrow.  Shrugging casually, she said, “There was a kitchen fire at Delmonico’s.”

He nodded, understanding, but before he could suggest the backyard or offer his culinary services, Jeremy chimed in.  “We’re between Sarbone and Pescada as a replacement.”

“Pescada,” Ferb said, without thinking.

“Okay…” Linda said.  “Why’s that?”

Only then did he hesitate, looking anywhere but Candace’s knowing face.  “It’s kosher.”

Ferb could feel Candace’s smirk in the heat inching up his neck.  Oblivious, his mother said, “I didn’t think Isabella kept kosher.”

“She doesn’t,” he explained, his tongue heavy in his mouth.  “She’s been considering it and keeping track of her options.”

Nervously, he rubbed the back of his neck.  Jeremy looked to Candace for approval, but she was focused on her little brother.

When he finally met her gaze, what he saw surprised him.  She wasn’t teasing, and she wasn’t pitying.  If he didn’t know better, he’d almost call the look adoring.

Huh.

“Works for me,” she said, her voice warm.

That moment seemed to last both a second and forever, and then it was broken by a slamming door, Phineas blowing past the room without sparing a glance inside.

Phineas had never been able to keep his emotions to himself, and just that peak at him told Ferb everything.  He was heartbroken.”

His words rattled painfully around Ferb’s head - did it ever occur to you to ask what I wanted ?

He hadn’t, and he should have.  He still should.  But if Phineas was this upset over losing Isabella, was it possible even he hadn’t known?

“Oh dear.”

Even at his age, there was something soothing about his father’s voice.  He wasn’t a big man by any means, but when he stepped into a room, his presence filled it up.  With a sip of tea, he said, “Wonder what’s upset our Phin.”

Ferb swallowed, unwilling to make it worse, unsure how to do anything else.  Stick to facts, he decided.  “He and Isabella broke up.”

“ Finally,” Candace huffed.

Everyone but Jeremy turned to face her then, varying degrees of confusion and horror in their eyes.

“What?  I’m right,” she insisted.

Her fiance just sipped his coffee.

Linda turned to Lawrence, who shrugged, clearly as baffled as she was.  Ferb decided this was a conversation better left alone and excused himself, but he only made it as far as the bottom stair before he felt a soft hand on his shoulder.

“Ferb,” his sister said, her eyes imploring.  “Just... talk to him.”

He nodded, decisive, and took the steps quickly.  Then, just as quickly, he went into his room and shut the door behind him.

next chapter

[sugarmaplewings-fics]

Midnight Ball

Pairing: Todoroki x reader

Warnings: None

Author’s Note:

Day two of Sugar’s Spooky Days/Fall Special

Hehehe I have managed to finish something! Can’t say as much for the Kirishima one, so that might have to be late :(. I should have that one done sometime over the weekend though, so fingers crossed!

I also may or may not have been thinking about Heartless by Marissa Meyer while I wrote that first bit 👀👀 (read it, it’s good, especially if you want to sob your eyeballs out like I did)

I hope you like this one! It was fun for me to write!

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.

You had insisted on not coming to this party.

You, of course, had said this as if you had a choice. Really, as someone with your status, you should have the power to make decisions for yourself. But nooo, as the only daughter of the Marquess and Marchioness, it was your duty to attend the king’s bi-annual masquerade ball. Bother.

So, here you were, all dressed up with little intention to dance or even have fun. You clung to the sides of the spacious dancefloor, hoping to keep to yourself enough that no one would try to talk to you. It was truly dreadful what some of your fellow nobility could come up with for small talk. Exchanging formalities and remarking on politics, only then to run off into a tangent on whatever subject may have recently captured their trivial attention.

You longed to be elsewhere—in a library perhaps, or in your garden, working on sketches in your notebook. Gracious, come to think of it, maybe sleeping would even be the better option. It was dreadfully late.

The king always insisted on throwing such parties as these so late at night, stretching all the way to early hours of the morning. You’d gotten plenty of rest prior in preparation for this autumn Midnight Ball, but between the lack of meaningful interaction and your desire to be elsewhere, you found yourself capturing yawns in your gloved hand.

Your childhood best friend didn’t seem to have this problem. You could see her now, indigo skirts swishing around her ankles as she danced with some green haired man. You couldn’t quite tell if you had ever seen him before, but he was probably from some foreign kingdom. You’d certainly hear all about him tomorrow.

You began to grow antsy at your position on the west wall. Your heels were beginning to make your ankles ache, and your mask was growing progressively warmer with each breath. A glance towards the banquet table told you that the coast was clear for you to browse the selection of food laid out, but your corset made you think twice. Your handmaiden had done it so dreadfully tight.

Curses. Not to her, she had done nothing wrong. Maybe at your mother, who insisted on lacing it up in this way.

You chewed at your tongue. Maybe a walk in the courtyard would clear your head. It would definitely be cooler and not so bright. If you were lucky, you may even be alone.

Gathering your (F/C) skirts in your fists, you strode to the door to the outside, ducking through small gatherings of people and curtseying to the guards positioned at the exit. You knew you had made the right decision as soon as the night air hit your face, a cool October breeze seeping behind your mask and ruffling the feathers that adorned it. A full moon lit your path as you walked further into the manicured gardens. You’d been around here before, yet you still allowed yourself time to admire the hedges and trees closing off spaces of land. Flowerbeds were artfully placed wherever they could fit, although you could tell that most of their plentiful blooming yield had already gone back within themselves for the frosty winter. What you were truly interested in was a small pond located in the back, hidden behind a few bushes at its side.

The clear pool laid stagnant before you as you knelt down to look into it. The light of the moon bounced off your bejeweled costume mask, causing the water to sparkle even brighter beneath you. A large koi fish took notice of your signal, lazily sliding its stout, tri-colored body towards the surface in hopes that you may have brought it some food.

“I’m sorry, little friend,” you whispered to its expectant gaping mouth, “I don’t have anything for you.”

You watched him for another moment, little splashes made by the fish’s fins breaking the stillness of both the silent night air and the pool’s surface.

“You’ve upset him.”

The sound of an unfamiliar voice made you start. You straightened, brushing off the front of your skirt. Turning, you saw the figure of a man standing a few paces away from you. His build was lean and strong, and a mask of his own glittered in the all-encompassing moonlight. It was difficult to make out any identifying features, but a part of you just knew that he was intangibly handsome.

“Sorry?” you said, trying to compose yourself.

Perfect. This was just what you had been trying to avoid: interaction. Maybe he’d go easy on you and let you leave soon, or maybe he could have something genuinely worthwhile to say.

“That fish,” he clarified. “He’s hungry.”

You pursed your lips together in thought as you stole a glance back at the pond. Your koi friend had retreated back to the depths of his home as soon as you had turned your back. The air hummed with silence once more.

“Is he, though?” you asked. “He probably gets fed just as well as any other creature living on the grounds.”

The mysterious man shrugged. “True, but perhaps that’s the most joy he gets out of life.”

“Oh.” You stood there awkwardly for a second in silence, trying to think of a response. “That’s a little . . . grim.”

“Sorry.” He shifted. “I’ve always felt bad for fish.”

“How so?”

He took a step closer to the pond, bending a bit at the waist in order for him to see into it better. “They have less freedom. Little to do, nowhere to go . . . sometimes they remind me of myself a bit.”

“Oh?”

“I’m not terribly fond of my father.”

You blinked, wondering if he was going anywhere with this.

His eyes finally snapped up to yours. The moon caught their shades perfectly, drawing out hints of color that would normally be lost to their own depths. It struck you suddenly that you had seen these eyes before; one a steely silver while the other was a lovely cerulean that nearly seemed to glow. Where had you previously seen these eyes?

“Sorry,” he apologized again. “I didn’t mean to overstep.” He straightened up to properly face you, his posture rigid and practiced, just as you had seen all the other noblemen do your whole life. “My name is Shouto Todoroki, son of Duke Enji Todoroki,” he said, piercing eyes growing a little glassy at the voicing of his own name. He bowed to you, and around the top of his mask, you took notice of his perfectly split bi-colored hair. “My lady,” he said.

“Shouto?” Yes, that was right. You’d met him a few times as children, playing together while your families held council meetings. It had to have been nearly ten years since you’d seen him last, and to be honest, he’d grown into quite the man.

“Yes?” he answered, uncertain.

“It’s me,” you said, lifting your mask a bit to better show off your eyes and features in the dim light. “(F/N) (L/N).”

You watched as he did a double take; eyes scanning you from top to bottom as he put a name to your person. “(Y/N) . . . wow, it’s been a long time.”

You chuckled, fiddling with the material of your skirt between your fingers. “You’re not saying I’m old, now, are you?”

He snorted, his posture relaxing. “Of course not, my lady.”

You began to chat, settling in beside him as you wandered around the gardens together. It was only now that you realized how much you had missed your old friend, finding it shockingly easy to talk with him. He spoke of his father and how he intended for Shouto to take his place in power when his time came. You noted the bitterness he carried in his voice, vaguely remembering the emergence of the issue from the last time you’d conversed. He listened to your own life updates, interested in your hobbies and what you had to say about life and time. In fact, it nearly felt as if no time had passed at all, and you’d remained close throughout the years.

The light of the castle began to creep upon the path ahead of you, and you noticed that you’d circled the entire perimeter of the gardens. Music from the ballroom floated to your ears, and you recognized the tune. Influenced by your improved mood, you began to hum along to a few of the notes, nodding your head to the light, peppy rhythm.

Shouto took notice of this, eyeing you with a small smile gracing his usually stoic face. He sped up just enough to come up in front of you, causing you to halt in your tracks. He bowed before you again, one hand behind his back with the other outstretched for your own. “If I may, could I have this dance? This is your king’s ball, and I believe that my lady deserves at least one before the night’s end.”

An unexpected heat climbed to your cheeks. Why were you suddenly feeling this way? Your childhood friend had certainly grown into quite the handsome young man, but you couldn’t ever remember thinking of him in this manner. He’d only ever shown kindness and respect towards you, and it was only now beginning to weigh on you how much you liked him. But this weight wasn’t in any way unpleasant, in fact, it made you feel giddier, almost light and intrepid. What could one dance together hurt?

You rested your hand in his, the fabrics of your gloves sliding together as your fingers met. His head turned up so he could once again make eye contact, drawing your offered appendage to his lips. They brushed over your knuckles, feather light, and you found yourself wishing that the silken material could have been removed. How soft were his lips truly?

Shouto walked you a few paces away onto an open area in the grass, the fragrance of greenery and crisp evening air wafting through the space. Every surface was bathed in a fine layer of moonlight, giving the world a dark, silvery glow. Shouto’s skin gleamed pale and resembled porcelain, eyes shining behind the contrasting shadows of his mask.

With your palm in his, he guided you closer to him, his other hand alighting on the small of your back.

“The moon highlights your beauty remarkably so. I’ve never felt this . . . enamored by someone.”

You shivered at his words, the gentle intensity of his gaze boring into you. You began to fall into step with the music wavering in the background. The cheerful rhythm made your heart soar as you glided over the grass with your partner. He led you through some practiced steps, others entirely new. Your skirts swirled around your ankles, adding an extra flare to each of your movements. The sound of the hidden orchestra was distant and thin, and yet there was such a feeling that instilled through you, almost as if the music had seeped all the way to your marrow.

You watched as Shouto’s face began to relax into a little smile, twirling you this way, dipping you over his strong arm, pulling you back into his chest. The whole ordeal took your breath away, and even in the cool night air, your cheeks began to ignite in a palpable warmth of their own. Time slowed, and it was as though you’d been his dance partner for centuries, finding a rhythm and flowing together as one.

That is, until a shooting pain fired through your ankle, causing you to gasp and stumble. Shouto caught and steadied you in his arms before you could fall very far, worry clouding over his face.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

You grimaced, shifting your weight on your feet. “It’s my heels,” you explained. “Sorry. They’re not the most . . . practical.”

“Here,” Shouto said, offering you his arm. “Take them off. You don’t need them out here.”

Your face heated once again as you leaned on his outstretched appendage, fishing around in your skirts until you found your foot. Within moments, you were free, feet bare in their thin tights, discarded shoes unbuckled and placed neatly aside on the grass. The both of you found a stone bench nearby, and you sat side by side to help ease the strain on your feet. While you took this bit of a breather, you remarked to yourself how much taller Shouto was compared to you. The sight of how much he’d grown over the years, mixed with this newfound urge to rest your head against his broad chest . . . .

“Are you feeling better now, my lady?”

(Y/N). Your name was (Y/N). He could have just as easily called you as such, and yet, the formality set your heart aflutter.

“Yes, I believe I am. Actually, I’m feeling much better. This party was so dull until you happened upon me.”

Shouto’s smile returned, the slightest shine appearing on his upturned lips. “I haven’t enjoyed myself this much in a long time either. Thank you for accepting my offer to dance.”

You hummed and flashed him a genuine grin of your own.

He averted his eyes suddenly, a new tension gripping his shoulders. “I know we haven’t talked in years,” he began, “but if you didn’t mind, I would like to get to know you again, (Y/N). Our kingdoms aren’t too distant, and I would like to write to you sometime when I return home.”

Your smile widened. “That sounds lovely. I’d love to keep in touch with you.” You let your hand wander over to his, taking it up in your fingers.

Shouto smiled again at your touch, raising your joined palms to press another kiss to your knuckles. “I look forward to your response,” he said, lips brushing against your gloved fingers as he spoke, eyes locked on yours.

You could still hear the band playing in the ballroom. To the king, the night was still young, and the party would continue for some time longer. Within moments, you were on your feet again with him, twirling your body to the tempo of the strings and winds. With stars serving as your only audience, you danced with your newfound partner until the early hours of the morning under the light of a full hanging moon.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.

Taglist: @aahilovetheatre​ @heartpaw12​ @todoroki-waifu​ @basicaegyo​ @iiminibattlehero​ @katsugay​ @nabo39​ @pyrofanatic​ @sendhelpimstupid​ @sokkasangel​ @xoxopam4​

[jaskiersvalley]

I love your writing so much, so thank you for gifting us all

I am so happy you like my writing, Nonnie! In these miserable times people like you reaching out makes things that bit happier. Thank you for being a ray of sunshine on cloudy days!

Like before, here’s a little ficlet of thanks. Today’s flavour is blind Jaskier.

They had separated months before with plans to meet up again when their path crossed. Only, it had been too long since Geralt had even heard bout Jaskier, something wasn’t right. So he change his course, his path still took him all over the continent but this time, he had intent. He was looking for his bard, the brightly coloured fool who had a knack for bedding the wrong person. Nobody had seen such a bard. It wasn’t that Geralt was worried but he was nervous. Jaskier had never been one to disappear like that.

His travels took Geralt to places he’d thought Jaskier would be. Oxenfurt, Tretogor, even Cintra. He was nowhere. Not even whispers of him passing through. Even the coast had come up empty, they hadn’t even heard of Jaskier. Geralt knew he had to change tactics, to track down Jaskier somehow. He hunted down where he was last seen and tried to go from there. The innkeeper had told him which direction Jaskier had left in but by the time Geralt got to the next town over, nobody seemed to have heard of him.

“The one who played the songs about the White Wolf,” Geralt tried again when descriptions didn’t help. “Toss A Coin, Her Sweet Kiss, Fishmonger’s Daughter,” he listed off some of Jaskier’s songs, hoping to find any whisper about his bard.

“We know those songs,” a stableboy perked up. “The Blind Bard sings those from time to time down at The Rose and Horse.”

Not many had the eclectic ability to sing such a range of songs. Even if this Blind Bard wasn’t his Jaskier, they might still know of him, point Geralt in the direction of his next clue.

The Rose and Horse wasn’t too busy, it was early evening but there was already the familiar strum of a lute and soft humming coming from a corner. Humming that sounded all too familiar. Turning, Geralt had to take a moment to understand what he was seeing. It was Jaskier, no doubt about it. But he was in muted colours, no longer radiant. His head was tipped forward, hair falling in his face, eyes closed. Stepping closer, Geralt came to within four steps of him when the lute playing stopped and Jaskier’s head turned. He didn’t look up at Geralt though, head tilted curiously as if he was listening intently and took a deep breath. A small, fond smile played on his lips.

“Jaskier.” Geralt greeted.

Head snapping up, Jaskier turned. And Geralt wished he hadn’t. Jaskier’s gaze was off, staring somewhere to his right and sightlessly glazed over.

“There’s a voice I never thought I’d here again.” A hand reached in Geralt’s direction and he grasped it tightly. “What are you doing here, old friend?”

Despite his easy words and small smile, Jaskier’s hand clutched at Geralt tightly, silently keeping him close.

“I came looking for you. You never came back. Were nowhere to be found. What happened?”

Standing up, Jaskier kept a good hold of Geralt’s arms.

“Marissa, I will be back to earn my keep when we fill up a bit more. I have a personal matter to attend to.” He tucked his lute under an arm and began to slowly make his way along the wall, hand out to catch any wayward chairs in the way. Geralt could hear him counting steps quietly under his breath.

They made it to a small room at the back of the inn, on the ground floor, just behind the kitchen. It was warm without a fire lit in it, the bed pushed against the wall shared with the kitchen and Geralt realised the warmth was from the fires in the other room.

“Sit, sit.” Jaskier finally let go of Geralt and patted the straw mattress next to him. “You’ll have to tell me about your new adventures so I can compose more songs.”

The words were the same as ever, chatty, bright and said with a wide smile. But they rang hollow, lacking the genuine thirst for adventure and dramatics. Rather than reply, Geralt grabbed Jaskier by the chin to turn him and look at his eyes. He didn’t miss the violent flinch at being suddenly touched.

“Jaskier, what happened?” The question was soft, nothing like how Geralt had ever really been. “You’re blind. Who did this to you?”

“It was a very rainy day.” Jaskier shrugged and pulled his chin free, eyes unseeingly fixed on Geralt’s shoulder rather than his face. “I probably shouldn’t have gone out but there were some pretty flowers. Buttercups. I wanted to pick a couple and was running back with them when the downpour started good and proper. Well, I slipped, smacked my head. Woke up a few days later and the world was gone.”

So it wasn’t even something Geralt could avenge and rage against. He couldn’t very well take on the god of rain and mud, not that he was unwilling, he’d taken on worse foes before. But it wouldn’t help Jaskier. The worst part was, he didn’t know what could help Jaskier.

“I couldn’t find you. There were no talks about a bard as bright as a parrot. I feared the worst had come to pass.”

A small, bitter laugh bubbled out of Jaskier. “Some days I think that would have been the kinder outcome. But here I am. And I had to shift my focus, colours were no longer a priority but comfort was cost was. Food and board in exchange for my playing four nights a week. Plus I get to keep tips. It’s not a bad living.”

But it wasn’t the living Jaskier had wanted or deserved. He was a caged bird now, slowly fading away, songs dulling along with his visage.

“On the plus side, I don’t have to worry about the latest cut of fashion chafing or a doublet laced tighter than a comfortable because it is what is considered handsome.” Jaskier was obviously trying to convince himself as well as Geralt at that point, his face was falling and as expressive as ever. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can do this.” He pulled away from Geralt and grunted as he unexpectedly hit the wall. “Please see yourself out. Tell Marissa I’ll cover your food bill.”

Geralt didn’t move. Too stunned as he watched Jaskier battle tears and thinking he understood. Over the months, Jaskier had almost made peace with his new life. Managed to find himself somewhere to stay and where his singing would keep him fed and sheltered. Then along came Geralt, signifying everything Jaskier had lost - freedom, adventure, friendship. Geralt very much doubted anyone wanted to lay with a blind bard. He wondered whether Jaskier would trust anyone enough to sleep with them without seeing them anyway.

“Come with me,” he murmured, his fingers nudging Jaskier’s on the bed before twining them together. “I’ll take you to all the healers, mages, sorceresses. Let me find you a cure. If no, I’ll take you to Countess de Stael myself and ensure you can be her court bard. Or Cintra’s. Or any other court that strikes your fancy. I’ll make it happen.”

A soft sob was his answer. “How could I follow? I can’t spot a root or pothole to stop me twisting my ankle. So how do you think I’d manage on the road? When you’re off chasing some monster. Or we get bandits jump out at us? I’m more helpless than Roach who can at least run to safety.”

At a loss for words, Geralt tugged lightly at Jaskier’s hand, pulled him until he was resting against his chest. Arms wrapping around a body that was definitely slimmer than when they parted, Geralt desperately tried to find solutions.

“I’ll keep you safe, I promise. You’ll ride Roach. We’ll stay at taverns where you can lock doors if I’m off on a contract. I’ll work enough to keep us both fed and clothed. Take contracts near healers who could help you. I don’t want to leave you behind, I can’t leave knowing you’re wasting away in some town not worthy enough of being remembered by name.”

They were big promises, a lot of pressure on Geralt but he wasn’t going to let Jaskier fade from his memories. Not like this. Hands traced up his chest and neck until fingers were feeling the contours of his face. Geralt closed his eyes and let Jaskier feel him.

“It’s you, it’s really you,” Jaskier whispered. “I dreamt of and dreaded the day you’d come.”

“Please, let me help.” Geralt wasn’t begging but he wasn’t known for asking nicely. “I want you by my side again.”

He didn’t say that even if Jaskier never regained his sight, Geralt would stay with him. It went almost without saying. If Jaskier needed a secure home, they would settle, maybe near the coast where Jaskier had grown up. And Geralt would always return home to him. It seemed that his intentions were understood when hands on his cheeks guided him and soft, dry lips pressed against his.

