#may macavoy

[shiftingmuse]

The priest felt the blush creep onto him as the woman kissed his nose. His nerves were getting the better of him, but he felt like a schoolboy with his first crush. Why, of all things, he felt like that in the position he was in made no sense. One moment he was hoping to be killed by this woman; the next he was hoping she'd shag him in his church. "Y-you're not?" Well, that should have been a bit of a relief for Joseph, but his emotions were all over the place.

"I guess having a dying priest in a church... in front of a crucifix might be overkill."

Father MacAvoy tried to joke about it before looking at the crucifix on the back wall. His hands never let go of the woman as he stood there with her. Feeling like she'd vanish if he let her go of her blouse. "Gentle." He repeated the word, not understanding what she meant by it. His eyes returned to the woman by staring at her rather than on her face. 

The question she would ask about the most sinful he'd ever been, he assumed she was speaking in a moral sense. He had already given up his confession of seeing people die before him. 

"Once..." He answered her as he brought one of his hands away from her side to touch the woman's neck. A faint smile came to the priest as she wiped away her lipstick.

"Her name was Rebecca, and she was the first testament tae my faith." 

Joseph had wanted to be a priest since the death of his mother, but she had been the one who tried to end that for him. "If ye want tae take my virtue that's passed truly, she took it long before ye came along." His hand moved from Hiero's neck to grasp the whisp of the woman's blonde curls. "As a priest, I've had nae one for almost thirty years." He says those words, making him feel weak as his eyes come to meet hers again.

"I'm nae certain I'll be the best lover; I don't even remember what it feels like tae be with another person." 

『✣』 Hierophant laughed at his protestations. It was not cruel or mocking, the way her other displays of mirth had been. It was not a performative sound. She wrinkled her nose, her laugh soft and affectionate — almost sweet.

❝ 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑�� 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄 𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍' 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐆, ❞ she cooed, kissing the tip of his nose the way one might with a squirming puppy.

❝ 𝐈 𝐀𝐈𝐍'𝐓 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐖𝐒, ❞ she grinned, half-teasing and half-sincere. ❝ 𝐈 𝐀𝐈𝐍'𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐍' 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄. 𝐈 𝐖𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐘𝐀 𝐔𝐏. 𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐄. 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐀 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐁𝐎𝐘. 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐄. ❞

His kiss had been inexperienced, but no man — not even Lothario himself — would have been able to match his honest, raw desire. Her fingers against the side of his neck, she had felt the rapid fluttering of his pulse and the vibrations of his helpless groans. There was charm in his naivety, in his excitement over something as simple as a deep kiss. When she really had her hands on him, how quickly would he melt for her?

She let him pull away, though part of her wanted to sink her claws in like a lioness going for the kill. Good Lord, if he kept saying that he wanted her, she'd soon be as wrapped around his finger as he was around hers.

❝ 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍, 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑? ❞ she asked, wiping a smudge of her lipstick off the corner of his mouth with her thumb. ❝𝐃𝐈𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑? 𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐎 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐀' 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐘? ❞

[neil-gaiman]

Dear Neil, I'm telling you this story in hopes it may amuse you.

The first time I read How Much for Just the Planet?, I recognized Peter and Diane.

The second time I read it, probably, I recognized Janet Kagan. I was and am a lifelong Star Trek fan; I had read lots of other Trek novels, along with tons of fantasy and sf.

It probably took me twenty years to realize that "Ilen the Magian" was that guy in the black leather jacket that so many of my friends thought was a good writer--because I never got into comics.

So now I know which Neil "wanted a walk-on" in the funniest Star Trek novel ever written. And I really enjoyed watching Good Omens and The Sandman, and listening to the BBC audio of Neverwhere with James Macavoy and Natalie Dormer.

It does indeed amuse me.

Have you read Mike Ford's wonderful novel Aspects yet?

[shiftingmuse]

Uncertainty Verse; Father MacAvoy

Joseph MacAvoy was very young when he thought to become a priest. His mother, of course, had raised him Catholic in the beginning, and his father gave him the choice of continuing. After the death of his mother, his father found faith in the bottle, and Joseph found him in God. Most of his life he spent without a real ideal home once his father became too ill to help himself. He spent a lot of his youth living with family members, and his one constant was the Lord. 

There were many times when his faith was tested; he had come close to marrying in his days at university. The woman he had been close to left him for someone better suited for her life than a man of God, as well as the idea of desiring people who did not suit the Catholic faith's image, 

It took MacAvoy a few years to be chosen for his studies, and then five years of study in both philosophy and theology. Even before he could work as a deacon in the church before his ordainment.

Father Joseph MacAvoy had been a priest for roughly ten years of his life when his faith began to break down. His father died when he was 35, just five years after he had his first parish. At that point, the priest had a troubling time with his faith. The reality that he was the only child and only son to be able to pass on his family name hit him harder than it should. Being a priest had meant so much to him in his younger days that finally having it all made him feel as if it was all for nothing. 

Joseph clung to his parish at the beginning of his descent; he had created a well-enough support group at his church without anyone realizing the truth. It wasn't until he was shifted to Middleburgh that everything became more of a hindrance. He had taken to drinking when he was alone, questioning God's plan for him and his own identity.

When the tournament happened, he was 42 and five years into his worst habits. He had taken up drinking, even at the desire of other people when it called for it. Most of the town looked down on the priest, considering his actions, but none seemed to try and understand why he was as he was. The priest had awakened in the pub on the worst day of his life, when hell itself came to earth. Only to end the day with blood on his hands and a woman's life hanging in the balance. 

Three years later, when he believed the worst of his days were behind him, A sober man stood before his church in a state of uncertainty. "As you all know, I am three years sober, and this will be my last year here." He began with a solemn tone of voice. "When it is time to take my leave, I may not go with a place to land, and this is darkening words for me to say. Though I will be leaving to work alongside another, I have a confession." Joseph gripped his blazer with an uneasy thought.

"I do not have a long time left on this earth. It would seem I am ill, and it hurts me to inform you all that I am dying. I do not have a great chance of having a successful recovery considering my condition. I must accept the Lord's good grace and my doctor's words about everything. If a transplant can occur, it will more than likely be further off than I would hope for." The members of the church were shocked but also understanding. It was not easy for the man to stand there and let them know he was not long for the world.

"With this confession, I would like to pray, not for my recovery but for all of your understanding and support over the past few years. It has meant a lot to me." 

…and they would pray, and Father MacAvoy would break all over again. 

[beeeinyourbonnet]

Covetous | Chapter 3

Rating: E

Pairing: Macelle (Father MacAvoy x Belle) or Nostelle (Nosty x Belle), who is to say which

Summary: Father Joseph MacAvoy wakes up in a library across town with no idea of how he got there. When the kind librarian doesn’t kick him out immediately, he considers that maybe there’s more to life than alcohol.

[chapter 1] [chapter 2]

Notes: I’m setting this as though The Tournament never took place and MacAvoy just contined on his downward spiral. This will not have spoilers for The Tournament but it will have spoilers for Safe, kind of. Also, I’m sorry for my poor geography. Pretend anything geographic that doesn’t make sense makes sense :’)

tws: alcoholism, homelessness. If I missed a warning, I’m so sorry–please let me know and I will add it ASAP!

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

In the light of a new day, some of Belle’s fever had abated. She was acting like a silly schoolgirl instead of an adult with her dream job to fulfill her.

After unlocking the library door, she turned to wave at the man in his wheelchair who always sat outside the convenience store across the way.

“Morning!” she called. 

“Morning!” 

“I’m about to make some coffee, do you want some?” 

He raised what she knew to be his change cup in agreement, and she turned back into the library. That’s how it should be—Belle should just help people as best she could and then not dwell on them forever.

It was hard, though, when the person you couldn’t stop thinking about had been coming into your library for six months now and always made you laugh and treated you better than anyone else ever had. 

“Except,” Belle muttered to herself, almost dropping the coffee filters in her agitation, “Except it’s not very kind to say you’ll be somewhere and then never show up. One might argue that that’s a dealbreaker.”

