#ms. bui give me your time management skills

[chusofullout]

Did you guys see that Kim Bui got elected to the IOC Athlete's Commission?

She got the second-most number of votes (top 4 got elected) behind freaking Allyson Felix. What a legend!

[pi-cat000]

BNHA: Kakashi dimension hops crossover (5)

Summary: Kakashi gets dumbed into the My Hero Academia universe through random plot devise.

Characters:  Kakashi Hatake

Fandoms: My Hero Academia and Naruto

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence/injury

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Ms Iroi always tries to engage him in conversation whenever she comes in, asking questions and chatting to herself in a fruitless attempt at helping him recover his 'lost' memories. Most of the time, Kakashi is indifferent to her presence and always has a magazine handy as an excuse not to talk.

Today, Iroi is in a particularly good mood, humming to herself, greeting him with an energetic, “How are you doing today!”

Kakashi grunts a noncommittal response which doesn’t do much to discourage the woman’s good mood as she runs through a check-up routine.  

“You should try watching U.A’s sports festival tomorrow. I hear it’s going to be particularly spectacular this year,” she says as she pulls the blinds on Kakashi's window, blocking out the distant city lights. 

U.A? he recognises the name. Kakashi glances up over the pages of HERO!! MONTHLY BREAKDOWN. It is the third time he has read this issue.

“You know, since you like reading those hero magazines, I figured you would be interested in watching the ‘next generation of heroes’ debut,” she continues, noting his attention, “U.A always puts on a good show.”

Kakashi frowns. The problem with his amnesia cover story is that he is still trying to figure out what he can get away with not remembering. So far the doctor’s seem content to chalk up the disappearance of his long term memories to a ‘quirk’ accident but were always more concerned when he failed to recall basic factual information. Something to do with different parts of the brain being responsible for different types of information.

 “Watch how?” He settles on asking. U.A. was supposed to be a hero-training academy so whatever this ‘sports festival’ was was worth checking out. 

“Oh,” Iori pauses to think, “I, ah, think channel 2 with be covering it?” she hesitates, “You know what. I’ll look it up and let you know later. Sorry, I can’t carry my phone around with me while on shift.”

“Thank you.” He smiles and makes a show of returning to his magazine to dissuade further conversation.

Later the same evening, just before the end of the evening shift, Iori pokes her head into his room again. She is out of uniform, long hair untired, waving to catch his attention.

“The coverage is on channel 2 and starts at 11am,” She holds up her portable communication devise like it means something.  It probably did mean something. The frequency by which people checked them suggested it had a function beyond basic communication. He has held off attempting to steal one because, unlike pens, people would notice and care if one went missing.  

“Have fun watching! Oh… also, I forgot to ask…”

Kakashi raises a brow.

“I have a bunch of old gossip magazines. Mum used to read them all the time and there are a few hero-themed ones in the mix. I can bring them in if you want more stuff to read.” 

“If you want.” Iori must have noticed him re-reading the magazines. 

"I'll bring them on Friday!"

Iori had been unsubtly hinting that Kakashi might have had a history in heroics. It definitely wasn’t because reading information on a page just made sense when compared to the barrage of conflicting reports the television gave him. A few weeks with only the television as his information source has him writing off most of its information as useless or propaganda.  

…

...

“HEELLLOOOOO, LISTENERS!”

Kakashi stares dully as the video footage, which had been giving him a bird’s eye view of a positively massive stadium, changes to a sweeping shot of what must be thousands of people crammed into seats. It almost makes him claustrophobic just watching it.

“WELLCOME TO OUR ANNUAL U.A. SPORTS FESTIVAL! THE HIGH SCHOOL ADOLESCENT RODEO YOU ALL LOVE TO WATCH. CAN A GET A ‘OH YEAH!’”

As if of one mind, thousands of people leap to their feet screaming. The camera angle changes again to show a grinning blond-haired man, seated at a desk and pointing enthusiastically at the camera. All these shot changes are going to give him a headache. Kakashi is already having reservations watching this and its only10 minutes.

“Thank you! You’re an AMAZING audience!”

 It almost reminds him of the final Chunin Exam stages -if the Chunin exams had had three times the audience - which always involved some sort of combat display.  There hadn’t been any public Chunin Exams recently for reasons such as a large portion of Konoha being flattened by Pein.

“FIRST UP ARE OUR FIRST-YEAR EVENTS! And what an exciting round of events they are, perfect for debuting our newest students! Give us a shout so they can feel your support!”

Another loud shot as thousands of people yelled in unison.

“Come on! Louder than that! These are your future Heroes I’m talking about! SHOW THEM SOME LOVE!”

More yelling. Kakashi turns down the volume.

“But! Wait just a minute!! We're not only here for our Hero students! As I'm sure you all know, behind every great hero is a hardworking support team! GIVE IT UP FOR our Support, Management and General departments who are also competing for a chance to face off in the finals!”

Kakashi sighs. He is getting the sense that this might be more for entertainment than utility purposes, conforming to the general trend of Hero-related stuff being flashy. Different from the Chunin exam which had deadly consequences if not taken seriously.

“Hey. Hey! HERE THEY COME NOW! OUR STUDENTS PARTICIPATING IN THE FIRST YEAR STAGE!”

What follows is an overly dramatized race where the only thing of interest to him are the obstacle types, including robots, - mobile mechanical weapons of some sort that produced a lot of environmental damage but were taken down fairly easily- and explosive devices that acted a lot like explosive tags. Then there was a team elimination round and one-on-one tournament fights after which the coverage shifts to the second year and third year stages.

He uncovers the sharingun only to discover that, while its memorisation function worked fine, the part that translated the movements into muscle memory felt off. Perhaps, the replication and copying component of the eye didn’t work when viewing a technique through a screen rather than in person. Interesting. As there wasn't anything particularly impressive technique-wise during the events he counts the new information as a net gain. 

The student-heroes – he is not sure if there is an official term for a hero in training – barely match Konoha’s academy standard in their taijutsu and physical conditioning though there was marked improvement between first, second and third-year groups. These students were what...between 14-18 years old...and yet most had the skill level of an academy  students and fresh genuin with only a few notable exceptions?

Sure, there were - honestly ridiculous- versatile and powerful bloodline abilities being thrown around like nothing, but ninjutsu techniques only took a shinobi so far without a strong base to work from. He shakes his head, reminding himself that these kids - because what else did you call combatants who hadn’t graduated yet- weren’t shinobi in training and would be policing civilians and engaging ‘Villains’ of similar skill levels. It was obvious that the students favoured non-lethal takedown methods and put little to no thought into stealth and misdirection during fights. 

Different words…different priorities. 

As Kakashi has yet to see any evidence that the country, Japan, was at war with another he thinks the skill level displayed might be serviceable. There were also no major conflicts between the country’s large cities over farmland, water sources and the like. Obviously, this place had sorted out the resource and distribution issues usually encountered when supporting such large populations. Or, who knows, maybe everything on the television was a carefully constructed lie to lull people into complacency.

Now he has seen an example of hero-students, he better understands the low combat ability demonstrated by the police. It also gives incite into the blurry recordings of Hero/Villain confrontations which played on repeat across the various ‘news’ reports. They all tended to hover around Chunin or maybe Special Jounin in terms of skill. He knows generalisations are dangerous so, until he saw the combat in person, he would exercise his usual level of caution. There were bound to be outliers after all-the impressive brute strength of the number one hero comes to mind- and there was no telling what advantages a bloodline ability might provide. Absently, he makes testing the susceptibly of people without chakra to genjustu as something to figure out sooner rather than later.

He sighs. This is why he hated the television. Whenever he watched it, he came away increasingly confused, with more questions than he had answers. Not to mention anything useful being constantly interrupted with information detailing one of the many products that he could apparently buy here. It irritated him to no end. 

...

...

The chakra collecting seal is ready before the week is out. Mostly ready...it was ready enough.

Kakashi returns to the roof. Sitting cross-legged, back against the stairway entrance, he works his way through the 100 or so pens, cracking them open and tapping out ink into a large bowl, stolen -like the pens -from hospital staff.

The mix of black, blue and red ink is gluggy, forcing him to add water to thin the solution out. Once satisfied he pulls out an appropriated scalpel – one of a growing collection hidden alongside his pens because having a stash of weapons is never a bad thing- pricking his middle finger, watching the blood drip and curdle with the mixture. The blood would be absorbed into the ink, allowing it to conduct chakra. He mixes everything with pair of disposable chopsticks, taking care not to spill it on the ground or stain his hands.

The whole process reminds him of other insistences where he had improvised fuinjutsu ink in the field. The last time being during his final Anbu missions where he had created a body storage scroll from scratch after unexpectedly losing a squad mate on what should have been a simple intel retrieval mission. Not a particularly fond memory but a memory he was stuck with.

Since his demotion to Jonin-sensei there had been fewer of those sorts of missions. Not that being a Jonin-sensei had been easy – considering all his students had gone off to find other teachers he didn't even think he had been particularly good at it - bringing with it its own special brand of stress, culminating in a stint as Hokage, a fourth war and him stuck here. He is pretty sure his experiences aren't universal. Team 7 was just cursed to fail in increasingly spectacular ways.

He lets out a heavy sigh, leaving his airways open to a sudden gust of cold wind which carries the scent of cleaning chemicals from the hospital and oil from the road straight up his nose. He exhales forcefully and mentally bumps finding a face mask up his list of priorities. It would be good for hiding his features and dulling the artificial smells of a city housing over a million people.

The sound of wind whistling around the building almost blocks out the echo of feet in the stairway, approaching his location. In one smooth motion, Kakashi stands pushing the remaining broken pen back into the vent, nudging the cover back in place with his foot. Carefully he holds the bowl of ink in his injured arm and a scalpel in the other. Kakashi steps back against the entrance so the outward opening door would hide him from whoever came out.

A crying kid comes barrelling through the door.

Well, not completely crying, more like sniffing loudly, eyes all shiny. He even recognises the kid from the U.A combat demonstration, as improbable as that was. It is the first year hero student with the speed-enhancing ability which, seeing him up close, probably had something to do with the strange growths coming out of his caff muscles. High speed movement put enormous strain on the body so he could reasonably conclude that the kid was physically resilient to acceleration stress and similar forces. Not resilient to stabbing though....

Kakashi forces himself to relax, his scalpel lowering ever so slightly. Lucky he had heard the kid coming or he might have accidentally hurt him. A few weeks of reduced sleep coupled with a lot of time to ruminate on past missions and failures has put him on edge. This was exactly why he disliked taking extended breaks. 

Maybe, Kakashi should start relocking the stairway if he was planning to make regular trips up here because the young male probably hadn’t had the roof in mind as a destination. Kakashi knows from experience that, unless you were injured or a member of staff, there were few good reasons to wander around a hospital at odd hours.

With the hero-student distracted sniffling into his arm, Kakashi slips around the door and back down the stairs. He hadn’t planned on applying the seal on the roof anyway. Too exposed to the elements and the concrete was too rough for the delicate line work.

He continues mixing while he walks, having mentally mapped the hospital well enough to know which hallways to use and which to avoid. There is a surgeon with some sort of heat-sensing vision who works late most nights that he must be careful around and a nurse with a weak proximity based empathic ability working in paediatrics. Both obstacles force him to take a meandering detour on his way to the ground floor and  the larger shower blocks which housed  cubicles the size of small rooms. Enough smooth floorspace for the expanded seal design and easy to clean afterwards. He supposes he is lucky, some complicated fuinjutsu required several meters worth of floor space. The containment on Saskue’s cursed seal comes to mind and he is glad that this seal is infinity smaller.

Not one to waste time knowing that nurses and patients regularly used the space even this late in the evening, he immediately slips into a cubicle upon arrival. Flopping onto the floor he pulls out the paintbrush he had had scour the hospital for and eventually to steal from the children’s ward. Carefully, he begins the slow process of application.

…

…

The final seal design is circular, about the size of his splayed hand, positioned on his uninjured shoulder just above where his Anbu seal had previously sat. The sleepwear provided by the hospital had sleeves that extend just past his bicep. It hid the design, for the most part. The final visible seal is a bit bigger than he had predicted or planned for. If this were a proper infiltration mission, where blowing his cover came at the price of death, he would be in big trouble. If this were a proper mission, he would have waited before applying this. An unnecessary risk. He itches the back of his head, turning from where he is craning his neck to see the seal, gathering up his supplies to be thrown in one of the hospital’s many rubbish bins. Kakashi lets out a breath. Maybe, this whole ‘trapped in a different world’ thing is affecting him more than he was willing to admit and making him sloppy.

He pulls down the sleeve so it mostly hides the design. Not like the doctors here would recognise the significance of fuinjutsu, he reminds himself, even if their questions would be annoying to deflect.

He pumps chakra into the seal and a jolt akin to lightning runs down his limb. It activates without issue and Kakashi grimaces as his chakra is slowly drained and collected. The rate of the drain is pathetically slow. Three years too slow. But, between this and his sharingan - which was always active and draining chakra- he can’t risk making it quicker. Despite the relatively low-level threats around him, Kakashi is, first and foremost, a Jonin in an unknown territory who is already taking risks simply making and applying the seal. He can’t afford to impair himself with poor chakra management on top of everything else.

Kakashi pops his head out of the cubical, scanning the shower block. Nothing of note has changed and he darts out, intent on returning to his room. He is tired and it would be a long, tiresome week as his body adjusted to the strain as well.

NEXT  

[mssleepy876b]

Family Ties- Chapter 2

Summary: Family can be a positive and negative force in one's life. Detective Jay Halstead knows that personally and he helps a new Intelligence family member through it.

Requested? No. But promised @resanoona that I would post mine once she posted hers

Word count: 1502

Warnings: domestic violence

A/n: Unedited Sorry for any mistakes

Family Ties Chapter 2

Jay was able to slip away about 20 minutes later. Brie had finally settled into a calm sleep. Now that Med and Intelligence knew her name, Brie was a priority for both staffs. The pain medication they had given her upon arrival had her sleeping for several hours. They still were able to complete most tests to evaluate her condition but there was concern about possible head injuries, but they needed her awake to test for those. Natalie waited until Brie woke up again before she ended her shift later that day. Natalie trusted Ethan to take over due to his experience with PTSD patients and Natalie worried Brie might have the early starts to it. Brie was awake and speaking to Maggie when Natalie walked in. “Hi, Brie. How do you feel?”

Maggie slid out quietly and Brie smiled as she left. “Better, Dr. Manning. Just curious about the next steps.” She said to her.

“Well, that is why I am here. I have to end my shift and unfortunately there is not a female doctor on the incoming shift, but I have a colleague that I trust that I want to introduce you to, okay?” Natalie said calmly.

Brie took a deep breath trying to control her fear. “Okay, we can try it.”

Natalie called out, “Come on in, Dr. Choi.”

Brie watched as he entered slowly and showed Brie his hands as he entered. “Hello, Ms. Jacobs. Dr. Manning has told me about your case and your injuries. Her time in the ED is over but she wanted to be sure you were in good hands. She asked me to take over for her. Would that be okay?”

“I guess so.” Brie said quietly.

Ethan came closer. “I know you had a hard time recently and I promise you, I will stick with you until it is time for you to either be moved to a new department or for you to get to go home.” Brie nodded as he moved closer again. He gently took her hand and felt her pulse rise slowly and then calm as he spoke to her calmly. “Detective Halstead left two officers out here who are watching for anyone who is not allowed to be here as well as to bring you to the 21st district to keep you safe until they can get your things for you.” He said.

“Please call me Brielle or Brie. Did they catch Michael yet?” she asked.

“I don’t know, Brielle. All I know is that Detective Halstead made it very clear to the officers that you were not to be left alone and to follow you wherever needed in the hospital. He even argued with his brother about it. Okay?” he told her as Natalie slid out.

“Dr. Manning told me Detective Halstead’s brother worked here. I haven’t met him though.” She said quietly.

“I am sure we all just wanted to be sure that you felt safe and did not want to make you feel overwhelmed with new people.” Ethan said. “I can bring Dr. Halstead in, if you want?”

“I am not sure yet. This is so confusing. Who do I trust? Who does Michael know? Can he find me?” she said with tears coming to her eyes.

“I understand, Brielle. I promise, we have protocols in place that will keep him from finding you as well as the protection that Detective Halstead insists on for you. You made an impression on him. I don’t usually see him this protective over people he has just met, Brielle.” Ethan said taking her hand in comfort.

Brie blushed taking a deep breath. “What do we do next about my health, Dr. Choi?” she asked trying to change the topic of conversation.

“Well, we already know due some X-Rays we took when you arrived that you don’t have any broken bones or fluid that has gathered anywhere. I am concerned about your head injuries though. I would like to send you for a CT Scan now that you are awake. It would let us be sure that there is no bleeding under your skull and no future concerns. If there is nothing, then we can release you to the Intelligence team to help you restart your life in Chicago and get you safe. Do you have a history of pain medication making you sleep?” He said releasing her hand as she nodded to answer his questions.

Jay returned to Med’s ED about an hour later after Brie had met Ethan. Her tests all came back clear, but she didn’t have any clothing with her to change into. Ethan was standing in her room with Will who Ethan had introduced her to while undergoing her tests. Maggie had been able to find scrubs to give Brielle so she could feel covered. Jay entered with Hailey at his back. Ethan nodded at Jay and Will tapped his shoulder.

“Looks like you have charmed several of the doctors, Brie.” Jay said smiling at her as he and Hailey were greeted by the doctors in the room.

Brie blushed at Jay’s words and spoke quietly looking down at her lap, “I doubt that, Detective. Michael always said no one would be charmed by me. He said that I was too plain or simple. Your brother and Dr. Choi have just finished going over all my test results. They have been looking after me since Dr. Manning had to leave for the day.”

Jay nodded and joked trying to help Brie smile, “Just making sure, my brother has been known make a bit of a pest of himself.”