The next morning, Geralt led Roach out of the town, walking next to his horse while Jaskier sat atop, strumming his lute and humming.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Clouds

Josh Lyman x Reader

Words: 2373

Part 1 of 2

Summary: Head spinning from funeral preparations, the reader barely has time to grieve her father’s death. Her husband, Josh, remembers losing his dad and tries to help her through the dark days of loss.

Notes: I really wanted to write a sad Josh imagine after the sappy Christmas one, so here we go. Also, I want to write some more suspenseful and intense West Wing imagines, so hopefully I will be able to get those going as well! (This started to get long, so I’ll be splitting it into two parts. Let me know what you think!)

-

You turned the corner, saw your husband, and immediately turned back. You weren’t fast enough. 

“Y/N!” Josh shouted, pushing through a couple assistants to catch up to you. You turned around and put on an innocent smile. 

“Hi honey.” His eyebrows were furrowed and his lips turned into a deep frown. “You’re cute when you’re angry.” 

“Why did the President’s speech get moved back?” He asked with a frustrated sigh. 

“We thought it would be better for him to speak after-”

“After the Majority Leader announces that the Democrats just got screwed!” He shouted, receiving looks from the people squeezing past you. 

“Maybe we should talk about this in my office, Josh.” You said through gritted teeth. You grabbed Josh’s arm and shoved him into your office. “We decided that the speech would be too contradictory to try and make policy changes right before our other changes are shot down.”

“As opposed to sounding like a bunch of kids trying to start a fight on the playground?” He snapped. “Y/N-” You held up a finger and gave him a silencing look. 

“Need I remind you that this is my job?” You were one of the Media Specialists for the President. Josh stepped closer to you, his voice almost a growl. 

“Need I remind you that I’m technically your boss!” If you weren’t standing in the White House, you might have slapped him. The muscles in your jaw clenched as you bit your tongue to keep from saying something you’d regret. You turned away from him and sat down behind your desk. 

“You probably have something more important to do… boss.” You kept your eyes on your desk as he stormed out. Fuming, you grabbed a pencil and snapped it in half, throwing the pieces across the room. 

“Is this a bad time?” Your assistant, Lisa, asked cautiously from the doorway. 

“He pulled the authority card, Lisa.” You exclaimed. “He told me that he’s my boss!” She raised an eyebrow. 

“Isn’t he your boss?” 

“He’s also my husband.” You retorted. She shrugged. 

“Hey, you’re the one who married the Deputy Chief of Staff.” Lisa handed you a note with missed call information. “You got a call while you were arguing. She said that she’s your sister.” 

-

Josh was cleaning up a stack of papers that he’d thrown across his office in anger when Donna walked in. 

“What tornado came through here?” She joked, leaning against the door frame and her arms crossed.  

“Don’t start with me this morning, Donna.” He barked. He gathered up the papers and put them back on his desk. 

“You talked about the speech thing, didn’t you?” He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. 

“I told her I was her boss.” 

“You didn’t.” Her arms dropped to her side and she stepped into the office, closing the door behind her. 

“Yeah.” Josh grimaced. “But she’s wrong!” 

“It doesn’t matter who's right or wrong, you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.” She pointed out. He narrowed his eyes with annoyance. 

“Get out.” 

“I don’t want to hear about your back being sore tomorrow.” She shrugged. 

“Go!” She went back to her desk and he fell back into his chair. Donna was right, of course, which irritated him even more. He’d barely even started to look over his work when Donna came back into the office. “Didn’t I tell you to leave me alone?” 

“Lisa just called me-” He was too fired up to process the shocked, saddened expression on her face. 

“Donna, I can handle-”

“You need to go talk to Y/N-”

“Donna, really-”

“Josh.” Her serious tone caught him off guard. When he finally started to take in the grieving look in her eyes, he knew something was wrong. 

“What is it?” 

“Y/N’s dad just died.”

And the fight was forgotten. Josh walked quickly, rushing through the West Wing and making his way towards your office. Donna’s words echoed in his mind, mixing with his memories of the Illinois primary. When he lost his dad. 

“Where is she?” He asked Lisa. She pointed to your office. 

“She’s getting ready for a meeting with a committee from-”

“Cancel it.” He ordered and Lisa nodded in agreement. It was an easily reschedulable meeting, and you weren’t in the state of mind to discuss national park advertisement. He slowly opened the door to your office, finding you loading your briefcase with documents, the papers shaking in your hands. “Y/N?” 

“I really can’t talk right now. I have to get to a meeting.” You tried to move around him but he placed a hand on your arm. 

“I had Lisa cancel it.” You couldn’t bear to see the sympathetic look in his eyes. You shook your head. 

“I can’t. I have to-”

“Y/N.” He put a hand on your cheek and you finally looked into his eyes. Your lip started to tremble and your composure crumbled. Josh’s heart sank. “Come here.” He wrapped his arms around you and it almost felt like he was holding you up, your knees buckling underneath you. He kept one arm around your waist and held the back of your head with his other hand. “I’m sorry.” He muttered into your hair. “I'm so sorry.” 

“He’s just… He’s-” You sucked in a painful breath. “He’s gone.” It didn’t make any sense. Your dad wasn’t sick. He hadn’t been battling an illness for the past several years. You didn’t have time to prepare. Car accidents didn’t allow that. 

Josh didn’t say anything. He knew there wasn’t anything he could say that would make any of it easier. He knew better than most. That growing empty feeling that you just can’t shake no matter how many hands you shake or sympathy cards you read. 

Word spread quickly through the office, reaching the President in a matter of minutes. 

“You’re sure?” He said somberly and Leo nodded. 

“He was in a collision on the way home this morning,” Leo explained, his heart heavy with the news. He knew Bill well. It was actually how he had met Y/N. She was all fire and spunk and he had recommended her to the President for a media specialist. 

“He was a good man.” President Bartlet sighed. “Remind me to send something to Marissa. And tell Y/N and Josh to take all the time they need.” 

“Will do, Mr. President.” 

-

You usually loved driving home. The Virginia fields reminded you of the land that you grew up on.  Now, all you could think about were the memories. Your father teaching you how to ride a horse. Bringing you ice cream after a long day of homework. He was the one who taught you how to write. And now he was just… gone. Josh tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the music on the radio. 

“You know you’re going to have to get along with her.” You said suddenly, images of previous arguments flashing through your head. 

“Who?” He asked innocently, eyebrows raised behind his sunglasses. You gave him a look. 

“My sister.” He shuttered and you rolled your eyes. “I’m serious, Josh. I know you don’t like each other, but this is really not the occasion to get into one of your screaming matches. Everyone is going to be on edge enough and-”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Josh took a hand off the wheel and placed it on top of yours. “I won’t fight with Celia.” 

“Promise?” He gave your hand a gentle squeeze. 

“I promise,” Easier said than done. Josh had never gotten along with your older sister. Even at your wedding, they managed to have an argument in the kitchen while you threw the bouquet.  You never understood what their ongoing feud was about. They had the same political stance, your sister adored President Bartlet, and Josh had always gotten along with your parents. Your mother couldn’t get enough of him. If you were honest, sometimes you thought she liked him more than you! But not Celia. There was something about the two of them that always led to legendary arguments that could be heard from the capitol. 

After a few more hours of driving, the hills and trees opened to a long, winding driveway that led up to the house. You drove up a few days early so that you could help your mother prepare for the funeral, but even now, cars lined the driveway belonging to people coming to express their sympathies. Being a Representative for the State of Virginia made your mother a well-beloved and publicized woman. So word spread quickly around town and many families came to share their grief. 

After Josh was able to find a parking spot, the two of you carried your suitcases to the back door. Dozens of people in black dress clothes passed by you with sympathetic smiles. 

“Here, let me get those.” Someone offered. You turned to see Thomas, your brother-in-law. 

“Hey,” You greeted, pulling him into a hug. “How is everybody?” He shrugged. 

“We’re holding up.” He turned to Josh and shook his hand. Thomas, compared to his wife, took no issue with your husband. “Fair warning, Josh, a lot of Bill’s journalist friends are here and they’re going to love seeing the White House Deputy Chief of Staff.” 

Your father had run the local newspaper for years. He was an incredible journalist, with many offers from bigger news outlets like the Washington Post, but he only ever wanted to do local news. 

“Local news is where the good stories are.” You remembered him saying. “Writing about real people and not always talking about how dark and gloomy the world is… that’s all I want.” 

He’s the reason you got into media work in the first place. When you got the job at the White House, he got you the most beautiful fountain pen, with gold embellishments and the words “Make the world a little less dark and gloomy. Beyond proud of you- Love Dad” engraved on the box. With all of the messes going on at the White House, you started to wonder if you ever really made him proud. 

“Hey,” Josh grabbed your hand before you stepped into the crowded living room. He must have seen your nervous expression because he gave you a reassuring smile. “Do you want to just go for a walk? Get some of that fresh Virginia air before you talk to anyone?” You let out a breath of relief and nodded. 

Josh knew how it felt to look around your childhood home and not recognize a single person. To see a bunch of strangers sharing grief for someone that they hardly knew. It was suffocating. He convinced you to walk him through the orchards. They were beautiful this time of year. You took off your heels and walked down the path with bare feet. The dirt and the grass were cool against your skin while your intertwined hands swung back and forth as you walked in the spring sun. 

“He loved days like this.” You mused, looking up at the sky. It was freckled with large, puffy white clouds. “He used to say that clouds were the shadows of distant worlds passing by. Island kingdoms home to all sorts of creatures.” 

“Sounds like he should have written fantasy novels instead of news articles.” Josh chuckled. You smiled. 

“He did.” You picked up a flowery branch and twirled it around in your hand. “They were just filled with little stories for me and Celia. He got them bound and everything, but he never published them. They’re up in his study somewhere.” Josh smiled with awe, fondly remembering the way his father-in-law told everyone stories at dinner. Some of them were true, some definitely weren’t, but it didn’t matter. They always made him think differently about himself. 

You made your way back to the house, seeing Celia standing on the back porch with her arms crossed over her chest. 

“Uh oh.” Josh groaned. You slapped his side. 

“Thomas said you guys got here an hour ago.” She snapped accusingly. “Did you just want to leave me and mom to do all the hosting?” 

“CeeCee, hush, it’s alright.” Your mom came through the screen door with a tray of wine glasses. “I wouldn’t have wanted to be in with the crowd either if I didn’t have to be.” 

“Representative Y/L/N, it’s good to see you.” Josh gave your mother a hug. “I’m really sorry for your loss.” 

“And I’m sorry that even after three years of being my son-in-law you still haven’t called me Marissa.” She scolded. 

“My apologies, Marissa.” He grinned. 

“So where have the two of you been?” Celia asked her tone still accusatory. 

“We just went for a walk.” You shrugged. She clenched her jaw and sat in one of the chairs while you and Josh shared the porch swing. 

The sun started to set and the five of you enjoyed a few glasses of wine and Josh bit his tongue whenever Celia tried to provoke him. This lasted for a few hours before everyone decided that they’d had a long day and it was time to turn in for the night. 

You slept in your old room, only now it had classy wallpaper instead of band posters. Josh had all but fallen asleep when he noticed you standing at the window. 

“What’re you doing?” He muttered groggily. His senses, however, switched to high alert when he heard the sniffle of crying. “Honey?” 

“I’m fine.” You waved your hand at him. “Go to sleep, I’ll just be a second.” He stood up, taking the comforter with him to wrap around you while his arms fell around your neck.  You held back a sob. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“I know it hurts.” He whispered, his lips grazing your ear. “And I can’t tell you when it gets better because it’ll come back. Not all the time, but every once and a while, it’ll hurt. But I’m gonna be there for you when it does.” You turned around so you were facing each other and he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead. 

The next few days would be rough, but he knew what they were like. And he would get you through them.

[fic-for-fic-sake]

Singing Valentine’s

A/N: I know it isn’t Valentine’s Day but I was watching the Valentine’s episode of Glee and got inspired. Also don’t judge too harshly, I wrote this in like ten minutes

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Senior year of college was everything you thought it would be, well...almost everything. You had hoped love would find you some way or another during college but it seemed that the cards weren’t in your favor, so to speak. That was, until you met Professor Barnes. 

You had come back from the winter holiday a few days early to hang out with friends before the madness of your final semester started. You decided to trudge your way through the snow to go to a cafe downtown. When you stepped inside the inviting warmth of the coffee shop you noticed that every seat was taken. Dejected, you almost gave up when someone motioned for you to join them. 

“Thanks.” You replied, putting your coat behind your seat before sitting opposite the kind stranger. 

“Don’t mention it doll, not like I was usin’ it anyway.” He replied, you noticed his Brooklyn accent and quirked an eyebrow. What was someone from New York doing here in your small college town? Interesting. You managed to flag down a waitress and asked her for a latte. 

You and the stranger got to talking and he told you his name was Bucky and he had just moved here and was teaching a few classes this semester, though he forgot which ones. You and he had a lovely conversation that even veered towards flirty at times. You griped about having to walk in the increasing snow back to your apartment and he offered to give you a ride there. 

When he dropped you off at your door he had asked if he could see you again. You told him your number before he drove off and you went inside feeling better than you had this morning. 

On the first day of classes you noticed that you had Romanian 100 last. Normally, you wouldn’t take the language as your minor was Spanish but the class was one credit and it was offered to people whose major or minor was a romance language. The idea was that you had already learned one romance language so a second one would come more naturally to you. As you walked into the small classroom you noticed that there were only five other people there, making you the sixth. 

You were just about to double check the roster to make sure you were in the right place when you heard the door close and a pair of footsteps make their way over to the blackboard to write on it. 

“Hi everyone, my name is Professor Barnes, welcome to Romanian 100.” an all too familiar voice said. You snapped your head up to meet the familiar icy blue eyes that belonged to Bucky. His expression changed to shock for a fraction of a second before he smarted himself and looked elsewhere. 

That was a month ago and you were in despair. Obviously Bucky hadn’t reached out to you because that would be inappropriate, he was your professor after all. But that didn’t stop the two of you from exchanging flirty glances each others way when the others were doing their work. 

Your friends were hearing you gripe about it for what had to be the millionth time when you headed to choir practice that evening. You were in one of the many choral groups on campus. Some people said your group was the most elite but all you saw was a group of people who through the years became your friends. 

“Why don’t you tell him how you feel?” Christian asked. You rolled your eyes, Christian was many things, a hopeless romantic was one of them. 

“Yeah, he’s my professor so I don’t think that’ll work.” You retorted, taking you seat in the alto section. The director was making sure everyone was accounted for before he began. 

“Now, I know everyone is excited about Valentine’s Day and I am too. Which is why I’m bringing back a tradition that this group hasn’t done in a while.” The director announced. Excited murmurs filled the room as you all guessed about what tradition was coming back. 

“Is it spray painting the statue?” Christian guessed, raising a hand. 

“I’m pretty sure we would get expelled for that.” You replied. 

“It’s singing Valentine’s! You’ll be in groups of six and go around campus spreading the cheer.” Your director explained. “People will pay to have a Valentine sung to someone special. I’ve already put flyers up around campus and have lists for everyone.” 

The next two hours were spent in a flurry of excitement. Your group was yourself, Emily, Marissa, Christian, Ryan, and Aiden. The six of you would be singing “L-O-V-E” by Nat King Cole. After you all felt like you had a good handle on the song you agreed to meet at the campus library tomorrow at 9am to start singing. 

So now here you were, 10am and done your singing list for the day. If you were being honest with yourself, your throat hurt from singing and your feet hurt from walking. You were about to release everyone from their task before Christian whispered something in your ear. 

“You should have us sing to Professor Barnes.” 

“What?” You shot back, “Why?” 

“Tell him how you feel, in song, no time like the present. Plus, none of us have class for another two hours.” Christian answered. He had a point, well several. You straightened your back as you told your group you had one final stop to make. You led them down the winding path that led to Bucky’s office. 

You could feel your cheeks heat up as you walked past several other professors and administrators before you knocked on Bucky’s door. Being the only Romanian professor at the university he had an office to himself. 

“Come in.” You heard his husky voice call from inside. You took a final breath before you opened the door and walked in, followed by the rest of your group. 

“Y/N, what a pleasant surprise, what can I do for you?” He asked, blue eyes surveying everyone before landing on you again. It was unnerving. 

“Well Professor, it’s close to Valentine’s Day and my choir and I are tasked with singing around campus to people. Mind if we give you a sample?” You asked, like it was the most normal request in the world. 

“Sure doll, sing away.” He responded, voice cool as he gestured for you all to begin. You took a deep breath before you gave the starting note and everyone began to sing. You had the solo so you smiled before you started on the melody. 

L is for the way you look at me, O is for the only one I see. You sang as Christian grabbed your hand and playfully twirled you around. You smiled at him before turning your attention back to Bucky, who incidentally was eyeing Christian like he wanted to kill him. 

V is very very, extraordinary, E is even more than anyone that you adore. You walked in front of Bucky’s desk and placed your palms down on it as you leaned over to get closer to him, hoping he would get the message. 

Love is all that I can give to you, love is more than just a game for two. You circled around to his side of the desk and even though you knew it was risky you sat on it and crossed your legs. Bucky kept his eyes glued to yours, seemingly captivated by the beautiful melody coming out of your mouth. 

Two in love can make it, take my heart and please don’t break it. Love was made for me and you. You hopped off of his desk, gave him a wink, and then trailed back to the rest of your group. 

Love was made for me and you. You sang the final words as you looked right into the icy blue eyes that you dreamed about night after night. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day professor.” You whispered, before you and your group promptly turned around and left the office. You were just about to head out the door when your phone buzzed with a message. It was Bucky. 

Come back up to my office, I need to see you.

[tenaciousarcadeexpert]

Criminal Minds-The Good Ol’ Days

Tagging: @marvelfanlife, @itsmeedee, @cynbx, @jaqren, @gabriellewritermua, @princesswagger15, @screaminginbi, @tleighstone12, @cosmicmelaninflower

A collaboration fic with @princesswagger15.

After a long hiatus, the wait is finally over. Here is the new chapter

Chapter 8-Rossi’s Past

   The next day, the gang were eager to meet up with Rossi at their usual spot near the river. The students were very happy that their professor was back, but they were all wondering what’s he been doing when he was away. Barnes looked out from the window as she sees Rossi and the team leave the campus.

“I see you’re not trying to break up David and his little crew.” She turned to see Strauss walking up to her.

“I’m not an animal, Erin. I have my limits, besides, we could all use a little space.”

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

Meanwhile, the group march into the forest while asking Rossi a few questions.

“Are we there yet?” Garcia complained. “These little twigs keep hitting my feet and my heels hurt.”

“Geez Garcia what are you five? We’ll get there, be patient.” Luke jokes. “Besides, I don’t understand how you can wear those things every day.”

“Shut up heathen!”

“Wooow Garcia, always a heathen am I?”

“Guys, can you not? Especially at 7am?” Hotch complained.

“Jeez, someone’s grumpy without their morning coffee.” Muttered Derek.

“I don’t see you complaining.” He rolled his eyes as Derek snickered at him. The group continues to trek into the forest with Rossi.

“So professor, I’m wondering why you decided to meet with us as early as 7 and then have us walk into the forest?” Emily asked Rossi.

“Well firstly, I know you all don’t have classes today, and secondly, I choose this early for a reason. No one is gonna be up 7 am just to snoop on us.”

“Why would someone ‘snoop’ on us?”

“Well whoever these people are want to know something about me really bad. And they’re not afraid to use you all to get to me. So that’s why we’re out here so early Miss Prentiss.”

“Oh okay.” “You seemed to know a lot about the forest.” Ashley walked over by Emily.

“Well, I used to be a boy scout when I was younger.” “You were a boy scout? Cool, so was I.” Matt replies.

“Oh wow, so you know your fair share of the forest don’t ya?”

He shrugged his shoulders.“Sorta, not as much as you do.”

“Eh, still cool to know.”

They kept walking till they stopped at a river separating them from the other side of the forest. There, they notice a tall grey-ish building with four windows. Judging from the worn out paint, torn down wires and the interior being almost pitch-black, the place looked abandoned, not having been touched for almost ages. The group looked at it in curiosity, though Rossi had a more grim look at the building.

“This building was abandoned for years. Surprised it hasn’t been demolished yet.”

“What was it? A factory? A hospital?” “....An asylum.”

“An asylum…..in the middle of the woods?”

“Yes, it used to be fairly silent back in the day.”

“What happened?” JJ asked.

“The patients were rioting and some escaped but they were never found. But ever since then, it’s been abandoned.”

“Is there a reason why it was abandoned?”

“Well after those few escaped the other patients were even more mad so they set fire to the place, everyone got out and the firemen came just in time before the building was completely gone. I don’t think anyone has used it ever since though. Probably never will either.” He continued to look at the building, scrunching his nose and trying not to choke up as the team noticed.

“Something wrong, professor?” Kate asked.

“I-I, it’s nothing.”

“You sure? You seemed to be in deep thought.” “Did something else happened in that building?” JJ asked.

“That’s a story for another time. Let’s get down to business shall we?” He then escorts the teens away from the building as they follow the trail of the river. Ashley took another moment to stare at the building before following the rest of the group.

“And here we are.” They stopped at a small cabin, to their surprise, it was the same cabin they broke into. They wondered if Rossi knew that they were there, and if he brought them here for one reason: to interrogate them. They were all secretly relieved that Rossi didn’t shoot off a round of questions and instead asked, “Do you guys want something to eat or drink?”

The gang all looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders.

“Got any orange juice?” Reid asked.

A few minutes later, Rossi starts up the stove as he cooks up some pancakes while the gang looks on.

As Rossi gets lost in his cooking, Garcia freaks out and turns to the team as she whisper yells, “WHAT THE HELL MAN! WE BROKE INTO ROSSI’S CABIN!”