One might. She scooped coffee grounds into the urn. One might also argue that Nosty showing up at all was a good thing, and she should be worried instead of angry that he hadn’t last night. 

Belle didn’t need to have that argument with herself though because no matter what, she began worrying about Nosty the second he left her field of vision and didn’t stop until he returned, whole and unbloodied. 

She paused in her scooping, staring at the pile of grounds. In all of her internal dialoguing, she’d lost count. It was looking the way it usually looked, so she added two more scoops for good measure and then set it to brew.

She should think about Father MacAvoy. The chances that he hadn’t gone home and immediately had a drink were low, but she hoped he’d at least considered getting help. Perhaps if she’d known him better, she’d have volunteered to sit vigil by his bedside for the first few nights, but she barely knew him at all. 

What would her father say if he knew about the company she kept? “Belle’s always been happy with her books,” he used to say to his friends. “My odd little girl.”

Her heart panged. She missed her father. But maybe she hadn’t always been happy with her books. Maybe she’d always needed more, and now she’d passed all the stages in life where people made friends. What would Nosty say? That she was filling the void with strays.

The coffee finished and she made a cup for her friend across the street, grabbing a banana and packet of biscuits she knew he liked as well. 

She headed back to her office, forcing herself not to scan her surroundings constantly on the hunt for Nosty. He would come back eventually. He always did.

Apparently, he already had. The food she’d left for him, labeled with his name, was missing from the fridge, and the bottle of fabric spray she kept for him was on her desk instead of in the cabinet. Was he lurking around somewhere, or had he come in the night and left before she arrived?

She ignored the sting of that thought. Nosty could have been in the building still—he may have been loud and brash, but if he didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be. 

With a groan, Belle flung herself into her chair. If only she’d made friends with reliable schedules in grad school, then maybe she could just do good deeds and go home without getting attached to anyone. 

An echoing groan answered her from the closed bathroom and Belle yelped, feet carrying her from the chair before she had the conscious thought. Maybe Nosty was here, lying injured on the bathroom floor.

When she pushed the door open, though, she almost wasn’t surprised to find Father MacAvoy curled up by the trashcan, barely conscious.

****

Of course, she had no way of knowing what either man had been thinking last night. Had Father MacAvoy come and eaten Nosty’s food, then collapsed on her bathroom floor? Somehow, she doubted that. Perhaps Nosty had come with the intention of waiting for her, seen Father MacAvoy, and left. 

Who knew?

All Belle could say was that there was an unconscious priest on her bathroom floor and food gone from her fridge. Sitting at the empty circulation desk and pretending to work was easier than untangling whatever she was feeling, so she busied herself with filling an online cart with dresses she could never afford so she could pretend that someday, she’d do more than live paycheck to paycheck. 

She felt like she might be within her rights to be angry with both of them—Nosty for his disappearing act and Father MacAvoy for, well, the exact opposite. All she felt was confused. 

After about half an hour, she filled a paper cup with water from the cooler and headed back to the bathroom. Father MacAvoy sat against the wall now, head tilted back and eyes closed.

“Father?” she whispered, and he startled awake.

“Belle.” He looked all around, finally settling on the water in her hand. “I didn’t expect—”

Belle waited for him to finish and, when he didn’t, she handed him the water.

“You’re welcome here any time, Father.” 

He mumbled something, accepting the water with a quick nod of thanks. She didn’t have the energy to ask him to repeat himself. 

“Are you hungry?”

He shook his head. She wasn’t surprised. 

“I’ll be out front,” she said. “You can come find me when you feel better.”

He nodded, not meeting her eyes, and she ruffled his hair to show she wasn’t mad before heading back out.

****

She could have sworn that hours passed before she looked at the clock again, but it had somehow only been another thirty minutes. A few retirees had wandered in and checked out some books, but this early in the morning on a weekday meant that there was little to distract Belle from her own thoughts.

Every time the door moved, she perked up, but of course it was never Nosty. She still wasn’t fully certain he wasn’t somewhere in the building. 

A few minutes later, she turned at a shuffling sound and found Father MacAvoy shambling toward her, hand shielding his eyes from the overhead lights. 

“Good morning!” she said much more cheerfully than she felt.

“Morning.” He leaned on the front of the desk like it was the only thing holding him up. “I’m so sorry, Belle. I thought I passed out in bed.”

“It’s fine.” 

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing, and she plastered her bright smile on. “What’s wrong?”

And just like that, the floodgates she’d been holding in all morning—so stupid, what was there even to cry about?—broke, and her eyes filled. She bit her cheek to keep it at that, but soon Father MacAvoy was stumbling around the desk to pat her clumsily on the shoulder.

“There, there,” he said, and she had to laugh. This was what a priest was supposed to do, and yet it felt so awkward and unnatural.

She reached for a tissue and found that Father MacAvoy was already holding one out to her. After dabbing at her eyes with care for her mascara, she tossed it in the bin and swiveled to face him. “I’m sorry, Father, that wasn’t about you at all.”

“What was it about?” he asked gently.

She shook her head. “I’m just tired. Do you want to sit up here with me?” 

He nodded, so she found him a chair and pulled it up behind the desk with her, bringing a water bottle as well. 

He leaned back in his chair, and she didn’t have the energy to pretend that she hadn’t been clothes shopping, so she went back to it.

“That one’s nice,” he said when she’d scrolled past a page of evening gowns. She opened it in a new window and tried not to grimace. It was floor-length and full-sleeved purple satin. In theory, it wasn’t bad, but Belle couldn’t imagine ever wanting to wear it. 

“Very priestly of you,” she said, closing out of it. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It’s dark and all-covering.”

He snorted. “Fine. What would you pick out?”

Belle hadn’t been intrigued by anything on that page, so she clicked through a few more and then stopped, bringing up a sleeveless golden a-line with lace paneling. 

“If I was rich and got invited to benefits that cost more than my rent, I’d wear this.”

Father MacAvoy didn’t speak, and when she turned to him, he cleared his throat.

“It’s lovely,” he said. “Elegant.”

She smiled. “I think so.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” He pointed his chin at the screen. “All these dresses cost at least a month’s rent.”

She shook her head. “Just trying to take my mind off of things.”

“I am a priest, you know,” he said. “You can talk to me, even if I am disgraced.”

She clicked through a few more pages, not even looking at anything, then closed the window. It would be nice to have someone to talk to. Though she was friendly with some of her coworkers, it wasn’t like she could tell any of them about Nosty. Besides, she was their boss.

“I’m worried,” she said. She glanced over her shoulder at him, so he gestured for her to continue. “About Nosty.”

“Ah.” 

She swallowed, having nothing to fiddle with now that she’d closed the window. 

“Why are you worried?” he prompted.

She folded her arms, hugging them to her chest. “I never know when he’ll show up or what he does when he’s gone. Is he not here because he just isn’t, or is he not here because he’s hurt? Or worse?”

“It’s tough,” he said. “Caring about someone who’s never safe.” 

“I wish—” She paused, not sure what she wanted to say yet. 

“You wish?”

“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “He has a hard life. It’s not fair for me to put my feelings on him.”

“It’s okay. You can have feelings.” He leaned toward her, lowering his voice. “I won’t tell anyone.”

It was almost comforting to talk to him without being able to see his face. Was this what confession was like? 

“I just wish I knew if he cared about me, I guess,” she said. “If he knows that it bothers me when I don’t know where he is, or if that’s just who he is.”

“I’m sure he cares about you,” Father MacAvoy said. “Who wouldn’t?”

Belle chuckled without humor. “That’s very kind of you to say, Father, but I’ve always been odd, and it’s only once I grew into being conventionally attractive that anyone ever gave me the time of day. So, to answer your rhetorical question, most people wouldn’t.”

“Well, from where I’m sitting, being conventionally attractive isn’t even close to your best quality,” Father MacAvoy said. 

Belle’s cheeks pinked, and she looked down at her lap. “Thank you, Father,” she said. “That’s very kind of you.”

“Please,” he said. “Call me Joseph. I feel like an imposter when you call me Father.”

The pink flush in her cheeks deepened, guilt creeping along the back of her neck. She wasn’t Catholic—or even religious—but she felt like she’d be committing a sin to use his name. Still, he’d asked her directly. It would be rude to call him “Father” now.