Will shoved him lightly causing laughter to fill the room. Jay’s laugh caught Brie’s attention. It made her smile for the first time in a long time. She blushed as Jay’s eyes caught hers. Hailey caught the look between them but was unsure what to think.

Jay looked to Will and Ethan. “Well, what is the medical verdict?”

Ethan spoke, “She is clear to leave. Just needs to rest and allow her body to heal. If her headaches get worse, she needs to return to us. She will see more bruising come up in the next 24 hours and we have given her a prescription for pain medication should she need it.”

Jay nodded. He turned to Brie. “We have Michael in custody Brielle. That means we can take you to get your things, if you want.”

She thought about it before she spoke. “Yes, please. It may take a few bags or boxes but there are things that are my family’s that do not belong to him or that his money didn’t buy for me that I want. I will take a few clothes but most of them can stay. He bought them and insisted that I dress a certain way. I need to leave things so he doesn’t miss me too much because he will then come looking. Leaving most of the clothes and jewelry will make him think there is a chance for me to return. After last night, I never want to go back to that house once I get my things from there.”

Jay thought about it. “I can get us some boxes. Do you want Hailey and I to take you now?”

“Would that be possible before we go anywhere else? Maggie was nice enough to get me these scrubs, but I would feel better in my own clothes. Maybe start to move on from this.” She said.

Will spoke up. “I’ll see if Maggie and I can find us a few boxes for you, Brielle.” He said sliding from the room.

Ethan then spoke, “I’ll get your discharge paperwork started. And I’ll get the copies that you all need, Jay.” He then nodded to Jay and Hailey as he left the room.

Jay moved closer to Brie and his cologne or after shave filled her nose. It gave her a sense of safety and being looked after. “Why did you come to Chicago, Brielle? You mentioned earlier that Michael met you soon after you arrived.”

“I had come to work for a local charity organizational committee as their office manager. I moved in from the suburbs. I am surprised that my parents didn’t come looking for me other than Michael might have coddled them with the wrong picture and idea that I was safe with him. I enjoy helping others and my organizational skills got me the job. It was my only escape but even there I was watched by Michael’s guards. They told him everything including details about the bookkeeper who would be nice to me. He quit less than one day later. I think Michael had him scared off.” She said quietly.

“Well, I will talk to Sergeant Voight when we get to our office. See if we can find something that will allow you to help and be safe and get yourself on your feet.” He said taking her hand.

[chuuulip]

The First Kiss of Love

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Female Reader

Warning:  Fluff with a smidges of angst

Words: 3262

Prompt: hey i was wondering id you could do a hannibal lecter one where the reader doesnt realize that hannibal likes her and she gets jealous when hes talking to another woman. when she calls him out on it he cant help but laugh. the reader is basically a oblivious dummy type and way too much of a klutz .

Summary: “Dr. Bloom is really beautiful.” your small, joyless voice continues its sentence. “Ah...yes indeed.” Hannibal replies casually.

A.N: This is for an anon that request some Hannibal fanfic. I’m sorry that it takes me so long xD I hope you like it! whoever you are ❤️ Thank you for @jewels2876​​ for helping me with this piece, love you ❤️ Also tagging fellow Hannibal fans 😉 @venusdemonroe​​​ and @detectivehannibal​​​ thanks for feeding me Hannibal content and discuss him with me ❤️

__

It’s been a couple of months since you’ve worked with Dr. Lecter. You were once a librarian; due to an accident, you lost your job as a consequence of a long time recovery.  Hannibal Lecter literally was an angel or your angel to be precise. Vividly, you remember the time you met him. By chance, Hannibal is in the clinic when you do your physiotherapy. He catches a small stack of books that you buy that day. He manages to balance the books in his left hand while his right-hand catches you before your face kisses the floor.

Long story short, both of you have some sort of conversation that leads to you applying for a job to be Hannibal’s secretary. You are excited but also nervous when you do your interview. You have no idea that Hannibal is a well-known psychiatrist not only just in Baltimore but also in Maryland. There is a fear that Hannibal will not choose you because of your clumsy tendencies. You are naturally what people will call a klutz. Physical activity somewhat hinders your ability to shine among others. You are either too slow or too weak. Not to mention lucky stars seem to distance themself from you. But not that day, the day when you get an email of your employment. Hannibal is pretty impressed with your CV and how good your skills on scheduling and data management, 

“Good morning.” the soft, accented voice of Hannibal greets you. Today, he wears a dark blue windowpane pattern jacket suit. He chooses a somewhat dark metallic floral pattern adorning the red-brown tie. His white buttoned-up shirt makes the color of his suit and ties pop. Hannibal always dresses elegantly, something that you always look forward to seeing.  

“Good morning, Dr. Lecter.” You stand up and follow Hannibal inside his office. He takes a seat on his brown leather chair. Everything looks immaculate as always.

“Schedule for today?” he unbuttons his suit jacket and you quickly help him hang the suit. “Thank you, my dear, you didn’t need to do that.”

“It’s alright Dr. Lecter.”

Sometimes when it’s only you and Hannibal in the office, he accidentally calls you my dear. You aren’t sure if it's because that’s the way he usually addresses someone he is in contact on a daily basis, or it means something more? Oh, you wish.

“Dr. Lecter…, for this morning you will have two appointments. Mrs. Potter and Ms. Randall. Also-- Mr. Franklin said he might need to reschedule.” Your slightly breathy voice points out other appointments Hannibal has outside the office. Your work had become kind of a blend between his secretary and personal assistant, to be honest. It was actually Hannibal's idea to engage you more into work that’s not strictly his office related. Not that you are complaining because it let you take a peek on Hannibal’s other persona. Not to mention that the payment is pretty generous. 

Not once does Hannibal ask your input on what type of thing should be added in his office, and by that, you are pretty proud of yourself. Not a lot of people give any thought about your opinion. Although Hannibal, like when his office has this sleek look and somewhat minimalist style, he always mixes something that you could say was classic inside his office. You have been inside his office quite a lot, but sometimes you help him tidy up his books and document. He’s somewhat more of a hard copy type of person than a soft copy one. Like you. You like the smells of an old book although some of Hannibal’s books smell too clinical for you. Like the smells of a hospital or a place with a lot of disinfectants.  

Pretty proud of your experience as a librarian in the past, and knowing Hannibal is a perfectionist himself, you practically turned the side of his office into a perfect mini library. The medical record shorts are alphabetically arranged while his other books are listed by genre, then in an alphabetical manner as well. When Hannibal stays longer in the office, sometimes you catch him drawing. A hobby that he said he has since childhood. One day he told you, “Growing up, I found my hobby really useful when I decided to be a medical doctor.” and you can’t help but agree. After he finishes with what he sketches at that time, he specifically calls you into his office and shows you the final product. That action simply makes your heart flutter in excitement.

“Thank you, you can leave for now.” He gives you his subtle yet beautiful smile. Those eyes of his when he smiles always send some sort of quick rush to your brain.

Giving Hannibal a short nod, you quickly excuse yourself. You stumble upon your own shoe and almost fall, face first. Luckily you can prevent that from happening, hoping Hannibal doesn’t notice, although you think he did. Scurrying from his office, you station yourself on your spot. Continue typing and archiving what Hannibal asks you. 

Sipping your now cold latte, your eyes shift to the books next to your PC. It’s a book called Les Fleurs du mal renaissance, a volume about French poetry that Hannibal had lent you after you finish some short of psychology 101. You have read a few pages of it, and since it’s in French, it takes you some time to understand it. 

Sometimes Hannibal invites you to his office to let you read his book while he draws things. Trying not to get caught red-handed, you glance at him from the corner of your eyes, savoring the scene in front of you. Wondering what Hannibal actually does on his day off, is there anything he can’t do? Your brain likes to take a detour on what Hannibal does at home when he’s not seeing other people’s minds.

A soft clink of steps on the mahogany floor wood, momentary pauses your fingers on the keyboard. 

“Good morning Mrs. Potter.” you stand up immediately. Greet her with a polite, shy smile. One of the things you are still learning from working with Hannibal is being confident. Since the secretary is usually portrayed as bold and beautiful, while you on the other hand are quite the opposite, Hannibal makes sure you take your time to adapt from ‘less contact with people at work’ to ‘in contact with different people almost every day.’

“I’m here for my appointment.” her British accent tickles your ear. It’s rare for you to meet a Brit, especially as posh as Mrs. Potter. Although you never glance at a patient’s medical record, you do actually google them. When you find out Hannibal’s reputation, you know that most of his patients are a somewhat well-known person. Mrs. Potter is an owner of exquisite but limited jewelry store on the east coast. From several articles that you read, she has had quite a lot of scandal. Despite that, you will not deny her beauty. She may be quite older than you, but the way her cheekbones stay supple and very few wrinkles decorating her face sometimes makes you jealous. 

“Yes, sure. Please wait a moment,” immediately, you walk to Hannibal's office door that's just a foot away from your desk. Giving a soft knock, you open the door and inform Hannibal that Mrs. Potter is already here. He gives you a quick nod, and you open the door wider, to let Mrs. Potter start her session. 

Hannibal isn’t a strict boss. Or that’s actually what you thought about him. Of course, you are a professional employee as you can be, but sometimes you spend time reading the book you borrow from Hannibal between your desk job. Mostly because you already do whatever Hannibal tasks you with. On some occasions, you join Hannibal when he attends some appointments, such as when he needs to be a keynote speaker in a well-known conference around Maryland and DC. An experience that you guess is his way to widen your social ability. 

“Thank you Mrs. Potter. I’ll see you in the next session.” Hannibal’s accent cues you to stand up and bid your goodbye to Mrs. Potter. The rest of the day comes out like it usually is. Typing and arranging schedules for Hannibal while also scrolling on another book to read. Even though you were a librarian before, there’s just so many books and so little time to read. 

When it’s time for you to go home, you knock on Hannibal’s office door and open it slightly when he answers you with a soft, “come on in”. You excuse yourself while also giving Hannibal’s friend a smile. Although Hannibal doesn’t have a lot of appointments today, his friend, Jack Crawford visits the office and you know that means Hannibal will stay late until dinner time.   

*** 

The next day your work finished earlier than you thought so you spend some time at work to continue reading the poetry book. Some people may find it weird that you like to stay a little bit longer at work than going back home. There’s always this thought of knowing there is someone close to you, without the need to do conversations in every millisecond, calming. When your eyes shift to your gold bronze table clock, you haven’t realized that you are pretty late, as the sky already turns dark. 

You know Hannibal is still in the office and you plan to excuse yourself before it’s getting really late. You don’t want Hannibal to drive you back home since you feel embarrassed about it. He always makes sure you arrive at home safely when you spend more time at the office or going home pretty late since Baltimore isn’t the safest place on earth. However, there is always a thought in your head that Hannibal being a little bit protective towards you, his employee because you are just a much of a klutz and he feels responsible. 

You aren’t sure what possessed you to move too quickly and it just messes up your footing. The point of your left oxford shoes hit the castor office chair. Ungracefully you trip to the floor and bring the chair with you. The falling chair let out a loud bang while you landed on your hands and knees, grimacing in pain. 

You aren’t sure when but your brain kind of mid freeze for a second. When you look up, you see Hannibal crouching down and calling your name, worried, “-- are you ok? Can you stand up?”

“I--I’m ok Dr. Lecter,” you try to stand up but you hold up your right hand in a sign of I need a minute. 

Hannibal takes care of the office chair first, putting it back in its original position. He carefully lifts you up, supporting you and letting you sit back on your office chair. “I’m sorry my dear, but I need to check?” He asks you for your permission and you quickly give him your approval. With an expert examination of his hands, Hannibal checks your knees for any swelling or visual deformity. Since your past accident, you are prone to any joint and soreness on the knees. Delicately, he gives a little pat on both your knees. “I think everything is ok, you may need to have some pain killers.”

“Thank you Hannibal.” you blurt it out. Sometimes you call him by his first name when you aren’t in office hours, although rarely.

He graces you with that smile of his, subtle yet it always makes your heart quiver, the kind of smile you infrequently see. You notice that sometimes he has his professional smile, it is short and kind of cold. The smile you always notice when he meets his colleague. You don’t know a lot of Hannibal’s friends, but when he has some impromptu meeting with Jack, you slightly witness more smirk and sometimes there’s this naughty element like he is planning something evil, although humorously.

“Wait a minute, I will drive you home.” Hannibal left you to go inside his office. 

There’s a guilt in your stomach that you feel you are being a burden to your boss. When your concentration dispersed like vivid smoke, the corner of your eyes caught the beautiful woman you have seen a couple of times visiting the office. Unlike other women who mostly visit Hannibal for a session, this woman is indeed different. 

“Ms. Bloom.” You greet her. Your smile may look blankly courteous even, but you definitely are not in the mood to give her your big smile this evening.

“You look unwell, are you ok?” 

“I-- I’m ok.” you try to answer her, less tense.

“Alana?” your eyes shift to Hannibal as he opens his door.

“Hey, Hannibal. I try to call you but I thought I might as well just drop by.”

Hannibal’s eyes divert from you to Alana, and he gives Alana a quick nod, letting her quickly enter the office. “It will be quick. Can you wait for a while?” you give him a nod and smile at him nervously.

At first you aren’t sure why you are nervous but something finally clear on your head. Maybe you are jealous. You know a lot of women near Hannibal are not only beautiful, or rich, they are also acutely intelligent. Although you aren’t rich, you aren’t that bad looking and you will not say you aren’t intelligent but when you compare yourself to someone like Alana, there will always be inferiority engraved in your mind. Not to mention that she has known Hannibal longer and better than you.

Hannibal's office door opens and Alana exits the door with Hannibal following her. “I heard what happened to you from Hannibal.” Alana stops in front of your desk and gives you her sympathetic smile. “Get well soon.” She gives you a pat on your shoulder and says her goodbye to you and Hannibal.

“Shall we?” Hannibal changes his focus towards you and you nod in agreement. Let him help you out of the office. 

***

“So…,”

“So?” Hannibal glances at you momentarily while driving, asking you to continue what you have in mind.

“Dr. Bloom is really beautiful.” your small, joyless voice continues its sentence.

“Ah...yes indeed,” Hannibal replies casually. 

Your eyes glance at the dark street. Hannibal’s office is located in a quite busy place and it’s nice to see less traffic when you get out of the area. 

“Did both of you date?” you blurt it out. Your eyes widen in horrors as you blatantly just spill out something unprofessional. “Hanni-- Dr. Lecter, I-- I-- didn’t mean to pry on your personal life.” 

Hannibal looks at you and lets out a laugh. Something really rare, something that you even have witnessed. The crinkle on his eyes when he laughs lets his somewhat cool and calm demeanor melted. It takes you sometimes to register on what just happens. 

“I’m sorry my dear, that’s just quite funny.” Hannibal stops laughing and sends you a quick smile.

“Also that might not answer your question but the answer is no, Alana and I, we aren’t dating. I’m her mentor and our relationship is more of colleagues and friends.”    

You aren’t sure why you hold your breath, but after listening to Hannibal's answer, you let out a long exhale, feeling that something heavy has been lifted up from your shoulders. 

Hannibal’s Bentley stops in front of your apartment complex. Ever the gentleman that he is, Hannibal asks you if you need help. You decline his help as if you can’t embarrass yourself enough in one day. 

“Before you go, I have something to tell you.” Like a deer caught in a headlight, you look at Hannibal. He switches on the light inside the car and pulls his bag from the backseat. He handed you several papers that looked likely to be a job application. Your eyes widen, vision blurry as a sudden tears drop from your eyes. This is it, maybe Hannibal has enough of your clumsiness. He doesn’t find you worthy as he sometimes needs to ‘babysit you’ when you do something you don’t intend to do. 

Feeling that he may be approaching this the wrong way, Hannibal tries to comfort you. You put both of your hands in front of your chest, like a shield in a defensive manner. Try to accommodate his tall frame, awkwardly Hannibal turns his body to the passenger seat and embraces you. He shushing you and pat your heads 

When your silent cry turns into a hiccup but more calmer, Hannibal pulls away from you. With a stutter, you explain to Hannibal that you understand if he doesn’t want you to work with him again and you are thankful that he’s been a very great employer to you. 

“Hey,” Hannibal swipes the tears that rolls down on your cheeks with his thumbs, “--it’s not that. Look, my dear, the reason I handed this paper to you is not that I want to fire you, but I have been pretty impatient lately.”

You look at him, eyes full of question on what the fuck he means by that? Although you don’t let it out loud because you don’t want to make any rude comment. Because Hannibal doesn’t like that.

“I’m one of those people who do not agree with office romance.” 

Office? Romance? What the hell? No one has any romance in the office, you thought. 

“I have been pretty much intent to court you,” his eyes flicker to your lips and back to your reddish eyes. “Alana came today because she wants to give me the application personally, there’s a librarian vacancy in her University and I pretty much just want to hand it to you.” Your brain wiring, try to connect the words as if you forgot how to speak English.  

“Apologize if I’m being rude my dear, but I have observed you for some time and I encourage myself to just lay it all here so I didn’t make you upset. Of course, if I am proven wrong, you can stay and still work as my secretary. No harm, the position will always be yours.” 

“Hanni-- Hannibal, does this mean that you like ‘like’ me?” 

He answers you with a quick nod and the smile that always makes your heart flutter. You try to reach Hannibal but your knee prevents you from doing such a thing. Hannibal let out a small chuckle as he finds your difficulty quite amusing. 

You eye him in disbelief but your anger melts right away as his face gets closer to yours. His right hand's cup at the side of your face as his lips inches closer towards you. With eyes close, you feel the brushes of Hannibal’s lips. The kiss is soft and delicate as if he is just testing the water. 