“Can we not talk about this Garcia?! Rossi is literally right here!” Emily responds.

“Wait wait wait, why would ya’ll break into his cabin?” Asks Marissa, clearly confused.

“Guys, can you all shut up!” Hotch whispered. “Can we talk about this later, when we’re not at Ro-” “WHO WANTS BACON!”

“HELL YEAH!” The group all turned to Luke, who covered his mouth. “Pig.....” Garcia groaned.

“What? I can’t help it. I need meat!”

“Dude’s got a point.” Marissa nodded.

“Not me, I’m a vegetarian.”

Marissa dramatically turned to Garcia and gasped. “I don’t know you anymore!”

“Hey, not everyone is a meat-eater. I love animals waaaaaaaaaay too much.”

“Look, don’t get me wrong, I’d die for any animal okay. But I’m just saying that I can’t live off of rabbit food like you can.”

“Rude.” Garcia then covered her nose as she and the gang smell the scent of bacon frying in the pan.

“Yeah okay suuure.”

Reid the walked over to Marissa’s shoulder. “Just let her be, if she doesn’t want any bacon, that’s her decision.”

Back at the kitchen, JJ continued to watch as Rossi cooks the bacon. “Wow professor, you’re quite the chef.” “Of course I am. I’m Italian, it’s in my nature.” “I’m not trying to be rude or anything but you didn’t really have to cook for us.”

“Oh no really, it’s my pleasure since I brought you all here at such an early hour.”

“It smells really nice.” Tara smiled.

“Yeah it really does, thanks Professor.” Says Derek.

‘You’re welcome.” A few minutes later and breakfast was already set. The gang all silently munch on their meals while sitting outside of the cabin.

“Uh professor?” Tara asked. “Yes?”

“Why did you decide to bring us here?”

“Hmmmm.” They looked as Rossi rubbed his chin.

“Let’s just say that this give me the time for you all to get to know me more.”

“Speaking of, Professor, from what I gather we don’t know you all that good. Why don’t you tell us a story about you or something?” Marissa politely suggests.

Rossi chuckles. “Well, for starts, I wasn’t always like this when I first started teaching. At one point, when I first started teaching Criminology, I was just rambling for hours a day. Just telling the same facts over and over again until I realized that students were losing interest in the subject. Some even quit the course halfway through the year. So that when I decided to get a bit creative. Doing partner ups for certain assignments. Less tests and quizzes and more fun in the classroom. I was doing so good in fact, that my classroom one year was filled to the brim and students were mad because they couldn’t get in the class.”

“Wow.”

“Never thought that ‘fun’ is something that was associated with you. No offense.” “None taken, Greenaway. Since then, more people started taking me seriously, both students and staff. I earned a lot of respect from almost everyone in the campus. They even increased my paycheck cause I was so good at what I do. Though there were some that envied me.”

“Why?”

“......Cause some of the staffers thought I was ‘too good’ at my job.”

“Wow, so just because they couldn’t step their game up, you were ‘too good’?”

”Yeah, though there was also some that I guess were a bit ‘wary’ of me.” “Why would they think that?” Emily asked.

“Some of my methods were a bit…..unorthodox. I didn’t always follow their strict set of…..standards.”

“Like, your ‘trips’?”

He nods. “Y-yeah, those trips.”

“You’ve ever gotten into trouble for those trips?”

Rossi paused for a moment before shaking his head. “No, not really.”

“Okay.” No one else spoke a word as the only noise being heard was the sounds of crickets chirping and leaves rustling.

Rossi then took a deep breath and smiled, admiring the forest smell. “Don’t you just love that?” “Love what?” Asked Reid.

“The sweet scent and sounds of the open woods.”

“You mean the smell of animal crap?” He chuckled. “Well, it takes some getting use to, but you’ll soon get past it. Man, being here reminds me of the good ol’ days.” “The good ol’ days?”

“Yeah, this is where I use to go whenever I want to relax and not teach.” “Oh….so this cabin is basically you’re home?” Kate asked.

He chuckled. “Nonsense, I live in a mansion, not a cabin.” Garcia choked on her drink. “You live in a mansion?!”

“Yes.” “Wow.” “Well professor, if you do live in a mansion, why bother spending time at a small cabin?”

“Well, Prentiss, sometimes I’d prefer to spend time where it’s secluded and peaceful, where no one could bother me. It’s also a good place for me to write my own novels.”

Everyone looked at Rossi in surprise and all screamed, “YOU WRITE NOVELS?!”

“Yes. In fact, I have written nearly five books, all of them were bestsellers.”

“Wow professor! I think I’ll go check those when this is all over.” Reid said.

“That’s pretty thoughtful of you, Spencer.”

He then escorts them back inside, where they gather on the sofa as he pulls out some photo albums and an old yearbook.

“Um, Rossi what are we doing?” Kate asked.

“You guys seemed curious about my past. I can tell, so i thought I can show you some old photos and tell you the story behind them.” The group gathered around him as he shares some old photos of him.

“This was me when I first started teaching at this college.”

“Woaaah, you look so different!” JJ says as they all look at the photo of him when he was younger.

“Yeah well, it was the 80s.”

“Geez man, how many stories do you have?”

“I am a man of many stories.”

“Wow, I want to know more of them.”

“Woah, patience, everyone. There are some stories that I might have to put off for another time.”

“Why Rossi? Is it not PG-13?” Derek mocks.

“No, that’s-not it. Sometimes a person can only share enough about them.”

“Oh okay, I  think we all understand.”

“Good.” He then continues to flip through several pages, where JJ noticed a small photo of Rossi smiling with a group of people, maybe around her age.

“Hey Rossi, who are these people?”

“Huh?”

JJ walked up to him, showing him the photo. “These people in the photo, are they your students?”

Rossi, looking very uncomfortable, shifts in his chair a little. “Uh, yeah, yeah they were.”

“What were they like? You seemed pretty happy with them.”

“Well, they were almost exactly like you all. Intelligent, observant, creative. To be honest, they were a pretty rough crowd at first. But once I got to know them, we started to mellow, bond over similar interest and then I helped them out with their grades and personal problems. Of all the people I’ve taught, they were the best students I ever had.”

The rest of the group smiled at the photo.

“They all sound pretty cool.” Matt said.

“Yeah, I’d love to meet them.” Kate adds.

“Oh, um, well we all don’t talk anymore.” He croaked.

“What happened? Did they leave on bad terms?”

“I guess you could say that, yes.”

“Why? What happened? You seemed pretty close to them.”

“Yes, we were all very close but some unfortunate events happened, and we all decided to cut ties with each other.”

“Uh, ‘unfortunate events’.......like what?”

“Like I said earlier, some stories must be told another time.”

The team all looked at Rossi, as he takes the photo from JJ’s hand. They noticed that his eyes were watering, as if the thought of his former students pains him for whatever reason. They wondered what really happened to them, and why their professor was reluctant to share anything about them.

“So professor, if you’re not gonna tell us what happened to them, is there anything about them whom you’re willing to share?”

“Well I remember times of us being close, almost everyday I’d have a new story to tell about me and them. I write it down in my journal. Any notes of anything important, or stories that I never want to forget, I’d write in my journal. Maybe I should read a few stories of them from my journal. I’ll be right back.” As he got up, he froze and swung his arm when he realized something. “Shit!”

“Professor? What happened?” Ashley says.

”I forgot. Unfortunately, someone broke into my cabin and stole my journal.”

“Wait a minute, what?” Hotch asks as he stands up along with the rest of the team.

“P-professor, w-w-when did this happen?”

“This was around a week ago when i first left. Like around…...Sunday.”

The gang all gasped, with the exception of Marissa. They all looked at each other, realizing that something happened in the same day they snuck into the cabin.

“Ummm, what the hell is wrong with you guys? Did I miss something?” Marissa asks as she looks at Reid.

“We can talk about this later. Just not here.” He whispered.

“Is everyone alright? You all seemed a bit shaken.” Rossi asked.

“No no no Rossi, they look……… just, broken.”

“Uh, is there anything you all want to share?” They all shook their heads. “Uh professor, you don’t happen to know who stole your journal, do you?” Elle asked, only for Kate and Emily to elbow her.

“Umm no. Me and some friends were trying to figure out what could’ve happened.”

“Oh okay.”

“I think we had enough for the day.” He looked at his watch, revealing that it was now 10:42 am. “We should all head back to the campus.”

The rest of the gang all nod and exits the cabin, following the trail of the river and walking through the thick woods till they see the exit, with the campus not far from where they were.

“I guess this is where we part ways.”

“Y-yeah Professor, we’ll see you later.”

The group part ways with their professor as they ponder over the things they’ve learned about him.

“Can someone tell what in the pure, fresh fuck just happened?” Marissa said. “You all just blanked out when your professor said that someone broke into his cabin.”

“Sweetheart, it’s no-”

“NO NO NO!! Something just happened. What the shit just happened?!”

“We’re trying to figure it out, Marissa!” Hotch yelled as they all gathered near the entrance of the forest. “I thought we made it clear that we shouldn’t take anything from the cabin.”

“So you guys did broke into his cabin, that’s why you all lose your sh-” “Yes! Marissa, we did, but it’s not so we could steal some shit!”

“You don’t think someone was following us the last time?” Kate asked.

“No, we made sure of that. The only ones that were in the cabin at that time was us.” He rubbed his head. “Dammit, this is not good.”

“I mean, it’s not like he knows that we broke in, right?” Elle awkwardly chuckled.

“Well, it becomes a serious problem when he wonders how his journal was missing in the same day his students broke in his cabin.” “What are you trying to say, Hotch?” Ashley asked.

Hotch looked at the rest of the group. “I hate to say this, but we were in the cabin where the journal was still there. Once we left, it was gone.” “That means……” “ Someone here must have stolen the journal. One of us.”

[uhbright]

Dilaudid~Ch3;Back//Spencer Reid

Chapter 3/5

Tw; Drugs, Addiction, Overdose

Click here for chapter 2 !

Click here for chapter 4 !

Quick Note: I’m writing this in school, at class, I’m so afraid people are watching my computer aha.

Word Count:~1.6k

Synopsis; After Prentiss’ apparent “death” (season 6/7), Reid turns back to Dilaudid in order to get away from the pain of losing a friend that was practically family. It sounds lame but I think it’s good :)

Garcia looked to the clock on the wall and then at the last empty chair around the circular table.

“Reid did say he would be here…?” Hotch joined Garcia’s gaze, signifying the fifteen mark after the team was called.

“Maybe he’s just running late?” Garcia hoped, but Derek shook his head.

“I don’t know guys, the kid didn’t seem too good when I checked on him earlier, maybe someone should stop by again…”

JJ sprang out of her chair to volunteer and Hotch nodded. “We’ll catch you up when you get back.”

She sped out of the room and into the parking garage.

Barely obeying the laws of the road, JJ made her way to Reid’s apartment building.

/I should’ve checked on him before./ She nagged at herself, /I should’ve made him answer the door, I should’ve talked to him./

JJ took a deep breath and knocked lightly on Reid’s door.

“Spence!” She spoke softly, “It’s JJ.”

After he didn’t answer she knocked louder, eventually banging on the door and shouting Spencer’s name, her throat beginning to grow horse.

She frantically dumped the contents of her purse out onto the floor in front of Reid’s door for the key he had given her after they had finally grown close enough.

She rummaged around in the pile of lipsticks, kids snacks and old receipts until she found it, and fumbled with it before inserting it into the keyhole. With trembling hands she turned the key and door knob and rushed into his apartment. Her eyes wildly searched his apartment but her legs felt frozen in place. At sight of the small glass vile perched on the kitchen counter with a syringe beside it, her heart dropped to the dark wooden floor below, and a ringing filled her head as she ran forward.

She fell to the floor beside the couch and the limp body of her best friend, strewn so helplessly across the worn down faux-leather of his sofa. She could feel the tears fall from her eyes with no hope of stopping as she scrambled with her cell phone, dialing 9-1-1 as quickly as she could. She stumbled over her words, barely aware of what she was saying, grasping the hand of her friend and feeling a faint pulse in his wrist. Once an ambulance had been dispatched she climbed on top of him and pumped his chest up and down, desperately trying to keep him there with her. His eyes fluttered but JJ couldn’t see anything behind them, as if he were off in another world.

A series of grueling minutes passed and a team of paramedics barged through the door. JJ took a step back, watching in disbelief as they lifted her best friend onto a stretcher and strapped an oxygen mask around his mouth, rushing him back through the doors.

She stood there. Minutes had passed, and she couldn’t believe the world around her was real. Blinking a few times, she fumbled again for her phone and hovered over the keypad. Who should she call? What should she doe? Was there anything she /could/ do?

She put her phone back into her pocket and walked to the door. With her hand on the brass knob, she looked around the apartment. It was a mess- she had never seen it like this before. How could she have been so distant from Reid when he needed her most? She had barely tried to get in touch with him after Emily…

JJ’s phone rang, breaking her daze.

“Hello?” She said softly, her voice seeming out of place.

“JJ? Are you okay? Hotch just got a call from the hospital… Oh my god.” Garcia’s voice cracked and there was shuffling in the background.

“JJ,” Hotch’s voice now, distant and cold, came from the other end of the phone. “The whole team is headed over to the hospital- do you need us to pick you up?”

JJ stood frozen for a minute, staring at the couch in front of her.

“JJ?” Hotch repeated.

“Oh,” She shook her head and turned the door knob. “No, that’s okay. I’ll meet you guys there.” She stepped into the hallway and looked down at the pile of her purse remnants.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah…” JJ took a deep breath, “Yeah. See you guys soon.” She bent down to gather her things and slowly made her way to the staircase just outside of Reid’s door.

A rush of guilt flooded her and she gripped to the railing to the staircase as her legs weakened beneath her. Tears started streaming again and she gripped the staircase tighter.

Taking heaving breaths, she buried her head in her hands as she sat on the top stair.

/I have to get to the hospital,/ she told herself, but couldn’t get her legs to let her stand up.

-----

The team rushed through the doors and into the bright, bustling environment of the hospital. Hotch took long strides to the desk and quickly began talking to the receptionist as the rest of the team took seats in the waiting area.

All of their faces were stricken with worry. Garcia was holding back sobs, tears still streaming down her cheeks, Derek paced back and forth across the small holding area.

Hotch slowly began walking back to the group of agents. Penelope sprang out of her seat and opened her eyes wide at Hotch, waiting for news. Any news.

When Hotch stepped in closer, he took a deep breath. “He’s stable, but he’s sleeping.”

“Oh my god” Garcia sobbed and wrapped her hands around Derek. “When can we see him?”

“He needs to wake up first, then they want to give him a psych evaluation,” Hotch said quietly. Derek nodded in understanding and grabbed Garcia’s hands. Together, the two sat back down.

A few minutes later, JJ, face streaked with tears, rushed through the doors.

Derek stood and greeted her half way across the floor, telling her the news. JJs arms sprang around him and she felt the wait lift from her soldiers. He was okay.

-----

The periodic beep of the heart monitor slowly crept into Reid’s senses as he came to.

The lights were off, window shades drawn, leaving him only the dim light to decipher his surroundings. It wasn’t hard for him to figure out where he was though; a small bedside table beside him, white walls, flooring, blankets, and a tinge of disinfectant in the air.

A quiet knock on the door interrupted his thought, and an unfamiliar head popped through the door. A woman in a white coat, black hair tied back in a messy bun, walked in, clipboard in hand.

“Mind if I open these?” She smiled softly, walking over to the windows.

Reid nodded, unable to get words out- his throat was sore and dry.

“Great,” after letting a bit of soft early morning light sift through the blinds, the lady pulled a chair up beside the foot of Reid’s bed, facing him. “I’m Dr. Parvati, but please feel free to call me Marissa.” She smiled gently again and pulled a pen out of her jacket pocket. “So…” She looked down at her clipboard, “Spencer, mind if I ask you a few questions?”

Spencer shook his head and cleared his throat, “No, go ahead.”

She clicked her pen and set it to the top of the page on her clipboard, “Alright, you are a white male, 29, and work in the behavioral analysis unit for the FBI?”

“Yes, yeah.” Reid nodded and pushed himself up against the back of the bed.

“Do you or your family have any history with physical or mental illness?”

“Uh..” Reid started, “my mom has schizophrenia and early onset dementia…”

“Okay.” She scribbled some notes onto her paper. Reid rubbed his forehead. The light was starting to make his eyes ache.

“Tell me, how have your stress levels been, have you been satisfied with where you’re at in life right now?

Reid blinked a few times, hoping to lessen the ache, “It’s been alright, I’ve been okay. A friend of mine recently passed so that’s been… stressful.”

“I’m so sorry. What happened?” She continued to scratch down notes.

“She was stabbed, on- on the job.” Reid’s voice cracked and he shifted around in the bed a little more. “I’m- I’m sorry. Could I get some water?”

“Oh, of course.” She stood and crossed to the cabinets to grab a small paper cup, then into the bathroom branching off of the room. Reid looked at the clipboard on her chair and reached over to grab then frantically scanned it.

24 hour suicide watch ☑

Reid quickly set the clipboard back onto her chair as Dr. Parvati walked back into the room. She smiled and handed him the glass.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” He laughed, “I’m not- I mean I wasn’t trying to- to /kill/ myself, or anything.

She looked at him with raised eyebrows, “Oh, oh no, of course not! We just have to run through all the possibilities when someone overdoses.”

“Well, I’m telling you right now, it was an accident.” His voice grew louder with each word.

“I just have to complete this form before we can release you, sir.” Dr. Parvati took a step back.

“Nothing needs to be complete, because I don’t need to be here!” He yelled and threw his cup across the room, hitting his doctor in the chest.

“I’m going to take a step out,” she said calmly, “we’ll finish this when you calm down.”

“When /I/ calm down? Me?” He shouted as she closed the door behind her.

Spencer took a few heaving breaths, realizing what he’d done. He buried his head in his hands. He had messed up, not just then, but the moment he pulled the vile out of his drawer. And now, it was too late to go back.

This has taken me so long to get out there, but I hope you enjoyed. 2 chapters left :)

[loverontheleft]

Ready to Leap (7.1)

AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut anticipated. Chapters 1-6 can be found on my Masterlist.

Brendon x reader. Warnings: language, sexual implications, and content.

Because I don’t want to end up teaching British Literature online through a fanfic (though what a class that would be), I’m gonna continue playing fast and loose with the progression of time. Classroom time will be present as required by the plot. If you have questions about any of the works I mention and want to know why I used them or just have general questions about them, feel free to ask! I love teaching more than I love Brendon (which is a fucking lot) so I love getting literature questions.

NOTE:

Now that I have your attention. THIS CHAPTER IS FROM BRENDON’S POV. I’m still using Y/n when Brendon’s referring to the reader because it seems easiest, but the second person “you” in this chapter is our boy.

Word count: 3.5k

-||-

“Sounds like a plan. I’m really sorry Urie, but I do actually have some work to do this planning period.” She looks regretful, like she really does want to stay - and you want her to stay too. But you’re not going to interfere with her job.

You nod, understanding. She reaches for the panties still in your hand and you pull back.

“No ma’am, these are mine now. You left them for me. Also, your dress doesn’t have pockets; where would you even put them until you got back to your room?”

“Well, seeing as I’m not wearing any currently, I would have just put them on.” Your eyes go wide and she smiles. “But like you said, they’re yours now, so I’ll just head back to my room.” She gives you a quick kiss before turning and walking towards the office door.

“Milton, you’re kidding, right? You’re fucking with me right now. Oh my god.” You’re sitting on the couch now, head resting against interlocked fingers. She turns before leaving your office and blows you a kiss. Once she’s gone, you sit back and groan, eyes shut. “Woman, you are going to be the death of me, I swear.”

You’re distracted the rest of your planning period; you keep playing the moment you found her panties on repeat. Your alarm went off, you rolled over to hit the snooze button, and, instead of smooth plastic, your fingers touch lace. Confused, your fingers close around the lace and bring it over to your drowsy eyes. You turn on the table lamp with your free hand and blink to focus. “Jesus fucking Christ.” As if you weren’t hard enough from your evening together playing on repeat behind your eyes all night; this was a whole new level. Your eyes slide to the time on your clock. You don’t have time, unless it’s in the shower. You groan again, clutching her panties and rolling out of bed.

The bell for 4th block rings and you shake your head, clearing out memories of steamy showers. Time to focus. You leave for Invitationals early Saturday morning; you have 3 more practices left , and only one of them is an extended practice. Maybe letting them leave early last night was a - no. Your mind wanders back to kissing her, how she responded so eagerly, so soft and willing, the rest of your evening together, sucking strawberry off of her fingers, and you reaffirm your decision. You all deserved a break yesterday.

“Heyyyyyy Mr. Urie.” Emily drops her bag by her seat and grins at you. “Ms. Milton was really distracted in second block.” Don’t react. Don’t react.

“Was she?” Calm. Mostly uninterested. Good.

“Yep. Anyway, thanks for letting us go early yesterday; I finished my chemistry research project early and don’t have anything to do over Invitationals weekend. How was your night?”

You look at her and can’t tell what she knows. If she knows. You’re pretty sure all of the cars were gone when you - but Marissa maybe? She wouldn’t have said anything. Would she? No.

“It was very pleasant, thank you for asking. Good job on the chem project, by the way. Good to stay on top of things.” Y/n, in your lap, rocking on top of you, grinding those hips down, rubbing herself against your dick, moaning in your ear, telling you to come. Fuck. It’s going to be a long day.

Everyone’s changing for practice and you head into your office to send her a quick text. “Can’t stop thinking about you. Headed out to the field. Practice is over at 3:30 today.” You don’t expect a response so you’re stunned when your phone vibrates immediately.