“Okay,” she said. “Joseph.”

She glanced at him, thinking he’d been watching her, but his eyes were unfocused, staring off into space. 

“What is it?” she asked. 

He shook his head, settling back into the present. “Nothing. I just—haven’t been called by my own name in a long time.”

****

Father MacAvoy—Joseph—was good company, even during the after school rush, even when he got sick again in withdrawal. Belle felt less alone just having him sitting there. Maybe what she’d needed all along was companionship, not Nosty specifically. Maybe, when she went home tonight, she’d worry about him a normal amount that a person would worry for a friend.

A hot, anxious pit settled in her stomach. It was Friday. Belle didn’t work weekends. That meant she wouldn’t even have a chance of seeing Nosty until Monday. Even if she came in her off time, sat in a chair for every open hour, he wouldn’t be there. He knew when she worked, and even though the weekend staff knew about the snack cart, they wouldn’t have taken kindly to him entering from the back door, taking over Belle’s office, making himself a sandwich.

“Belle?” Joseph poked his head into her office. She realized she’d stopped packing up her bag and was just standing there, frozen with worry over Nosty. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll just be a minute.” Maybe, to keep her mind off things this weekend, she could lock herself in Joseph’s church and scrub it from top to bottom. There was enough dust and grime to keep her mind off of everything. 

“I’ll be outside, unless you need help?” 

She shook her head. “No, no, you go.”

He eyed her like he didn’t quite believe her, but she slapped her bright smile on and he left. Just to make sure Nosty hadn’t been hiding in her office this whole time, she shoved everything into her purse and did a sweep of every possible hiding spot—closet, cabinet, shower, toilet. Nosty was nowhere.

She turned out the lights and stood in the dark for a few seconds, thinking maybe he’d appear from the shadows. When nothing happened, she sighed, locking up her office when she left. 

As she walked out, she shut lights off. When she’d first started, closing the library had scared her, but now she relished the quiet, loved the way it felt like tucking her home in for bed. Some low lights stayed on all the time, and the gentle dim light centered her, made her feel a little more like she could survive the weekend.

Then, a hand snaked out from between two shelves and grabbed her, and she yelped as Nosty yanked her into his chest.

****

For a second, all she could do was stare up at him, one wrist caught in his hand while the other rested on his shirt pocket.

“Nosty,” she said, because she didn’t know what else to say. It wasn’t like he never disappeared. It wasn’t like it was even unusual for her to not see him for a day and a half. The only unusual part was that she’d pined for him like he’d been lost at sea.

“Evening, sweetheart,” he growled. She didn’t give her knees permission to turn to jelly at the sound of his voice, but they did it anyway. 

“What are you doing here?” 

He lowered her hand to his chest and then slipped both arms around her, holding her against him. “Didn’t you miss me?” 

“You said you’d come last night.” That was it, wasn’t it? For the first time, he’d said something definite, and it had been a lie.

He pulled her closer, and she curled into him. How could she ever explain to anyone that Nosty’s arms were the safest place she’d ever known, even as she wanted to rip herself away from them and scream?

“You were busy,” he said. 

She didn’t understand why he was so jealous of a priest. He should have been proof that Joseph was not her type.

“Have you been here all day?” she asked. “Or did you just come in?”

He ducked his head to kiss her on the temple, soft, the way his first kiss always was. She stiffened her traitorous jelly knees. 

“I’m here now.” He kissed below her eye. “What’s it matter?”

She pushed against his arms, holding herself away from his chest. “You’ve been here all day, haven’t you? I’ve been losing my mind wondering where you were, and you were just punishing me.”

“Don’t be stupid.” He tightened his arms, pulling her closer. “I wouldn’t punish you.” 

“Then what?” She pulled his arms apart, stepping away from him. “There was no one here worth hiding from. No other employees, no huge groups of kids. Just me.”

He raised both hands, and she noticed a new cut on the heel of his palm. It didn’t look like a knife wound, but she wondered how he got it anyway. 

“If I’d known this was the fucking welcome I’d get, I wouldn’t have bothered, hey?” 

“Oh my god.” Belle pressed her hands over her eyes because if she continued to look at him, she’d let him talk her out of being angry. “Oh my god, I’m going crazy.”

“Aye, fucking mad.” 

She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut harder. “I can’t do this, Nosty. I can’t spend every minute you’re not here out of my mind with worry, pining after you, wondering when you’ll bother to throw me a crumb, I can’t.” 

Rough hands—hands she knew wielded knives, became fists, bruised, beat, battered—closed around hers, easing her palms off her eyes. 

She watched Nosty as he pulled her hands to him, pressing one to his heart and the other to his lips.

“I have to go,” she said. “Father MacAvoy needs a ride home.” 

She didn’t move as he kissed her knuckles one at a time. He held her hands so gently, she could have gotten away with no effort. 

“Don’t go,” he murmured into her fingers.

“Nosty—”

“I was jealous.” He switched to her other hand, this time pressing his lips to the inside of her wrist. Something loosened in her chest. 

“And?” she said.

“I didn’t want to fuck it all up.”

 It was the most honest thing he’d ever said with words. She wanted to fall into him.

“I was worried about you,” she said. 

“Don’t go,” he said again. “Belle, don’t go.” 

He kissed up her arm and she wanted to stay. God, did she want to stay. But she’d already left Joseph outside for too long. He would worry.

“I have to,” she said. 

“Fuck him,” Nosty growled, scraping his teeth along her wrist. Her knees would never be the same again. “Stay with me.”

“Come to my flat.” The words were out before she could stop them, and then she couldn’t take them back. She didn’t want to anyway—if Nosty was at her flat, she wouldn’t have to worry about him. 

“Your flat, eh?” He wrapped her arms around his neck, cradling her around the waist again. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous to invite a monster over the threshold?”

“Then come to the cinema with me.” A horrible, desperate feeling dwelled in her chest, but she met his bright eyes anyway. “Spend time with me.”

“The cinema?” He glanced around the dark library. “In public?”

“Tonight.” 

He narrowed his eyes, searching her face for who knew what. She didn’t know whether he found it or not when he closed his eyes and touched his forehead to hers.

“Why?” 

Wrapping her finger around one of his locks, she took the opportunity to kiss the corner of his mouth while his eyes were closed. It always felt like Nosty had her at his mercy, that she was helpless to do anything but follow where he led. Relishing this moment of being the one leading, she kissed the other corner. He opened his eyes.

“I want to go on a date with you,” she said. 

“You’re mad,” he said, then snorted when she tugged on his hair. 

“You’re the one who kissed me first.”

“Aye.” 

He kissed her then, one hand clutching the back of her head, fingers tangled in her curls. When he pulled away, the only thing holding her upright was his other arm around her waist. 

“Stay with me here,” he hissed into her lips.

“Go on a date with me.” 

He pulled back just enough to search her face again, and she tried to mimic the grin he gave her when he was pretending to be mean. He must have recognized it because he snorted.

“Fine,” he said. “A date it is.” 

“Really?” she asked before she could stop herself. She didn’t want him to change his mind.

“Really, love.” He brought his mouth to her neck and pressed a tiny, fluttering kiss to her pulse. “But you’ll owe me.”

He bit down, and her knees buckled, but even her trembling limbs couldn’t stop her happy laugh.

****

MacAvoy hadn’t actually seen Nosty, but he’d seen what he thought was the edge of his kilt, and even though he didn’t relish the idea of sharing Belle with him right now, he’d spent all day watching her wilt. How could he do anything other than give them a minute alone?

The minute turned into five, ten, and MacAvoy realized he should have brought a water bottle with him. His head pounded and the soup he’d forced down at lunch was starting to speak to him from beyond the grave.

Then Belle scurried out of the library, flushed and happy, and his stomach calmed a fraction.

“I’m so sorry.” She rushed around in her heels, unlocking the Ford as she did, and MacAvoy collapsed into the passenger seat.

“No need,” he said. “You look happy.”