You let your hands sneak at the back of his collar as you seek more contact. Both of your lips slide and glide against each other. Letting out a whimper, you grant Hannibal’s tongue to slip past your lips. Teasing and flicking languidly, exploring something that makes you shudders in want. 

After some time, Hannibal withdraws his lips from yours. Eyes fluttering open, you can see Hannibal’s pupils expand. He let his foreheads rest at yours while his hand still cups on your face. “So...I believe it is a 'yes''?” There's humor in his voice. 

With a broad smile and less reddish eyes, you answer Hannibal with a confident nod and grant him another kiss on the lips.

__

As always, like, comment and reblog are really appreciated ❤️. Let me know what you think about this xo

[bisexualkiecarrera]

4 times JJ complimented you + 1 time you complimented him

JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

wordcount: 3.5k+

warnings: just drinking, smoking and cursing!

1. 

Hanging out in a group of only hot guys and your best friend Kie wasn’t always easy. You loved your friends dearly and normally, any day spent with them was a good one. There were just some days that you just couldn’t bring yourself to have fun when all you could think about was how you looked in your bathing suit. 

You’d explained it to Kiara during a sleepover once when she asked why you hadn’t come in the water that day, opting to stay on the boat in your baggy t-shirt. She didn’t really understand but she tried her best to be helpful whenever she saw you get in your own head after that. John B and Pope were either absolutely oblivious or smart enough to know not to push the subject when you answered their concerned questions with “I’m just a little tired, don’t worry about it.” JJ knew without you ever muttering a word, familiar with the feeling of being uncomfortable showing people your body, even if it was for a completely different reason. 

The day in question was the hottest day of the year so far, and even though you were sitting in the smallest bit of shade the HMS Pogue’s tiny driving console provided, you felt a line of sweat drip down your spine. 

“Babe, come in! Seriously, it’s way too hot for you to not be in the water!” Kiara called as she swam up to the side of the boat, head barely resting on its edge. Your eyes skittered over to the boys, treading water several yards away, but the only one who seemed to be listening to your conversation was JJ. He gave a small encouraging smile before turning back to the two boys splashing each other like children. 

You bit at your lip for a second, mulling over your decision before realizing it really was too hot to stay dry. You mumbled out a “fine” as you went to slip your arms out of your sleeves, “but go back to the boys and I’ll meet you over there.” Kiara gave you a wide smile before pushing off the boat, swimming gracefully back towards the group. 

You shed your shirt quickly and got in the water, trying your hardest to make as small of a splash as possible. You sink your head under the water, wetting your hair as you make your way towards your friends. You take a look at Pope now floating peacefully on his back and make eye contact with a smiling John B. “Hey, little minnow. Nice of you to join us.” You roll your eyes fondly at the nickname, leftover from when you were kids. Back before you the world taught you to be self conscious, it was nearly impossible to get you out of the water and back into regular summer clothes, and so your fishy nickname was born.

You wink at JB before swimming quietly towards Pope, who still had his eyes closed as he faced the sky. You get close before stilling for a second, letting the waves settle around you. You lean in towards his ear and let out a “boo!,” sending the boy flailing. The three others laugh off to the side as you and Pope begin a splash fight. Not long after, JB can’t help but join in, followed by Kie. You take this as an opportunity to wade over to JJ, who’s looking at you with pride mixed with something you can’t quite place. “What’s the look for, J?” He takes a second to look over your face again, brow furrowed slightly in confusion. 

He shrugs a little as he answers, meeting your eyes. “You just look really pretty like this, all happy and back in the water.” You feel heat unrelated to the temperature cover your face as your eyes dart back to your friends, Kie now hanging on Pope’s back. 

“You’re just glad there’s finally someone who can beat JB in a race in the water.”

2.

A movie night at the Chateau just isn’t complete without an all-out pig fest, food scattered on every counter and table. Kie is generous enough to supply you all with enough fries from The Wreck to last a lifetime, and Pope brings along some ice cream, but always the cheap kind that his dad is willing to part with. John B mans the grill, making you all hot dogs and cheeseburgers while JJ provides the bud and whatever beer he can steal out of his fridge or convince his cousin to buy for him. Over the years, he’s also claimed the spot as your assistant, hovering over your shoulder as you move around the Chateau’s already cramped kitchen making brownies. 

It’s been years that you’ve been making what you call “kitchen sink” brownies for you and JJ and JB. They appear at every birthday and holiday and whenever someone is especially sad. They’re really just boxed brownies with whatever snacks you can find thrown into the batter, but JJ loves to be the one who gets to crunch up the toppings and sprinkle them, and you figure that the world owes JJ Maybank every second of happiness he can find. Tonight, the search through your kitchen at home proved especially successful, coming away with not only chips and pretzels, but also mini oreos and a pack of m&ms. 

JJ walks around the counter to see your finds spread out on the counter and his jaw drops. Your giggle tears his eyes away from the assortment and he raises one eyebrow in question. “You’re sure your parents are cool with you taking all this stuff?” The question makes you laugh, and you lean in like you’re about to tell JJ a secret.

“If I’m gonna be honest,” you drop your voice to an almost-whisper, “I think my mom bought extra snacks this week just for this.” A small smile appears on his face, and if you hadn’t known him for so long, you would have no clue that there was a little sadness behind it, thinking of his own parental situation in comparison to yours. “C’mon, J. Batter’s done, pan is greased. All I need is your supreme topping skills.” 

What seems like forever, but in reality is only 30 minutes, passes by before you slip back into the kitchen to take your brownies out of the oven. The raggedy oven mitt JB leaves on the counter for you is barely hanging on by a thread so you grab the extra cleaning rag to wrap around your covered hand for protection. The second the pan touches the oven, JJ is there behind you, looking over your shoulder. You turn to him, eyebrows raised in scolding as his hands fall to your hips. You place your hands on the plane of his chest and push gently backwards, shaking your head. “I’ll put a five minute timer on. Go sit, you know they’re too hot right now.”  He allows you to guide him back to the couch before you pull out your phone and set the alarm, pulling you to settle into his side. 

The timer goes off and JJ jumps so quickly it genuinely startles you. You all share a chuckle at how fast his feet moved, and in no time at all, he’s back next to you, a brownie on a paper towel in each hand. He extends one out to you and you gladly take it. “Hey, man, thanks for getting me one too, really thoughtful of you,” John B says as he makes his way to the kitchen to cut one for himself and Kie and Pope. JJ’s mouth is already full of brownie and there’s a smug smile on his face as he swallows. He shouts a “yeah, of course, buddy!,” after your friend’s retreating figure before turning to you. 

“You know these brownies are ring-worthy, right? Like, SO fucking good I’m considering proposing right now.” 

You giggle at the statement as crumbs fall from his lip. Your only answer is “JJ, you know you did half the fucking work, right?” He laughs at your response and wiggles his eyebrows. 

“Guess that makes us both wifey material!”

3. 

By far, your least favorite part of your friendship with JJ is tending to his various cuts, bumps and bruises. Between JJ’s general recklessness, his ongoing beef with Rafe Cameron, and Luke Maybank himself, it felt as though you spent every other day standing between his knees as he sat on your bathroom counter. This time, a particularly heated run in with the kooks had thankfully left JJ with nothing but a busted lip, bloody knuckles and an adrenaline high. His mouth was running a mile a minute, recounting every step of the fight despite the fact that you’d witnessed it all first hand. 

“Did you see the look on Rafe’s face when he hit the ground? Absolutely unreal!” You let out a frustrated huff as he waved his hands wildly, not noticing your own hand outstretched to grab his. 

“Yeah, J, I saw but please give me your hands. I need to put antiseptic on.” Your voice is a little pleading and he quiets at your request, laying his wrist in your hand and watching your face as you get to work. You dab at the cuts with a soaked cotton ball, and it doesn’t escape either of you that JJ no longer flinches at the sting. Once you’ve moved on to the other hand, his stare intensifies as you carefully move his rings around to make sure there’s no hidden nicks underneath them. When it’s time for you to move onto his face, he places his hands gently in his lap and lets you inspect his face closely, turning it from side to side with a finger at his chin. Your demeanor lightens a little when you’ve decided the damage is as minimal as possible. “Really glad you managed to keep Rafe away from the money maker this time. Well, mostly.” You punctuate your point by pressing the cotton to the tear in his lip and the pressure makes him hiss. You pull your hand away and grab the vaseline, smearing a small amount over the cut as gently as possible. “You really should ice that, J. Keep the swelling to a minimum.”

You realize a little belatedly that he hasn’t taken his eyes off your face the entire time you’ve been working and your eyes raise to meet his. The look in his eyes is a little confusing and a little startling, and his voice is gentle when he says “Thank you for patching me up. You always take the best care of me.” 

You let out a deep sigh before patting his leg gently and moving towards the door. “I think I could find work as a school nurse with all this experience you’ve given me.”

4. 

A boneyard party used to be your absolute favorite way to blow off steam on a Friday night. The sand, music, booze and weed were the easiest way to melt away the stress of a long week, but lately, the stress of seeing your best friend sneak off with some random had you absolutely dreading stepping foot on the beach. Most of the time, you had a pretty easy time keeping your less than platonic feelings for JJ at bay. You always rationalized swallowing your emotions down by telling yourself that you both needed each other as a friend way too much to jeopardize that. It was getting harder and harder to listen to your own advice lately, and partly because you weren’t quite sure what he was feeling. He’d been especially affectionate lately, not giving second thought to curling his body around yours on cold nights around the fire. His compliments had become less silly and teasing, and sometimes when he looked at you, it felt like he was staring straight into your soul. 

Tonight, you’d allowed Kie to pick you out an outfit from your closet, not wanting to spend time debating with yourself and getting yourself stressed. She’d picked out a pair of high waisted denim shorts and a cropped white t shirt, topped with a yellow scarf to tie around your ponytail. It was simple enough that she knew you’d be comfortable but cute enough that you’d feel confident. 

Secretly, she’d also seen the way JJ eyes had dragged slowly over your figure when you’d worn those shorts the week prior. Neither of you had spoken to her, or Pope or JB, about your feelings for the other, but they as a group had all witnessed the gentle way you handled each other and had their suspicions that one of you would break soon. She’d driven you to the boneyard, promising to stay sober enough to relocate you all back to the Chateau at the end of the night. She pulled your hand along, heading straight to where she knew your friends would be congregating, just behind the keg. JB and Pope each had a full cup in hand when you approached and JJ had a joint hanging from the side of his mouth. “Gentlemen, let’s get it going,” Kie startled the boys, a giant smile across her face. 

A few hours into the party and a considerable amount of beer later, the realization hit you that JJ hadn’t wandered off to find someone to mack on yet. He’d even turned down the touron who approached him first, despite her tiny skirt and flawless makeup. It had to be some sort of record for him, usually his presence at these parties was fleeting. You thought back to just the week before when you’d watched him lead a beautiful curly-haired girl back to the Twinkie. You’d felt nauseous watching them flirt, his legs parted as he sat on a low hanging branch with her settled between them. Her hands rested on his chest as she stared up at him from under her eyelashes and you had to rip your gaze from the pair when he slid from his perch and wrapped her hand in his. You kept your eyes on the ground as they passed, but like a train wreck you couldn’t help but watch, you were unable to stop yourself from throwing a last glance in their direction as they approached the van. He’d turned to look at her with a sly smile on his face and must have caught your eye over her shoulder. His smile dropped quickly and something looking like an apology crossed his face for a second but when you looked away again, focusing on holding the burning tears in your eyes back, he recovered and smiled back at the girl, pulling her into the spacious backseat. 

Even just the memory had you tense, and JJ felt the uneasiness radiate off of you from his position by your side. He called your name gently so as to not call attention to the two of you and you turned your head quickly, blinking away your thoughts. Your eyes focused on the concerned look on his face. “You alright? Did someone upset you?” JJ’s eyes were already scanning the crowd for who could have possibly upset you and it pulled a small smile to your face. 

“No, J, I’m alright, just thinking. All good now.” His face turned back to you, a small pout gracing his lips. He asks if you’re sure and when you nod in agreement, he turns his attention back to your friends. The two of you watch Pope and John B argue about if Gatorade was actually better for you than regular water or not for a few minutes before you turn back to JJ. “Hey, JJ?” Your voice is small and it surprises the boy beside you to hear you so timid. When his attention is turned on you completely, you start your question. “Is there a reason you turned down that girl before? She was like, stupidly pretty.” You’re finding it a little hard to meet JJ’s eyes as you ask, so you fiddle with the strings on your bracelet instead. 

A small chuckle leaves his lips before he replies with “I got the prettiest girl at the party standing next to me already. Why would I leave?” Your eyes meet his and there’s no humor anywhere on his face and you can feel yourself get hot under his gaze. You’re left speechless for a second before the sound of Kie’s voice pulls you from the moment. You clear your throat and turn back to your friends, mumbling under your breath. JJ replies with a “hmm?” and you repeat yourself a little louder this time, so he can just hear you.

“Kiss ass.”

+1

Somehow, Kiara had managed to convince her parents to allow you to come to Midsummers as her guest and by an even greater miracle, you’d managed to save enough babysitting money to buy yourself an appropriately fancy dress, floor length and blue with pretty flowers embroidered on it. You arrive at the Carreras’ house early in the afternoon to begin getting ready, helping Kie put her hair up with some flowers pinned in. You chose to keep yours mostly down and let your best friend weave some braids in, tiny beads sprinkled down the length of them. Neither of you put on very much makeup, but it was still more than you’d worn in recent memory, and it felt nice to look in the mirror and actually feel pretty and put together. Kie comes up behind you as you look in the full length mirror and wraps her arms around your waist, chin resting gently on your shoulder. “We look fucking good, don’t we?” She giggles and scrunches her nose up as you meet her eyes in the mirror. 

You nod emphatically before turning to face her, a wide smile on your face. “Hell yeah, we do, baby! The lady pogues know how to clean up good!” Your response makes her laugh, head thrown back, and it makes you wish all your friends would be in attendance, despite how much you love girl time with just you and Kie. 

Your dreams of being able to spend the night with all of your friends almost came true, spotting John B on Sarah’s arm from across the room upon your arrival. The night became even sweeter when you saw Pope standing next to his father, but even as the five of you stood together at the edge of the party, people watching and laughing, you couldn’t shake the feeling that JJ was the piece you were missing most. Kiara and Sarah left to make their way to the restroom and Pope was pulled away to help his dad, leaving you and JB standing in the corner. “You should go see him, you know. Skip out early, I’m sure Kie wouldn’t mind.” You turn to look at your friend, confused at his sudden idea. You had a feeling you knew exactly what he was saying, but you waited for clarification, fiddling with the glass in your hand. “JJ is at the Chateau and before I left, he seemed pretty upset that he wouldn’t get to see you in your dress.” 

He holds out the key to the twinkie and your jaw drops a little, and it makes JB chuckle, shaking his head slightly at your obliviousness. It really hits you all at once, exactly what JJ’s recent change in behavior meant. The intense stares, the end of his slew of meaningless hookups, and especially the sincere compliments that you’d been taking as a joke. You knew you had to see him, so you looked up at JB and handed him your glass, taking his keys from him. “Tell Kie where I went, please.” You turned and started to make your way through the crowd and you heard John B’s cheer through the noise of the party, smiling as you reached the door. 

You don’t even bother turning the radio on when you get in the van, the pounding of your heart loud enough. When you get to the front door of the Chateau, you can hear the television on and it takes a second to see JJ’s outline resting on the couch. The front door slams behind you and JJ doesn’t turn right away. “Jeebs, why are you ho-” The question catches in his throat when he turns and sees you in the doorway instead of John B. He breathes out a quiet “wow, hi.” You move towards him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders so that his hands fall at your hips. 

“JB told me you wanted to see me in my dress, so here I am.” You look up at him teasingly as a blush spreads across his cheeks. “Plus, I couldn’t really have any fun at the kook party. The cutest boy in town wasn’t there.” It’s JJ’s turn to be left speechless and it makes you giggle. The sound pulls him out of his trance and its milliseconds before his lips are pressed to yours. You snake your fingers into his blond hair and you feel his hands squeeze at the meat of your hips as your lips part and he licks into your mouth gently. It feels a thousand years before you pull away, resting your forehead against his. “You’re my favorite person, JJ Maybank. I think you always will be.”

[jaeminscoffee]

Misunderstood | T. Lee

Pairings- Ten Lee x Reader

Genre- Angst, slight fluff,

Warning(s)- Character death.

Word count- 1.88k

Type- requestedddd

It was a whole cat and mouse game at the beginning. 

You know how it's always portrayed that all cats and mice despise each other? Well maybe it's because the friend and foe never really go together since they indulge in a much predator and prey relationship. That's how you and Ten's blooming relation started.

Just like any other fable, or the famous cartoon, might as well be a life lesson, Tom and Jerry; Ten and you never got along. You weren't meant to get along. After all, which super agency's top sniper would befriend a wild criminal? Apparently you did. You'd always find yourself letting Ten off the hook each time in the last minute. The lad was fun to have around. And just like any other untold truth of the behinds of a story, the mice in your story was also only just a misunderstood soul. Ten was more than what he portrayed himself to be. 

Chasing Ten and catching him, the first glimpse was your mission. Bringing him back to the headquarters dead or alive was your mission. To turn a deaf ear to anything and everything he'd let out was your mission. To heartlessly end him if he pulled a smart stunt was your mission. But having him voice out his thought processes and you gladly listening to the entirety of it was most definitely not your mission. 

You'd been known as the top all rounder sniper of your agency, one for your amazing skills, two for your ability to make ends meet, and three for being a kind soul yet thick skulled if the situation called for it. Your boss, the head, of course ended up assigning a very confusing mission to you as, for the matter of fact, were a very trusted pawns of his. It was intriguing yet confusing because you weren't given much insights on why you're asked to serve summons on him. 