“I’ll meet you in the band room at 4.”

It’s. Going. To. Be. A. Long. Day.

Practice goes as smoothly as it could go; Marissa looks more confident, steps are all neat and precise, and the shapes are clean and exact. They sound amazing. They’re working hard, and you’re sure it’s out of appreciation for their unexpected night off. You finetune a few things, have the sections retune, and run it again. And just like that, it’s 3:25. “Excellent job guys - I mean it. Really phenomenal. Do that Saturday and you’ll be really pleased with your ratings. Pack up, head inside, and be sure to stay hydrated. Extended practice tomorrow!”

You wait until the field is cleared and climb down the ladder. By the time you get back inside and change, it’ll be 3:45. Everyone will be gone and you’ll only have to wait fifteen minutes.

It’s 4 on the dot and there’s a soft knocking at your door. You pull the door open and she’s standing there and just when you thought you couldn’t be any more attracted to her -

“I ordered pizza.” She’s holding the box in her hands and you can smell it; it’s mouthwatering. “It's not filet mignon toast, but figured we could go over some logistics for the competition.”

Moments later, you’re both seated on the floor, her legs curled under her delicately, and you’re discussing bus schedules and food prep. “Typically the Band Boosters make a ton of sandwiches and put them back in the loaf sleeves and we put those in coolers with the drinks and bring dry snacks along.”

She nods thoughtfully. “That works. What are we doing for dinner Saturday after the competition?”

“What are we, you and I, doing, or what are we, the collective band, doing?” Your hand is wandering up her thigh over her dress and she blushes. “We, you and I, are doing whatever we, you and I, want.”

“But we should probably be with the collective band, right?”

“That’s what the parent volunteers are for. Typically they divide into 4 groups and go to 4 different restaurants. Each kid has their own “band account” where tip money and bonus work hour rewards from the fish fry go, so they don’t have to worry about spending their own money.”

“That’s really smart.” She looks impressed and you smile.

“It took a while to get it all in order, but it works really well now. But anyway, the parent volunteers take them to dinner with the understanding that I need to be alone and decompress. With my anxiety and everything, I need some alone time after competitions.” She looks so concerned, so protective. “I’m usually fine, honestly. Just a lot of tension and high energy and crowds, sometimes it’s a bit much, especially at Invitationals which can be a two-day event if things go well Saturday.”

She places her hand over yours and smiles. “So what I’m hearing is a quiet night in with hotel room service.” She pauses, squeezing your hand. “And a ‘do not disturb’ sign.”

“That, Milton, is a very tempting offer. But we can go out for real food and then come back for that sign.”

“Either works for me.” She shrugs and takes another bite of pizza, a bit of sauce grazing the corner of her mouth. You lean in and kiss her, tongue flicking out and capturing it.

“What are your plans for the rest of the evening?” Your own personal plans depend on however she replies.

“Grading Beowulf outlines and writing a comprehension test and doing a stupid scantron answer sheet.”

“Gosh Milton, I was going to ask if you wanted to go to Disney World, but your night sounds so much better,” you tease and she laughs.

“Definitely.”

You hesitate, flipping your hand over under hers to hold hers lightly. “As always, tell me if I’m moving too fast but, you are welcome to come over and I’ll make a random scantron answer sheet for you and you can write questions and change answers around after. It takes one thing off your to-do list.”

She grins, setting down her pizza and moving it off of her lap. “And why would you helping me with a test be moving too fast?”

“I just don’t want you to think I’m trying to hold you captive or anything, having you over every night.”

“Wait, you’re not planning to hold me captive? Then what were those handcuffs for?” She shrieks with laughter when you shove the pizza box out from between you and tackle her, hand behind her head protectively, kissing her fiercely.

“You’re bad, Milton.”

“You like it, Urie.”

-||-

You both agree that she’ll go get what she needs from her room, go home and change, and then head over.

It’s an hour later and she’s sitting on your couch, green pen in hand, muttering something about logical fallacies and as stupid as it sounds, you’d watch her grade for hours. She showed up in sinfully tight leggings and your black tee, hair in a messy bun, and glasses on. “Damn,” you whistled when you opened the door. “How do you look good in anything?” and she grinned, stepping inside and kissing you softly once you’d shut the door.

“Are you ready for Milton’s Torturedome?” She asks, holding a stack of outlines.

“I’m ready to watch you, although admittedly I can think of like five other things I’d rather watch you do.”

She grins. “Just five, Urie? I’m hurt.”

You groan and pull her over to the couch. “Stop teasing me and grade. Let me know when you want me to start on the scantron and how many questions you want.” That was 40 minutes ago.

You look over at her again, taking a break from your scantron coloring, and she’s biting her lip in thought. She can feel your gaze and she looks up at you with a smile. “Yes?”

“Just looking.”

“Mmmm. Well I think I’m just about done with these. How goes the scantron?”

You smirk, holding it up. “Urie...is every answer C?” She’s laughing and you shake your head.

“Nope the last one is D.” You turn it over to show her.

“And you say I’m the bad one.” She sets aside the pile of outlines and crawls into your lap. “That’s just evil.”

“I can change it if you wa-“

“No. It’s hilarious.” She yawns and stretches and you feel her thighs tense around yours. “True confession, I already have the Beowulf test written. I just need to shuffle answers now and I can do that tomorrow.”

You grin. “I like this true confession. What does it mean for our evening?”

She grins back, running a hand through your hair. “It means we can put on a movie and pretend to watch it for five minutes before we give in and start making out.”

“Fuck yes.”

When her phone alarm goes off at 10:30, she pulls away breathlessly and frowns. “I don’t wanna stop.”

You look up at her, her lips swollen and hair all over the place, shirt missing. She’s drawing patterns on your bare chest, connecting the dots between the various marks she’s left. “I don’t want to stop either, but we set an alarm for a reason,” you remind her woefully.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” She rocks back onto her heels and fixes her hair. “What are we going to do Saturday night?”

You smirk, reaching out to caress the side of her breast. “I was hoping more of this.”

She giggles, and shakes her head. “No, I mean, yes but...for sleeping arrangements.”

“Oh, there’s usually another faculty member who goes, Mr. Dean, but he’s not teaching here this year. The school pays for two rooms for school employee chaperones.” She nods slowly.

“That sort of seems like a waste of money.” She grins, noticing your hopeful confusion. “I was hoping I’d be spending the evening in your bed.”

You groan, leaning up to tangle a hand in her hair and pull her back down on top of you. “Fuck, Milton, I want that too.” Your mouth is on hers and she grips the side of your face, moaning hungrily into your kiss.

Out of nowhere, she pulls back for a moment, thoughtful. “But obviously the kids will notice if we are in the same room. So...keep the room. Ask for adjoining ones if possible, to make things easier. I’ll just make an anonymous donation for the cost.”

You laugh, kissing her softly. “I’ve got it. Don’t protest.”

Thursday drags. Extended practice is rough today, not performance-wise, just as far as time goes. Friday is worse. You’ve both agreed it’s probably best to cut back on your time together at school over these two days, but you’re definitely regretting the choice. She probably is too.

She texts you late Friday evening. “Jeans and the band polo you gave me for tomorrow?”

You have several things you want to reply with, each implying your desire for her naked, but instead, you send back, “perfect” and a smiley face.

“Thanks Urie. Sleep well, and I’ll see you bright and early.”

She’s not lying; with Invitationals being so far away, the band and chaperones meet at the school at 5am. This is nothing for her, but the kids (and you) are lethargic. Fortunately for you, she’s taken charge of all bus logistics and is giving instructions. All you have to do is stand next to her to give her credibility with the band parents and not drag her to the ground and ravage her. That second one is easier said than done. She’s so hot with a clipboard in her hands.

Everything goes smoothly and you’re boarded and rolling by 5:30 - a whole thirty minutes early. This will give you time to stop somewhere for breakfast - a drive thru - but hungry high schoolers are like piranhas so you’re grateful. You are both seated at the front of the bus, and manage to appear as just colleagues the entire 6-hour drive. It’s hard, but you’re not taking any chances.

Lunch, as always, is chaotic but when you step away to discuss something with the competition coordinator, you happen to glance back over and your heart is so full. She’s walking around, checking in with students, insisting they drink more water, calming down the nervous freshmen, answering questions from parent volunteers and generally keeping things running smoothly. She looks up, catches your eye, and breaks into a radiant smile. “Hi,” you mouth while the coordinator checks something with his supervisor. She smiles, giving you a soft wave.

This is the first competition of the season and while it doesn’t count as a qualifier for State for your region, your scores here have always been reflective of how you’ll do at competitions that carry some real weight. The kids know this and are nervous - but it’s the excited nervous that doesn’t have you worried. You and Y/n are sitting in the bleachers with the other parent volunteers; the two of you are at the very top of the bleachers to get as close to a judge’s view as you can get. The march-on is smooth and well executed; the cadence from the drumline already has the crowd excited. You’re more nervous than the students are honestly; the announcer always gives the name of the band director and the name of the show composer. This is the first year both will be your name and you are petrified. The band comes to a halt. Marissa waits, facing the judges’ window. Her hands are steady at her side.

“From Putnam High School in Putnam, Connecticut, the Putnam High Marching Band is under the direction of Mr. Brendon Urie and drum major Marissa Wayford. They are performing Heroes and Villains, arranged by Mr. Brendon Urie.” Her hand squeezes yours. “Putnam High Marching Band, you may take the field for exhibition.” You let out a sigh. That should reassure the kids. Scores, but not scores that really matter. It usually helps you.

Marissa strides to the podium, ascends gracefully. She scans left, scans right. “Band horns up!” You want to vomit. And then they’re off.

Her hand is still squeezing yours and you can’t breathe. They’re doing so well. You are meticulous and obsessive and you haven’t spotted anything. People are cheering at each musical transition; you feel less sick. This is going well. It’s going really well. She looks over at you and smiles. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispers and you can’t fight the smile that spreads across your face. The crowd is screaming - there’s just something about a full company in a straight line forward march that drives people wild - it’s the band version of a dancer’s kickline, she whispers to you and you laugh.

Trumpet solo on Taps. She squeezes tighter and you both sigh in relief when that high note soars, pure and clear, through the stadium.

“Band horns down!” It’s over. It’s over. The entire crowd is on their feet roaring, and you’re staring at each other in ecstasy and her face, fuck, you can see how proud of you she is and without thinking, you grab her by the back of the neck and crush your mouth over hers. She moans into the kiss and tangles her hands in your hair, back arching so her chest is pressing into yours and your other hand is sliding down her back and she’s opening her mouth for your tongue and fuck this is so goo- oh fuck. Fuck.

You think it hits her at the same time and you both pull away from each other, panicked. Almost coordinated, you both whirl to the front and she lets out a sigh of relief that doesn’t even come close to what you’re feeling. The band is marching off and all of the parents are on still on their feet cheering.

“Odds that someone saw that?” You ask, breathing hard. Her eyes are still wide.

“Maybe one of the kids on the field but I doubt they’d know it was us.” You look around. You’re the only band with white show shirts. You and Y/n have on black band polos.

“I don’t know Milton...look around.” She does and comes to the same conclusion. She looks petrified. “I’m sure they didn’t look up here,” you soothe, unsure if you believe yourself. “They were probably watching Marissa and waiting for the march-off.” She nods and looks somewhat comforted.

“Okay. Let’s just go with that. We need to collect them and get them back on the bus, to the hotel, then divided into groups for dinner?” Making a plan calms her. She looks more confident.

“Yep. Let’s head down there now.” You reach for her hand and she gives you a pointed look and then grins. “Oh. Right.”

No one says anything about it to either of you walking to the bus or on the bus. The kids are chattering loudly about a variety of topics in the hotel lobby but you don’t hear either of your names. You might be okay. “Alright guys!” You get their attention and when they turn to look at you, you can see the glee in their faces. They know how well they did. “I’ll get scores emailed to me in about 4 hours. You’ve got time to get change, get dinner, and relax a bit at the hotel before we come back together in the meeting room downstairs. I’m so proud of you all. It was incredible to watch and I am just so, so excited for this season. Truly, an excellent job.” They can’t stop smiling and neither can you. “Now go change and stick stick with your groups.”

Y/n went up to change once you gave her her key, so ideally she’ll be ready to go to dinner once you get up there. To your mutual delight, the hotel was able to give you an adjoining room. You slide your key into the door, planning to knock on the connecting door to collect her for dinner. The green light blinks, you walk into your room, and all of your breath leaves your body. “Holy fuck Milton.”

She grins, leaning back on her elbows on your bed, eyes on you. “You like it?”

You nod silently, looking her up and down. “Did your friend make this for you too?” She giggles, shaking her head. “Stand up. I wanna see all of this.” She arches up, slipping off the bed and standing, turning slowly. The dress is a black silky material that plunges low between her breasts and slits high up her left thigh. “You know I’m not letting you leave the room in this, right?”

“That’s exactly what I was counting on.”

[gokinjeespot]

off the rack #1235

Monday, November 5, 2018

 I schlepped my giant laptop to Comet Comics new location last week to write these reviews. Otherwise there would have only been two titles that had any rack copies for me to borrow. My thanks to Becky and Ryan for giving me permission to read their subscription service comics.

 Penny and I had a daylight savings time oopsie moment Sunday morning when we went to the Carleton Tavern for breakfast. Sam is always there early and we usually are among his first customers at 9 AM when he officially opens. We hadn't changed the time in the car and thought that it was really deserted when we got there. It's usually hopping at 10 AM but our server pointed out our boo-boo and boy did I feel like a goof. I would like to see the twice a year time adjustments go the way of the Dodo bird.

 West Coast Avengers #3/LGY #105 - Kelly Thompson (writer) Stefano Caselli (art) Triona Farrell (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). Spider-Gwen is my favourite team member right now. The fight with B.R.O.D.O.K. escalates with more giant mutated women stomping around L.A. The good news is Tigra is now on the side of the good guys. The bad news is Kate got zapped by B.R.O.D.O.K. I love all the dialogue and team members interacting.

 Iron Man #5/LGY #605 - Dan Slott (writer) Max Dunbar & Gang Hyuk Lim (art) Dono Sanchez Almara (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). Self Made Man part 5. Remember Arno Stark? I didn't. He's Tony's brother. This issue features his return and he's a piece of work. This genius makes Spock look like he's emotionally unstable. Arno teams up with someone who has already caused Tony problems so the future should be quite interesting.

 Extermination #4 - Ed Brisson (writer) Pepe Larraz (pencils) Dexter Vines (inks) Erick Arciniega (colours) VC's Joe Sabino (letters). This is where we find out why Ahab is trying to kill the young X-Men from the past and how young Cable is trying to save everybody. I knew newbie Nathan was a good guy. It's too bad the good guys run out of time when Ahab's harpoon finds its target. You may notice a subtle change in the art as Pepe's pencils are inked by someone else.

 Hex Wives #1 - Ben Blacker (writer) Mirka Andolfo (art) Marissa Louise (colours) Josh Reed (letters). This new Vertigo series is about  a coven of immortal witches and the men who are trying to exterminate them. We begin in 1692 with the introduction of the main witches and end the issue in the present (?) where they have been reincarnated, but are unaware of who they really are and their powers haven't manifested yet. The reason I've put a question mark on the present is because it looks more like the 1960s with the way the women are dressed. That bit of confusion was enough to turn me off so I won't be reading any more.

 Marvel Two-In-One #11/LGY #111 - Chip Zdarsky (writer) Ramon K. Perez (art) Frederico Blee (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). The reunion of Ben and Reed starts to fill in the blanks for us fans as to what the rest of Fantastic Four Family was up to after they left Ben and Johnny to go exploring. I don't think any other writer has impressed me as much as Chip has with how Reed is being portrayed. Just reading Reed's dialogue makes me smarter. We also meet a new version of Doctor Doom and I like him.

 Old Man Hawkeye #10 - Ethan Sacks (writer) Marco Checchetto (art) Andres Mossa (colours) VC's Joe Caramagna (letters). An Eye for an Eye part 10.  The Hawkeyes cross the border into Canada in Clint's search for more Thunderbolts targets. This time it's the treacherous Moonstone. Meanwhile good old Bullseye is still hot on Clint's trail. The super big bad guy has finally gotten what he wants and that could mean trouble for our hero. I love this alternate future.

 Old Man Logan #50 - Ed Brisson (writer) Ibraim Roberson & Neil Edwards (art) Carlos Lopez (colours) VC's Cory Petit (letters). King of Nothing conclusion. So what did I miss since I stopped reading this book? A lot. I think the run ends here with Logan fighting Maestro, the evil Hulk from an alternate universe. Maestro has taken over the small town on Fort Wells in Canada and Logan aims to free the townsfolk from tyranny. I thought the bad guy was defeated way too easily and the last panel hinting that Old Man Logan dies was wimpy. Fans need not despair though. Dead Man Logan hits the racks in November.

 Deathstroke/Yogi Bear #1 - Frank Tieri (writer) Mark Texeira (art) Jeromy Cox (colours) Wes Abbott (letters). This $4.99 US one shot featuring DC and Hanna-Barbera characters is chock full of crazy cartoon silliness. Yogi hires Deathstroke to find a missing Boo Boo. As an incentive to buy the others in this series of crossovers there's part one of a Secret Squirrel story that continues in "Green Lantern/Huckleberry Hound #1".

 Heroes in Crisis #2 - Tom King (writer) Clay Mann (art pages 1-15, 19-22) Travis Moore (art pages 16-18) Tomeu Morey & Arif Prianto (colours) Clayton Cowles (letters). Harley is great in this story. I love how Tom King is writing her. I was happy to see Booster Gold bite the dust last issue but alas, Skeets shows up to revive him. Wondering who is killing the B-list heroes is keeping me interested.

 Jessica Jones: Blindspot Graphic Novel - Kelly Thompson (writer) Mattia De Iulis (art & colours chapters #1-5) Marcio Takara (art chapter 6) Rachelle Rosenberg (colours chapter 6) VC's Cory Petit (letters). No Netflix? No need for FOMO. I binged this 5-part mystery plus bonus birthday party story in one sitting and that's rare for me. As much as I like Michael Gaydos's work on Alias, I much prefer Mattia De Iulis's art in this twisty cold case. I really liked seeing Matt Murdock, Elsa Bloodstone and Spider-Man showing up in this story. Brian Michael Bendis made me a big Jessica Jones fan and I wasn't sure if Kelly Thompson could match Brian's take on Jess but I was very impressed with this story. Even if you've never read Alias or know nothing about Jessica Jones you should buy this book. It's that good.

[jaeminlore]

prince charming » johnny

- prompt: you seem to be the only one who doesn't find the prince charming and he finds that rather, well, charming. words: 3031 category: prince!au, fluff a/n: hey marissa @midnighthansol bet you didn't know that while we were talking about monct i was actually writing this for your birthday haha how sneaky am i. thanks for being a great friend and i wish you the happiest of birthdays!

- You seemed to be the only one in the entire kingdom who didn't like Prince Johnny. Your mother thought you were crazy: to be the prince's maid and not like him. Many of the other women and a few men in the servant's quarters thought you to be mad. Perhaps you were.

They called him Prince Charming most days. That was because of Johnny's uncanny ability to be so a absolutely charming despite his clumsiness. It was also because he was extremely good looking, in a gentle and approachable type of way. He was never rude to anyone he met. He was extremely good at holding in his temper. You knew from firsthand experience that he cared for his staff more than he probably should, thanks to the many nights and mornings he made you leave work without argument to take the day off if you were ever sick or tired. He loves his friends the most, perhaps, and often let them crash at his room in the castle. His friend group ranged in many different ages and many different titles, but Johnny never seemed to care as long as they could get together and have fun. For this reason, you liked to call him Prince Messy Pants, or Sir Makes-A-Mess. Any time he had his friends over, they would always leave early in the morning for something. Whether it be an early swim at the kingdom's lake, a fox hunt, or a trip the a nearby marketplace; they were gone before you started your shift. The reason you hated Johnny was because he and his friends always left the biggest messes behind. Of course you could expect it: they were all teenage boys with attention spans collectively the size of a housefly. With the entire castle's inventory at their wake, they could do practically anything they wanted. That was why Johnny's bedroom often had candle wax in his tapestries (they had been fencing with lit candlesticks. For fun, a knight named Yuta had once told you.) It was also why the bathing house connected to his room was often covered in suds and what seemed to be sticky soda on the walls. There were other messes here and there. Sometimes you'd have to hand wash Johnny's sheets because he had gotten soot on them. How did he get soot on his bed, one might ask? Well you can't fence with candlesticks and not wear a proper cape, can you? Just the thought of what you might walk into today made your blood boil. Sometimes you thought the prince might do stuff to his room on purpose, just to get back at you for not praising him every opportunity you got. Most of the time you could rationalize that that wasn't true, because despite his messy lifestyle, Johnny was a very kind and empathetic person. You hummed a song to yourself as you walked to his room. You couldn't remember where you had heard the song. Perhaps one of the bards had played the ballad during the King and Queen's annual feast every staff member was invited to. Perhaps you had heard Johnny singing it in his room. Sometimes he would sing as he got ready, and you'd calmly tell him that if he hummed his remixed rendition of Ring Around the Rosie one more time you'd drown him in his own bathtub. He'd just pull his shirt over his head and laugh at your disgruntled figure, only choosing to hum louder.