She beamed at him as she threw herself into the driver’s side, but didn’t say anything more. He was glad that Nosty had turned her mood around, though he hoped he wasn’t just stringing her along. She deserved someone who would actually be there for her.

Someone like you, you sot? the mean little voice in his head sneered. He clenched his teeth, watching her back out of the little parking lot.

“You know,” Belle said as she checked behind her. “I’m not happy the circumstances, but I’m so grateful you were here today.”

He stared at her, taken aback. No one had been grateful for his presence since the last time he officiated a wedding, and who knew what year that was? They probably weren’t even that grateful because he was surely tipsy, if not wasted. 

“Why?” 

She shrugged. “I really needed a friend.” 

He didn’t know which was more unbelievable—that a good samaritan like Belle considered him a friend, or that he’d somehow managed to make a friend simply by blacking out drunk in her place of work. God, if it was that easy to befriend someone, why was he so fucking lonely?

“Me too,” he said. 

“So,” she said. “Are you going to drink tonight?”

Cutting right to the chase then. MacAvoy swallowed. “I don’t know.”

“You seemed better today.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t drink as much last night. That’s why I really thought I passed out in bed, I swear.”

“It’s okay.” She reached over the console and squeezed his shoulder. He wondered vaguely if it was possible to evaporate.

“It won’t happen again.”

“I’d rather find you in my library than read your obituary in the paper.”

“Well,” he looked out the window to hide the redness in his cheeks, “Doubt you’d find my obituary in your paper. I’m on the other side of London.”

“I’d find out.”

They sat in silence, still comfortable, but MacAvoy felt more tense. Of course he would ruin the atmosphere. 

“Just so you know, I don’t work weekends,” she said. “So try not to show up in the library until Monday, okay?”

He paled. What if his drunk brain forgot and someone else found him there? What if that person called the police? 

“Are you holding mass on Sunday?” she asked.

That startled a humorless laugh out of him. “This Sunday? Doubt it.”

Belle turned the radio on, and he couldn’t have felt guiltier if she’d flogged him. She was doing him such a kindness and he couldn’t even answer her nicely?

“No one would come,” he said.

“How do you know if you don’t hold it?”

He watched London go by out the window, considering. If he was honest, he didn’t want to hold mass. He was so out of practice, what would he even say?

“I’m not ready yet,” he said. 

One hand still on the wheel, she reached over and squeezed his hand. He swallowed, and he was sure she could hear his throat open and close. 

The whole drive to the church, even when they talked about mass or drink, Belle all but glowed. A sudden, horrible thought appeared—what if she and Nosty had been ten minutes because they’d been—

He shook his head to clear the thought, regretting it when everything inside of him sloshed angrily. He refused to even imagine that Belle’s mood would be so turned around by a quick hookup hiding out in the middle of the library. His training told him to insist that she not even entertain thoughts of sex until marriage, and he knew that wasn’t modern, but he could at least hope for Belle’s intimate moments to be in a comfortable bed with someone who loved her and didn’t just string her along like a rag doll.

She pulled into the parking lot but again didn’t get out of the car. “What will you do all weekend?”

Surprised, he shrugged. “I don’t know. Why?”

She dug through her purse, coming up with a piece of receipt and a pen, and then scribbled something on it before handing it to him. “If you get bored or need a friend, please call me. I promise I don’t have a social life you’ll be interrupting. Well—” She flushed, beaming again. He wished he could make her look like that. “Don’t call me tonight.”

“Big plans?” he asked, shoving away thoughts of Belle screaming Nosty’s name. He needed a drink. Maybe a vomit.

“I hope so.”

To his surprise, Belle pecked him on the cheek before he got out of the car. Was that a common thing for her, or was it just because of her good mood?

“Oh, Joseph!” she called, rolling down her window.

“Aye?”

“On Monday, maybe come to the library when it’s open instead of in the dead of night?”

Feeling both appreciated and chastised, he nodded his assent, then waved as she pulled out and zipped off. 

As he shuffled his way into the barren church, he could no longer run from his own thoughts. He saw Belle pressed against the shelves, clothes torn by Nosty’s rough, violent hands. He couldn’t jog to his room fast enough to escape the vision of Belle’s bare leg hiked up on Nosty’s waist, breasts pressed to him, head thrown back in ecstasy.

Why? He’d been plagued by his demons for years, why were they coming for him now, like this? He’d always preferred the temptation of vice to the temptation of sex. Sex involved other people, but drink? He could ruin himself with alcohol all on his own, and he had. Couldn’t the devil just leave it at that?

He whispered a mantra of vodka, whiskey, gin over and over, but even that couldn’t quash the reel playing out in his mind, and as he shook off the day’s clothes and flopped onto bed, he imagined Nosty readying his cock, twice the size of Joseph’s own and ready to plunder.

What did it say about him that he didn’t even feature in his own sexual fantasies? Was this even a fantasy, or just a horrible waking nightmare?

The bottle of backup-vodka lay on the nightstand where he’d left it, still two-thirds full. He gulped it down, the burn in his throat finally clearing his mind. 

The truth was he was happy for Belle that she had someone who made her happy, even if it was Nosty. At least, he wished that was the truth.

With a groan, he set the bottle back on his nightstand. He’d need to ration it, or he might be seeing Nosty’s ever-growing cock all weekend.

[Chapter 4]

[her-storybooks]

♥ Rumplestiltskin and Belle Master list ♥

Ah my first tumblr ship! The one that started it all. Here are is the master list for the ship that started all ships! Enjoy

Smut = 🔥 Romance = 💖 Fluff = 🌸 Angst = 🌧 Prompt = ✨

Rushbelle - Too Late 🔥 woodelf68 prompt: Too late, the crew realise that a new foodstuff they had gathered on a planet and have all eaten has aphrodisiac properties. Heightened libidos all around. I just loved this prompt and couldn't wait until to get started with it! Enjoy!

Rumbelle - A Deal with a Stranger ✨💖 Dark!Belle, hope, magic, deal, knight. Whilst running away to protect his son being sent to the Ogre's war, Baelfire and Rumpelstiltskin bump (quite literally) into a beautiful stranger. She may be able to help them.

Belle/MacAvoy - Angel is the Centerfold 💖✨ Prompted by MintIceTea for RSS 2015: Angel is the Center fold. Belle/Macavoy Oh minty! here we are!! I really hope you like your gift!!!! MERRY CHRISTMAS LOVELY/BEAUTIFUL/SMART HUMAN BEING/ALIEN ;)

Rumbelle - The Kiss of a Witch 💖✨ PROMPTED FROM ANONYMOUS: Belle is a witch and the Dark one needs something with her blood or her lips...

[a-monthly-rumbelling]

Summer Quarter Prompts

Apologies that these are a week late in coming, life has been a little bit crazy of late.  However, here are the prompts for May, June and July.

Please try not to post until it’s the correct month somewhere in the world. This helps to avoid confusion.

As is tradition, prompt reminders will appear at the beginning of each respective month, and halfway points and one week out reminders will also appear. So, without further ado…

May

Moodboard

Non-smut: Two people have to survive a natural disaster together.

Smut: cylinder, unlikely

Random: (song) Ariana Grande - One Last Time

gif:

June

Moodboard

Non-smut: A group of friends go to group therapy (You can include any other ‘friend’ characters that you would like).

Smut: danger, terrify

Random: "Do you understand the words that are coming out of my mouth?" —Rush Hour (1998)

gif:

July

Moodboard

Non-smut: A perplexing pumpkin growing competition.

Smut: inn, bell

Random: Find your inspiration from any moment in Once season 7, episode 18, The Guardian

gif:

Just to remind people (though it is on the FAQ):

If the prompts are 3-5 words you don’t have to include all of them. Imaginary bonus points if you do :) but zero stress they just have to include a couple in some fashion so it fits the prompt.

If the prompt is a quote you can include it at any point, it doesn’t have to be the opening line.

If the prompt is the image moodboard (multiple images) you can be inspired by one of them, be inspired by two, be inspired by the lot, get a feeling from the thing and not one of the images specifically - it’s all good. There is no wrong way to approach this.