Ten on the other hand was to this point, tired of running. Hurt. Wounded by having to bear the weights of his family when all he'd wanted was to lead a normal life of his own. To not wake up in cold sweat, fearing for whether his days would shorten the next second. To make it until arvo without anyone, or anything hot on his trail. To make his way back home from his work space; a small corner dance studio where he'd teach the one's who'd not be able to afford trying to learn at those fancy known dance studios who charged way more than what's required, without having someone tackle him to the floor. To sleep after supper without having to wake up every other minute, paranoid whether one of those people trailed him back home and somehow managed to sneak in. 

"He's still watching ,you know?" Ten rasped out loud enough for only the two of you to hear his voice which helped you step out of the cloud of guilt for what you were about to do. 

You, just as assigned, started immediately. Still confused, of course. The boy seemed little to not harmless at all. But nevertheless, you went about it. Watching the boy feed stray animals on the way, smile brightly at passerby's, buy a drink or two for the hungered on the pathway, keep the dangered ones accompany on a night walk, he seemed like a moral, ideal member for the lacking society, nothing like the heartless murderer he'd been described to be. 

"I know, b..but i can't, Ten" you sigh out, shutting your lids tight to clear up your blurred vision. 

He seemed to be the only calm in the chaotic, messed up world you lived in. Now obviously, you did try catching him each time only to let him go, thinking of all those out in the streets and beyond waiting for their daily dose of hope in this dark realm. And to keep a close eye on the said predator, of course. 

Finding him crouched down by the alley turn towards his usual workplace, you found it a little heartbreaking to continue heartlessly end him. He seemed so.. vulnerable, broke, and nothing like the walking sunshine he'd been since the beginning of your mission and definitely nothing of that of a murderer. He seemed just like the misunderstood feline in all fables who are usually portrayed as the predator and heartless and only wanting to fulfill their needs type. But much matured and smart you'd finally, spiritually understand the personality of the character, hurt, scared, 'does want to care and show it to all but scared to be misjudged again is what they really are. 

"Oh? That most definitely wasn't how you felt when you'd first initially pointed the same rifle at me, remember?" Ten chuckles from in front of you, still in the uncomfortable, cornered, back pressed to the brick wall with your left arm on his chest the other pointing straight to the middle of his skull. His retort making you let out an airy, shaky laugh of your own. 

The first time you'd done it, your eyes were fueled with determination, you'd get this done and there would be nothing bold enough to dare stop you, except Ten, he was bold enough apparently. "That department store just got mobbed and you're going to stand with a stupid toy gun pointed at me who's not proven guilty of anything? Seems right enough for me that you work as a puppet for that messed up government," your eyes widen at his statement, turning back to see nothing but a tranquil customer filled store, turning back to the lad to find him out of sight. Ten lee had relatively gotten much more experienced and better and running out of sight, "Ten, You drive me crazy," you speak through gritted teeth. 

"You were the first one to outrun me, you know?" you lean closer, only to hear your colleagues get their own weapons off safety and ready to fire any second,

"Now, isn't that why you're so drawn to me? Your work would've been so much more boring if it weren't for me, if anything, you're welcome." Ten replied smugly, proud of all his interactions too absurd to be categorized as normal, nevertheless the few of moments in his life that makes him happy thinking back at it. "Tsk," you slightly pout, feeling your eyes glaze over the nth time that night, this would all soon fade into memory and for what? For the fact that no one was ever ready to listen to the wrongly framed. 

"Is the target acting hard to surrender, Agent 02?" you hear from your in ear piece, immediately responding with the most stable voice you could muster, "No, Sire, not at all," you reply, "Then why is it taking you so long, Ms. Y/l/n?"

"It's time, isn't it?" Ten asked with a sad smile on his face. All the days of running were finally coming to an end yet he felt like that wouldn't make up to all his lost days. Yes, he was more than grateful to you. For showing something humane exists where no one ever tried caring for what the other does or says. He liked that, though with the choice of path or career that called for some serious human emotion control, you nevertheless wanted to remain human. Ground to earth, and kind enough to valid his feelings. Valid his existence. Valid him and not see him as a target of any sort. 

"I don't want to, Ten. I could try explaining this to them-but-" 

"But they aren't like you, they work for those on a higher post and won't stop even when given a solid reason to and you know that better than anyone else," Ten explained rather calmly.

"Yes, but you don't deserve this.." You let your voice waver, finally, gripping the deadly weapon tightly, mindful to keep your fingers away from the trigger, "Agent 02, pull the trigger when I count down to 1." you flinch at the sudden voice interrupting the intimate moment between you and your now, friend. 

"15.."

"I shouldn't have accepted the tasks, then i wouldn't have had to be the one doing this, and i wouldn't have had to meet you, and right now, at this moment, more than anything, I wish i'd never met you," You scramble through your words to form coherent sentences and the stipulated time you're given, 

Ten laughs out a closed mouth laugh, "14.."

"Really? But i don't wish so," He hums, closing his eyes to fully indulge in your warmth. The same familiar warmth that embraced him during one of the most vulnerable nights of his life. The same warmth that kept him company on each day following all while still radiating coldness of suspicion, "13.."  which slowly but surely turned into nothing but warmth all after uncoiling what most before you didn't even bother to, "12.."

"It's not that I wish i didn't meet you, it's just i wish we'd met in different circumstances," One where you wouldn't have to go for all the cat and mouse chase all over again, where he'd be, "11.." a normal bachelor and you'd be one too, who'd oh so much in a cliché manner meet at a café,

"Well, we don't get everything we wish for now, do we?" His voice sounded so exhausted, yet, no hints of fear or despise or cruelty shone through. Just exhaustion, and maybe a bit of….relief? "10.."

"Ten, we still have a chance. I can still give it a..-"

"Y/n, look at me." 

"You being ready enough, human enough to study me thoroughly before conclusion has been more than enough for me to prove that humanity still exists, that listener still exists. And I wouldn't want anyone, rather you put an end to this little game of ours,``''9.."

"You need to do nothing else other than stay the same, " he started once again, this time, finally allowing his vulnerability to shine through his voice, "8..", "And to do the same you'd done with me with all those potential targets of your people," "But Ten, just-" "7.."

"It's either you or me, doll. Your helpers there look more than ready to shoot any betrayer," "Then so be it! But i can't.. I can't get myself to- I love you, i car-" "6.." 

"There. The only words that were left for me to hear," "5.." 

"Your people seem generous enough to let me go in this much of a, how do I put it? Grand.. Way?" "Ten I've got 5 seconds to change my mind, I can do something you know?-" 

"Y/n, my love. You're making this hard for both of us, so.. "

He did the said stunt move your head had warned you about, swiftly shifting your positions so that you were the one pressed against the unbelievably uncomfortable wall making your eyes widen, words "I love you too, doll" and "Fire!" mixed together, all you could see the next moment was a small smile on the lads face, red seeping through the material of his white hoodie before his now lifeless body slouched and fell right in front of you. 

The misunderstood had been deprived of their life once again. 

[lizzie-wendigo]

I promised a long time ago a vampire Oc named Vladimir. But as always, he went through a lot of designs before he got to this one. So... here it is!

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

-Name: Vladimir Alucard

-Age: 282 years (appears to be 21 years old)

-Species: Humanoid Vampire

-Dedication: Freelance Exorcist (Rookie)

-Likes: whiskey, money, show your strength, show off

-Dislikes: racism, to be told that he is weak, vampire hunting kit, blessed object, garlic

-Skills: Speed, strength, he can climb walls, he have bat wings that allow him to fly, himnotism (he can erase memories, but he has yet to polish that skill), manipulation of darkness, can use it as whip, sword, razor, pistol (kind of like skills in Deadman wonderland)

-Facts:

Vlad is inspired by Inosuke- Kimetsu no yaiba

his symbol is a Purified Diamond

He prefers to be called "Vlad"

He's more foolish, arrogant, and jackass than Cuphead

He doesn't get along with Cuphead, basically because Vlad reminds him of all the stupid things he does.

He always makes the mistake of underestimating his opponents, and almost always takes a beating.

He receives a lot of discrimination from many exorcists, as it's still up for debate whether vampires are considered a subspecies of demons or not. And since he was allowed to be an exorcist, he is the first of his kind to be one.

As he is quite immature and irresponsible, he is always on the tightrope of being fired from being an exorcist, and Andromeda always gives him warnings and scolds him.

He is very competitive with Cuphead, and when he manages to overcome it, he likes to tease (although it is easy to fool him and convince him of that quality)

Vlad was in rehab for not drinking blood, as his entire family has always indiscriminately drank blood.

-BIO:

Vlad is one of the last descendants of the oldest generation of the "Dracula" family but unlike his relatives, he wanted to make a difference, and decide to fight for him well. So he was in rehab to not drink blood.

He always spent his time fighting Cuphead, since he, his brother Mugman and Cagney met him unexpectedly on a mission. At first, they believed among them that they were enemies, but they realized that they were exorcists. So even though they reluctantly agreed to team up, and for a short time, cuphead and mugman agreed to give him some teamwork advice, although of course it was very difficult with hardheads like cuphead and Vlad. Even after a small confrontation with Ms Chalice, obviously Chaice beat him without problems, and this made Vlad become depressed and question his abilities, but thanks to these experiences, with the passage of time, Vlad learned not to underestimate his opponents too much and teamwork.

In fanchild AU, Vlad still looks young (obviously), but keeps mentioning all the time that Cuphead looks "old" and asks how their family lives are going to the Cupsiblings.

In fact, Bubblegum, Abyss and Sheriff call him "Uncle Vlad" when he visits them, they have a great time with him.

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

➤  Buy me a Ko-Fi

[holylulusworld]

Ms. Bodyguard - Codename Sweetheart

Summary: Jensen is used to be the hero on his show. He’s not a coward, not at all - but when he gets attacked by an unknown man the studio insists on a full-time bodyguard. Specialist in protecting people while living with them - you agree to protect Jensen but he doesn’t like the fact a ‘small’ girl shall protect him. Will you be able to protect the unwilling actor?

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Bodyguard!Reader

Characters: Jared Padalecki, Clif Kosterman

Warnings: angst, mentions of stalking, mentions of blood/murder, characters death tension, slow burn

A/N: A shorter chapter to get to know more about Y/N's past and the case.

Ms. Bodyguard Masterlist

“Yeah, I know. I have no authority, and that this is your case, but my client got attacked. The girl stalking him got brutally murdered and you are telling me shit. 

Now we can play nice and you tell me if you found, the same fingerprints the attacker left at Mr. Ackles trailer, at the crime scene of the latest murder or not.

I want to clarify if it’s the same perpetrator. I know you couldn’t identify the man and I know you wouldn’t tell me a name.

All I want to know is if the person killing the poor girl is the same man trying to kill my client.”

Jensen listens to you yelling at the cops. He can imagine your hands on your hips, a dark look on your face and your lips, oh your lips contorted in anger.

“Phew, she will kill those guys if she won’t get information.” Jared snickers.

Clif shrugs not hiding the grin on his face. “Y/N can get the information in no time from someone else but, she tried to play nice and exchange information with the local police.”

“They won’t give her shit,” Jensen grumbles while your voice gets louder. He presses his ear to the door when the cop’s mumble something and you finally snap.

“Keep your information. I’ll call someone above your pay grade to get the needed information to save my client’s life. Thanks for nothing.” The door gets ripped open and Jensen bumps into your chest, nose-first.

“Care to explain?” Smirk on your lip you look at Jensen who tries to part his face from your breasts. “I know they look inviting, but this doesn’t mean you can just throw yourself at me.”

“Sorry, I was just trying to hear what’s going on.” When he finally manages to get up Jensen sheepishly looks at you. “I didn’t try to…I mean.”

“I get it, Jensen.” Looking at Clif you give him an eye-roll. “Waste of time but at least this way they can’t blame me for not sharing information. We will have all we need back at Jensen’s house. A friend of a friend owes me one.”

Jensen still doesn’t know how to react around you. Again, you have to take the lead and grasp for his hand. “Arm around my waist, no talking to any reporter. We will use the front entrance.”

“Isn’t the back entrance better?” Jared rubs his arm nervously, not wanting you to press him against the wall again.

“Let’s say someone leaked that Mr. Ackles and Padalecki will leave the police station using the back entrance.

The front entrance will be crowded too but at least most of the reporter will be at the backside of the building.” Clif snickers, watching Jensen glance at you, impressed.

“Good. I’ll use the back entrance, act as if I am waiting for you and we’ll meet at Jensen’s place. Do you need help with your equipment?” You smile but shake your head. All your belongings are already in the trunk of your bulletproof car.

“I got everything I need. Let me bring sweetheart home and we can talk about the shit going on here. I got no clue why the guy should kill the poor girl.”

Leading Jensen away from the office you try to wrap your mind around the case.

“Maybe she was part of his plan. A confused young girl with mental health problems. If he was gaslighting her – maybe…fuck…”

“Something wrong, Terminator?” Jensen grins, looking at you while his hand squeezes your waist. “You know, everyone will believe we have an affair.”

“No, they will believe we are deeply in love if you can put on a great show. Whoever is after you wants one of two things.” Humming Jensen glances at your lips while trying to follow your explanations. “He wants you, or he wants you dead.”

“Honestly, both options don’t sound appealing. I mean, not that I would have anything against a nice guy flirting with me, but that guy is ten times flying above the cuckoo’s nest crazy.”

Now you chuckle and Jensen gives you a cocky smirk. “Knew I can make you laugh.”

“Stop acting, sweetheart. I know you are scared to hell and back. Just relax and trust me. I will not let anyone hurt you, Jensen. All you need to do is following my order.”

Not convinced by glad you agreed to protect him Jensen nods silently. “This situation is hard; I know but we need to outsmart whoever is after you.”

“Okay…”

“Good, now back to the Batcave, sweetheart.” Smirking you lead Jensen out of the police station. 

Your skilled eyes search the area for any threat. You know, sometimes five seconds decide if your client lives or dies. “Just relax, Jensen. I am with you…”

“Good. Cameras are on; the alarm system too. Not too bad, Jensen. I will have a friend come around tomorrow to check on the windows downstairs and the security. He’s an expert in breaking and entering.” Eyebrows furrowed Jensen watches you built up your equipment.

“A lot of monitors and…” When Jensen tries to touch your equipment, you slap his hand away. “Ouch, what’s that over there?” Pointing toward a strange device he gapes at you.

“Movement detector, newest generation. While you were sleeping like a princess, I checked on your house and prepared everything.

Any movement outside the house, I’ll get alerted. Any movement inside the house, I’ll get alerted so…” Patting Jensen’s chest you smirk. “No late-night dates or girls sneaking into your house.”

“You’re a freaking…I got no clue who you are. I mean, you look like a cute girl, but then you push Jared against the wall as if he weighs nothing. You could take anyone down and…” Humming you activate the last monitor. “Who are you?”

“Sweetheart, if I ever tell you who I am, you are as good as dead. Let’s say a friend of a friend offered me a job during my time at a university which’s name I will not drop.

It was a good offer, an interesting one but sometimes – the things sounding too good to be true are nightmares.” Your voice is steady, your face stoic but your eyes betray you this time.

“CIA? NSA? Someone we do not know about?” Jensen tries but all he gets is a gentle pat to his cheek. “I get it, top secret. The thing with the girl and the knife, Yakuza…”

“I can only tell you that I had missions and I always accomplished them. I was their good soldier, the one they sent when everyone else gave up. Like with the little girl I told you about. I was loyal…until…I wasn’t…” Now your voice cracks and you turn your attention back toward the monitors.

“Someone fucked you over…huh?” Jensen looks over your shoulder, laughing as Clif and Jared walk toward the house. “Dudes look awful on those monitors.”

“Not someone fucked me over. I fucked them over after getting a mission I did not want to accomplish. They didn’t give me a chance…you know.

When you are in, you are in. Or you are out and no one gets out alive…” Walking toward the front door you turn around to watch Jensen frown.

“I don’t know you, but I guess they wanted you to do something immoral.”

“All I did for them was kinda immoral, Jensen, but that’s part of the job. They do not send you to save a girl. They send you to save the girl to blackmail her powerful father to cooperate. 

Not that this ever happened, of course…” A blink later you fall silent, remembering Jensen is only a client, not a friend. “This was all hypothetically…”

“Sure…pure fiction…”

“The friend of my friend sent me the file. Let’s see…shit…” Your eyes narrow and you feel the pit in your stomach grow.

“This is too perfect. I mean…fuck me…” Tossing the folder onto the table you get up to shove Jensen's shirt upward.

“Whoa, buy me a coffee first. What are you...?” When you rip the band-aid off his wound your frown deepens. “Something wrong? Terminator?”

“I guess someone tries to fuck me over once again. The wound, it’s like I would’ve attacked you to make sure everyone believes I wanted to kill you, without killing you.”

Jensen watches you carefully check on the wound while his heart beats a mile in a minute.

“You mean, a Terminator tried to kill me?” Chuckling Jensen tries to lighten your mood, but you don’t have nerves to laugh now. “Y/N?”

“The girl, whoever killed her was an expert. The cuts were precise like a surgeon slit her throat open. She must’ve been dead in the blink of an eye without pain. 

This wasn’t a crazy fan’s doing, that guy is skilled…” Putting a new band-aid onto Jensen’s wound you try to wrap your mind around the new information.

“He had to get rid of her, Jensen. This was an execution hidden behind a murder. I don’t know what’s going on, but I suggest you stay close to me and do not meet up with anyone.”

Looking at Jensen you take a deep breath. “Tell me who you fucked over for them to send a killer sending you more than one message…”

More tags in reblog. Maybe this way they work...or not.