It was a side most of the kingdom never saw. They saw calm Johnny, serene Johnny, and docile Johnny. You saw loud Johnny, messy Johnny, and downright annoying Johnny. If you complained about it to your fellow maids, they'd only slap your arm, chiding you for complaining about your position. They'd coo over the thought of being in Johnny's bedroom as he got dressed and ready for the day. And yes, although it was a rather pleasing visual to see his messy bedhead and his toned abdomen every morning, you couldn't exactly say it was romantic. You offered the job to all of them plenty of times, but they never once took you up on that offer. They had some sort of goal, it seemed, to get you to see Johnny in the same light they saw him in. "It's hard to have a crush on a boy when you've unclogged his toilet," you would say to them, hoping to gross them out enough to leave you alone. Truthfully, you've never had to unclog the prince's porcelain throne, and you prayed you'd never have to. Inside of Johnny's room was the mess you always expected when his friends were over. What you didn't expect was the prince himself, still asleep in his bed. You walked over and pressed your palm against his forehead to see that he was burning up. "Uh, Your Highness? Are you okay?" Johnny kept his eyes closed, but shook his head with a pout. "I don't feel good." "Well I can go get the castle healer and make you some soup. Would you like that?" You really needed someone else to take care of him while you cleaned. Staring at the floor that seemed to be covered in homemade slime and glitter, you thought it might be a long day for the cleaning job. "I think I'll be okay with a little rest," he said quietly, this time opening one eye to peak at your reaction. "Okay," you said, "then rest while I get to cleaning. If I get too loud just go sleep somewhere else." Your way of talking to the prince was a bit unorthodox and slightly disrespectful. He never took it that way, though, and liked the bite in your conversation. It kept him on his toes.

"No," he said defiantly. In on swift move, he sat up and grabbed your waist, dragging you under the covers with him. "What are you doing?" you squeaked, hoping he couldn't see the red in your cheeks. "I have to clean." "Don't," he said calmly. It was the first time you had ever heard his voice get soft and low like that. You subconsciously wanted to hear it again. "I want to hold you." "Well we don't all get what we want, now do we?" you snapped, still struggling against his forearms. "Johnny, let me go." You could almost hear the pout in his voice as he obeyed, loosening his grip and allowing you to get out of the bed. "But I'm sick and sleepy and I like to hold stuff when I'm sick. How am I supposed to fall asleep now?" You sighed and gave Johnny a pointed stare. The two of you seemed to be having a nonverbal argument, consisting of nothing but raised eyebrows and pursed lips. Finally, the prince won. You got up and locked his door, grumbling as you did. "Fine. But no one ever needs to know about this, and I'm only doing it because I want to go back to sleep and avoid my duties." "Sure you do, cutie," Johnny said with an excited smile, "Now come here and let me hold you." "This is extremely idiosyncratic," you said, struggling to feel unaffected by the way his warm breath hit the back of your neck. "I don't know what that means so I'm going to pretend it means amazing and extremely enticing." You rolled your eyes and turned over to face him and begin another argument, only to become far too close to his face. Bad idea. You gulped and forced your eyes to stay level with his, though they so desperately wanted to trail down towards his lips. "It means crazy, not traditional, absurd, unheard of." "You wanna know what's crazy?" Johnny began, only to stop and narrow his eyes at you, "Can you keep a secret." You glared right back at him, "Your Highness, I swear if you hid your dinner in the vents again because you didn't eat all of it, I'm going to kill you. No, the cooks won't get offended and yes, bread does mold so tell me where it is and I'll—" "I don't want to become king," Johnny interrupted your spiel, causing you to fall into silence. "Oh. Well, why not?" Johnny turned on his back and ran his hands through his hair, searching the ceiling as if it held the answers to life's problems. "To be honest, Y/n, I'm not even sick. I just faked it because I don't want to meet up with my parents to discuss my coronation. Did you know I've bought a cottage down at the farthest village, far away from the castle and closer to the bay?" He smiled then, and something in your heart stirred to see him opening up to you. "I want to live in it one day. I want to renounce my title and live a peaceful life. I want to start a family and become a farmer or something. I just don't want to be responsible for my country." "You don't trust yourself to take good care of it?" you pondered, surprised that even the easygoing Johnny seemed to have his doubts about the future. "I do," Johnny said. "But, you know, it's hard. It's stressful. It's a life I don't want to pull a family into. I don't want to marry a girl and expect her to become queen when that isn't her dream. I don't want to force my kids to be the future monarchs when they might be into something else, like teaching or sailing."

The thoughtful side of Johnny everyone seemed to coo about was finally before your eyes, and for once you didn't wish to argue with him. You didn't wish to bring up the fact that there seemed to be a strange stain on his curtains. You simply wanted him to be happy. "Show me the cottage." "What?" Johnny turned to you quickly, his eyes widening at your offer. "Yeah. I don't want to clean and you don't want to go to your meeting. We can sneak off for the day and you can show me your cottage and tell me the life you dream of in there. In return I get a day off work." Johnny pursed his lips. "I want to thank you but you're making it hard to do." "You're welcome," you said, patting his chest jovially before jumping out of his bed. "Now get dressed while I tie some bedsheets together." "Um, I have stairs on my balcony that lead to the garden," Johnny reminded you as he pulled off his nightshirt. "Oh." You blushed, and you weren't really sure if it was from the sight of his bare chest or the embarrassment of not knowing the layout of the bedroom you were so often in. In your defense, you hardly ever cleaned the balcony. "Well, hurry up then."

Johnny only chuckled and continued to meander around, taking his sweet time. "Johnny, you have exactly one minute to get your butt down those stairs before I retract my offer." Johnny grabbed his cloak and pulled it on, covering his face with the hood before he smiled at you. "You called me Johnny." "So?" "You've never done that before." You stepped down the stairs, listening around you for any heavy footsteps of the castle guards. "What, are you offended by it? Should I go back to Your Highness?" "No," Johnny said almost instantly. "I like it when you say my name. It sounds natural." You stopped and looked at him, confused by his words. Your stare must've flustered him, because he looked down at his feet and passed you, walking towards the castle gate. The two of you walked in silence the whole way to the village. Mostly because you've only been to this particular village a handful of times, and each time seemed like a completely new experience. The two of you passed a small, worn down building with what looked to be children's drawings nailed to the wood of the walls. "Oh!" Johnny grabbed your hand and pulled your towards the door. "My buddies Ten and Taeyong work here. Let's go see them." "Is this a school?" "I wish," Johnny said, pushing open the door. "It's an orphanage. Luckily there aren't too many kids in it." The two of you walked in, and the first thing you saw were two identical girls playing with blocks. In the corner was a man with dark hair and glasses, bending down and struggling to comfort a small boy, who was crying. "Now, Soomin, you know it's not okay to take toys from other people. You can have the blocks when they are done with them, okay? Why don't we go play with the wooden horses? You like them, don't you?" The little boy nodded, accepting the outstretched hand of the man and allowing himself to be pulled in the direction of the wooden toys. "Ten!" Johnny said, starling the man into tripping over a toy knight. He looked up and smiled. "Hey, Johnny! Hey, random person." "I'm Y/n," you said. "Where's the other guy? Taeyong?"

"Oh he's in the back with the baby," Ten supplied. "He's trying to get her to go to sleep." "The orphanage has six kids," Johnny informed you. "Three toddlers, one baby, and two older kids. The latter should be at school now." "Has anyone talked about adopting them?" you asked, watching he small boy play on his own, a content smile on his face. "A few people want the baby, of course. No one really wants a kid that's older than two years, unfortunately. We don't know how to change that mindset." Your eyes lingered on the boy for a bit too long before you turned to Johnny. "Why don't your parents make a proclamation to the court? Maybe there are some people who want to adopt but don't know about this place." "I've tried," Johnny said. "They won't listen." You frowned, feeling annoyed at the monarchs for ignoring such an issue. Six kids. That was a small number. There had to be at least a few families who wanted to adopt. "That sucks." Johnny and you left after that, stopping at the market for a bit of lunch. The smell of the market was atrocious. Due to the cramped space, those who sold manure were selling right beside those who sold fresh food. Your stomach turned to see people stepping in animal waste just to get around. "I had no idea," you said. "Why is it so bad down here?"

Johnny didn't answer. He seemed to be deep in thought. By the time the two of you made it to the cottage, your spirit was worn. Those were your people. They deserved better treatment and care. They needed more land and more help from the royals. Your mood lifted slightly as you took in the fancy interior of the room. "Johnny, this place is huge!" Johnny's mood, however, stayed low as he struggled to keep up with your excitement. He wondered why his parents did so little for this village. It might be one of the poorest places in the kingdom, but it shouldn't be so blatantly ignored. Seeing you walk around his cottage stirred something inside of him. Suddenly a coronation didn't seem so scary to him. He thought of those kids having families, and those people selling their things on a clean street, free from the fear of disease. He thought of you, not as his maid but as his wife, arguing with the officials until you got your way and everyone in the kingdom got a home. "Y/n?" "What?" you asked, absentmindedly running your hand along the interior of the cottage. "I think I have to become king." You turned around, ready to joke about his indecisiveness, but he looked so serious that you couldn't bring yourself to poke fun. "Why the sudden change of heart?" Johnny shook his head, walking closer to you. "What about those kids? What about those traders and sellers? Who's going to take care of them if I don't take up the throne? Who is going to help them and show them kindness if not me?"

His attitude shift surprised you, but what you did next surprised you even more. You cupped his face and pulled him down to meet your lips. He let out of a noise of surprise before melting into your touch. Quickly and eagerly, he took over, turning you and lifting you up slightly, so that you were sitting in the back of the couch. With his hands on your waist, he gave you open mouthed kisses on the corners of your lips and jaw before returning to your mouth. "I want you by my side," he whispered in between kisses. "I want you and your snark, and your passion, and your love for justice." He finally pulled away, just enough for him to see your swollen lips and for you to see his awestruck expression. "You really don't know how much I've always adored you, do you?" You opened your mouth to answer, but Johnny caught the syllables with his lips, unable to hold back when you looked so beautiful and innocent in that moment. When you finally weren't arguing with him and instead the two of you were seeing eye to eye... or rather, lip to lip. "Perhaps the reason you're so infuriating is because I've always been a bit in love with you, but I thought you never noticed me," you managed to say. "Why do you think I always made my room so messy?" he asked you. "You would never talk to me if it wasn't in the form of an argument. I had to find some way to get you to notice me." "So what do we do now?" you asked him, brushing your nose against his. He hummed, "Now I go plan my coronation with my parents and ask them if I can have a wedding on the same day. Then, if you'll say yes, we'll change this kingdom for the better, together." »the end«

[umichenginabroad]

ALLEZ LES BLEUS

So I spent a crazy weekend in Paris. But more on that later.

At the beginning of the week, I was able to use my Local Sensitivity Analysis code to reduce our model from 43 to 29 parameters. Chryssa worked with me in gPROMS on estimating the influential parameters I had identified in order to better fit the model to the experimental data from literature. We struggled with setting the error bar bounds for the data. I spent a late evening at work on Wednesday because I was running out of time to get results. After playing with different error values in gPROMS for awhile (based on what Chryssa told me to try), I ran the program and the model actually fit much better! I broke out into a big smile and sent Chryssa an emoji-filled message, while the other students still in the lab probably thought I was crazy. The purpose of our project is to improve the mathematical model of mAb production by making it better fit the experimental data. It was exciting to finally see that happen! Later we realized there were a few issues to be sorted out, so Chryssa helped me finish up the parameter estimation and then I spent the last couple days finishing my report.

Aachen is close to Paris, so I needed to visit the city before I left and this weekend seemed to work with my schedule. I didn’t know, however, that Bastille Day (France’s Independence Day) is July 14th or that France could possibly be in the World Cup Finals on July 15th. The craziness of it all started to sink in as my solo weekend trip approached. I took a ride share called BlaBlaCar with my driver, a young Parisian named Louis, and a German girl who studied in Paris. They were lots of fun, giving me tips about the city and even writing out detailed instructions for the Metro. I arrived at my hostel around midnight and met some guys in my dorm room from all different countries. I told Diego from Mexico City about my plans to go to the parade and fireworks the next day. He wanted to go as well, so we decided to leave early in the morning.

Fortunately, Diego had been in Paris for 5 days so he knew where to go and how to use the Metro. We walked up from the station Saturday morning directly in front of the Arc de Triomphe! Everyone clapped as some man went by in the parade, so I assumed he was important. It wasn’t till later that Diego told me that man was was the president of France. The fly-overs were by far the best part of the parade! The first (of several) had blue, white, and red smoke streaming out of the planes to paint the sky with the colors of the French flag. 

We spent the middle of the day in the Opera House, which is ornate and beautiful. After “lunch” at 3:00, we began making our way to the Champ de Mars, which is a big open park in front of the Eiffel Tower and the best place to see the fireworks. We wandered along the canal and then over the bridge because some of the roads were already blocked off. Throughout the afternoon, I got to practice speaking Spanish with Diego! Although my Spanish is horrible, we were able to have full conversations if he just spoke suuuper slowly. After buying a baguette and Brie cheese, we went through security to enter the park. (I know, I know - total opposite of Gent! I didn’t want to leave Paris without at least trying the French cheese.) The park was packed. The fireworks were at 11:00 and we got to the Champ de Mars before 8:00. Diego and I eventually found a small spot in the middle that barely fit the two of us. Two Parisian girls, Laurine and Charlotte, invited us to sit with them on their blanket. So there I am, with two French girls on the Champ de Mars. The Eiffel Tower is sparkling with lights as the sun sets behind it. An orchestra is playing live classical music. I’m eating our baguette and Brie. I thought “This could not be more perfect!”, but the real fun began as the night became darker. We got on our feet for the crowd to proudly sing the national anthem and wave their French flags. I was jumping up and down as the fireworks were about to start; everyone was so excited and all smiley!! The theme this year was “love”, quite appropriate for the city. I knew the fireworks would be over the Eiffel Tower, but I didn’t realize they’d shoot OUT of the tower as well! From the top and middle and bottom and swirling around it. Each part was choreographed to music and the tower was lit up in all different ways. The crowd sang to the songs, oohing and ahhing. The whole time I had a big stupid smile on my face and thought “I AM HERE. I AM ACTUALLY HERE RIGHT NOW!” It was Frenchest experience I will ever have.

Sunday I did a walking tour. I went to famous sites around the city, including the Lourve and Notre Dame, before getting lunch at a café. By then I was already too late to find a good spot to watch the game. Louis, my ride home, got to the Champ de Mars at 1:00 for the 5:00 game! I watched it in a random hostel, but both before and after the game, the streets near Champs de Mars and the center of Paris were wild. My favorite part was yelling “Allez les bleus!” with everyone because it gave “Go blue!” a whole new meaning. I met Louis at his car, still in his face paint and jersey, and he showed me videos of watching the game from Champ de Mars with 90,000 other fans. Even driving out of Paris, people ran around the highways and rode on top of cars with their shirts off, waving flags and honking.

It was the only time I’ve been to France and I happened to choose the perfect two days! I met more nice, welcoming people than I can even count on my hands. The people, both Parisians and fellow travelers, seemed to genuinely want to help me and get to know me. Maybe it was just because Paris was glowing with even more happiness than usual, but I absolutely love the city!

Wherever you go, in whatever language you speak, Go Blue <3 Marissa

Marissa Martinelli

Biomedical Engineering

UROP at RWTH Aachen University in Aachen, Germany

[inspirenationshow]

Why You Are ENOUGH! How to Change Your Life and Blast Past Limiting Beliefs with Marisa Peer on I Am Enough

Do you want to be more empowered and feel better about yourself? Then do we have the I am Enough show for you!

  Today I’ll be talking with best-selling author Marisa Peer, named Best British Therapist by Men’s Health Magazine, the creator of the Instant Transformational Therapy and the author of a brilliant new book, on reframing your mind, and your life, I Am Enough: Mark Your Mirror And Change Your Life.

  That is just what I want to talk with her about today, about marking your mirror, and changing your life! Plus we’ll talk about caveman and Jane Fonda, fear of flying and cheese burgers, eating your daughters easter eggs, morning walks in Beverly hills, Stanford and marshmallows, the gift of womb cancer, wild boards and stained white shirts, and where in the world you need to park that rented new mustang! Are you ready to shine?

  Key Points Discussed:

How did Marissa Peer end up as Jane Fonda’s aerobic instructor?

What was Marissa’s early relationship with food – and how did she change it?

How did she get pregnant when she was told it was impossible?

What was Marissa’s gift of cancer and her two near-death experiences?

How does our mind respond to detailed instructions and what does this mean for us?

What is our birth right of confidence?

How do we move past limiting beliefs?

What does it mean that “I am enough”?

What is the importance of the pictures in our heads and the words we tell ourselves?

What does it mean that if we use the wrong words we create the wrong reality?

How do we deal with the chatter in our minds?

How do we move past old patterns???

What can we learn from the Hollywood Star who thought he was never enough?

What can we learn from all of her successful clients about tackling problems?

What is the importance of front-loading our day?

Why is our “dream job” so illusive, and what do we need to know about it?

What is the power of repetition?

What is the one thing we can do, today, to begin transforming our sense of ourselves, and realize that “I am enough”?

  To find out more visit:

https://iamenough.com/

https://marisapeer.com/

https://amzn.to/3qULECz- Order Michael Sandler's new book, "AWE, the Automatic Writing Experience"

www.automaticwriting.com 

…….

Follow Michael and Jessica’s exciting journey and get even more great tools, tips, and behind-the-scenes access. Go to https://www.patreon.com/inspirenation  

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Check out this episode!

[askullinajar]

A Merry Little Christmas

Fic info:

This is set in the same universe as The Living Ghost and The Shattered Frame, so go read them or this won’t make sense.

Rating: Teen and up. Pairings: Lucy/Lockwood, Holly/Rani, Quill/OC, others if you squint. Word count: 9720. Ao3 link: here.

The gang all get together for Christmas Eve, 10 years on.

A Merry Little Christmas

“… its thin lips seemed to smile at me as we descended into the dark.”

I closed the book – the final instalment of my account of Lockwood & Co.’s greatest adventure – and was met with loud applause. The first chapter had been received well, it seemed, and I felt my chest fill with warmth and pride, overriding the sickly anxiety that was trying to creep up on me as I stood before the room full of people. Phone cameras flashed as admirers rushed to take my picture. I still marvelled at how far and fast technology had advanced since the Problem had begun to die down.

“Does anybody have any questions before we call it a night?” I announced into the microphone atop the lectern.

Hands immediately shot up.

“Are Marissa and Penelope really the same person?” a girl, who looked to be in her early twenties, asked, excitedly. “Did she reverse her age somehow?”

I smiled knowingly. “You’ll have to read the book to find out.”

She lowered her hand a little disappointedly. I picked on the next person.

“Did you ever find out what the fetch was?” a man asked.

“Ah,” I said. “Unfortunately, not; its Source was destroyed with all the others before we could investigate.”

A woman from the back shouted, “Did you ever let the skull out? Is he still around?”

I glanced back to where Skully was slouched in a chair, fidgeting with a Rubix Cube I’d given him to keep him occupied, though, to my dismay, he seemed almost done. I’d brought him with me because my manager (AKA Holly) had told me I might need a bodyguard, what with my increasing success as an author, and Skully was the most formidable person I knew, even if he didn’t look like much. But no one could know who he really was; we couldn’t have the general public getting ideas about bringing back the dead. I didn’t exactly want another Problem on our hands.

“I still see him from time to time,” I said, vaguely.

A girl of about twelve was sat beside her father in the front row, hopping in her seat and waving her hand in the air excitedly.

I gave her a smile. “Yes?”

“Did you and Lockwood ever get together?”

I flushed. “That’s – uh – not really relev–”

“Aw, look at you!”

Must to my dismay, Skully had finished the puzzle and had grown bored. So, of course, he was back to his favourite activity of annoying me.

“Married for five years and you still can’t think of him without blushing!”

I tried to shove him away from the microphone and failed. Damn his supernatural strength.

“It was a beautiful ceremony,” Skully informed the girl who was practically shaking in her seat with delight. “I gave her away–”

“You also shoved the best man into the cake,” I grumbled.

“–Barnes officiated–”

“George couldn’t return that suit.”

“–the food was wonderful–”

“I didn’t have wedding cake at my own wedding.”

“Oh, when are you going to get over that?”

“When you pay for the damn cake!”

There was a cough from the audience and I realised we were squabbling like school-children in front of two hundred people. I may have cut my hair down to a pixie cut, and Skully may have grown his out a little and added tattoos and piercings and, recently, stubble, but I guess some things never change. Not even after ten years.

I cleared my throat. “Right, well, I think that’s enough questions for one day. I’m sure you all want to get back to your families. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone!”

There was another round of applause, accompanied by some confused expressions, before the crowd began to gather their belongings and got up to leave.

Skully and I headed out the backdoor to avoid the soon-to-be crowded foyer of the Anthony Lockwood Gallery, past the exhibits of case files and ex-Sources, their glass cases now decked in tinsel and fairy lights.

“Wait in the car for me, I need to pee,” Skully requested.

“Thanks for sharing.”

“Not my fault you waffle on so much,” he said. “I mean, do we really need so much info on how ‘dazzling’ A.J.’s smile is? Or how pretty and perfect Holly is? Side-note: you definitely had a crush on her.”

I flushed. “Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Oh, shut up,” I told him. “Go and do your business, I’ll warm up the car.”

I switched on the heating and the radio once I got back to the car, flicking through the stations absently. Then I gave up and switched it off, leaning my forehead against the steering wheel.

Here, alone in the car with nothing but my own thoughts, I felt all the thick, sickening anxiety I’d bottled up during the event bubbling back up to the surface.

I reminded myself that the people in that room had been living and breathing, though their whispering among themselves as I read had gotten my heart racing, wary of Visitors, even after so many years. The din of their conversation as I’d first entered the room had been reminiscent of the hum of a Spirit Gate. But it didn’t make my head scream in pain. It wasn’t the same. That’s what I kept telling myself.