If the images on the moodboard are of Robert or Emilie’s non-rumbelle characters (eg Rush, Macavoy, Claire, Heiro…), don’t feel you have to use that character. They’re just there for a bit of variety.

Anyelle and anyem are welcome if you do want to use them, though!

if you are inspired by the gif prompt, similarly, your creativity is your only limit. It’ll be a real treat to see you might come up with.

I hope you have a lot of fun! I really look forward to reading and sharing what you come up with.  Happy Writing!

Questions, comments, concerns? The askbox is always open.

[jasonmacavoy]

Jason Macavoy || New Year's Eve

jason never goes within a ten block radius of times square on new years eve. therefore he skips out on the party to spend a the night in with @dilansahin at his place. the evening is complete with take-out, the expensive shit (that may or may not have fallen off the truck) & watching the ball drop on TV from the couch since he has cable now woo! perhaps he'll even be more tech savvy in the new year.

[nicoxmacavoy]

(JAKE WEARY, CIS MAN, HE/HIM) Oh, is that DOMINIC "NICO" MACAVOY? I heard the THIRTY TWO-year-old is CREATIVE. But don’t let that pretty face fool you, they are also DISLOYAL Makes sense seeing how they are a HEIST OPS in the SOCIETY gang. (LEILA)

TW: Kidnapping (in semi detail), torture, murder, death, abuse, and PTSD are all mentioned but never in detail.

BASICS

Full Name: Dominic "Nico" Kyle Macavoy

Nickname: Nico, Nic, Nicky, Mac

Age: 32

DOB: January 9th

Parents: Michelle & John Macavoy. Atticus Lynch

Siblings: Sister - Heidi Macavoy, Half-Sister -Aspen Lynch

Children: unknown

Hair color: blonde

Eye color: Blue

Height: 6'2

Tattoos: many

Scars: tbd

Piercings: ears

Sexuality: bisexual

Occupation: owner of Liberty Diner

BACKGROUND

A mistake. That's all Nico has ever known himself to be. His older sister was already in her pre-teens when he came shooting out, forcing his parents to start all over again. And when Heidi came around saying she was pregnant, their parents didn't think twice before kicking her to the curb, not wanting to raise yet another child, not with a five-year-old running around.

What Nico didn't know was that he was the product of an affair. His mother, Michelle, had a thing going on the side with Atticus Lynch the up-and-coming Lawyer.

Growing up, Nico was reminded time and time again that he was the mistake, mainly by his father. John was also riding his ass to do better in school, pursue more sports, stop wasting his time playing outside, and get serious. With Heidi running off to raise her baby, his parent's attention fell on him. Heidi was supposed to be the perfect daughter and failed, now he had to compensate for those losses.

By the time Nico turned 12, news of his sister running off and abandoning her son had set his parents off into sargent mode. His father was starting to crack down on him, declaring any bad behavior to be a disgrace to the family name and that his sister had already embarrassed them enough. They pushed him too far for someone that young.

He felt the pressure and needed release and that is when he met his best friend, Charlie Monroe. Charlie introduced him to the finer things in life and so he started using drugs and drinking. He would stay out longer, and lie to his parents. They would think he was at a school activity when really he snuck out with Charlie and his brothers to go surf on Long Island. Charlie was equally the best and worst thing to ever happen to Nico. He made him feel free but it was also his downfall.

Charlie was the son of a Monroe of the Crimsons and was sent to scope him out and befriend him. With his guard lowered one evening, playing video games turned into having a bag over his head and duck tap holding his wrists and ankles.

Nico had never felt more betrayed in his life. Charlie had made him feel something again, feel alive, like a valued human being. But he was just being used. Within the first night, he learned the real reason he was being held against his will. Ransom from Atticus Lynch. It was then that he learned he was the bastard child of the hotshot lawyer, who also didn't really care enough about him to pay it. So they did what they did best. The ruined Nico.

The first few months the Monroe's didn't know what to do with him. They couldn't just let him back. Either way, the Society was going crazy to know what had happened to him and surely he would talk. It seemed that Lynch had kept it hush, not wanting the fallback of everyone finding out that he left his own child to be condemned and tortured by another gang. So they locked him in a basement and let him sit there and rot while time passed.

After a while, he got used to being there. The Monroe's had no real purpose for him yet and the Crimsons were still discussing their options, killing him being one of the main ones. While Charlie may have betrayed him, he was also his saving grace in lock up. He would bring him food and water, but Charlie's father was a vindictive cunt and took out his frustrations on the young boy. After a year of abuse and isolation, they decided to get some use out of him.

He had small jobs to do like clean the torture tools after a kill, those took place in the very same basement he resided in. He had to listen to each agonizing scream while the targets begged for mercy. If a kill was being dragged out for days or weeks, he was tasked with keeping the person alive and treating them until the Monroe's decided it was time for the person to die. He liked the company really, having someone to talk to.

When he hit 15 they made him start administering the torturing. They were slowly training him to be their weapon. Suddenly they were feeding him more, allowing him to work out, and even gave him books to read and study. He was already doing some of that on his own but now they were giving him more specific material to learn.

All while this was going down, Nico was planning. He was using every opportunity to give him the best chance of survival. Learning the torture techniques taught him how to handle weapons and clean up after bodies, taught him how to heal his own wounds. They were creating a monster that they thought they could control but sadly they were mistaken.

By the time he was 17 Nico had gotten rather huge standing at 6 foot 2. He had spent most of his time locked up in that basement and hadn't felt the outside light in six years. But as each day passed, they slowly let their guard down whenever in their presence.

And then suddenly it hit.

The time had come when they had gotten just a bit too careless and he took his chance. And everyone died.

Charlie was the only one, not home that day and the only person in the family left breathing. And to this day, Nico has vowed to not rest until he pays for what he has done. As far as he was concerned, Dominic, the sweet caring boy, died in that basement along with his humanity.

Upon Nico's return, his family and former gang demanded answers as to where he was and what happened to him but he stayed quiet. He was not about to let anyone get a chance at finishing his own revenge. He used that time to officially pledge his loyalty to the Society and use his newfound skills to start out as a lookout for heists. He spent time learning and watching allowing him to move up. Now he was one of the senior people running the gangs heists.

PERSONALITY

Nico has suffered a lot at a young age. These are things he never really recovered from. With having mommy and daddy issues and being betrayed by the people he trusted, he refuses to form emotional attachments which results in him being flakey, uncaring, cheating, and overall emotionally unavailable. He is focused on his work, can be laid back with it, and goes with the flow but also has high expectations for his work. He suffers from PTSD from his days being a captive.

CONNECTIONS

Nephew - Jason Macavoy Half-sister - Aspen Lynch Best friend/downfall: Charlie Monre - Open, read the intro for info. The name can be changed! Exs - either guy or girl. He is extremely disloyal when it comes to relationships and would have cheated Hookups - he likes getting spicy

[sinnerssquarehq]

Welcome to Sinner's Square, may your sins purge your soul. The following applications have been accepted. Please send in your accounts within the next TWENTY-FOUR hours or the role of JAKE WEARY will be reopened. Let us know if you need more time.

(JAKE WEARY, CIS MAN, HE/HIM) Oh, is that DOMINIC "NICO" MACAVOY? I heard the THIRTY TWO year old is CREATIVE. But don’t let that pretty face fool you, they are also DISLOYAL Makes sense seeing how they are a HEIST OPS in the SOCIETY gang. (LEILA)

[vidoggytv-blog]

Atonement est-il un bon film ?