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags   

@spnfamily-j2​​​

@supernatural-bellawinchester​​​

@negans-lucille-tblr​​​

@deans-baby-momma​​​

@thefaithfulwriter​​​

@squirrelnotsam​​​

@roonyxx​​​

@neerness​​​

@deansgirl-1968​​​

@spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​​​

@butifulsoul125​​​

@lyinginthegingerlocks​​​​

@neen-illustrates​​​

@janicho88​​​

@woodworthti666​​​​

@thevelvetseries​​​

@dreaminemz​​​​

@akshi8278​​​

@midnightsilver16830​​​

@mrspeacem1nusone​​​

@ria132love​​​

@caligraphee​​​

@the-witch-in-silence​​​

@justanotherwinchester​​​​

@multisuperfandom​​​

@jason-todd-squad​​​​

@jadesupernatural​​​​

@psychicforest​​​​

@luciathewinchestergirl​​​​

@magssteenkamp​​​​

@palefiregiver​

@tranquility-or-chaos​​​

@jxackles​​​

@michellemxndes​​​​

@addictedtofictionalcharacters​​​​

@gabifernandessn​​​​

 @waywardrose13​​​

@team-free-will-you-idjiot​​​​​

@myopiamystical​​​

@rintheemolion​​

@isthatabutterfly​

@bluecornflowers​​​

@rosalynshields​​​

A/N: If your name is crossed out Tumblr won’t let me tag you.

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

 Ms. Bodyguard Tags

@healojane​​​, @bitchwhytho​​​, @marvelouslysherlockedhunter​​​, @mimzy1994​​​, @couldabeenamermaid​​​, @abbessolute​​​, @vicmc624​​​, @fantasydevil2002​​

[shera-dnd]

Face Turn - Heel Turn

Well that was silly to write as a title

ANYWAY now that I’m done humiliating myself on the internet how about we just move on to the next chapter of that fic

Now featuring the most fantastical element of this entire fic: How well the wrestlers are treated by their employer

AO3 link as usual and let’s get going

Amity Arena, the headquarters of Remnant Wrestling… something or other. Weiss had to admit that she didn’t much care about whatever overly complicated name they gave this company. As long as the contract didn’t include any dumb shit she didn’t care how they managed to contrive the “R.W.B.Y.” acronym.

As for the place itself, it looked surprisingly clean and organized. From the clips Jaune showed her the backstage area always looked messy and dirty, so they either cleaned it up for her or that part too was completely fake.

The office they were invited to, on the other hand, was covered wall to wall in pictures, posters, souvenirs, and just random knick knacks, all framing the older man in the middle.

“Miss Schnee. Mister Arc,” he greeted with a smile, “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Ozpin, sir,” Jaune replied awkwardly as they took their seats. He sat to her left so she knew exactly who would be in her blindspot. She was quietly grateful for that gesture, “the pleasure is all ours.”

Weiss disagreed.

“So you’re the one running this circus?”

She heard a chair skidding to her left as Jaune nearly jumped up, apologies already spilling out of his mouth, but Ozpin simply laughed at her comment.

“Oh no need to apologize, Mr Arc,” he said with a smile, “a circus is but a collection of skilled performers joined in the purpose of entertainment, and for that I’m honored to be their ringmaster.”

It took a lot from Weiss not to scoff at that.

“Now don’t be worried, Ms Schnee,” he assured her, “I have no plans on giving you the role of the clown. I know better than to insult a consummate professional with such a proposition.”

Weiss sighed, “then what do you want from me exactly? I’m not signing anything until I know you won’t humiliate me in front of countless people.”

“Of course, here at R.W.B.Y. we prioritize the mental well being of our performers far above any of our ongoing plotlines. You would have complete freedom to veto any unwanted plot beats as you work with our team of esteemed writers.”

She nodded. This arrangement was certainly better than she expected, but something not being the worst didn’t make it good.

“As for your starting role,” he continued, “you would be a Face, our term for hero, one of the good guys. Your role may change with time of course, but I think this would suit you well for starters.”

“So do I just get in the ring and punch people in the name of truth, justice and the american dream?” She asked, trying to see if there was any way of mocking this farce that would make him show any emotion other than ‘passive understanding’.

“If you so desire,” was his response.

She studied the man for a moment, trying to find that manipulative hint that nearly everyone seemed to have around her. Finding that had been one of the few things Jacques ever taught her, not on purpose mind you, but she still learned it through continuous exposure to the despicable man.

It was only when she found nothing that she allowed herself to respond.

“Alright,” she took a deep breath, “looks like you have yourself a new star.”

Ozpin smiled brightly and Jaune let out a breath he had probably been holding since the moment Weiss opened her mouth.

Everything else was handled simply and cleanly. Weiss was given an unreasonably long contract to read through, which she tried to thoroughly - another of Jacques accidental lessons - but she had only made a few pages in before her head started hurting from the eye strain.

Jaune took it from there.

A week later, with everything else handled, Weiss sat down with one of those ‘esteemed writers’ to discuss her big intro. Said writer was a woman by the name of Blake Belladonna.

Blake seemed to take her job very seriously, regardless of the absurdity of it all, and had a calm air of professionalism to her. Weiss could appreciate that. Though her ideas were a bit too fantastical for her at first, after some back and forth, the final product did manage to please the both of them. 

She was to be a white knight, recovered from her injuries, returned to the field of battle, unburdened by her scars, and ready to fight once more. It was completely absurd when she put it like that, but so was just about everything else happening in that damn ring.

In practice this just meant that she was gonna come in, do some silly speeches about inspiring hope, win a few matches, and see where they would take things from there. It was a simple and easy plan. What could possibly go wrong?

The answer was apparently, Weiss’s temper.

Things had gone smooth at first. Sure, her heart hadn’t really been into it, but she didn’t expect it to be, and people seemed to buy it anyways. She was the big MMA star returning to the ring once more to kick some ass, and they were loving every second of it. Weiss on the other hand, felt miserable.

Fighting used to be so freeing for her before. It was the one thing she had that was out of reach of her father, that she did for herself and no one else. Somehow it was only when she was put in the cage that she truly felt free.

Not anymore.

Now the ring just felt like a different prison, a different stage for her to perform on. It wasn’t hers anymore, it was everyone else’s. She tried to focus on work anyway, she tried to keep the show going, but at some point it became too grating for her.

She was meant to start this friendly rivalry with this Yang Xiao Long lady. They were going to be very competitive with each other while both claiming they were the best of the best, and in the end they would work together in a tag team match in a show of the true power of friendship or something of the sorts.

It was halfway through her first promo that she realized that she couldn’t keep that act going or she was gonna go insane. Ozpin said she had the power to veto stuff she didn’t like, so it was time to put that power to good use.

She took a deep breath, held that microphone like she was gonna snap it in half, and let her old fierceness come out to play.

“Actually, screw this!” she started, at least having the decency to not swear on live television, “I don’t care if she thinks she’s the greatest around. I don’t care if any of you think she’s the greatest!”

The crowd grew silent as she caught them by surprise. Good.

“None of you have ever even seen a real fight!” She accused, “you really think any show off with a pretty smile is somehow a real fighter? She spent more time naming her moves than she spends training.”

That’s when it started. The booing. She had to admit, she liked that sound.

“You want a real fight? You wanna watch me put that show off in her place?” She challenged and someone in the crowd actually cheered this time, “then sit down and watch, because she’s only gonna be the first!”

She expected to be scolded when she returned backstage, maybe even have her contract threatened, but instead she was met by a very amused Blake.

“You know, that’s gonna be a pain in the ass to salvage if you wanna keep the baby face act,” she commented.

“Don’t even try it,” she responded, walking past her, “let them be angry.”

“Good,” Weiss couldn’t see her face, but she could hear the grin in her voice, “you make a far better heel anyway.”

[murdershegoat]

Eliza and Jeremiah not letting Kara try out for any school sports teams bc her powers give her an unfair advantage so she instead volunteers to become the school mascot and somehow manages to charm her way into cheerleader Lena’s heart

(also on ao3)

maybe it’s her cynical nature, but lena’s not sure how one person can contain as much school spirit as kara danvers seems to. kara who bounces around the halls between classes and has a laugh so loud that it can cut right through even the noisiest of cafeterias. kara who is the only student who can get away with calling Principal Grant ‘The Big G’ and ‘G-Money’ to her face. Kara, who is the only person willing to don a Midvale High Bears costume at every major (and minor) sporting event in which the school is involved.

it’s unnatural, lena decides. a normal person cannot hold that amount of pep. a normal person cannot be that excited by the prospect of spending two hours every other week in a heavy, sweaty bear costume. and lena’s not sure why kara just doesn’t join one of the several teams she mascots for. she’s a bit lanky, a bit uncoordinated, sure, but lena has always noticed the muscles across her body, the biceps and the sharp calves and the abs. god, the abs. and despite kara’s seeming inability to walk ten steps without tripping over something, lena’s seen her land impossible trickshots on the basketball court, seen her run one of the fastest miles as a warm up in gym, seen her throw a football the length of the damn field when she thinks nobody’s look at her.

but the joke’s on kara.

because lena’s always looking at her.

not in like, a weird way. it’s just that they always happen to be around each other. they’re in the same AP classes and have the same lunch and gym periods and they live across the road from each other which means lena regularly sees kara in her front yard doing cartwheels or climbing trees as her sister looks on, uninterested. and now that lena’s on the cheer squad, she sees more of kara than ever before and it’s starting to get on lena’s nerves.

stupid friendly gorgeous mascot.

it’s one of the first football games of the season and lena’s stretching on the sidelines as the crowd starts to arrive. she’s not used to her uniform just yet - it shows a lot more of her skin than she usually does. if she’s being completely honest, she doesn’t even like cheerleading the much. but she’s good at it and it’s good to diversify her college applications just a bit and it pisses her mother off just enough for it to be truly satisfying.

‘looking good, luthor!’ kara calls out as she jogs onto the field with her head piece tucked under her arm. lena rolls her eyes, ignoring the heat she feels rise in her cheeks. she’s not sure why kara always calls out to her specifically when there are about a dozen other girls on the team. she’s heard the rumours about kara kissing girls in bathrooms at house parties. does kara have a crush on lena? the thought alone - of kara pinning her against a bathroom sink at some jock’s house as muffled music drifts through the floors, with beer on their breath and their bodies loose and warm - the thought makes lena’s stomach feel odd and heavy.

lena finishes stretching and moves onto the field grass with the team as they do a warm-up pyramid. the stands are just more than half full and the game doesn’t start for another half hour which means the cheerleaders are going to have their work cut out for them.

‘alright ladies,’ andrea says. ‘get in the three tier formation.’

in next to no time, lena gets hoisted to the very top of the pyramid. but instead of bethany h. catching her left foot, she knocks it hard with the back of her hand and bethany s. loses her own gripping and lena goes tumbling back. she doesn’t even have time to panic as a frightened yell rings out from the crowd, she just accepts her fate of falling to the ground and getting a cheerleading career ending injury. but instead she finds herself safe and secure in kara danvers arms.

‘where the hell did you come from?’ she murmurs as andrea yells at the bethanys.

‘would you believe i fell from the sky?’ kara grins. ‘your own personal guardian angel.’

lena’s stomach flutters as she stares up into kara’s impossibly blue eyes. the moment feels intimate despite the fact a growing crowd stares at them both.

‘could you… put me down maybe?’ lena asks, even though she doesn’t mean it.

kara frowns. ‘oh. right.’ she tips lena onto her feet, her hand staying on the small of lena’s back as she gets her balance right.

‘are you sure you’re okay?’ kara asks, the jest disappearing from her tone.

‘just a bit shaken i think,’ lena says, smoothing the pleats of her skirt.

‘luthor!’ andrea calls. ‘you’re off for the game.’

lena’s mouth falls open in shock. ‘that wasn’t even my fault!’ 

‘i don’t care,’ andrea says. ‘it was sloppy and you’re currently shaking like a leaf. you’re sidelined for tonight.’

lena scowls as she stalks to the sidelines, pushing past andrea and collecting her bag. she’s not even halfway to her car when she hears someone calling her name.

‘luthor! lena! wait up!’

kara’s jogging towards her, barely weighed down by the ridiculous costume she’s wearing.

‘shouldn’t you be warming up the crowd right about now?’ lena asks as she gets closer.

‘i thought… you did seem pretty shaken up back there. and i know you’re tough as nails but i thought maybe i should drive you home.’

‘you’d miss the game. you haven’t missed a game in three years.’

kara shrugs. ‘some things are more important.’

lena stares at her for a moment, trying to figure out what kara could possibly get out of this situation. but kara stares back at her, that annoyingly earnest smile all over her gorgeous face. lena begrudgingly hands kara her keys and walks to the passengers’ side. she sneaks a glance at kara peeling off the mascot costume, revealing a pair of basketball shorts and a sports bra. she puts the bear on the backseat before climbing into the drivers’ seat and lena fixes her stare firmly at the glove compartment in front of her, willing herself not to look at kara’s abs or arms or–

‘you be DJ,’ kara says as she starts the car. barely looking, lena puts it on her favourite radio channel and curses every god she can think of when kara starts singing along with the voice of a goddamn angel.

‘so you have everything, huh?’ lena asks. ‘you’re a genius. you’re popular. you’re genuine. you can sing. what can’t you do?’

kara laughs. ‘well i do suck at parallel parking. and you’re one to talk. on track to being valedictorian. had a paper published about the theoretical use of nanobots in healthcare. wrote an award winning essay for ms. brown’s english class. and you’re a damn cheerleader, too, top of the pyramid.’

‘it’s not as impressive as it all sounds,’ lena mumbles, before noticing that they’ve stopped and kara has (perfectly parallel) parked and is turning off the engine.

‘this isn’t my house,’ lena says.

‘and you’re skills of deduction are impeccable,’ kara adds with a laugh. ‘we’re at noonan’s diner and i’m buying you a milkshake; you almost died tonight.’

‘i did not.’

‘true, but only because i saved your life. which means you should be buying me a milkshake.’

lena smiles but only for a moment. she reaches into the backseat and rummages around in her sports bag. she pulls out a midvale high gym tshirt and hands it to kara before conceding.

‘fine. milkshakes on me.’

//

kara gets the most complicated milkshake lena’s ever seen, impossibly tall with a donut resting on the whipped cream at the top, and it looks even more ostentatious sitting beside lena’s order of a small vanilla milkshake, hold the whipped cream.

‘how do you do it?’ lena asks. kara raises her eyebrows in lieu of a verbal ‘what’, her mouth filled with milkshake. ‘how do you eat all the junk i see you eat and still look like… that.’ lena gestures to kara’s body.

‘wicked fast metabolism. and i work out a lot. and my foster mom makes sure i eat healthy food for breakfast and dinner. i just sneak the junk in at school and on weekends.’

‘i’ll add ‘eat anything’ to the list of ‘can do everything’.’

‘i can’t do everything,’ kara says, this time with a sad smile. ‘i can’t play the sports i want to play because my foster mother’s read too many studies on dire injuries in high school athletes. and i can’t seem to be fully myself, no matter how hard i try. i’m always just… someone else’s version of kara.’

‘i guess we’re the perfect pair,’ lena chuckles. ‘no matter what i do, it’s never enough for my family, and it’s never as big as anything my brother has achieved. and i’m so sick of being at the top of the damn pyramid and having my life in the hands of the world’s dumbest bethanys.’

‘we should stop,’ kara says, leaning forward conspiratorially. ‘you stop cheering and i’ll stop being the dumb mascot and we can just… be. we can just be. we can just be happy. or whatever.’

lena stares at kara over their milkshakes and she thinks of the rumours of kara with girls in bathrooms and she thinks of how maybe she wants to be one of those girls and how maybe even more than that she just wants kara to hold her again and how angry lillian would be if she found out about kara.

for a moment, she wonders if she could just stop trying to be everything her mother wants and instead just be lena and have fun with just kara and feel like a normal teenager with normal teenaged problems. she wonders if kara is thinking the same thing as her.

but lena knows. she knows that being a luthor means she can never be just lena. and as she looks at the expression on kara’s face - one of bittersweet longing - lena thinks maybe kara carries similar pressures on her own shoulders.

she watches with a smile as kara - with her hands firmly on the table - tries to bite into the donut that bobs atop her drink. she gets whipped cream all over her face. maybe she can’t do everything, after all.

//

‘here you go,’ kara says, turning the car off outside the luthor house and twisting around to face her. ‘i hope you’re feeling better.’

‘never felt better,’ lena says earnestly. ‘thank you. for driving me home and keeping me company. and making me buy us milkshakes.’ she feels transparent under kara’s stare, like she can read her every thought and feel the way her heart beats wildly in her chest. there’s something in the air that lena’s not sure she’s felt before, an energy in the silence, in the way kara looks at her.

‘i-i’ve heard the rumours about you, you know,’ lena says quietly, unsure if she’s trying to ward kara off or if she’s trying to yell god, me too, i’m the same. ‘what you do with girls at parties. what people say about you.’

kara’s eyes gleam, and her smile turns cocky. ‘weird. because i see the way you look at me, lena, the way you look at other girls. i see you watch me.’

lena remains silent. is this what it is, to be known? to have others look at you and not see what you want them to see?

‘tell me i’m wrong,’ kara whispers. ‘tell me you don’t want the same thing i want.’

‘what.’ lena swallows. ‘what do you want?’

and then kara leans over the centre console. and it’s not a bathroom and kara tastes impossibly sweet instead of like beer, but she’s kissing lena nonetheless. slow and self assured and confident. and lena’s kissing her back, every hair on her arms standing to attention, every nerve ending alight, every neuron in her brain screaming incessantly. kara danvers is kissing her. kara danvers is kissing her and it feels fucking amazing.

‘can i drive with you to school tomorrow?’ kara asks, as they pull apart. and for the first time since lena’s known her, she sounds nervous.

‘of course.’

‘goodnight, lena,’ she says, and lena can’t control herself; she kisses her once more, chaste and quick.