Outside, children bounced along in front of their parents, gushing about my stories and the place London had once been. They were lucky they never had to experience it. Lucky they were allowed to just be children. They could go to school, join clubs, make friends and visit each other’s houses like normal kids could. They didn’t have to worry that they might never see those friends again. That any day could be their last.

I watched as they flopped down in the snow to make snow-angels, or gleefully tossed snowballs at one another, giggling and squealing. It was beginning to get dark, but no one raced to get home. They didn’t need to; without the Orpheus Society continuously stirring up the Other Side, Visitors had started appearing less and less. They barely showed up at all now. Nothing to worry about. I’d had a hand in that.

I felt my breathing even out.

“Want me to drive?”

Skully had returned and had one arm leaning on the roof of the car as he peered at me through the open passenger door.

I scoffed. “Thanks, but I’d rather not die.”

“I can drive!” Skully protested.

“You drive a motorcycle. You cannot apply the same rules to a car.”

Skully huffed but slipped into the passenger seat. I don’t think he missed me hurriedly wiping my eyes on my sleeve. He was silent for a moment as I started the car, then, “I’m proud of you, you know.”

I glanced across at him. “What?”

“You heard,” he said, turning towards the window to avoid eye contact.

“Yeah, but can I get it in writing or something?”

“Shut up.”

I couldn’t help but smile. He didn’t show affection openly very often, so when he did it was always a special moment for me. I’d let it slide for now, though.

I gave his cheek a prod. “What’s this?”

“What’s what?”

“The beard,” I clarified. “Why are you growing a beard?”

“Oh, you know,” he said, casually, “I figured, if I start now, I can have a Dumbledore-level beard by the time I’m eighty.”

“Couldn’t be bothered to shave?”

“Yep. Though now I’ve said the Dumbledore idea, I’m kinda digging it.”

I rolled my eyes and turned the radio back on, tuning in to some Michael Bublé, coz why not? It was Christmas, after all.

Truthfully, Skully’s new beard looked to me less like an ‘I couldn’t be bothered to shave this morning’ beard and more of an ‘I haven’t had the energy to get out of bed for three days, let alone shave’ beard, going off what my husband was like. I didn’t mention it, as he hated it when I did, but I did make a mental note to check how much of his meds he had left. I didn’t want a repeat of the incident a few years back when he’d forgotten to renew his prescription.

“You’re still staying over tonight, right?” I said.

“Are your sister and her gremlins still there?”

“Mary and her children?” I said. “Yes. And they want to meet you.”

“Wasn’t she at the wedding?”

“You’re thinking of my other sisters,” I told him. “Mary went into labour and couldn’t be there.”

Skully groaned. “Do I have to?”

“Christmas is for family,” I said. “The family you actually like, at least. Unless you’d rather stay in your flat alone?”

“I like my flat,” he protested. “It has a great vantage point for pouring custard on carol singers.”

“We have presents for you.”

He paused. “Okay, I guess I’ll come.”

I nodded. “And is Charlie coming for the party tonight?”

Charlie was Skully’s twenty-four-year-old flatmate, and the human embodiment of a ray of sunshine, if a little lax on the social skills. By all rights, Skully and Charlie should not have gotten along, and I didn’t know the full story of their friendship, though they’d apparently disliked each other when they’d first met in the forensics lab where they worked. Nowadays, though, they were practically inseparable. Something about it being ‘nice to have someone to hang around with when all your gross allosexual friends insist on doing couple things’.

Skully shrugged. “I’ll ask again when we get to my place.”

I pulled the car up outside his block of flats a few minutes later.

“Ah,” he said, patting his pockets as we stepped out onto the curb, “forgot my keys.”

“You are a mess of a person,” I told him, pressing the buzzer for his flat.

“Yeah, they ain’t gonna answer that,” he said. “But, no worries.” He whipped out his phone and shot a quick text to Charlie.

After a good two minutes of standing out in the cold waiting for a reply, he gave up and called them instead. The call ended abruptly as it was apparently rejected on the other end. Then a text came through: Why are you calling me?

“There we go,” said Skully, texting back a quick reply, and a few seconds later, the intercom buzzed to let us in.

Charlie was standing in the doorway when we got upstairs, donned in pastel green dungarees and miss-matched socks, the light from the hallway behind them making their bronze curls glow gold. They narrowed their sky-blue eyes at Skully. “I don’t like phone calls.”

“Made ya look at your phone, though,” he replied.

“Mean,” said Charlie as he slipped past them and down the hall to get ready to go. “Hello, Lucy.”

“Hi, Charlie,” I said, slipping into the flat and shutting the door behind me. The flat was a cluttered mess of overflowing bookshelves and video game boxes littering the floor, but at least there didn’t seem to be any dirty dishes lying around. “Coming to the party tonight?”

“Party,” Charlie repeated, wrinkling their nose.

“A small party,” I clarified. “Just close friends of mine. Mostly people you know.”

They hummed. “My brother’s picking me up at ten.”

“Working late?” I said.

“He’ll be done in the flower shop by now, but then he’s volunteering at the soup kitchen,” Charlie replied.

“Can you get him to pick you up from my house?” I said. “Don’t want to be here alone until then, do you?”

“I can look after myself,” Charlie said as if this was something they had to clarify a lot.

“I didn’t mean–”

“Don’t leave me alone with the couples!” Skully called before coming out of the bathroom, now cleanly shaven. “I’ll let you follow me around the whole time, or just hide in the library.”

Charlie just hummed again.

“And they have pets,” Skully finished.

“’kay, I’ll come,” said Charlie.

“Did you get your things?” I asked Skully. He swore and ran back down the hall.

I gave Charlie the address and they sent a text to their brother, before retrieving an already-packed backpack.

“Got everything?” I asked.

That was probably the wrong thing to say because Charlie immediately plonked down on the floor and began unpacking the bag to make sure.

Skully came back out of his room.

“Remember Anthony wants us all wearing Christmas jumpers?” I said.

He groaned loudly and turned back.

“I don’t have a Christmas jumper,” said Charlie.

“Borrow one of mine,” Skully called from his room. “A.J. keeps buying them for me.”

He came back into the hall, now wearing one of the least garish jumpers Lockwood had given him over the years, one with the words ‘Now I have a machine gun. Ho-ho-ho’ scrawled across it, and tugged a fleecy jumper decorated with robins over Charlie’s head, who squeaked in surprise.

“Soft,” they said, once their arms were through the overly long sleeves.

“Keys?” I asked Skully.

He ran back to his room.

On the floor, Charlie stared at their laptop for a good minute before putting it in their bag, as if trying to convince themself it would still be there even once the bag was closed.

“How do you two ever get anything done?” I remarked.

“Hyperfocus,” said Charlie, simply. I decided not to tell them it had been a rhetorical question.

Skully returned, this time with everything he actually needed. I flicked the lights off on our way out, then Charlie flicked them back on and off again, then again with their other hand, for symmetry, I guess. Skully let them lock the door, and then we were off.

The car journey to Portland Row was mostly filled with Skully and I belting out Mariah Carey and Slade while Charlie happily hummed along and swayed in time to the music in the back, staring out the window at all the beautiful displays of Christmas lights adorning the houses and shops we passed. We weren’t half bad if I do say so myself.

Portland Row was only a ten-minute drive from Skully’s flat, and the front door opened as we stepped out of the car.

“Dog!” Charlie half-shrieked as a golden blur shot down the garden path and nearly knocked me over.

“Calm down, Apollo. I’ve not been gone that long!” I laughed, giving him a scratch behind his floppy ears before he bounded over to Charlie and Skully to beg for tummy rubs.

“Auntie Lucy! Auntie Lucy!”

I looked up as my little niece, Sophie, hurtled towards me in a pretty pink princess dress that was mostly covered in flour.

“What’s gotten you so mucky?”  I said.

“We’ve been making gingerbread with mummy and uncle Tony!” she informed me, proudly.

“Ooh! I can’t wait to try it!” I gushed, picking her up and propping her on my hip to walk up to the house, where Lockwood was waiting in the doorway with my two-year-old nephew, Michael, sat on his shoulders, also in a princess dress. He did like to copy his sister a lot.

“Hello, my love,” Lockwood greeted, bending down a little to give me a peck on the lips, then a little further so I could kiss Michael on the forehead. “How’d the reading go?”

“Pretty well,” I replied. “Managed to keep Skully from interrupting for most of it.”

“Most of it?” Lockwood repeated with an amused smile. I rolled my eyes in reply.

“Down,” Michael said, patting Lockwood’s mop of hair. He complied and set him down on the carpet, and he promptly waddled down the hall and into the living room. I set Sophie down, too, so she could go after him.

Mary appeared from the kitchen a moment later, drying off her hands on her apron. “There you are, Luce. Keep an eye on the kids a sec, I wanna get changed before your party guests arrive.”

“Two are already here,” I said, nodding outside to where Charlie currently had their face buried in Apollo’s fur, and Skully was trying to drag them into the house. “Anthony’s uncle and his flatmate.”

Mary hopped over and stood on her tiptoes to peer over my shoulder.

“Oh my god, Luce! You didn’t tell me he was gorgeous!”

“Don’t you dare,” I told her, but she was already rushing upstairs to get changed.

“Remind me to keep her away from the mistletoe,” I muttered to Lockwood, who was snickering behind his hand.

Apollo bounded back into the house a moment later, followed by Skully who was carrying Charlie in front of him, his hands hooked under their elbows.

“Hi, Charlie,” said Lockwood, as Skully set them down and shut the front door. “Haven’t seen you since the Cambridge Cannibal case.”

“A cannibal?!” Sophie exclaimed, peering out of the open living room doorway.

“I still say he was a zombie,” said Charlie, clearly excited about the conversation topic. “He only ate the brains, see? He boiled them up in acetic acid, so they’d stay intact and–”

“Let’s not give the children nightmares,” I interrupted. Not that it was the most disturbing case my friends had worked on.

Since his Talent had faded and the Problem had decreased, Lockwood had gone through a bit of a crisis and had ended up achieving many feats before he finally decided what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. He had opened up a fencing academy, which he had run himself while I had attended art school, before handing over the reins to Quill. Then we had travelled the world together, starting where his parents had left off. That had been fun while it lasted, but, after the incident, we were a little wary to leave London for too long. Maybe we would again, one day.

Now, Lockwood helped out with detective investigations from time to time, partnering up with Detective Inspector Rani Malik-Munro, under the supervision of Chief Constable Barnes, to solve gruesome murders, with the help of their friends in the forensics department.

The oven timer beeped in the kitchen and Lockwood rushed off to get the gingerbread out of the oven.

“Watch the kids,” I told Skully, following after him.

The ‘gingerbread’ that Lockwood set on the counter looked very… flat. And it had a strange smell, which was making me feel kind of queasy.

“So, how much input did you have with these?” I asked, peering over his shoulder at the demonic biscuits. “Just… out of curiosity.”

“I did most of it while Mary was handling the kids,” said Lockwood. “Do they really look that bad?”

Charlie approached and gave them a sniff. “You used salt instead of baking powder.”

“How would you even know that?” said Lockwood. “Besides, they’re basically the same thing, right?”

“And paprika instead of ginger.”

“Right,” I said. “How about we just let the kids decorate them and then never eat them ever?”

Lockwood made a pouty face.

“Aw, don’t sulk,” I said, ruffling his hair. “I’ll make them with you, next time.”

Skully came into the kitchen with a giggling child dangling upside down in each hand and Apollo at his heals. “A.J. ruin the cookies?”

“Jesus Christ, Jim. Put them down,” I scolded.

“Just keeping them out of trouble,” he said, setting them in a heap on the floor. They immediately scrambled to their feet and tried to run off, but Skully shut the kitchen door just in time. “When’s dinner? I’m starving.”

“When everyone’s actually here,” I told him. “I should probably start getting it ready.”

“Did you remember to eat today?” Lockwood asked him.

Skully seemed to think about it for a minute. “I had a can of coke this morning.”

Lockwood pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Hey!” Skully defended. “I’m probably still doing better than Charlie.”

“I had the chocolate from my advent calendar,” said Charlie. “That’s actually food.”

“Damn,” said Skully.

“Who thought it was a good idea for you two to live together?” said Lockwood.

“We just get distracted,” said Charlie.

“By video games?” I guessed.

“The universe’s greatest creation,” said Skully.

I heard the stairs creaking, signalling Mary’s return.

“Now remember,” I said in a hushed voice, so the children wouldn’t be able to overhear. “I haven’t told her about the whole Skully being brought back to life thing, so no one mention it. She’s terrible at keeping secrets.”

“Understood,” said Skully.

Mary entered the kitchen a moment later, looking very pretty with festive-red lipstick and her blonde hair elegantly curled.

“Sorry about running off,” she said. “Didn’t want to introduce myself covered in washing-up water.” She held a hand out to Charlie, who was closer. “I’m Mary!”

“Charlie,” said Charlie. “I don’t like shaking hands.”

“That’s fair enough,” said Mary, lowering her hand. “Do you have preferred pronouns, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Any,” said Charlie.

“I’ll stick with ‘them’, in that case.” Charlie smiled and nodded, and Mary turned to Skully. “And you must be… Jim? James?”

“Skully,” said Skully.

Mary twirled a finger through a golden ringlet. “Why do they call you that?”

“I was dead for a hundred and forty years.”

I elbowed him in the ribs. “Ha-ha! That’s just him trying to be funny!” I said as Mary gave me a confused look. “We call him that coz… uhh…” I looked towards Charlie and Lockwood for help.

“He works in a morgue,” Charlie supplied, which, while it made sense, was a little more morbid than I was hoping for.

“…Right,” said Mary.

“Why don’t you help me get dinner ready?” I said, changing the subject. “I’m sure this lot can handle the kids for a bit.”

“Oh, anything to get away from these little monsters,” Mary said, sticking her tongue out at the children, who giggled and ran off, dragging Lockwood and Skully with them, with Charlie and Apollo following behind.

Mary and I set about preparing a beef Wellington, chatting idly as we did so. It was almost as if we were back home again, preparing dinner with our other siblings while our mother sat watching TV.

“Anyone spending Christmas with mum this year?” I asked, casually.

“Not that I know of,” Mary replied. “Think she finally blew it when she exploded at Sam for coming out. And after all that tripe about wanting a son.”

“Maybe I should tell her I’m bi, just to add the icing on the cake,” I said.

Mary laughed. “Do it. She’d implode, it’d be hilarious. Ever gonna introduce her to these guys, by the way?”

I snorted. “Oh, hell no. Because, and I am not exaggerating when I say this, Skully would literally kill her. And Anthony would probably help.”

“You told them about her?”

“Of course I told them,” I said. “Anthony’s my husband. And Skully… well… he understands about that sort of thing.”

Mary nodded in understanding.

I popped the Wellington in the oven, and was just about to set the oven timer, when the doorbell rang, signalling the arrival of our first guests. I opened the door to find Holly and Rani, both looking stunning with Holly in a pine-green dress and Rani wearing a matching hijab. Rani and her family didn’t celebrate Christmas, but she still tagged along to parties and such with Holly. Mostly for the free food.

Lockwood appeared in the hallway after hearing us happily greet each other. He pouted at Holly. “You’re not wearing a Christmas jumper.”

“I’m not putting on one of those hideous things,” said Holly.

“This isn’t hideous!” Lockwood cried, gesturing to the demonic looking reindeer knitted into his jumper. Holly exchanged a look with me that clearly said ‘how do you put up with him?’

George and Flo were the next to arrive. George had not changed much at all over the years, though he and Skully got on a little better. He now worked at the local university, giving lectures on the science and history behind the Problem and Visitors, and putting his students to good use experimenting on Sources that still retained some psychic charge. He was the type of professor who turned up to lectures late, put memes in his presentations, and replied to carefully thought out, grammatically correct emails from students with ‘k’.

Flo, however, was much cleaner than her days spent as a relic-woman. Her long hair was still an unbrushed mess, and she still sported a lot of dirt beneath her nails, but that was a result of excavating historical artefacts rather than digging through river sludge. There wasn’t much money in being a relic-woman nowadays, anyway. And at least her new job was legal.

Quill showed up next, having come straight from a Fittes reunion party. He informed us that his old teammates were doing quite well for themselves; Bobby was well on his way to getting a PhD, and Kat was teaching kids at a nearby primary school.

Barnes and George’s mum showed up at the same time, quite by coincidence.

“You’re looking rather dashing today, Monty.”

“You’re looking quite lovely yourself, Martha.”

“I’m gonna throw up,” George mumbled, and Holly smacked him lightly on the arm.

We all crowded into the living room. Charlie, a little overwhelmed by all the people, sat themself in a corner beside the Christmas tree, and Apollo draped himself across their lap. Skully sat half in front of them, like a sort of shield, and the rest of us squeezed onto the chairs and sofas. Michael curled up into Mary’s side, having gone all shy in the presence of new people, and Sophie rushed about showing everyone all the drawings she had done that day before she finally settled down and crawled onto Skully’s lap. She had become rather taken with him.

“So, what’s everyone been up to?” Lockwood said, passing around tea and biscuits that he hadn’t made himself. I accepted the tea but declined the biscuits; I was still feeling a little queasy. “I feel like it’s been forever since we’ve all been together.”

“Why don’t you tell everyone about Lucas, Quill,” said Rani, slyly, sipping her tea.

Quill’s face and ears turned bright red, but he shrugged and sipped his tea, idly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ooh, who’s Lucas?” said Mary, eagerly. She was always one for gossip.

“Nobody,” said Quill.

“Just some super gorgeous guy who goes to all of his classes,” said Holly, grinning mischievously.

“Shut up,” said Quill, avoiding eye contact with all of us.

“Wait,” said Flo, pausing in the middle of piling sugar into her tea. “Dark hair? Tattoos? Looks kinda like he belongs in Asgard?”

“Sounds like him,” said Rani. “From all the very detailed descriptions Quill’s been giving us.”

“Shut up,” Quill said again.

“Do you know him?” George said eagerly, ignoring Quill.

“When I filled in for Quill the other week,” said Flo. “He was very disappointed when he saw me instead of him. No one else seemed to mind much.”

“He was?” said Quill, sitting up and seeming very much interested all of a sudden. “What did he say?”

Flo smirked. “Buy me some of that posh strawberry liquorice and I’ll tell you.”

“You are the worst,” said Quill.

“Just tell the boy how you feel, dear,” Mrs Cubbins advised. “Life’s too short to keep beating around the bush, take it from me. I wish I’d had more time with George’s father.”

“Or,” said Skully, “you could try giving him your dead relatives necklaces until he gets the hint.”

“Hey!” Lockwood protested. “That worked out in the end, didn’t it?”

“It wasn’t exactly the most straight-forward way,” I reasoned. “I mean, the first time, you told me to shut my mouth and then ran off.”

“Smooth move, A.J.,” said Skully.

“I was nervous!” Lockwood cried.

I can’t remember what we talked about after that. Just life, I guess. George kept throwing in puns, and I kept whacking him with cushions. When you’ve known someone for a long time, when you get along really well, it doesn’t matter how long you’ve been apart. We all had different lives to live, and it was hard to see each other sometimes, but it didn’t matter in the end. Because, when you know someone that well, you can pick up exactly where you left off. Conversation and laughter flows. There are no awkward silences, no feeling left out and insecure. You can tell all the terrible jokes you want and know someone will laugh because these are the people who understand you, who love you. I had missed them all more than they could know.

I had brought the hellish gingerbread in after people had started to arrive, so we ended up sitting around the coffee table, helping the children decorate them, though Charlie had wandered off at this point, maybe to find the cat.

Sophie proudly showed me the mess of white, green, and black icing she had made. “It’s the skull from your stories!”

“Wow!” I gushed. “It looks just like him! Is he your favourite?”

Sophie nodded happily.

“A wise choice,” said Skully. “Quite possibly the best character ever written.”

I elbowed him again.

Lockwood had Michael sat on his lap and was helping him decorate a gingerbread dinosaur. He was so kind and patient with him, and I got a strange warm feeling in my chest seeing them like that.

“Can we eat them yet?” said Sophie, once all the cookies were suitably drenched in icing.

“Ooh, I don’t know about that,” said Mary. “They’re so good, don’t you think Father Christmas will want them all for himself?”

“Will he be able to eat them all?” said Sophie, uncertainly.

“He’ll need the energy to fly around the whole world, won’t he?” said Lockwood.

“I guess so,” said Sophie, a little disappointedly.

“Don’t worry,” I said, “we’ll make a gingerbread house tomorrow to eat all for ourselves. How about that?”

Sophie seemed happy enough with that arrangement, which was good, as there was no way in hell I was about to let her eat those death cookies.

Charlie came back a while later while we were all in a heated discussion about High School Musical, aside from Barnes and Mrs Cubbins, who were entertaining the children. Don’t ask me how the conversation had turned to that because I have no idea.

Charlie stood sort of awkwardly to the side while we were arguing.

“That song was totally a euphemism! I mean, he was literally dancing the whole way through it!”

“But wasn’t Chad into Taylor?”

“Old news. He and Ryan literally swapped clothes. There is no heterosexual explanation for that!”

“Guys, shut up,” Skully interrupted, having noticed Charlie. “What’s up?”

“Well, there’s a lot of smoke pouring out of the kitchen.”

I leapt to my feet and ran to retrieve a very black beef Wellington from the oven while the others charged around the house, throwing open doors and windows to let the smoke out.

“I think you forgot to set the oven timer,” said Quill.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

“Is your smoke alarm broken?” said Barnes.

“Uhh,” I said. “I might have thrown that down the stairs at one point.”