Atonement est un film poignant et fascinant qui aborde la complexité des relations entre une mère et son fils. Une exploration réaliste et exaltante des conséquences psychologiques difficiles d'une mère aimante qui se retrouve confrontée à un dilemme moral. Venez découvrir ce chef-d'œuvre et trouver la réponse à la question : L’Expiation est-il un bon film ?   Expiation . Atonement propose des performances solides, une cinématographie brillante et une partition unique. Avec des performances habiles de James MacAvoy et Keira Knightley, c'est une adaptation réussie du roman de Ian McEwan.   En gardant cela à l'esprit, le film Atonement est-il une histoire vraie ? Il n'y a qu'un film , le film " Atonement " que vous et moi avons regardé. Le livre de Briony - dans le contexte de l' histoire fictive de McEwan - est réel : Briony a écrit un livre, essentiellement juste nous le voyons sur l'écran jusqu'au point où Briony prend le métro. De même, Robbie meurt-il dans un film d'expiation ? Cecilia et Robbie n'ont jamais été réunis: Robbie est mort de septicémie à Dunkerque le matin du jour où il devait être évacué, et Cecilia est décédée des mois plus tard dans l'attentat à la bombe de la station de métro Balham pendant le Blitz. Briony espère donner aux deux, dans la fiction, le bonheur qu'elle leur a volé dans la vraie vie. A côté de cela, le film Atonement a-t-il une fin heureuse ? C'est la tâche qu'il lui a confiée. Mais à la fin , nous savons que Robbie n'a rien dit à Briony; il est mort à la guerre. Briony lui a donné une fin heureuse - donc l' expiation , c'est l'effort de refaire le passé et de réparer ce qu'elle a fait dans l'imagination, même si elle ne pouvait pas dans la vraie vie. De quoi parle le film Atonement ? Ce drame anglais radical, basé sur le livre de Ian McEwan, suit la vie des jeunes amants Cecilia Tallis (Keira Knightley) et Robbie Turner (James McAvoy). Lorsque le couple est déchiré par un mensonge construit par la jeune sœur jalouse de Cecilia, Briony (Saoirse Ronan), ils doivent tous les trois faire face aux conséquences. Robbie est le plus durement touché, car la tromperie de Briony entraîne son emprisonnement, mais l'espoir pour Cecilia et son compagnon augmente lorsque leurs chemins se croisent pendant la Seconde Guerre mondiale. 28 réponses aux questions connexes trouvées Pourquoi Briony ment-elle dans Atonement ? Pourquoi Briony ment-elle dans Atonement ? Briony a le béguin pour Robbie (comme révélé plus tard dans le film et par la scène dans laquelle elle saute dans la rivière pour voir s'il la sauverait). Elle est remplie de rage quand elle le voit faire l'amour avec sa soeur Cecilia. Pourquoi Briony accuse-t-elle Robbie ? Ayant grandi avec Léon, Briony et Cecilia, il connaît bien la famille. Il a fréquenté l'Université de Cambridge avec Cecilia et quand ils rentrent en vacances, ils tombent amoureux. Robbie est envoyé en prison lorsque Briony l' accuse à tort d'avoir violé Lola. Pourquoi l'expiation a-t-elle été fixée en 1935 ? Le décor est donc planté pour Atonement , l'adaptation cinématographique du roman de 2001 de Ian McEwan. Le film tourne autour des fantasmes et du besoin de drame de Briony, et de la seule erreur pour laquelle elle est trop vieille pour être complètement pardonnée. À l'été 1935 , la maison Tallis attend les invités du week-end. Pourquoi McEwan a-t-il écrit Expiation ? Il a écrit Expiation avec une peur intense ainsi qu'avec excitation. Il savait qu'il explorait un nouveau terrain, un autre pays. Il considérait Atonement (la première partie) comme « mon roman de Jane Austen, mon roman de maison de campagne, mon roman d'une journée chaude ». Il savait que c'était un livre qu'il avait attendu des années pour écrire . Quand l'expiation a-t-elle été fondée ? 1935 Quel âge avait Keira dans Pride and Prejudice ? Keira Knightley avait 19 ans dans Pride & Prejudice lorsqu'elle a joué le personnage d'Elizabeth Bennet. C'était il y a plus de 14 ans, en 2005. Où la scène de plage dans Atonement a-t-elle été filmée ? Plage de Redcar Où l'expiation a-t-elle été filmée House ? Tournée sur place dans le Shropshire, en Angleterre, la maison d' Atonement est une véritable maison de famille qui continue d'être habitée aujourd'hui. Que symbolise l'eau dans l'expiation ? L'eau est une présence constante et importante à travers toute l'intrigue d' Atonement . L'eau est utilisée dans l' Expiation pour symboliser l'expiation ou l'obtention du pardon pour ses actions. Il évoque la fraîcheur, la pureté et la nouveauté propre, tout comme le fait le pardon . Que symbolise le vase dans l'expiation ? Tout au long de Ian McEwan's Atonement , le vase Meissen symbolise la destruction de plusieurs relations apparemment cassables. Le vase joue un rôle important dans le patrimoine familial des Tallis. Il était un héros de guerre pour avoir risqué sa vie pour les autres et reçoit le vase en signe de gratitude. L'expiation est-elle une tragédie ? Résumé : Le roman de Ian McEwan « Atonement » (2001) raconte une histoire imprégnée de tragédie , mais qui possède une vision grotesque. L'exploration de cette question conduira à la notion de conflit irréconciliable, composante fondamentale de la théorie du grotesque. Quel était le mensonge dans Atonement ? Les actes les plus violents de la journée se produisent hors scène, pour ainsi dire, mais le plus durablement destructeur est un mensonge raconté par Briony, un mensonge qui ruinera deux vies et éclipsera la sienne pendant des décennies. Le mensonge est, après tout, ce qu'est « l' Expiation » autant que la culpabilité, la pénitence ou, d'ailleurs, l'art. Quel âge a Cecilia dans Atonement ? Elle a 46 ans en 1935 où se déroule le premier tiers du roman. Elle est définie comme distante et hostile et semble laisser la maison Tallis être gérée par le personnel qui y est employé. Bryony est-elle une narratrice peu fiable ? Ainsi, Briony (en tant qu'auteur et en tant que narratrice de l'épilogue) n'est pas fiable non seulement parce qu'elle modifie les faits de l'histoire réelle (elle invente les retrouvailles entre elle-même, Cecilia et Robbie, par exemple) mais aussi parce qu'elle improvise les pensées et les actions du reste des personnages de la création Comment se termine le film Atonement ? Briony décide de contacter Cecilia, de lui dire qu'elle est désolée et d'aller voir les autorités pour laver le nom de Robbie. Cecilia et Robbie conviennent que Briony doit faire tout cela pour se racheter et qu'elle ne doit plus jamais les contacter. Il semble que l'histoire s'arrête là - heureusement pour les jeunes amoureux. Qui est Luc en expiation ? Dans le soldat français mourant Luc Cornet, Briony voit une vision de ce qu'aurait pu être sa vie. Comme Robbie, Luc "était un garçon adorable qui était loin de sa famille". Quand elle imagine son « avenir indisponible » avec Luc , cela rappelle au lecteur l'avenir indisponible de Cecilia avec Robbie. Briony a-t-elle jamais atteint l'expiation ? Briony parvient-elle enfin à son expiation en écrivant son histoire et en gardant ses amants et en permettant à leur amour de survivre ? La deuxième couche du thème de la culpabilité a à voir avec l'histoire de la littérature. Mis à part le crime qu'elle a commis dans son enfance, Briony se sent coupable de ses pouvoirs d'écrivain. Read the full article

[zakariaxwolfe]

Zak shrugged, "So it seems." Yeah, this was awkward. "I hope so, if she actually keeps up with it then maybe." His eyes wandered past Dilan and onto his daughter who was in a booth, coloring away on the children's page. "Uh yeah. Jason." Had Dilan not made the connection yet? Yikes. "Jason Macavoy. Uncle jay. Awkwardly, he may or may not be my best friend..." Zak looked anywhere but at her as he brought his hand up to scratch his head.

“I should be glad? Yeah that tells me it wasn’t the best experience.” She said with a small laugh before nodding her head. “She’s cute and she likes ballet? Seems to be perfect for you then.” There was something awkward about having such a casual conversation with him after all this time, but she didn’t have it in her to be rude. “It’s healed — thank you, you helped with that. Ballet takes the most time to get the technique down, after she masters that everything else will come easy.” She paused for a moment at the mention of Jay, what were the odds that he knew a completely different one that was into fighting? “Jason?” She questioned.