‘goodnight, kara.’

lena floats inside and up to her room, the weight of kara’s lips still dancing on hers. as she reaches her bed, her phone buzzes with a message from kara with nothing other than a long string of indecipherable emojis.

but lena thinks she understands what she’s trying to say; there are several red heart emojis that makes lena’s own heart flutter.

and for the first time in a very long time, lena falls asleep with a smile on her face, looking forward to what tomorrow will bring.

[metaphorical-love-for-a-car]

An Unexpected Reunion-- Malcolm Bright x Reader

oRequest; “the reader is an FBI agent who met Malcom in Quantico but they lost contact cause she went to do undercover work and now shes put in New York on. A case and they just catch up and be happy cause malcom needs happy” (anon)

Warnings; specified fem! reader, language, bits of violence, terrible writing

Word Count; 2.1k

Notes; I rewrote this like 5 times so I hope y’all like it lol

Trainees were separated into groups for various training sessions throughout the day, and a group was never the same. Everyone was rotated around. Your group for the day happened to do incredibly well in the training exercises. “Best so far,” you were told. They decided to reward the group by allowing all of you to have a paintball fight, writing it off as combat practice. Everyone darted to various corners of Hogan’s Alley. You hid behind a dumpster and readied yourself for the battle to begin. A thud from the inside caused your brows to furrow. Since the Alley was a mock town, you knew that there wasn’t any trash inside that would attract any critters. Nevertheless, you decided to check it out. You cracked open the lid, only for something to latch around your arm. “What the fuck, Bright?” He shushed you.

“Come on, this is the best hiding spot here! Anyone comes around, and you can easily take them out without being spotted. Just... just hurry up and hop in before you blow our cover.” You stared at him, blinking slowly. Was he serious? Malcolm’s eyes widened, causing him to look slightly frantic as he motioned you inside. Alright, he was completely serious. You clamored into the dumpster and hoped that no one heard the lid slam shut. Malcolm clicked on his flashlight. He raised a brow and grave you a sly grin. He started to speak, but you interrupted him.

“If you’re about to make this sexual, I swear to God I will shoot you in the crotch right now.” Malcolm grimaced, looking highly offended.

“What? No! I was about to ask if you had heard about how Johnson from the second group pissed his pants in the hostage simulation today,” he rapidly explained. Then he froze for a moment, giving you a doubtful look. “You wouldn’t shoot me this close range. You’re not that cruel.” You held up your gun.

“Wanna bet?” Malcom narrowed his eyes at you. He was challenging your capabilities. What was once a game of hide-and-go-seek turned into a game of cat-and-mouse. Either way, you weren’t losing. You leaned back and pulled the trigger. The paintball hit its target with a loud twap! Malcolm shouted a string of profanities as he curled into fetal position. You clasped a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

“Bitch...” he groaned. 

“You practically told me to!” 

Fond memories of your old life were what got you through your secret life. Being assigned to go undercover for months on end was no easy feat. There were plenty of times you wanted to call it quits, but you couldn’t. So, you’d think of moments that made you happy. You were beyond relieved when you were able to return home. It was as if you could finally breathe again. You wanted nothing more than to sleep for at least two weeks straight, but, of course, you weren’t allowed such luxuries.

You had awakened too early for your liking but decided to spend the time catching up on all the shows you missed while undercover. You had just sat down with a cup of coffee when someone started banging on your door. You sighed, taking a long sip of your coffee and hoping that they would go away. Luck wasn’t on your side, as the person continued to try to punch your door down. You groaned and shuffled over towards the door. It revealed a woman with curly hair. She gave you a small grin and held up a badge. You squinted at it in an attempt to determine its authenticity. “Hi, I’m Dani Powell with the NYPD. Are you Ms. (Y/L/N)?” You eyed her for a moment before finally deciding that she was telling the truth about her identity. You slowly nodded, slightly confused as to why she was there. “Mind if I talk to you for a few minutes?” she asked, putting her badge away.

“Yeah... what’s... I’m sorry what’s going on?”

“Your neighbor was murdered last night.”

Your body tensed. Was she serious? Could a murder have seriously taken place right under your nose? You turned on your heel and hurried further into your apartment. Dani looked confused, hesitantly stepping inside. You fumbled through a drawer before returning with a badge of your own. “I’m with the FBI. Could I see the crime scene please?” Dani raised a brow at you.

“Let’s go talk to my superior first.” You nodded and slipped on a pair of shoes. Following Dani down the hall, she approached a man leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Where’s Gil?” The man furrowed his brows at the sight of you. Okay, so maybe you could have at least brushed your hair before you walked out. You probably looked like a hot mess.

“Inside. Who’s your friend?”

“Special Agent (Y/F/N). FBI. I live down the hall,” you answered. The man seemed surprised, causing Dani to roll her eyes.

“Oh shit, really? I’m TJ.” He started to say something else, but Dani interrupted him. 

“She wanted to see the scene, but I was gonna let her talk to Gil first.” You pursed your lips. Surely, it wasn’t the same person you were thinking of. There was a slight commotion from inside the crime scene before two men emerged into the hall. One was waving his hands widely, while the other looked done with his shit.

“Okay, so we’re looking for-” Your jaw dropped. Malcolm? Here, of all places? The world is quite a small place. “Cookie?” TJ and Dani’s faces wrinkled.

“Stinky!” Malcolm laughed at the familiar nickname as you threw your arms around him in an embrace. Gil smiled at the two of you.

“What am I, chopped liver?” You scoffed before giving him a hug too. TJ and Dani shared a look of confusion, which wasn’t lost under Malcolm’s gaze.

“Team, this is Cookie. Cookie, this is the team.” 

“I’m sorry-- but Cookie?” TJ asked, almost astonished at hearing Malcolm call someone by their pet name. The profiler nodded. A smirk crossed his lips.

“We’ve been friends since Quantico. During training, (Y/N) snuck out of her room to steal some treats. Everyone’s called her that since.” You rolled your eyes at the mention of your nickname.

“And you’re... Stinky?” Dani asked with a laugh. You beamed at the opportunity to share your favorite memory from training.

“At some point during your time at the academy, a handful of trainees are dropped off at random points in the Prince William Forrest Park to test your survival skills. We somehow managed to bump into each other while wandering around and decided to team up. Two heads are better than one, right? So, we were trying to figure out a shelter situation when Stinky discovered a foxhole type thing. I warned him not to go in, but-” Malcolm interrupted you.

“I’m pretty sure you said, ‘We can’t go in there because your head’s too big. You’d get stuck and die before we even get a chance to go on a real mission.’”

“Shut up, Stinky, I’m telling a story. Anyways, the bastard decided to go in. Lo and behold! There was a family of skunks living inside, and he just barged right on in. The dude stunk. Bad. No one would go near him for about a week. So, the name Stinky was born.” 

After telling the group a few more stories about Malcolm and learning a bit more about the case, you went back to your apartment to change into some actual clothes. They still required you to go down to the station and make a statement. Malcolm offered you a ride, which you gladly accepted. You hadn’t seen him since before he got fired.

As the two of you got in his car, you couldn’t help but notice how awful he looked. His hands were shaking, and he had heavy bags under his eyes. “You’re staring,” Malcolm joked, but, this time, the smile didn’t quite meet his eyes. You shook your head.

“Yeah, it’s cause you look like shit, Malcolm.” He turned his attention back to starting the car. He knew that you were being serious when you used his actual name. You watched his inner turmoil, no doubt debating whether he could confide in you. Turning your gaze away, you didn’t want him to feel like a bug under a microscope. “How long has it been this bad?” 

“It’s been bad for a while now, but it’s gotten worse over the past few weeks.” His voice was small, and it made your heart ache. Shaking your head, you got out of the car. Malcolm’s brows furrowed. You poked your head back inside.

“Well? Are you just gonna sit there like a fly on the wall, or are you going to tag along with me?” Without a moment’s hesitation, Malcolm switched the car off and appeared by your side. You linked your arm with his, tugging him along. “Don’t ask questions, just follow my lead.”

You led him to a rather posh boutique not too far from your apartment building. Malcolm seemed a bit concerned as to what you had in store for him, and you couldn’t help but laugh. The older woman working there seemed a bit disapproving as the two of you walked in, giggling over some old inside joke. “Okay, seriously, why are we here?” Malcolm finally asked. You grabbed his wrist and looked at his watch.

“You have five minutes to put the most ridiculous outfit together. Loser has to buy lunch. Go!” 

You scurried away, hoping that he would let loose and have some fun. Luckily for you, Malcolm wasn’t the one to back away form a challenge. Five minutes passed faster than you would have liked, but you thought you did pretty good. You were wearing large sunglasses, a tiara, and a jacket almost entirely made of rhinestones. You turned around and nearly fell to the ground with laughter. You hadn’t expected Malcolm to take the challenge that seriously. He was wearing sunglasses similar to your own, a feather boa, a shiny necklace, and he was even holding a single earring to one of his earlobes. What got you the most was his ridiculous hat, something you would only expect to see at the Kentucky Derby. His smile widened at your reaction. “Looks like you’ll be the one buying lunch.” 

“I lost?”

“Obviously,” Malcolm scoffed.

“Oh, but did I really?” You quickly pulled out your phone, snapping a couple pictures. “I can’t wait to show these to Gil. He’s gonna die.” Malcolm’s jaw dropped. He put his earring down and held a hand out to you.

“Gimme.”

“What? Hell no, Stinky. You’re gonna have to pry this thing out of my cold, dead hands.” His eyes narrowed, and you immediately regretted your statement. Malcolm lunged at you, causing you to shriek and dash away. He cornered you near some clothing racks. His arms wrapped around you as he attempted to wrangle your phone from your hands. The two of you were too busy laughing and fighting each other to realize that you were inching closer and closer to the racks. As you struggled to get out of his grasp, Malcolm had the bright idea to suddenly let go, sending you tumbling forward. You landed on a clothing rack, taking the whole thing down with you. Malcolm roared with laughter and had to lean on his knees for support. “Fuck you!” you called out. He held out a hand, helping you to your feet. “You’re a jackass.”

“Oh, come on, you know you love m-” He was interrupted by the older woman clearing her throat. Her arms were crossed, and she was tapping one foot.

“I think it’s best if you two leave. Now.” You both apologized profusely and even offered to help clean up, but she shooed you out of the store, after taking back their clothes of course. You gave Malcolm a hard time, blaming him for getting you both banned from the store. After the two of you fell into a steady silence, walking side by side, you prompted him with a question.

“What were you saying earlier? I know I love what?” Malcolm laughed, almost nervously.

“I was going to say that you know you love me.” You pursed your lips and hummed. 

“Maybe that’s why I’ve put up with you all these years, Stinky.”

“You’re not a ray of sunshine either, Cookie.”

“At least I don’t smell like skunk ass.”

“That was five years ago!”

~*~*~

Prodigal Son Tag List;

@ourfracturedomens​

Permanent Tag List;

@blitchen​

@blitchen-fics​

[recipeforme]

C6: Put You In Your Place

Book: A Good Kid

It has been about a week since I’ve moved in with the Sanders’ and things were going good. Well, as good as I expected it to be, maybe even a little bit better. Patton was still super nice to me and everyday he drags me to sit at his lunch table. I don’t think Roman doesn’t like that too much. Trust me, it doesn’t take a mind reader to figure it out.

Roman never says anything, of course, but it’s pretty heavily implied. He is always shooting me death glares and hitting me with insults and nicknames. It kind of reminds me of my brother in that way (only without the physical violence). When Janus would have a good day he’d only result in harsh insults and nicknames. Roman isn’t as bad as him but that doesn’t make him any better. But I’m used to it by now and I know how to handle it.

Logan, on the other hand, is completely different. I don’t think he tries to be insensitive but ends up doing it, even if it’s unknowing. He tends to ask me personal questions that I’m super uncomfortable answering. Some of them are basic getting to know you stuff; such as my likes and dislikes, but most of them are about Foster Care and my past.

A few days ago he asked why I’m in the system and I ended up running off and hiding in the bathroom because the question triggered a panic attack. Luckily no one found out about it but Logan has since then stopped with the questions.

Out of the three of them, Patton is probably my favorite. He has this overwhelming joy and is always socializing, but he’s nothing but sweet and kind to me. One thing that really surprised me about Patton is how careful he is to not overstep my boundaries. I don’t think I have ever had a foster sibling who’s cared so much.

I don’t see a lot of Thomas, Patton explained that he’s been doing a lot of work on the upcoming play that his students are putting on. When I do see Thomas he is nothing but nice and caring, always asking how I’m doing and if I need anything. He’s told me more than once that if I ever need anything to let him know and he will do everything within his power to make it help.

Despite the Sanders’ never ending kindness I’m going to stay wary and I will not let my guard down. Sure these people were nicer than most families I’ve stayed with, but I know that it won’t last long. And once that time is up they’ll send me back. After all, I could never fit in with this family.

-------

For the first time since this morning I finally had a moment to myself, it was lunch time now and I was able to slip away from Patton and his friends. Normally my foster brother would beg me to stay with them, and I’d always end up doing so out of guilt. But today he let me leave which I was really grateful for.

I was grabbing my sketchbook from my locker, with plans on sitting in the library and drawing. The book I was getting wasn’t the one that I use in class and turn into Ms. Adwin. This was my personal sketchbook, full of drawings that no one will ever see. I was spinning the combination on the metal door of my locker when I heard someone speak behind me.

“Hey! Newbie!” Turning around I saw an older looking girl walking towards me with a few other kids behind her.

I had a sense of déjà vu, this is what always happened right before… “Hey!” A pair of fingers snapped in front of  my face making me jump “are you listening to me?” The Leader asked.

“Uh no sorry…” I mumbled.

“Speak up and look at me” The Leader ordered, I flinched at her tone and shrank away. She was just like Janus. The girl waited a few seconds before letting out a dramatic sigh “it seems as if you haven’t yet learned your place” Out of the corner of my eye I could see her turning to her friends with a smirk, “lets give this little punk a proper welcome.” And with a crack her knuckles she gave me a hard punch to the gut.

------

The bullies only beat me up for about ten minutes before leaving to terrorize some other poor student. And truth be told I was surprised, normally beatings went on for much longer. All these kids did was give me a few punches and kicks to the ribs and none of them was as bad as I was used to.

Standing up, I opened my locker and grabbed the sketchbook sitting inside and walked off the library to get some drawing time before lunch ended. Acting as if nothing had happened.

------

That night I got the chance to examine my injuries, it ended up being nothing more than a couple of bruises. Nothing I couldn’t handle. After I dealt with my bruises I sat and worked on some of my art homework. For my first assignment Ms. Adwin wanted me to draw something that would help give her an idea of the extent of my drawing abilities and what I needed to work on.

I ended up doing a sketch of The Horned King from the movie ‘Black Cauldron.’ I did the drawing in all black and white, choosing to focus more on shading than coloring. When I was done my hands were covered in graphite but I was pretty proud of the finished product.

I wasn’t very good at a lot of things, drawing was one of the few things I’m good at.  Art was my only escape from the horrors of my life with my Dad and brother. During that period of time I used to draw doodles on little scraps of paper with a broken pencil. After I entered the system I managed to get enough money together to buy myself a proper notebook and some colored pencils.

During the past year I spent a lot of time drawing, both as an escape and as entertainment. I hadn’t been lying to Thomas when I said that I have never taken an art class before, everything I know is from things I taught myself and from the occasional YouTube video. Because I had never had the chance to take a traditional art class I am planning on working and learning as much as I can.

Along with getting better at my drawing skills I’m also hoping to learn how to use other materials and forms other than pencil and my current style. I really want to learn how to draw with chalk and pastels, I’ve never painted before but it's something I want to learn. Especially with watercolors, maybe even with oil paints as well.

I don’t know how long I’ll be with this family, but you can bet that I won’t let that stop me from learning everything I can.

[labyrinth-runner]

One Day I’ll Fly Away

The Greatest Thing Chapter 9

Moulin Rouge Fanfic

Christian x OC

Read it here

Words: 2.9k

The season had come and gone and Estelle walked around like an empty shell of herself. London seemed less interesting, less like home without Christian. The only solace she had were her talks at William Cavanaugh's house. She spent most of her time there, now. Sneaking out by saying that she would be visiting with Annalise. They were lies, but only Mary really knew, and Mary didn't have the heart to give her up. She could see the tension between her sister and her father. Mr. Devereux's disappointment was palpable in the air whenever she came back without having a marriage proposal or at least an intention of courting from someone. He'd set her up on countless outings with the sons of his business partners, and she had managed to ruin any future with them all. His disappointment came to a head one morning at the breakfast table.

"Estelle, you're running out of eligible men in London, and you are ruining your name. Do you wish to become a social pariah, child? Because if you keep this up, you won't last another season," he huffed, watching his daughter pick at her breakfast.

"They're not suitable, father," Estelle replied.

"They may not be suitable to you, but they are suitable to me," he shot back.

Estelle looked at her father with such scorn, the likes of which Mary had never seen before. "Yes, well, you are not the one marrying them."

"You are my daughter, and I will give you to whomever I deem fit," he replied. His words were cold, but they felt like a hot slap across the face, shocking at first, and then a searing pain settles in.

Estelle calmly stood up from the table and left.

"Where do you think you are going? You haven't been dismissed," her father commented.

Estelle shook her head and continued out the door. "Prior engagement."

Mary sat in stunned silence. No one had ever walked out on her father before.

"She's too much like your mother," he sighed. "She'll ruin us."

Mary looked at her father for a moment, as if seeing him for the first time. Quietly, she asked, "May I be dismissed?"

He nodded.

She got up to leave, pausing at the door. She turned back to him and asked, "Ruin us, or ruin you?"

Her father swallowed and she left to catch Estelle before she left.

"Elle!"

"Mary, I don't want to hear it. I need air. I'm going for a walk," she replied, her hand on the front door.