Barnes gave me one of his disappointed looks. “You’re lucky the kitchen didn’t catch fire. And you could have said something sooner, Charlie.”

“People sometimes get angry when I interrupt,” they said, flapping their arms at there sides until Apollo bumped his head into their hand and Skully gave their shoulder a squeeze.

“Oh, don’t worry yourself, dear,” said Mrs Cubbins. “No harm done. I could whip something else up?”

“It’s fine mum,” said George. “We can just order pizza or something.”

We were all ravenous by the time the pizza arrived, but something about the smell finally set me off, and I had to rush upstairs to throw up in the toilet. Maybe I was coming down with something.

I headed back downstairs once I’d brushed my teeth and was feeling a little better, and realised Charlie had disappeared again, so I grabbed one of the least-offensive pizzas smell-wise, and headed back upstairs, where I found them sat on the bed in Skully’s (once Jessica’s) old room, with Apollo curled up next to them. They were rhythmically stroking a black cat that sat curled up on their lap, which was purring contentedly.

“You found Artemis, I see,” I said, placing the pizza box on the bedside table and climbing up onto the bed beside Apollo. “She doesn’t usually like strangers.”

“Understandable,” said Charlie, quietly.

“Bit much for you?” I said.

“Just needed a little break,” they said. “It’s loud down there. Apollo keeps trying to lie on me.”

“He’s trained to,” I said, petting the dog’s head. “When he senses someone’s sad or stressed. He’s a good boy, aren’t you Apollo?” His tail wagged happy in the Artemis’s face, and she gave me a cold stare.

“But that’s, like, my permanent state of being,” said Charlie.

I laughed at that. “That’ll be why he’s been following you around all day then.”

Charlie smiled and scratched Apollo’s chin. His leg pumped against the mattress and his tail wagged even more.

“Sorry about dinner,” said Charlie.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “It was my fault for not setting the timer… and for chucking the smoke alarm down the stairs. Just, for future reference, the kitchen nearly catching fire is one of the things you’re allowed to interrupt for.”

“Ugh, so many rules,” said Charlie.

“You’ll get used to them one day,” I said.

“Getting there,” said Charlie. “Oh, I should probably say congratulations, shouldn’t I?”

I frowned. “For my new book?”

“No,” said Charlie, looking a little confused now. “That, too, but…” They made an uncertain gesture towards my stomach. “Do you… not know yet?”

I could suddenly hear the blood rushing in my ears. “Know what?”

Charlie clapped their hands over their face, hunched over, and let out a little whine. “Messed up.”

“Know what, Charlie?” I repeated, more urgently.

“I might be wrong!” they blurted, voice sounding a little panicky. “I just sort of… have a sense for those kinds of things.”

“What kind of things?”

They began fidgeting with a loose thread in the bed sheets. “Like, I knew Skully had some connection to Visitors, and I know someone probably died in this room… and I know when people are pregnant. It’ll be a girl, I think. She’ll be a little late.”

I stared at them.

“I might be wrong,” Charlie repeated. “Just… maybe take a test.”

“What’s the likelihood that you’re wrong?” I said.

“Statistically…” they said. “Zero. I never have been.”

I swallowed and leaned back against the bedpost, my mind racing. I’d have to take a test as soon as possible, just to be sure. And if it was positive? I had no idea what I’d do. Would I even make a good mother? My own had been abusive and neglectful, spending Christmas alone this year because her children had finally had enough of her. What if I ended up like that?

But then I thought of Mary. My wonderful sister, who’d had the same upbringing, and yet, was an amazing mum. Granted, she’d once called me sobbing because she’d spanked Sophie for being naughty and thought she was turning into our mother, but she’d learnt from that mistake. She never laid a hand on her kids again, and she always had time for them. Teaching them right from wrong, gushing proudly over their messy drawings, oohing and aahing when they babbled on to her in mostly gibberish.

She made sure to tell her kids she loved them every single day, something our own mother never did.

And she’d done it all on her own, never being one for long-term relationships. I had Anthony, my incredible husband, who was kind and patient with my niece and nephew, and they adored him in return. We’d been through so much together, and no matter what, I knew he’d always stay by my side. If I slipped up, he’d steer me back in the right direction. He’d be a wonderful father.

The bubble of fear that had risen in my chest didn’t disappear, but it was joined by a bubble of excitement, and I let out a breath of air I didn’t know I’d been holding. Everything would turn out okay. It always did.

Charlie was looking at me like I might explode any second, so I turned my head and smiled at them, and they visibly relaxed.

The door opened and Skully slipped in. “Oh! Hiding, too? Think I’ll join.” And he clambered onto the between me and Charlie, poking Apollo out of the way with his foot. The dog didn’t stay away long, though, and clambered up onto Skully’s lap as he slung his arms over mine and Charlie’s shoulders. I leaned into him, gratefully. After the internal crisis I’d just had, I needed a hug.

“Why are you hiding?” I asked him.

“Your sister keeps trying to ambush me with mistletoe.”

I snorted. “I’ll have a word with her later. For some reason, she thinks you’re attractive.”

“Who doesn’t?” he said. “I’m bloody beautiful. Always have been. It’s a fact of life.”

“I wish I had your level of self-confidence,” I said. “But even when you were a mouldy skull in a jar?”

“Especially then,” he affirmed. “Have you seen my bone structure? Don’t deny it, you wanted a piece.”

“That’s disgusting,” I said, shoving away from him. “I am terminating our friendship.”

“Nah, you’d miss me too much,” he said. I chose not to respond to that.

“I’m gonna give Apollo a walk before it gets too late,” I said, causing the dog to leap from the bed and hop excitedly around my legs. “Want anything from the shops?”

“Pudding,” said Charlie.

“You’ve not even had dinner yet,” said Skully, picking up the pizza box and shoving it in Charlie’s face. I rolled my eyes and left them to their bickering.

Thank goodness the Problem was over, or twenty-four-hour stores wouldn’t exist.

I strolled leisurely through the snowy park, grateful to be out in the fresh air away from the stench of the pizza. I was pretty sure it had been the smell of barbecue sauce that had made me nauseous.

I peered at the little cardboard box in my hands as Apollo ran around like a maniac, shovelling his face into the snow, trying to pick up fallen tree branches twice his size, barking at nothing. Two bands for pregnant, one for not. Seemed simple enough. I just had to pee on a little plastic stick, and five minutes later, my whole life could be changed forever. No biggie.

I feared for my friends’ relationships when I got home and heard abuse being shouted from the living room, but, as it turned out, they were just playing Mario Kart. Charlie, Skully, George, and Flo racing while the others watched.

“Did you just drop a banana in my face?!”

“Ooh, careful, Charlie! George just sent a leader bomb.”

“For the last time, Lockwood, it’s called a blue shell!”

“It’s a bomb that targets the leader.”

“It’s a shell that is blue!”

“CHARLIE, YOU LITTLE SHIT!”

That last part had been because Charlie had driven off the side of the road so that the blue shell had targeted second place (AKA Skully) instead. Charlie just smirked as they were placed back on the track and drove smoothly across the finish line in first place.

“Jesus Christ, guys,” I said, alerting them to my presence. “I thought there was a murder going on. Where’s Mary and the kids?”

“She’s giving them a bath before bed,” said Holly.

“Care to join us, Luce?” said Quill. “We’re up next.”

“Maybe in a sec,” I said, letting Apollo off his lead so he could greet the others as if he hadn’t seen them in months. “Need to pee first.”

I had to use the bathroom in my old attic bedroom, seen as Mary and the kids were using the main one.

Five minutes seemed to last for an eternity.

I exited the bathroom and perched on my old bedroom windowsill to wait, where the skull’s jar had once sat. I had never imagined that ten years later he’d been hanging around with everyone downstairs, annoying them all with his comments that, once upon a time, only I had been able to hear.

I looked around the room. Over in that corner, Annie Ward’s ghost had once hovered over her fallen locket that I’d taken from her corpse, and it was where Lockwood and I had fought her off with an iron children’s mobile. I wondered if he still had that.

The bed, that was where Lockwood had left his mother’s necklace for me. The symbol of love and devotion that I still wore around my neck to this day. Now I was waiting to find out if I’d be having his child.

Oh, how times change.

How we’d grown.

The timer on my phone chimed to alert me that five minutes was up. I took a deep breath. I looked at the test.

Two bands.

“We need to put the milk and cookies out for Santa!” Sophie insisted, trying to prolong bedtime as long as possible. “And carrots for the reindeer!”

“Santa doesn’t like milk,” said Skully. “Santa likes beer.”

“I think Santa’s a little more partial to red wine, actually,” said Holly.

I shot them both an unimpressed look. “I don’t think Santa should be drinking and driving.”

“Alcohol’s gross anyway,” said Charlie. “Santa would probably prefer chocolate milk.”

“I’m pretty sure ‘Santa’ is lactose intolerant,” said Skully.

“Only a little,” said Charlie. “And it’s Christmas, so Santa’s allowed.”

“I think we should compromise and give Santa Bailey’s,” said George.

“With an extra drop of whiskey, perhaps,” his mother added.

“Ooh, Santa does like Bailey’s,” said Mary.

Sophie was looking very confused. My friends were all terrible people.

I ignored all of them and poured Santa a glass of coke, which I allowed Sophie to put on the mantelpiece.

“There,” said Mary. “Now bed. Michael’s already asleep coz he’s a good boy.”

“But mummyyy,” Sophie whined, “I wanna see Santa!”

“Santa won’t come if he knows you’re awake,” said Mary.

“Santa eats the children who stay awake,” said Skully. Sophie stared at him in horror.

“NO! No, he doesn’t!” I said.

“No, you’re right,” said Skully, thoughtfully. “I’m thinking of his brother.”

“No one eats children!” I said firmly. “He’s just trying to scare you, Sophie.”

Suddenly, there came the sounded of a loud bang from above. Outside, snow began to fall and the water vapour on the window crystallised into intricate patterns that spread across the glass.

“Uh oh,” said Skully, “looks like he’s here already. You better go to bed before he eats you.”

Sophie squealed and ran out of the room, clambering up the stairs to George’s old room where she and Michael would be sleeping. Mary gave me a confused look before going after her to tuck her in and make sure she wasn’t scarred for life.

I turned to Skully and crossed my arms, unimpressed. “You better not have broken anything.”

“Just knocked over a bookshelf, no biggie,” he said, shrugging.

“In the attic?” I said. “You remember you’re sleeping in there, right?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll sort it out before bed.”

Barnes and Mrs Cubbins went home shortly afterwards, saying they were too old to stay up as late as us ‘youths’, and the rest of us sat around playing games like scrabble and jenga and charades, like hard-core ‘youths’ do.

We decided that the forfeit for losing anything was to eat one of the cookies, which, aside from nearly breaking my teeth, tasted about as nice as I would imagine a cookie that had been shoved up Satan’s arsehole to taste like. To put it simply, they weren’t the best.

As it turned out, Skully and Charlie had both learned some sign language for the occasions when Charlie became non-verbal due to stress, something none of us knew until after they’d won every single game of charades. Cheats.

After that, we just ended up doing our own things. Mary gossiped away to Quill about people he’d never heard of, and he listened attentively, probably just glad to not be the only extra wheel. George and Flo battled each other on Mario Kart, while Holly and Rani spun each other around by the fire to Christmas tunes, all giggly.

“Care for a dance, Luce?” Lockwood asked me.

“Maybe later,” I told him. Skully had wandered off and had been gone a good half hour now. It always worried me when he did that.

I found him lying on the floor in the library. Thankfully, Charlie was with him, as were Apollo and Artemis. Artemis was lying beneath the Christmas tree, pawing at the ornaments, while Apollo had draped himself over Skully’s chest. Charlie had set up their laptop by Skully’s head, which was playing a Christmas film, and they were sat on his other side, doodling on his arm which rested on their lap.

The tip of the felt pen rose and fell over the single raised scar that marred Skully’s arm, as Charlie drew crude little stars and hearts and skulls in bright green ink.

“Alright down there?” I asked as I took a seat on the floor beside Charlie and watched them draw. It was strangely soothing.

“I don’t get why the Whos hate the Grinch,” said Skully, not taking his eyes off the computer screen. “He’s so relatable.”

“They’re probably just racist,” I replied.

“Probably.”

“Done,” said Charlie, putting the lid back on the felt pen.

Skully raised his arm in front of his face to inspect the doodles. “Disgusting,” he said. “Do the other arm.”

“I want a go,” I said, picking up the pen.

“No, you’ll just draw a penis or something,” Skully protested.

“That’s something you’d do,” I said. “I’m way more mature.”

As I drew, Charlie lay down on their stomach by the tree and waggled some tinsel in front of Artemis for her to try and catch. “Can we get a cat, Skull?”

“We can barely remember to feed ourselves,” said Skully.

“But cats scream at you when they’re hungry,” Charlie reasoned.

“True,” said Skully. “We can check the shelters in January for all the discarded Christmas present kitties.”

“That’s sad,” said Charlie, sounding genuinely very upset for the shelter cats. “Stop being depressing.”

I put the cap back on the pen. “Finished!”

Skully inspected my drawing. “Okay, what is that if not a penis?”

“It’s a work of art,” I said. “All those years of life-drawing at art school have lead me to this moment.”

“I’m starting to think I’m a bad influence on you,” Skully said, trying to wipe off the dick drawing before he gave up and just pulled his sleeves back down. At least he seemed a little more chipper now.

Charlie’s phone chimed. “My brother’s outside,” they informed me.

“Does he not like knocking?” I said.

“I texted him not to in case he woke the children,” Charlie replied, reaching for their laptop to put away.

I stood up and went to let Charlie’s brother in.

The man standing in the doorway was definitely not what I expected, to say the least.

“You’re Charlie’s brother,” I blurted before I could stop myself.

He chuckled and rubbed the back of his head shyly. “Yeah, I guess we don’t look that much alike.”

That was an understatement. Where Charlie was short and slight, their brother was big and bulky. His biceps alone must have been about as thick as Charlie’s waist, and were heavily tattooed. Where Charlie’s eyes were sky blue, his were steely grey. Their hair was short and bronze and curly, his was long and black and tied back in a ponytail, with a beard to match.

He looked… kind of like he belonged in Asgard. And a voice behind me confirmed my suspicions.

“Lucas?”

“Quill?!” Lucas gasped, eyed widening in shock.

I heard the others scrambling in the living room before they appeared in the doorway, very unsubtly spying on the two men, who were now the centre of attention.

Quill looked down at the tacky, pom-pommed Christmas jumper that his grandma had knitted him, then back up to Lucas, a man who looked very much like an impossibly handsome Norse god, and swallowed, his face growing redder by the second. “Uhh… W-what are you doing here?”

“I–”

He was cut short by Charlie entering the hallway from the library, with their backpack slung over their shoulders and Skully at their heels. “Lucas!”

“Hey, kiddo! Long time, no see,” Lucas greeted, his face splitting into a huge grin as he yanked his sibling into a bone-crushing hug that pulled them off their feet.

“Eek! Nonono. This is why I don’t like hugs!” Charlie squealed, wiggling in his grasp until he dropped them, quite unceremoniously, on the floor and ruffled their hair, making the curls stick up at odd angles.

Quill’s eyes darted between Charlie and Lucas, then to Skully, who was leaning against the library doorway, grinning sadistically at Quill. I had a feeling he’d known exactly who Quill’s crush was ever since Rani had first mentioned him.

“I am not a child!” Charlie protested, batting Lucas’s hand away. “I am a grown adult!”

“Uh, no,” said Lucas. “If you’re an adult, that means I’m definitely an adult, and I’m just not ready to accept that reality yet.”

“You’ve been an adult for well over a decade now,” Charlie reminded him.

“Hush,” said Lucas. “Now, wait here while I talk to Quill for a sec.”

Charlie glanced back at Quill, who was standing very awkwardly in the middle of the hall, obviously very aware of everyone’s eyes on him.

“But mum and dad are expecting us by half-past,” they said. “We have to go.”

“You got everything?” said Lucas. That did it; Charlie immediately opened their backpack to check, giving Lucas a chance to slip into the kitchen with Quill.

Rani was eying the closed kitchen doorway, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Mary?” she said. “You still got that mistletoe?”

Mary caught her eye and grinned. “Say no more,” she said, retrieving the little plastic plant from her pocket and handing it to her giraffe of a brother-in-law to hang silently above the doorway.

“Quill is going to murder you,” I said in a hushed voice, trying to fight the smile attempting to make its way onto my lips.

When the kitchen door opened, and Quill saw what was dangling above him, he turned, if possible, even redder than he already had been. Lucas’s cheeks turned a little pink, too.

“Y-you don’t have to!” Quill spluttered. “It’s just my friends being idiots! They–”

He was cut short when Lucas pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “See ya New Year’s Eve, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” Quill squeaked, looking like he was about to collapse any second.

Lucas walked down the hallway, picked up Charlies bag with one hand, and slung Charlie themself over his shoulder with the other.

“I wasn’t done!” Charlie protested, thrashing their legs about.

“I am one hundred percent sure you remembered everything,” said Lucas. “Hometime. Mum and dad are expecting us.”

I opened the door for them and Lucas stepped out into the snow and headed towards his car.

“Merry Christmas!” Lockwood called after them.

“Happy Holidays!” Lucas called back.

Skully flipped Charlie off in lieu of a goodbye, as is the way with close friends, and they returned the gesture before Lucas plonked them down onto the roof of his car and made a show of pretending to try and drive off while they were still there.

We watched the car drive away, with Charlie safely in the passenger seat, and as soon as I shut the door, everyone turned to Quill.

“What did he say? What did he say?” Holly squealed, almost hopping up and down with excitement.

“Did he ask you out?” Lockwood asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“Ooh, what’s that in your hand?” Rani crowed.

“Gimme, gimme!” Mary cried, lunging for the piece of paper which Quill quickly yanked away and held above his head. It wasn’t very effective, as Flo came up behind him and swiftly plucked it out of his grip.

“A number,” she said, smirking.

George took the paper as Quill tried to grab it back and pushed his glasses further up his nose to inspect it. “And a time and address,” he said. “Looks like Quill, here, has a date.”

“Shut up, all of you!” Quill seethed, face glowing as red as Rudolph’s nose. “It’s not like it’s a big deal or anything!”

“Of course it’s a big deal!” Holly cried. “Our little Quill’s growing up.”

“I am older than everyone here,” he reminded her.

“And yet, most of them are married, and you’re not,” said Skully.

Quill turned to glare at him. “You could have warned me, arsehole.”

“Hey,” said Skully, holding up his hands in defence. “I’m sure there are many guys your age called Lucas fitting the exact description Flo gave us. How was I supposed to know?”

“You absolute–”

“Hey,” Lockwood interrupted. “No harm done. You got his number!”

“I looked like a complete idiot in front of him,” Quill wailed, gesturing towards his jumper.

“I’m sure he found it endearing,” Holly reasoned.

“Oh, sure, that’s exactly what I wanted,” said Quill. “The guy appears out of nowhere looking like an actual god, but at least I look endearing.”

“So, you gonna call him?” Rani teased.

Quill plucked the paper out of George’s hands and pocketed it. “That’s none of your concern. Oh, by the way, I can’t come to your New Year’s Eve party, Luce. I have a date with a hot guy.”

“Traitor,” I said, but I was grinning at him.

My friends slowly dispersed after that, heading home to their own families before it got too late. Hugs were exchanged, Holly gave us all a kiss on the cheek, Skully even said goodbye to George fairly civilly before going to demolish the rest of the Bailey’s now that Charlie wasn’t there to tame him.

“Want some, Luce?” he asked.

“Nah, I’m good.”

“What’s this?” said Mary. “My sister denying Bailey’s? Are you feeling quite alright?”

I just stuck my tongue out at her.

Mary was in bed by eleven, exhausted from all the socialising and handling the kids. Artemis and Apollo were curled up, fast asleep, on the sofa, and Skully was dropping off not long after; for all his big talk, alcohol only made him sleepy.

“Come on, you mess,” Lockwood told him, slinging Skully’s arm around his shoulders to take him up to bed.

While I waited for him to come back, I fiddled about with the radio, trying to find a good song.

‘Have yourself a merry little Christmas,’

“Oh, I love this song!” Lockwood said upon returning.

I smiled and held out a hand to him. “Come on. I owe you a dance.”

‘Let your heart be light,’

He grinned at me and made a show of a great, sweeping bow, before taking my hand and twirling me around.

‘From now on our troubles will be out of sight,’

I giggled and wound my arms around his shoulders as he tugged me in by my waist. Our noses brushed together as we swayed in a circle, and the lights on the Christmas tree twinkled gently.

‘Have yourself a merry little Christmas,’

On the mantelpiece, the clock struck midnight.

“Happy Christmas, Lucy.”

“Happy Christmas, Anthony.”

‘Make the yuletide gay,’

“How would you feel about having your present now?”

“Depends on what it is.”

“Remember your mobile?” I said. “The one with the smiley giraffe?”

“What about it?”

“We might need to get that out again.”

He frowned at me. “What for?”

‘From now on, our troubles will be miles away,’

His dark eyes glittered as they reflected the lights on the tree. His fringe had fallen into his face when he’d bowed. I raised my hand and brushed it out of the way.

“Anthony,” I said. The right words were difficult to find, so I just went for it. “I’m pregnant.”

He stopped dancing. “You… you’re… what?”

He looked just like a deer caught in headlights. I let out a little breathy laugh. “Pregnant,” I repeated. “You’re gonna be a dad.”

He stared at me, like the words were taking a while to process. “I’m… gonna be a dad.” He laughed, short and breathless, a slight, surprised smile gracing his lips. “I’m gonna be a dad,” he repeated, more certainly. “You’re gonna be a mum.”