[mylovelydeadfriends]

May McAvoy and Ronald Colman in Lady Windermere’s Fan, 1925

[lyramarisa]

logging on for the first time in two years to say that im fucking livid

[nicoxmacavoy]

Nico's past was a tricky one. The long years he spent locked away dulled his mind. Sometimes it feels like all that shit happened to another person... until he's jolted awake by the flashbacks. His family always called him by a nickname. Nic sometimes, Nicky by his mom, and Nico by most of his family. A cousin with the same name was the reason behind this, so they had Dom and Nic, Dominic. As far as Nico was concerned, Dominic Macavoy died in that basement and Nico was left to pick up the pieces.

Not many people make the connection that the man before them is the infamous Dominic Macavoy, the twelve-year-old snatched off the street and missing for six years and that's the way they liked it. Obviously, the gangs knew just who he was, but what had happened still remained a mystery

"I'm afraid you have come to the wrong place then. Everything about tonight should make you nervous." He leaned in to whisper in her ear, "And there is definitely something lurking in the shadows." He leaned back, wight on his heels as he tipped his hat with that dashing good smile. "But I guess the pumpkin patch may be the safest bet for you."

closed starter @nicoxmacavoy // halloscream // anywhere

Work was the last thing on Francesca’s mind as she stepped into the vibrant atmosphere of the event. The energy buzzed around her, and all she wanted was to enjoy the night with friends and see what delightful surprises awaited her. Her eyes lit up like stars when she spotted Nico Macavoy across the room.

For weeks, she had been carefully laying the groundwork to unravel the mystery surrounding his abduction, all while maintaining her guise as just a kind-hearted civilian. She had managed to keep her identity as a reporter under wraps, presenting herself as someone genuinely concerned about mental health and well-being. It wasn’t a complete lie; she did care deeply about those struggling—Nico was simply the focal point of her attention.

With a playful smile, she approached him, her heart racing just a bit. “Care to help a lady out?” she said, her voice flirtatious, tinged with excitement. “I want to do something fun that won’t leave me nervous about whatever’s lurking in the dark.” The prospect of engaging with him, coupled with the thrill of the evening, ignited a spark of anticipation within her, making the night feel even more promising.

[ddagent]

“Revelations”

Robert/Devon + Bernie/Sam | The Final Girls | Family/Angst | FR18 | 2,566 words The worst has happened. Robert’s daughter is the star of her very own third-act horror.  (References to genre typical horror) FCs: Clancy Brown (Robert), Jamie Lee Curtis (Evelyn), Debrah Farentino (Devon), Adam Arkin (Martin), Chi McBride (Detective Earl Stone)

Los Angeles, Late May 1993

“Excuse me, I’m Detective Stone with the LAPD. I’d like to talk to you about your daughter.”

Robert MacAvoy looked up from where he had been staring at his clasped hands to face the detective in front of him. He was tall; the charcoal grey pinstripes of his suit stretching over his rotund frame. An unlit cigar rested in his jacket pocket and Robert felt like he was in an old black and white picture; some beautiful dame going to swing into frame any second. But they were in a shitty waiting room, with hard plastic seats digging into thighs, and an overwhelming sense of tragedy clinging to the air.

He glanced over at Evelyn, her new husband of less than a year holding her close. “By all means. How can we help you, Detective?”

“I just have a few questions. When was the last time you saw your daughter today before picking her up outside the Hammond residence?”

“Around six, I guess. She was heading off to prom.” It was the most normal thing Bee had done all year. Got dressed in a gown her mother had helped pick out; all her girlfriends helping with make-up and nails and accessories. Robert had stood, watching, as Evelyn took a multitude of pictures of Bee and her boyfriend, Jason. “They’d rented a limo.”

Detective Stone nodded. “Do you know what time she arrived?”

“I–I don’t, Detective; I’m sorry. Look, what is this about? We know there was an…incident at the school, and later at the after-party.” Beside him, Devon scoffed. Robert threw her a look. “Do you have an idea of how many victims yet, Detective?”

“Seven.”

The noise in Robert’s ears grew louder, punctuated only by the feeling of Devon’s nails pressing into his thigh. That school was fucking cursed. Nineteen years ago, he’d reluctantly gone on the senior class trip with his brother, his next-door neighbour Evelyn, and half the senior class – including Devon Hedley, head cheerleader and all-around queen bee. By the end of their third day, thirteen of their classmates would be dead, including Evelyn and Devon’s boyfriends and Robert’s own brother. He and Evelyn had hoped that their little girl wouldn’t go through the same thing that they did. No murder, no blood, no trauma. No dead bodies of their classmates littering the halls. 

Everything they had done to protect Bee had been for nothing.

“We have the seniors arriving at the Hammond residence just after eleven. By this point, three of their classmates were already dead.” Devon’s nails drew blood. Rob lifted her hand and clasped it within his own; his nails, painted black, pressed against her fingertips. “It was close to one am when one of the seniors, Joanna Hayes, made the 911 call. She reported that there were four dead, three injured, and that the killer was unconscious in the living room.”

Across from him, Evelyn let out a sob. Rob fought the instinctive urge to go to her, hold her in his arms and whisper soothing platitudes until she sagged against him. But that hadn’t been his place for years. It was Martin that she turned to, now. Not Rob. Still, at least he could bring this interview to a close. “Listen, Detective, I appreciate you trying to put together a timeline but I don’t understand how we can help.”

Martin piped up from across the waiting room. “We really do want to assist you in your inquiries, Detective, but there is a deep family history that you have to take into consideration. We understand that Bernadette witnessed her classmate committing these foul acts, but anything more you will have to ask her. Not my wife.”

“It’s about what happened before the 911 call. Michael Lynch was knocked unconscious by what Joanna Hayes described as ‘a college guy’.” It was at this point that Robert noticed that Detective Stone’s eyes had grown hard. “We now know that stranger to be Randall James. My question is: why the hell did she stay with him?”

Robert looked across at Evelyn, who simply shrugged. Neither of them had heard the name Randall James before. Bee certainly hadn’t mentioned him. Not that she’d talked to them much in the last year. All the books said the same thing: a parent remarrying after divorce caused behavioural issues. Factor in Last Known Survivor’s first tour and Bee spending the summer with her grandmother, and Rob had come back to the world’s worst teenager. Underage drinking, sleeping with her boyfriend in the house, that incident with Pastor Whitman’s daughter…he didn’t recognise Bee anymore. None of them did. And he certainly didn’t recognise the name Randall James.

But Devon did. “Oh my god.” 

“Dev?” But she wasn’t looking at him. “Hedley? What is it?” 

“We were out of LA when it happened. I was desperate to get out; it was on the front page of all the papers. You couldn’t move without seeing it. The Canyon Killer.” Devon drew in a shaky breath. “Was Bee—” 

She couldn’t even finish that thought. Detective Stone could barely start his. He looked as surprised as them all. “She never told you?”

Before they could plague Stone with questions, Evelyn’s mother crowed across the waiting room. She ignored Stone and immediately gathered Evelyn up into her arms, crying platitudes and shouting about tragedies and more dead teenagers and at least they caught this one. Robert had very little patience for Rose Doyle on a normal day. She had never liked him when they were neighbours – she’d liked him less when he and Evelyn had fallen into bed together and she’d fallen pregnant with Bee. But right now, his patience was wafer-thin. Last summer, Bee had stayed with Rose.

“What happened to Bee last summer, Rose?”

His former mother-in-law, interrupted from reassuring the son-in-law she’d always wanted, twisted her head in his direction. It was then that she took in the frame of Detective Stone. His expression, too, lacked patience. “Missus Doyle, you said you would inform Bernadette’s parents of what happened.”

Robert rose to his feet. “What happened to Bee last summer, Rose?”

“I was her guardian last summer, it was my discretion not to inform them,” Rose offered to Stone, before turning to her daughter. “You’d just got married; you were on your honeymoon. I didn’t want to ruin all that because your daughter went out for a run.” 

Robert closed the distance between them. He pulled Rose out of his daughter’s orbit and yanked her under the harsh overhead lighting of the hospital waiting room. “What happened to my child, Rose? And you better give me an answer or so help me God, I will get them one way or another.” 