"I know. Just... be safe and tell Will and Anna I say hello," Mary smiled.

Estelle nodded before going out the door. In truth, there was no prior engagement. She just needed to breathe. Her house was suffocating. She was being crushed under the weight of her father's expectations. Her social card was no longer her own these days. Her nights, however... those were a different story. She spent more time at Grub Street than she did sleeping, but she didn't care. Why dream of freedom in her sleep when she could live it? Her feet carried her on their own accord to just outside of William's building. She shouldn't be here, not in broad daylight. No respectable woman would be seen here, and her father would be furious should he find out.

"Fancy seein' you here, sweetheart," a voice called from across the street.

Estelle turned towards the voice and grinned, spotting its owner in the window of the building opposite. "Poppy!"

"Been seein' a lot of you lately out my window at night when I'm... preoccupied," Poppy smirked. "Come on up. Let's catch up."

Estelle looked around the street. A whorehouse. She was about to enter a house of ill repute in the middle of the morning. This might as well happen. Swiftly, she made her way over and into the house. The smell was oppressive, and the house looked like it needed some repairs. The wallpaper was peeling off the wall, and there was a layer of dust around the chandeliers, but she could tell that it had been nice at one point. Cautiously, she made her way up the stairs which creaked under her feet. She walked past open doorways, catching glimpses of naked women either sleeping or in other states of relaxation. Then, she found Poppy, smoking a cigarette while looking out her window. Gently, Estelle knocked on the door.

Poppy's eyes lit up as she turned towards her. "It's different to see you in the daylight. You're a proper woman, Ms. Devereux."

Estelle blushed. "Yes, well, so are you."

Poppy looked down at her night gown and laughed. "Proper is a relative term."

"So it seems," Estelle smiled.

"Well, come and have a seat. I've got a fresh pot of tea we can split," Poppy said, clearing off two of the chairs by her bed.

Estelle walked over and daintily sat on the edge of the chair, finding it to be surprisingly comfortable for its shabby design. Poppy poured them each a cup of tea before fixing her with a hard look.

"What is it?" Estelle asked nervously as she picked up her teacup.

"I'm not quite sure, but you seem melancholy," Poppy replied.

"What makes you think that?"

"Darling, you don't get so great at my profession without being able to pick up on these things," she winked. "I fulfill needs. All of them."

Estelle sighed, "I have been having a difficult time lately."

"Is it because that man of yours isn't here anymore?" Poppy asked.

Estelle choked on her tea, "Well, he wasn't exactly mine to begin with..."

"I saw the two of you together," Poppy murmured. "As much as I make love for a living, you can never buy that."

Estelle looked down, "Yes, well. He left a while ago. He's with the Bohemian's in Paris, now."

Poppy's eyes widened, "Like at the Moulin? Oh, darling, you may never seen him again."

"What makes you say that?" Estelle asked.

"Well, I may be good, but the girls at the places that those Parisians frequent, like the Moulin Rouge... Well, they are the best."

"Do you really think Christian could be with one of them?" Estelle murmured.

"I'd like to say no, but they are very skilled at ensnaring men, so anything is possible," Poppy shrugged.

Estelle bit her lip. "Teach me."

Poppy laughed, "Teach you what?"

"How to be like that," she replied. "If Christian is looking for someone a little more... worldly, then perhaps I should try to be that."

"Don't be anything you're not for a man," Poppy said pointedly.

"Poppy, I'm not asking you to make me a prostitute. I'm just asking you to teach me a little more about what you do and... maybe a classier way to incorporate it into my daily life," Estelle said hopefully.

"You want to learn how to talk dirty, but in high society? Is that what you're asking me to do?" Poppy asked.

Estelle shrugged, suddenly feeling embarrassed, "I just want to do things that might set his heart racing."

"Darling, what I can teach you will definitely get his blood pumping, but just to other places," Poppy winked.

Estelle leaned forward as Poppy began to teach her about suggestive phrasing.

"It's not always about the words you say, but rather the tone of voice and the hazy meaning behind it," Poppy explained after it was all over.

"Right, therefore I can turn something innocuous into something more charged based off the situation and how I say it," Estelle smiled.

"Oh, I'd like to see him leave you now," Poppy grinned.

Estelle deflated slightly, "R-right."

"Darling, I didn't... I mean... Oh, this is what happens when you befriend a whore. We say what comes into our heads without thinking about it first," Poppy said, resting her hand on top of Estelles. "I apologize. I'm sure he didn't leave you when he left."

"No, you're right. In a way, he did. He may have told William that he was leaving because of his father, but by leaving London, he did leave me," Estelle sighed, getting up. "Thank you for your kindness, Poppy."

"Atwell," Poppy murmured. "Poppy Atwell. I haven't said that part of my name in years, but I feel like I can trust you with it."

Estelle smiled at her. "Have a good day, Ms. Atwell."

"You as well, Ms. Devereux," Poppy nodded.

Estelle made her way back outside, running into William's chest.

"Ms. Devereux?" he asked in confusion.

"Mr. Cavanaugh," she said sheepishly.

"Were you just... leaving a whorehouse?" he asked carefully.

"This stays between us," she said sternly.

"You know I can't keep anything from Anna," he said in exasperation.

"I mean it, William," she replied.

"Estelle, I can't lie to her. She has a way of knowing whenever I'm keeping something from her. It's honestly a little frightening," he responded.

Estelle sighed.

"What were you doing there, anyway?" William asked.

"I was talking to a friend."

"Your friend is a prostitute?"

"Listen, have I ever judged you?" Estelle asked pointedly.

"No," he replied, running his hand through his hair. "May I escort you home?"

"I would prefer not to go home," she murmured.

"To Anna's, then?" He asked, holding out his arm for her.

She nodded, taking it.

"William, I know he didn't leave because of me, but that doesn't make it any easier," she sighed after turning off of Grub Street.

"I know, my dear. He really knows how to bungle things up, doesn't he?" he replied, gently tapping his hand on hers where it rested on his arm.

"I just wish he would write to me," she replied. "To let me know that he's alright."

"He's tried," William replied without thinking.

"What do you mean?" Estelle asked. "Has he written to you?"

"Estelle, he doesn't know what to say to you. He knows he's misstepped when it comes to you, and he isn't quite sure how to recover," William said, committing to telling her the truth.

"He talks to you?" she asked softly, feeling something in her break.

"Yes, but all he does is talk to me about you. He asks me how you're doing, if you've met a match, and if you are happy."

"William, I can't keep going on like this," she admitted. "My father wants me to move on and find someone else to court, but how can I move on when Christian is my future?"

"How do you know that he is?"

"How do you know that Anna is?" she countered.

William sighed and looked down. "It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside that I get when I'm with her."

"Like a swarm of butterflies in your stomach that make you feel as though you could just be lifted into the air by it?" Estelle asked with a faraway look on her face.

"Or like I'm riding atop a carriage while drunk like I used to back in college. You feel a rush of excitement when you see them and you know that regardless of what happens, you'll have a good time," he chuckled.

"Did Christian also ride these carriages with you?' she laughed.

"Heaven's no. I needed someone to drive," he grinned.

Estelle shook her head at him as they made it to Annalise's house. They both waited for Annalise in her parlor. The grin that grew on William's face was as bright as the sun when she glided into the room.

"Mr. Cavanaugh," Annalise smiled. "What a pleasant surprise. And with Elle? I knew it was going to be a good day when I rose this morning."

Elle snorted. "It's nice to see you, too, Anna."

"I'll have the servants bring tea out to the garden. I'll meet you both outside," Annalise smiled before going to the kitchen.

The garden was quiet today. In the early afternoon sunlight, it almost seemed like they had traveled to another place, another time. The air was fresh after last night's showers, and Estelle closed her eyes as she breathed in the clean air deeply, letting it fill her lungs. She opened them, hearing the chirping of nearby birds.

"One day, I'll fly away like those birds," she murmured. "They're free to go wherever they want and start lives with whomever they want."

Annalise and William shared a look.

"But, Elle, London is your home," Annalise replied. "You can still find someone here to love you."

"Anna, I won't love them back. My days are blurring together like a Monet and all I long for is the nights discussing ideals with all of our friends. I can't stand waking up in my house with my father making the walls close in faster. London stopped being my home when he left," Estelle sighed.

"Home is a place," Annalise replied.

"No, home is where you feel loved and safe. It's where your words and dreams are valued and encouraged, not destroyed. Home is what I felt with my mother, and when she was gone, with Christian," she replied, looking back at her with sorrow in her eyes.

"Should we tell her?" Annalise asked William.

"Tell me what?" Estelle asked curiously.

"Where he is," William replied.

"Paris, I know," Estelle groaned. "It's a little far from London."

"Estelle, I have his address," William admitted.

"What am I to do, William? Show up at his house and demand that he talk to me? He could have a whole life without me by now. Not to mention, my father would never allow me to just leave," Estelle laughed.

"Maybe not on your own," Annalise said thoughtfully.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, after the season, it's not odd for members of society to travel," Annalise said, fleshing out her idea more. "What if you and I went on a European holiday? We could track him down along the way."

Estelle felt a bit of dread set in. What if she went all the way there just to find him in the arms of another woman? "What about Mr. Cavanaugh?"

"Who am I to stand in the way of true love, Ms. Devereux?" he grinned. "Besides, I'll still be here when you both get back."

He had said both, but Estelle knew he was talking to Annalise.

"We could also write," Annalise added. "In case Mr. Cavanaugh gets too bored without us."

Estelle looked out at the garden. She might as well not even be here.

"My father would never go for it," Estelle added.

"My father would pay for the both of us if I ask nicely. Besides, he owes me. I saw him out at the opera with his mistress and didn't tell my mother," she winked.

Estelle chuckled. "Alright. I'll ask him when I get home."

The rest of their time together was spent discussing the latest fashions across Europe as Annalise was extensively planning her wardrobe for the trip. When Estelle finally made it home, it was almost time for dinner.

"Estelle," her father called out to her from the library.

She took a deep breath and went to face him. "Yes?"

"About this morning," he said.

"I'm sorry, father. I should never have spoken to you like that," she replied, looking down.

"Are you really so unhappy here?" he asked.

"I just feel like I need a break from London after the season," she said, picking her words carefully. "I have done nothing but try to secure a husband the past few months. It takes a toll after a while."

Her father nodded. "I suppose it does."

Estelle came to sit on the floor next to his chair. "Father, Annalise would like to take me on a tour of Europe. Her father said he would pay for the two of us. I would very much like to go."

"Perhaps a change of scenery would do you some good," he sighed. "I'll allow it, on one condition."

"What is it?"

"You try to make some matches while abroad. Perhaps there are people outside of London who are of good social standing that may suit you," he said reluctantly.

"I'm sure I'll be able to find someone," she grinned. "After all, Europe is quite large."

Her father cracked a small smile. "Yes, well, we will discuss more of the finer details later this week. Go get ready for dinner."

Estelle squeezed his hand as she got up. "Thank you, father."

"You're welcome, Estelle."

She practically raced up the stairs in her joy.

[notjanine]

2020 in books!

the only kind of new year’s resolution i made as a naive baby last january was to try to read 40 books for the year. (i read 37 in 2019, for context.) well, with all of my commuting time eliminated and an increased need for immersive escapism, i ended up surpassing that goal three times over lmao (thanks library ebooks!)

idk how to summarize my year in books in a way that makes sense but

(f) = fiction, (nf) = nonfiction, (p) = poetry.

books that rewired my fucking brain:

braiding sweetgrass by robin wall kimmerer (nf)- GOD?!?!?! good. dr. k is right. ostensibly a book about plants, but actually a book about shut up and go outside. consumerism and capitalism are doing their damnedest to fuck you up, but you can just choose to value different things. take care of yourself by taking care of your environment. etc etc.

wasp by richard jones (nf)- lissen. when i got this book, my wasp-phobia was so severe that i had to put it away face down on a high shelf because there are wasps on the cover and i couldn’t bear to RISK even GLIMPSING them. now i am like... a wasp evangelist. (also due to the bugs 101 course on coursera it’s so good.)

wag by zazie todd (nf)- i have a dog, but i am NOT a Dog Person (i.e. i love my dog, but please keep yours away from me, thanks.) this book helped me understand my little guy better, plus it gives actionable tasks and activities to do with and for your pup! plus, y’know, learning about things you’re scared of helps to lessen that fear. i’d recommend this to anyone who has, wants, or regularly interacts with a dog.

a closed and common orbit by becky chambers (f)- is this series complete fluff? absolutely. am i fundamentally different after reading this one? maybe.

the best we could do by thi bui (nf)- this is so far outside of my personal experience but somehow still made me come to peace with my relationship with my mom?? and it’s barely even about that?? idk. this is probably objectively the best book i’ve read this year.

books that were just fun as hell:

mexican gothic by silvia moreno-garcia (f)- this book made me YELL out loud

death on the nile by agatha christie (f)- i grew up on agatha christie shows, but never actually read her before this year! she really was That Bitch. read this before the movie comes out

cosmoknights by hannah templer (f)- i read this in one sitting through the worst headache i’ve had in years. it is a goddamn DELIGHT. this book has everything: spaceships. mech suits. fighting the patriarchy. a perfect otp. fun art in bright colors with clean lines. onomatopoetic WAPs from before the song gave that hilarious context. 800 lesbians. this is an antidepressant in graphic novel form.

stiff by mary roach (nf)- ms. roach is like the 4th most represented author on my bookshelf because she 1. stays writing about shit i’m interested in and 2. manages to talk about gross and ridiculous things without resorting to sensationalism. it takes skill to write a hilarious book about corpses.

black sun by rebecca roanhorse (f)- excellent sexual tension between a horny siren pirate and a hot doomed... monk, kinda? set in the pre-columbian gulf of mexico with magic and shit.

cuisine chinoise by zao dao (? n/f)- this graphic novel about chinese food history/mythology is BEAUTIFUL.

the color of magic by terry pratchett (f)- you’d think a hardcore douglas adams stan would have gotten to this sooner, but no, i had to date a nerdy white boy to get here. it’s fun though! i’m not gonna read them all, but this one was good. bonus: contains one (1) great himbo.

gideon the ninth by tamsyn muir (f)- like 500 pages of action and mystery and jokes and space necromancy. harrow the ninth gets a special mention bc it has a meme reference that took me out so hard i had to close the book, lie down, and groan for an entire minute before continuing.

other minds by peter godfrey-smith (nf)- i love octopuses. on one tma bonus ep, jonny sims says that if a creature can choose to do evil, then it’s a Person. octopuses are People. but anyway frfr this has an explanation of the evolution of consciousness that is cool af. (this one is much better than the other recent popsci octo book which i will not name out of politeness.)

the perfect predator by steffanie strathdee and thomas patterson (nf)- i read this bc my microbiology prof recommended it and it’s cool as heck! it’s got adventure, drama, mystery, Science-with-a-capital-S. i’m biased bc i’m a bit of a microbes nerd, but i had a blast with this. (but only bc we know going in that everything works out okay; if i hadn’t known that, i would have been TOO stressed!)

books that were a little less fun but still very readable:

my sister, the serial killer by oyinkan braithwaite (f)- i couldn’t find this as funny as other people bc i, too, have a beautiful sister who’s an insufferable narcissist, so it hits a little too close to home, but. it is a wild ride.

piranesi by susanna clarke (f)- idek what to say! i went into this one blind just bc it had a cool cover and title, so i guess i’d recommend that for other people too.

the sixth world series by rebecca roanhorse (f)- monster hunting! a post-apocalyptic take that doesn’t feel tired.

the shades of magic trilogy by v.e. schwab (f)- easy escapism. some ideas feel a little first draft-y, but idk, it’s also a pretty simple premise (which isn’t a bad thing). it’s a decent urban fantasy set in ~georgian?-era london. very actiony. suffers from a bit of i’m-not-like-other-girls disease, but i didn’t even notice until book two or three, so.

the only good indians by stephen graham jones (f)- starts off a little ??? (and reeks of being Written By A Man) but picks up. the pacing’s great and there’s just a super fucking cool monster.

robopocalypse by daniel h. wilson (f)- this reads like a tv miniseries so much that i can’t believe it isn’t one yet.

confessions of the fox by jordy rosenberg (f)- not my usual cup of tea, fiction-wise, but still compelling. a fresh take on the white-male-english-professor-self-insert? but not insufferable. gets weird!

spinning silver by naomi novik (f)- rumplestilstkin, but make it interesting! a great, richly-told fairy tale, but like, large scale. good to read on a cold day while you’re wrapped up in a blanket with some hot tea.

interior chinatown by charles yu (f)- compulsively readable. a couple things bugged me, but not enough to make me dislike it. a fun companion piece to how to live safely in a science fictional universe. i like this guy’s style.

cannibalism by bill schutt (nf)- COOL. mostly covers the animal kingdom (fun), spends too much time on the donner party (less fun), ends with a SPICY take on prions that i cannot get out of my head!!!

buzz, sting, bite by anne sverdrup-thygeson (nf)- BUGS! broad but not overwhelming, neither dumbed down nor overly scientific, short enough to finish in a day or two. recommend this to literally everyone.

books that made me want to read everything else in the author’s ouevre:

the time invariance of snow by e. lily yu (f)- this FUCKS but it’s too short!!!

an unkindness of ghosts by rivers solomon (f)- okay this book is SO good and so well-written and interesting and blah blah blah all the good things, but... the whole time, i was just like?? why???? why is this what you’re choosing to write about??? (i did also read the deep and blood is another word for hunger after this one, and i did like them both, especially the latter, but i think they can do better! like i think they could write a perfect book and i am gonna be *eyes emoji* until then.)