He kissed me then. And again and again. On the mouth, forehead, cheeks, nose. He couldn’t seem to stop smiling, and I couldn’t either.

“Oh, don’t start,” I said, wiping a thumb under his damp eyes and sniffling. “You’ll set me off.”

“I can’t help it,” he said. “We’re gonna be amazing, you and me. I love you so much, Lucy.”

“I love you, too, you big goon,” I told him.

We were back to swaying along to the music now, holding each other tight with huge smiles on our faces and teary eyes like two soppy, very in-love idiots.

‘Faithful friends who are dear to us, gather near to us once more,’

I’d tell the others soon, of course. But maybe give it a few weeks. Have something just to ourselves for a little while.

‘Through the years, we all will be together, if the fates allow,’

They’d be so excited. My big happy family. Even Skully, though I knew he’d pretend not to be. Mary would probably blurt it out to the rest of the Carlyles as soon as I told her. I wondered how my mother would react.

‘Hang a shining star upon the highest bow,’

I tucked my head into Lockwood’s shoulder. Now wasn’t the time to start overthinking things. Now was the time to enjoy Christmas with my husband. Our last Christmas together without children of our own. Next year, the Carlyle-Lockwood household would be so much busier.

And I was so excited.

‘And have yourself a merry little Christmas now.’

The Incident

[deliverydefresas]

masters of the scene

I know this is super shocking bc this is probs the soonest (?) ive posted between parts lmao 

I did want to hurry things up before saturday, tho, so here we have it, friendsss. if you’ve missed a part: 

1 | 2 | 3 | 4

AU: Matteo Balsano is a famous singer who has been crushing on this one girl he saw every day behind a window many years ago, back when he first started recording his debut album and inspired his first big hit, “Princesa”. Luna Valente, professional Olympic skater turned actress is at a local (and very popular) talk show to promote her breakout movie. This is where it all starts.

BREAKING: OLYMPIC GOLD MEDALLIST SAYS GOODBYE TO SKATING 

SOL BENSON, 24, recently known for her role as skating legend Marissa Mint in “SHATTERED WINGS”, announced this morning she wouldn’t return to training, or to any competition as a participant again. The announcement was posted on all her social media accounts, reading: “I can proudly say it’s time. Today, a new chapter in my life begins. I’m officially retiring from professional skating.”

Benson also took the chance to thanks her fans, saying: “The last ten years have been an unforgettable experience. A lifetime wouldn’t be enough to thank everyone who has been by my side helping, supporting, and cheering on me on this journey. I’ve done everything I could and wanted, and I hope you’re all as proud of me as I am of myself and the accomplishments we’ve done. I love you all very much.” The now ex-skater didn’t specify why she was leaving, but she affirmed it wasn’t anything but a personal choice: “I know many of you are shocked, or confused as to why I’m doing this now, that’s the reason I want to point out it’s not because of my health or a change of careers, as I know some might be thinking. Simply, this is me acknowledging my heart’s desires.”

Opinions and critics were instantaneous from the fans.

@ Sol_Benson: Thank you. pic.tw.com/3747829

          @ solnation: @ Sol_Benson please tell me this is an early april fools joke I’m crying

          @ sol_fan73937: @ Sol_Benson THIS IS NOT WHAT I WANT, THIS IS NOT WHAT I PLANNED, AND I JUST WANT TO SAY I DO NOT UNDERSTAND

          @ SolMiReina56: @ Sol_Benson on one hand I’m happy you’re doing this in your terms but on the other I just want to scream whAT THE FORK BENSON

Benson’s famous friends, however, showed nothing but support for her.

@ Simon_RB: today the sun goes down and the moon rises! So proud of you @ Sol_Benson

@ JimM: Working with you, one of the greatest skaters of our time, was a privilege. Being your friend, and share all these memories, is an honor. Your talent will shine bright like your soul no matter what ♥ @ Sol_Benson  

@ TheAmbarSmith: An absolute star. @ Sol_Benson

The news broke amid rumors of the skating star dating Italian heartthrob, Matteo Balsano, leading some fans and theorist that her new relationship was linked to her decision.

@ SolecitoDeMadrugada: I don’t wanna start sh*t here, folks, but Sol said she’s acknowledging ‘her heart’s desires’…. What if Balsano convinced her to quit????

@ SolBonita: If Matteo Balsano had anything to do with this I will cut that bitch in half just sayin’

@ soltteoforever: omg what if sol quit to form a duet with matteo???!!! #relationshipgoals

@ elbalsanito: if y’all really think MATTEO BALSANO would make his two minute long girlfriend quit her career for him y’all are batsh*t crazy don’t even look at me

So far Benson and her team have offered no comment to the critics, choosing silence over explanations, and only time will tell what she’s planned for herself next.

Is this really her end in skating? Will she approach a musical career with her beau? For more Sol Benson, click here!

He was a coward.

And an idiot.

An idiotic coward, really, because he hung up on her as fast as his brain and hand could do it. He could’ve lied, told her it was only a guessing. Or he could’ve come clean about his stalker-ish ways and freak her out. Or come clean and skip the stalker-ish ways. But, no, he’d hung up and now when she saw him she’d demand an explanation and probably give him crap for hanging up on her and then creating a lame excuse as to why.

Because so far, he could only come up with his phone dying in that exact moment and him forgetting to call her back. For two weeks.

Again, an idiotic coward he was.  

“Are you listening to me, Matteo?” he’d been lost in his thoughts again, unsurprisingly. It was something he’d been repeating lately, and usually blamed it on him ‘mentally’ writing his songs. Sometimes, it was the truth; but most of the time it was an excuse to get Gastón and his mom off his back. Today was Delfi’s turn at enduring this lost lapse. “Matteo! This is a serious matter, you dick!” he’d laugh at the insult if it weren’t for her aggravated look. He was used to the annoyed, yet knowing look of his friend and his birther, but Delfi looked nothing but stressed. “Can you focus on what I’m telling you?”

Matteo threw her an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Delfi. I was just-”

“I don’t even want to hear it! I just need to listen to me and tell me what the fuck is happening between you and Sol Benson!” Well, shit. She was even cursing now.

“What do you mean?” he asked, genuinely confused now. Delfi knew better than anyone that he wasn’t dating, and even if he was, she never cared about it before. His manager sighed exasperated, throwing a newspaper across the table, pointing to him to read it.

The sole headline was enough to make his blood run cold.

“Read it till the end.”

“She’s retiring?” Matteo couldn’t believe it. A million questions came to his head as he read the article, ‘why’ being the loudest. “I just- what?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care about her, Matteo.” She sighed again, passing her fingers through her head. “What I do care about is that they’re mentioning you as the responsible.” Delfi raised her hand when he opened his mouth to protest. “I know you aren’t. And I’d like to think a woman like her is strong enough to not let an idiot like you convince her to give up her career. However, this is bad because you’ll be crossed as a chauvinistic pig, and could seriously hurt the image the older fans have of you. We need to counterattack, fast, and I need you to tell me just exactly how close you are to Sol.”

“What for?” He was getting defensive, and Delfi could tell so, too. She softened her look.

“This is not about you being a heartthrob, Matt. This is about people judging you wrongly-”

“Are you listening to yourself? They already judge me wrongly!” Delfi pursed her lips.

“Okay, bad wording. Still, we can’t let them think you’re that kind of person either.”

“Can’t you talk to Gastón about it? Maybe he can-”

“We agreed to break the contract with most of the magazines and the heartthrob stories, but you can’t just sue someone for linking you as someone’s boyfriend. If this was an article solely about you, we could make an agreement with them but since it’s about her-”

Matteo frowned. “Can’t you talk about it with her team? You said you knew them, maybe you can work on something together-” Now she looked offended.

“What do you think I’m doing? This is why I citied you here, we’re meeting them in ten minutes to discuss it! And first I needed your stupid ass to explain your situation to me so we could have some ground but all you’ve done is daydream about God knows what!”

“Wait, what?!” he looked down at his sweatpants, and the semi-sweated t-shirt he’d worn to go to gym before the meeting, and he just knew his hair was a dishevel mess. He hadn’t even bothered with his contacts, so his glasses were stuck on his head unless he wanted to be as blind as a mole. He’d thought he’d only be meeting Delfi, and now- “she’s not coming, is she?”

“Who is ‘she’?” Delfi air-quoted, not getting why he was getting freaked out.

“Luna – Sol, she isn’t coming, right?”

Delfi scoffed. “Of course, she is! This is all about her, why wouldn’t she be here?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he almost whined, jumping out of his chair to get his gym bag, and spray the shit out of his deodorant on his body. He didn’t have any hair gel, so his hair had to stay the same. He was really regretting not taking the time to fully showering before coming.

“Oh, so now you care about how you look at meetings?” He didn’t answer her, still busy with his gym bag. He was sure he had mints buried somewhere. “I take that you like this girl?” Matteo said nothing, but nodded the slightest. “I know the rumors aren’t true right now, but I really need you to tell me if you think they will. The earliest Gastón and I can come up with counterattacks to protect your privacy and hers, the better. Especially since her contract with her team will drop soon.” Delfi asked, her tone a lot softer and less teasing. She’d taken his wishes seriously, and he was very grateful about it. He was in good hands if shit ever hit the fan.

Matteo dropped his bag, and sighed a quiet ‘yes’. And then turned to her, louder this time, “I don’t want anything hurtful, insulting or degrading to be said about her. The less she’s mentioned, the better. If it means we must re-sign with them, and have them write me off as a playboy, then so be it. But not a bad word about her, Delfi.”  

She smiled, her words comforting him a little. “If it’s in my hands both of you will be protected. Now, go tame your hair before your little star runs away from seeing it and turns into stone, medusa-boy.”

She was this close to picking up her phone.

The urge of checking her phone was eating her up but Luna was trying her best to avoid any type of interaction with social media in the last two nights, but it was proving to be harder than she imagined. After the news were out in the open she’d turned everything off; her phone, laptop, and tablet, burying them deep in one of Nina’s photography drawers so she wouldn’t be tempted to read her fan’s comments, or the articles magazines and newspapers were publishing on the web.

When her team called her early in the morning for a meeting, though, she knew something else had happened. They’d already discussed everything related to her retirement, and weren’t meant for another meeting for another three weeks, when she’d sign the remaining papers to break most of her commitments and contracts, with only the bigger ones left until she could find another lawyer outside of her management. Not that she didn’t trust them, but Mariano was more a “making business only” instead of “breaking business” type of lawyer.

“Still no news from Tamara?” She asked Nina beside her. Nina shook her head.

“She said she’d be meeting us there, to ask for Alzamendi and to not talk until Mariano and she were present.”

“Alzamendi?” She repeated, “does that sound familiar to you?”

“I think I might have an idea.” Nina admitted. Luna looked expectantly at her, urging her to tell her. “Pedro’s girlfriend, Delfina Alzamendi, is a head manager here.”

She frowned. “But she’s in the entertainment business, not in sports. Why would she cite us here?” Her eyes widened, “you don’t think…”

Nina shook her head rapidly. “No, no, no. Tamara’s better than that, she knows you don’t want to enter acting, she wouldn’t do that to you. I was thinking more that maybe one of Delfina’s clients could be involved.”

“But why would Ámbar contact me vía my manager? She has our house number, and Simón’s and yours.” Nina looked at her funny, confusing her. “What?”

“I’m not talking about Ámbar, L. I think this is about Matteo.”

His name made her scowl. She still hadn’t forgiven him for hanging up on her without an explanation, or a goodbye, and the guy had sent her to voice mail after she tried calling him back.

“He has my number too.” Not that he cared to use it again. Boys were stupid.

By now Nina looked amused, but grimaced after a moment. “You haven’t seen it, have you?”

“Seen what?”

Nina took her phone out of her purse, typed in her code and opened her phone’s browser. She was about to protest when she saw her type ‘sol benson matteo balsano’, but was quietened when Nina clicked on an article about Matteo being the reason she was retiring from skating.

“This. It started the morning you posted the news on Twitter and a fan replied saying you meant Matteo when you said you were following your heart. I think that’s why Delfina wants to talk to you and Tamara, because Matteo wasn’t left in the best position. People are crossing him as a controlling chauvinist.”

Luna was feeling dizzy. She had meant for the news to affect her only, but now she was dragging Matteo too. “People are saying this?”

“Mostly your fans, and uninvited activists, but yes.”

“He must hate me now, Nina.” She groaned, hiding her face with her hands. By now they were almost by the entrance desk, and a few of the people there stared her way.

“He couldn’t even if he tried, Luna, don’t worry.” Her friend cooed, squeezing her hand in comfort.

“His manager contacted mine, Nina. People don’t do that unless they’re strangers or you hate the other person.”

“I think you’re exaggerating a bit.”

“He at least has to be mad. If anyone said I’m the reason they’re quitting their career I’d be too.”

“Maybe, but not mad at you. The people saying this are mostly gossipers and fans you have no control over, Luna, don’t worry.” She nodded a couple times, trying to calm herself and the unnecessary guilt she was feeling in that moment.

When she finally felt calm enough, she dragged her feet to the lady behind the desk, asking her politely where she was supposed to go. The lady’s eyes shone with recognition, before asking her who she was meeting with; as soon as she said ‘Alzamendi’, the woman’s grin could have rivaled the Cheshire cat.

“Miss Alzamendi and Mr. Balsano are waiting in room 7. Go straight that hallway and turn left on the first corner, it should be easy to spot it, the numbers are big enough; they’re still waiting for Mr. Périda, and your team, though. Is there anything I can get you both to drink? We have black coffee – black, decaf, with milk, vanilla latte and moka, tea – chamomile, green, lemon ginger and berry sangria, hot chocolate – sweet, bitter, Spanish, Mexican, white and raw, lemonades – strawberry, mango and mint, sodas-”

Luna blinked a couple times, surprised that a) they had so many options and b) they made their receptionist learn all of them.

“Uh, do you have water?” Nina asked, interrupting the woman before she went on to list all their available sodas. The receptionist shut up immediately, pursing her lips at Nina for a second before nodding, then she looked at her, expectantly.

“A Mexican hot chocolate would be nice, thank you.”

“Anything to eat? We have a couple of restaurants delivered to us, if you’re hungry.” Before she could refuse, Tamara’s voice was heard behind them.

“Luna!” She smiled politely at her manager, nodding in greeting to Mariano. “I’ll have a latte and the sir will have black coffee, no sugar, please.” The older woman addressed the receptionist, who simply wrote it down on a little notepad. Tamara didn’t bother to thank her before she was dragging Luna – and Nina, who was grabbing her hand- towards the hallway the lady had pointed out before. “Okay, so; Matteo Balsano’s manager called me yesterday and requested to have a meeting as soon as we possibly could, that’s why I called you last minute, sorry. Are you aware of the rumors going around of you two?” Luna begrudgingly nodded, “good, I don’t have to explain it, then. Alzamendi didn’t specify why she was requesting us, but my bet is on the news hurting Balsano’s image of the perfect guy.”

“That’s what Nina told me, too.” Tamara’s eyes flickered to Nina’s.

“Good.” That’s all she said before going back to explaining. “More likely than not, they’re pissed. It could be the boy, it could be his manager, it could be the label. Or a mix of all. We already broke all magazine deals, so there’s not much we can offer to clean his name. We’re betting on his team acting up and choosing to clean it up themselves, while praying they don’t leave you dirty at all. Mariano can make up an agreement with his lawyer to even out and make it fair for both.”

“Do you think Matteo’s capable of going as far as dirtying up Luna’s name?” She could tell Nina was worried, and already feeling protective of her. Tamara shook her head.

“He doesn’t strike me as the type, but we need to be prepared for the worst-case scenario.” She told them honestly, finally stopped walking in front of a door. Before they entered, though, she looked at Luna straight on. “Listen, munchkin, when you enter that door you need to forget whatever relationship you have with the guy.” She was about to protest, but Tamara shook her head. “Just until we know where we stand. And who we stand against, okay?” She merely nodded. “Good. Are we ready?”

Matteo was sure those had been the longest – yet quickest, because he spent most of them rushing to make himself more presentable- ten minutes of his life.

The door opened, and the corner of his mouth went up at the knowing he’d see her in seconds. When she didn’t acknowledge him, the smile fell. When she sat down on one of the chairs and kept her eyes on the table, he frowned.

Was she mad at him, at the situation they were in? Was she sad? What if it hadn’t been her decision? Could that be why she looked so… not herself?

He was about to go to her when Delfi stopped him. Matteo looked at her, questioning why she’d done it, but she sent him a look that said ‘quiet’.  

“Delfina,” the woman – who was part of Luna’s team, if his guess was correct- greeted his manager, a tight smile on her face. Then she turned to him. “Mr. Balsano, nice to meet you.”

Delfi sent her a polite smile. “Tamara, Mariano, it’s always nice to see you again.” He could’ve sworn he heard the man say, ‘is it?’ under his breath. “Miss Benson, Miss Simonetti, long time no see.” Wait, she knew them?

Luna looked up from the table, throwing a quick ‘hello’ to her; her eyes flickering for the shortest time to his face, before turning down again. His frown deepened as Nina’s friend answered Delfi’s greeting, more enthusiast. “Hi, Delfi, it’s good to see you again, too. I wish it were under, uh, better circumstances, though.”

He could tell Delfina was amused at her words, if her mouth twitch was any indication. “Straight to the point, huh? Sadly, we’re waiting for Matteo’s lawyer to get here first.”

“Why isn’t he here yet?” the man asked rudely, disdain clear as water on his face. Matteo felt attacked by his tone, and jumped at Gaston’s defense.

“I’m not his only client, sorry not all of us can afford to have a clear schedule twenty-four-seven.”

Mariano raised his brows. “Ah, yes, you’re right. Real jobs keep you busy. My bad.”

Matteo scowled at him. “How would you know? You’re jobless now that your client is quitting her not so ‘real’ job, no?”

“Matteo.” Delfina warned him in a hiss, pinching his arm to keep him quiet. He noticed Luna’s blank look turning into a small grimace.

Mariano was about to retort when Luna’s manager grabbed his arm. “Don’t.” Then she turned to Delfi, “I think’s it’s for the better to start discussing the elephant in the room, sweetheart. You can always update your lawyer when he comes.”

Delfi pursed her lips at the nickname, but stood up with a nod. “Fine. I don’t think I have to explain why we’re here exactly.”

“You understand this is not Miss Benson’s fault, right? This was a matter taken out of context by their fans and the media.” The man’s tone wasn’t exactly condescending, but even Matteo felt like he was trying to teach Delfi how to do her job.

Still, Delfi remained as calm as she could. “We do, as I’m sure you understand your client’s choices shouldn’t taint my client’s image, no?”

“He’s as tainted as you can get them. Aren’t ‘playboy’, ‘heartthrob’, and ‘ladies man’ nice ways of saying man-whore?” Matteo heard small gasps around him, but he was too shocked at the insult to notice whose gasps were from. Mariano looked smug. “If anything, he is the reason they assume conclusions. If your client didn’t have the image he has, our client wouldn’t have linked to him in the first place.”

That was enough for his friend to snap. “If your client had been properly trained to do interviews without making a mess we wouldn’t be in this situation at all!”

“Those articles had died down until both your clients chose to approach ours at a public event knowing there would be photographers all over the place! How’s that for trained?”

“Enough, Mariano!” His partner shut him up. The woman had the decency of looking ashamed. Delfi and him, though? They were pissed. “I’m really sorry, guys. This is not at all what we came here for and I apologize for my-”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Tamara.” Delfi interrupted her, “he does.”

Mariano pursed his lips, but spit out the apology anyway. “I’m sorry for the way I behaved just now.” Matteo clenched his jaw, moving his gaze to Luna, who looked mad, too. At whom, though, he didn’t know.

“As you know, all our news deals are broken. We have no control, or stance to negotiate with them anymore. So-”

“So, you want us to fix it for you? Is that it? Why should we, after the stunt your team just pulled?” Matteo almost growled, his anger rolling in waves through his body.

Tamara grimaced. “I was hoping we could make an agreement. I know we-” she pointed to Mariano and herself, “-haven’t behaved as we should. But this isn’t about us only.” She looked at Luna, whose frown and pursed lips were more evident now than before.

At last, she fixated her eyes on his.

“I’m not asking you to do anything for me.”

Matteo sighed out, “Luna-”

“No. Listen, if your image-” she scowled at the word, “- is so important to you I can ask Jazmín or someone else to interview me and I’ll tell them the truth.” Matteo almost choked up. Where was she getting at?

“The truth?” Delfi repeated, expectant.

Luna’s friend looked worried, now. “Lu- Sol, please-”

She looked at him, her eyes not wavering for a moment. “Y’know, that you’re not the reason of my decision. I’m sure your fans will be shocked to hear you’re not the center of my universe.”

“Luna, plea-” Nina tried to gain her attention, but she still didn’t move her gaze from him.

“And I’m sure they’ll be glad to know we’re not dating, much less friends.”

Had he been punched? He felt himself getting his breath knocked out of him. He barely heard her friend warning her. “Luna, stop. This isn’t you talking.”  

“No, let her talk.” Matteo was proud he didn’t sound as hurt as he was feeling.

“Oh, so you’re talking to me now?” her sarcasm was throwing him off. Why was she mad about him not talking to her when she basically ignored him too? “Or do I have to wait another two weeks for you to answer me again?” Oh.

Oh.

“You’re mad abou-”

“Dude, no.” Was that…? When had Gastón arrived that he didn’t even notice? He felt his friend squeeze his shoulder, before palming it a couple times. “Don’t answer that, you’ll never win that argument.” He whispered, shaking his head in Luna’s direction. Then he turned to everyone in the room. “So, what did I miss?”