“She got hurt,” Rose finally admitted. “You both had said she was not allowed to go out running with all that…murder business going on, but she didn’t listen. Gets that from her father.” Robert bristled. “She encountered the two brothers who had murdered all those poor girls and got…hurt.” 

“Stabbed,” Detective Stone spat. “Your granddaughter was stabbed twice, in the stomach, after they tried to rape her.” He shook his head. “Kid’s lucky to be alive.”

Robert’s world spun. This couldn’t be right. Stone was confused. There was no way that his little girl had been stabbed. No possibility that she had been impaled and left, bleeding – like David, like David, like David – no, Stone was wrong. She had just been a little scraped. Like today: scrapes, bruises. But as much as Robert wanted to believe it was all a lie, he knew it was the truth. His little girl had been hurt and he’d been away. He’d failed her; he’d failed her.

“I told her she needed to keep it to herself. That she wasn’t to tell you, or any of her friends. Evelyn, I meant it with the best of intentions. Look at how you are now. After what happened to all of you, you were a mess. And you’ve done so much to protect Bee over the years, to keep her safe. And what does she do? She completely disregards your instructions and goes running. I told Bee it was her own damn fault what happened to her.”

“You’re a monster.”

Rose’s lips curled in a snarl as she addressed Devon. “Forgive me for not wanting my daughter to throw her life away like you. My daughter is a high school vice-principal. You, Devon Hedley, are a guitarist in a mediocre rock band, obsessed with traumas of the past. There is a reason why your parents moved out of Los Angeles, Ms Hedley. The congressman couldn’t take the shame.” 

“Fuck you.” 

The waiting room exploded into an uproar. It was Martin who tried to calm the situation. “Devon, I know you’re Robert’s friend, but I think maybe you should leave. It should just be family.” 

Robert made to intervene, but Devon pressed a hand firm against his chest, pushing him backwards. She’d never needed him to fight her battles. He knew better than to start now. “I’m not leaving this hospital until I know Bee is okay. I’m not leaving her to be yelled at for getting stabbed.”

“You’re not family, Devon, okay? No matter what you might think, she’s not your daughter.”

Devon scoffed. “No, she’s not. If Bee was mine, I never would have left her to get stabbed in the first place.”

It was then that Devon took off, her boots stomping against the linoleum floor. After a beat, Evelyn turned harshly towards Robert, eyes rimmed red with unshed grief and guilt. “I have no idea why you ever got yourself involved with Devon ‘Gives Great Head’ Hedley, Rob, but I think it’s for the best that she stays away from our family right now.”

“Funny. I was about to say the same thing about your mother.” He ran a hand through his dark blonde curls, his chest tight with his own guilt. “I need some air, Evie. I’ll be back.”

Leaving Evelyn and her family behind, Robert went in search of his own. He found Devon outside, dragging on a cigarette. Her dark hair fell over a threadbare t-shirt; her ratty jeans proudly displaying a rip over both knees. Devon Hedley was the sexiest bass player in the industry but right now she was eighteen years old, on her senior class trip, hand pressed against her shoulder and hearing the thunk of the axe as it connected against bone. Robert didn’t say anything. Just pulled off his jacket and eased it around her shoulders. Her fingers offered him the cigarette and he took it. As they watched an ambulance pull into the unloading bay, Devon’s head fell upon his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re right. I never should have left her.”

“The only people who have anything to feel guilt over, Rob, are the two men that stabbed our girl – and your ex-mother-in-law, who is so much more of a piece of work than I remember.” Devon took back the cigarette, took a long, deep puff, before stamping it out with the toe of her boot. She then pulled in close, cupping his face in her hands. Her thumb ran along the blonde stubble covering his jaw. “You are not to blame for this, Rob. Neither is Bee.”

He nodded, leaning down to rest his forehead against Devon’s. “What the hell do we do now, Hedley? What the hell do we even say?”

“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. What she’s been through…how do you come back from that?”

“You did.”

Devon snorted. “I’m a thirty-seven-year-old bass player. I dropped out of law school. Didn’t take the bar. I’m not married. No children. I’m not exactly the best role model.” She pulled away, drawing Robert’s jacket closer around her shoulders. “Maybe it is best I step back. She’s not my daughter. She’s not even my goddaughter. I’m not your—I’m not your wife, Rob. I’m just your friend.”

“Best friend.” He reeled her back in, leaving a kiss atop her forehead. “After the divorce, you were the only thing that kept me sane, Hedley. The only thing that made me feel normal after everything that happened. Losing David, witnessing so much death. Never finding the son of a bitch who did it. I can’t do this without you.”

Devon didn’t reply; just pressed herself closer to Robert’s frame. He carded his fingers through her hair, finding solace at holding her close and whispering soothing stories from how she had supported him all these years and would continue through this next crisis. It was then that Robert was struck with a realisation. Bee didn’t have anyone. Jason, her boyfriend, was dead. Her best friend, Wendy, had never made it to the Hammond residence. Everyone else would be reeling from this tragedy, this loss. No one would be there to help Bee pick up the pieces from the previous summer.

“—and then I spotted him at the subway station so I pushed him down the stairs. I didn’t show any remorse when the police talked to me, so that’s why my Aunt Mei brought us out here. Fresh start; away from bad influences.”

Voices carried over the empty unloading bay; two teenage girls sitting on a brick wall passing a soda can back and forth. The girl talking was wearing a t-shirt with the glove of Freddy Krueger. Robert’s daughter was in her torn prom dress, laughing with a split lip as she took a sip of coke.

“I can’t believe you did that.”

The girl, who Rob vaguely thought to be one of Mei Wen’s nieces from across the street, jostled Bee’s shoulder. “What? He murdered my parents; the least I could do is shove him down a flight of cement stairs. What about you, Laurie Strode? Stabbing that guy with his own knife? Fucking incredible; final girl of the year – five stars.” 

“You’re such a weirdo.”

“And you need to embrace it, Bernie. You’re a final girl, just like me. Prepare for Canyon Killer Part III, though; they always come back for more sequels.” The girl, Samantha, drained the soda can. “But you’ll have me next time, too, so it won’t be as bad. Because we’re friends now.” She paused for breath. “Right?”

Bee grinned – the first time Rob had seen his daughter smile in a year – and rested her head on the girl’s shoulder. “Right.”

“Don’t look now but the Kurgan from Highlander is staring at us.”

“You’ve seen Highlander but you haven’t seen Aliens? Terminator 2: Judgement Day?” Staring across the unloading bay, Bee offered a wave. “And that’s my Dad.”

Leaving another kiss to Devon’s temple, the pair picked their way across to where Bee and Samantha sat. Devon offered his jacket to Bee; his daughter’s new friend rabbited on about final girls and legacies and senior trips and Robert tuned it all out. In a single look, Bee realised he knew. She sat and waited for judgement. Judgement that would never come. Robert offered his daughter his hand and pulled her into a crushing embrace. Any tears that fell were Robert’s own. There was an illusion of safety in his arms; nothing could hurt her while she was with him.

But that had never been true. And this moment, he realised, would not last forever.

[a-monthly-rumbelling]

May Prompts

Moodboard

Non-smut: Two people have to survive a natural disaster together.

Smut: cylinder, unlikely

Random: (song) Ariana Grande - One Last Time

gif:

A reminder for all:

If the prompts are 3-5 words you don’t have to include all of them. Imaginary bonus points if you do :) but zero stress they just have to include a couple in some fashion so it fits the prompt.

If the prompt is a quote you can include it at any point, it doesn’t have to be the opening line.

If the prompt is the image moodboard (multiple images) you can be inspired by one of them, be inspired by two, be inspired by the lot, get a feeling from the thing and not one of the images specifically - it’s all good. There is no wrong way to approach this.

If the images on the moodboard are of Robert or Emilie’s non-rumbelle characters (eg Rush, Macavoy, Claire, Heiro…), don’t feel you have to use that character. They’re just there for a bit of variety.

Anyelle and anyem are welcome if you do want to use them, though!

if you are inspired by the gif prompt, similarly, your creativity is your only limit. It’ll be a real treat to see you might come up with.