the space between worlds by micaiah johnson (f)- a fine debut novel, but i want to see her do something a little more... idk, refined? i think she overreaches here, like it’s a little... idk looper? this is how you lose the time war? there’s a better comparison, but i can’t think of it, but you get the idea. and then halfway through it shifts gears to mad max. there’s something weird about one of the central relationships, like it’s not complex enough to take as long to resolve as it does. idk idk. there are just a lot of little nitpicky things. it’s not bad! but i think she can do better and i look forward to finding out.

postcolonial love poem by natalie diaz (p)- thinky! like i tried to read this before bed, but it’s not the sort of thing to parse out while you’re falling asleep, it requires more attention than that.

books that Learned Me Somethin:

smoke gets in your eyes by caitlin doughty (nf)- i am a self-professed death obsessed weirdo, fascinated by death and mourning, but i didn’t know all that much about what happens to a body between the dying and the funeral! this book isn’t big, but it covers a lot and doughty’s writing style is engaging and honest. it’s very memorable.

queer by meg-john barker and julia scheele (nf)- i’m gonna be totally honest and say Queer Theory is above my intellectual pay grade, but this book takes you by the hand and explains the basics.

vitamania by catherine price (nf)- LMAO my fellow americans, never take a supplement. this book is great and well-researched, but normal folks don’t need to read it, just listen to season two of the dream podcast, which definitely cribbed from this.

vegetable kingdom by bryant terry (nf)- this is a fine cookbook, my favorite of his that i’ve read so far. gets a special mention bc i had a religious experience just reading one of his kohlrabi recipes. absolutely gutted that i didn’t have an opportunity to try it this year, since the pandemic put the kibosh on all family bbqs.

the best american food writing 2020 edited by j. kenji lopez-alt (nf)- this really is just a great collection.

are prisons obsolete? by angela y. davis (nf)- yes.

i moved to los angeles to work in animation by natalie nourigat (nf)- before reading this, i had basically zero knowledge of how the animation industry works. now i know like three things.

the secret lives of bats by merlin tuttle (nf)- BATS! okay this book is more about the adventures of being a bat scientist than it actually is about bats, but there are bats in there. insectivorous bats basically shit glitter, you should know this.

books from valuable perspectives:

hood feminism by mikki kendall (nf)- a breakdown of who’s getting left out of feminist spaces, why that’s happening, and why it shouldn’t be happening.

all you can ever know by nicole chung (nf)- a (transracial) adoptee’s take on adoption and learning more about her birth family. the personal storytelling of this one really stuck with me.

motherhood so white by nefertiti austin (nf)- a single-mom-by-choice’s take on the foster system/adoption process. walks you through some things i always wondered about and some things i wouldn’t even have thought about.

this place by kateri akiwenzie-damm et al (? n/f)- i, like a lot of non- native americans, only know that history in broad strokes. getting this many highly specific stories in one dense and beautiful book felt like a lucky find. and taking that perspective into the future in the context of that history is v good.

empty by susan burton (nf)- eating disorder stories are important to me bc i care about food so much. this one is so relatable- not in its specificity, but rather its generality. it’s easy to empathize with her perspective because it’s like, Oh, i don’t have that exact problem, but i struggle with different problems in a very similar way. (feels like the opposite of roxane gay’s hunger, in a way.)

obit by victoria chang (p)- this exploration of grief is... woof.

short story collections are hard to evaluate bc you’ll never read one where every single story hits but i generally enjoyed these:

a thousand beginnings and endings edited by ellen oh and elsie chapman (f)

how long til black future month? by n.k. jemisin (f)

her body and other parties by carmen maria machado (f)

books i revisited:

the broken earth trilogy by n.k. jemisin (f)- i read the series backwards this time and like... i can’t really find any faults in these books, man. they’re just the best.

everyone’s a aliebn when ur a aliebn too by jomny sun (f... but is it really?)- half of this book’s sales are from me buying it for other people bc it’s the only way i know how to say i love you. i reread it every time just to make sure it still feels right and it always does.

other honorable mentions:

white is for witching by helen oyeyemi (f)- not to pit two bad bitches against each other, but this book does what akwaeke emezi’s freshwater was trying to do. it’s a little weird, a little haunted, a little of a lot of things. read this only in the dead of winter. (and with stephen rennicks’ score for the little stranger playing in the background.)

homie by danez smith (p)- there’s a lot going on here, but this just made me crack a smile a couple times in a way that no other book of poetry has ever done.

the murder of roger ackroyd and murder in mesopotamia by agatha christie (f)- That Bitch!

blues by nikki giovanni (p)- she sure has some Things To Say

the three-body problem by cixin liu (f)- interesting concepts, but... idk something’s missing? felt weirdly soulless to me. i’m probably not gonna read the sequels. but it did make some points!

the sisters of the winter wood by rena rossner (f)- i’m a slut for shapeshifting, okay. but this is a good fairy tale, it works!

parable of the sower by octavia butler (f)- i read this in march, when the pandemic was just kicking off and boy that was not the right time. def my least favorite of hers so far, but an octavia butler i don’t love is still better than a hell of a lot of other books. no idea when or if i’ll get to a good enough headspace for the sequel.

faves:

saturnino herrán by adriana zapett tapia (nf)- i got to learn new things about my mans and see some of his paintings i’ve never even seen online! GOSH.

on food and cooking by harold mcgee (nf)- yeah yeah, i’ve already mentioned this book half a dozen times on here this year, but i don’t care. this book lives off the shelf in my home bc i reference it like every other fucking day. this book is a part of me now.

[pretty-thoughts-and-a-pen]

The Nature of Rumours

A young witch sets out on a journey in search of magic even more powerful than her own. There is nothing to go by, however, except for a trail of rumours.

All she had to go by in her search for the warlock was a collection of rumours.

 “Calls himself Edel, he does, don’t listen to what those silly girls tell ya,” said the old Ms Denhom, not knowing that she was the fifth person Claudia had asked since entering the bazaar, and this was the fifth name she had been told. Vittorio, Wallace, Edel…no one seemed to be in agreement on what the mysterious man called himself, though they all had wild tales about him to speak of, as if they had met him personally and witnessed his great deeds with dark magic. Under her woolen, brown cloak, Claudia’s fingers twitched and rubbed against her palm. The less concrete information she had, the more her agitation grew.

Nevertheless, she stepped forward and helped the old lady set up her display. The trinkets laid out on the table formed a brilliant splash of colour against the faded wood, and the two women arranged the various vases, delicately curved pots, patterned plates and matching cups so that they looked as appealing as possible to anyone passing by. Claudia had originally stopped only to ask about the warlock that resided at the edge of town, this seeming to be common enough knowledge that almost everyone had something to say about him. From the kid running in the street to the group of young ladies gathered for tea, to the old shopkeeper. Not wanting to waste her time while she was setting up shop though, she had taken to helping the woman as she talked. Ms Denhom, short and bent, moved gently and soundlessly, yet her hands had a grace and steadiness that belied her talent at the potter’s wheel.

 “Ah, thank you, dear.” Once they were done, Ms Denhom eased herself into a wicker chair behind the table, relaxing and adjusting her long maroon dress. “You’re a kind young girl, so tell me…” she fixed Claudia with an openly questioning stare, “what could you want with a practitioner of dark magic?”

 Claudia had to look away then. She swallowed against the growing dryness of her throat. “A personal matter,” she settled with saying. A hand swept out to fiddle with a pendant hanging on the wall. Oval-shaped, and painted with a swirling red and green pattern, it swayed back and forth on a black thread. Claudia could see herself buying it. Divya would’ve loved it.

 The old lady was silent, but Claudia could tell her stare hadn’t wavered. A wrinkled hand suddenly wrapped around her wrist, and Claudia turned to look at it, still refusing to look up. “Dear, I won’t pry in what you’re planning to do, but be warned.” Ms Denhom spoke with a grave urgency in her tone. “You may have heard this Edel is a philanthropist, using his powers for good, and maybe you seek his help.” She paused to take a breath, or to prepare herself to speak further. “You might also have heard he’s a businessman, offering his services for the right price.” Claudia finally looked up, and nodded. Ms Denhom continued. “There are so many rumours about him, the people of this town are themselves confused. No one can come up with a single story. It disgusts me,” her nostrils flared in a sudden spike of anger, “that people have made up so many fairy tales, leading innocent souls to danger, and for what? They want attention, or they want to play tricks, or maybe, that’s just what is young people’s idea of fun…” As Ms Denhom trailed off, staring into the distance, clearly lost in her thoughts, Claudia sneaked a glance at her watch. Time was wasting, and the old woman seemed to have given up all the information she had. Eager to be on her way at once, Claudia searched for an exit from the conversation.

 “Ms Denhom,” she interjected, grabbing the pendant she had previously seen off its hook. “I think I would like to buy thi-“

 “Oh, lovely!” Ms Denhom brightened up. And with that, the previous subject matter was forgotten.

 After handing over the money, and tying the piece of jewelry around her neck, Claudia was at the threshold of the stall’s entrance when Ms Denhom spoke again. The young traveler barely held back a groan. She was on a mission, she couldn’t be held back here a second longer. “Dear, forget the rumours everyone in this town has told you so far. It’s all false. I have the truth, and I would like to tell you.” The old lady lowered her voice, as potential customers started nearing the stall. “Edel is no benevolent man, he is a cruel creature. Do not seek his help, if you will heed my advice, do not even visit him. He has powers beyond your comprehension, and he will use them against you. He…”

 Claudia somehow managed to politely step away, as the woman’s attention was redirected to her customers. As she started back on her course due east, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Because the “only” true information the lady had tried to give her, as if she would hear it nowhere else, was something half the people before her had said too.

 ***

 Claudia pulled up the hood of her cloak to shield against the afternoon sun, blazing down hot and heavy, making sweat line her forehead and her blonde strands cling to it. In her head, she ran through everything she had heard in the town. She still wasn’t any closer to a name. Only some details had been consistent in the various narratives. The warlock was a solitary creature, he took in guests indiscriminately, and he practiced dark magic. Such broad statements, however, conveyed no true information to Claudia. The taking in of guests didn’t matter, if some people said that these guests were never seen again, while others said they were sent merrily on their way. The bounds of dark magic did not seem clear in anyone’s mind, either. Children in the street swore up and down that he could bend the laws of nature, conjure anything and destroy everything. Their parents sighed and sent them back along with their friends to play, then gave an apologetic smile while clarifying. No, he was not God. He could fix broken objects, heal broken people, he could destroy certain things within limitations, and as for conjuring, one could never be sure what all he could do. The young men in the village always seemed to downplay the warlock’s skill – he was nothing special, just your run-of-the-mill magician. The young women praised his kindness and generosity, his skill and talent and prodigiousness, and denounced any rumours that he used his powers to hurt people. Such lies, they scoffed, only came from the old, jaded grandmothers, who distrusted the youth and didn’t want young girls potentially running off with the first charming magician they saw.

 Claudia was now near the very edge of town, and the paved roads had given way to dirt tracks. Large oaks rose to either side. The canopy above her blocked the harsh sunlight, and the cool shade that fell on her now, helped ease her breathing. In the dark, the landmark she had been seeking out suddenly came clearly into view. A gasp escaped her when she saw it. In the bark of one of the trees, a circle, carved with the shape of a staff inside, glowed with a faint red light. Blood-coloured wisps seemed to dance in the shadows, emanating from that spot. Marching forward with renewed vigor, Claudia was struck with the realization of how close she had come, and yet she did not know what this man even looked like. Some people described him as a monster, others as a brute, and others still as a delightfully handsome gentleman. After sifting through the endless rumours, which was all Claudia had to do in her long journey, she could only come to two solid conclusions.

 One, the warlock was a kind, handsome gentleman. He would help her, maybe even for free.

 Or two, he was a monster, an animal, or if he was human, a cruel and sadistic one. He would use his magic against her, and, though practiced in some defensive spells herself, the possibility of this option sent a chill of fear through her.

 Claudia shook her head. Only time would tell what the truth was. Until then, she clutched her new pendant and thought of Divya. Alone, cold, and dying back home, she was relying on Claudia to bring help. And she could not disappoint.

 For you, Divya. Claudia stepped through the trees and faced the cottage, neatly hidden away, with a red mark glowing on its front door.

 ***

 “A visitor? Come in, come in!”

 Claudia would’ve thought it was too easy. A single moment had confirmed which side of the rumours was true. The man ushering her towards the living room had his dark hair neatly slicked back, his honey-coloured skin was smooth, and his chest and shoulders broad and very much human. He hadn’t asked two questions before accepting her into his home, and his manner was kind and jovial. Claudia felt like laughing, for, as happy as most of the people in town were to sing his praises, the ones who weren’t, like Ms Denhom, were so irrationally animated in their horror. They said the worst things, trembled in exaggerated fear, and gave the direst warnings. But, such was the nature of rumours. Claudia mused as she sat in the chair he offered, pulled up beside the coffee table. Rumours weren’t powerful until they were exaggerated, it was always all or nothing when spreading a tale. You couldn’t make one truly stick in society unless you had people believe in it to the extreme.

 You couldn’t count on people to spread the rumour, unless they feared it, and considered it important for others to know. It was so much easier to make people believe in a terrifying message, and so wholeheartedly, they called it a fact.

 Such wholehearted belief had been all there was in town, for nothing else would’ve been affective in tarnishing this warlock’s reputation. For what, though? Out of fear of his powers? Or maybe the elderly distrusted powerful youth so much, that they went to such extents. After all, young girls might run away with such a charming magician.

 Claudia accepted a glass of water, but immediately put it down. Wanting to get right down to business, she prepared to speak.

And she found herself opening her mouth, but having to rifle through the list of names she had been given.

 “Call me Aro,” he said, as if he knew exactly where her mind was. Momentarily, Claudia was taken aback. She had heard plenty of names for him, and that was not one of them.

 “Aro.” She pushed back the sliver of doubt. Rumours, by nature, were meant to mislead, to plant fear. There were more important things at hand. “I’m here to request your help. Do you,” Claudia needed this one rumour, especially, to turn out to be true, “have the cure for Vilerose poison?”

 His easy smile never left his face. “Someone you know, fallen sick?”

 “My lover, Divya.”

 “And you don’t have the means to cure her yourself?” Aro raised his eyebrows at her, sipping at his own glass. “I can see you’re an experienced witch.”

 Claudia had to assume his powers let him sense hers. Otherwise, she would have to confront the uncomfortable chills running up her back. “My healing ability is still new. I can’t cure this.”

 “Still,” he said, “coming here is a bit desperate. No other witch or wizard willing to help?”

 Claudia felt the strain on her patience. Her fingers curled back into her palms. “There’s…fear, of demons. Because they’re known as a symbol of evil, of hatred, no one would even try to listen to us.” Most witches had taken one look at the curled horns on Divya’s head and slammed the door in their face. But it didn’t matter, none of this did. Claudia just needed his help, which he seemed to be dodging from giving.

 He looked thoughtful, for a moment. “What about-“

 Claudia slammed the glass of water down and leaped to her feet. “Do you want to help me or not?” She breathed heavily, glaring down at him. But the worst part was, he wasn’t even slightly fazed.

 He seemed to have expected it.

 “Well, I certainly wanted you to think I do.” He stood up as well, towering slightly over her. “Why else would I spread such lovely stories about myself?”

 Claudia blinked, a familiar dryness settling back in her throat. Nothing about his expression changed, always the easy composure stayed on his face. But now it was combined by a glint in his eye, harsh in the light pouring through the window. It send Claudia’s mind racing, trying to put together the pieces.

“So I was wrong to trust all the praise, is that it?” She stumbled back, biding for time as she patted down her coat in search of her wand. “Everyone who denounced you, they were right?”

 “You could say that.” He made a face, as if genuinely pondering over the correct answer. “But I’m not sure if they are the ones who should get the credit, since I planted those stories in their mouths, too.”

 “W-What?” The response was automatic, but Claudia didn’t wait for an answer. She pointed her wand at him as soon her hand closed around it. Aro snapped his fingers. In the same second, a wave of dizziness came over Claudia, goosebumps broke out over her skin and her vision doubled. Her unsteady fingers dropped the wand, and she barely managed to grip the edge of the table before falling over too. Through her blurry sight, she could just make out the glass of water resting in front of her. The clear liquid had turned a murky shade of green. A potion. There must’ve been a potion mixed in.

 Aro walked slowly beside her. He crouched, taking her face in one hand. “Tell me, how many names for me did you hear on the way?” Claudia stared up at him through lidded eyes, not able to speak even if she had wanted to. He didn’t need the answer, anyway. “All those names, all those stories, they built the perfect image of me, right? All you truly knew was that I had power, I could wield dark magic, and that much, at least, was true. Everyone was saying it. You were so willing to believe it. And the ones that adored me, praised me, they were much less suspicious because there were people that denounced me to balance them out. I made sure to spread my stories among rivals. They were more concerned with proving each other wrong, the young and the old, I’m sure you could tell.”

 Aro moved away, strolling up to a cabinet and pulling out a coil of rope. Dread filled Claudia’s stomach like ice, now she was all too willing to see a monster instead of a human. He never stopped talking the whole time.

 “You never got information about me. Anything anyone told you was cancelled out by the next person. There was no way to know what would happen here, until you came. And here you are.”

 He knelt and gathered her up off the floor. Her back was pushed up against the leg of the chair, and he made quick work of binding her wrists together. A single tear trailed down her cheek. Gazing blankly ahead, she fixated on the multiple doors in the corridor leading deeper into the cottage. Were there more prisoners there? What had become of them? What was going to become of her?

 He moved to her ankles once he was done with her hands. He still spoke, but in that moment, the heaviest sensation of all was the pendant resting innocently against her throat. 

And the only thought it brought to mind was of Divya.

 “The real nature of rumours is this – they’re tools. Powerful ones, too; the right rumour in the right ear has sparked revolutions. And I’m just a mechanic, building the exact machine I want this town to be, bringing people right to my doorstep, one rumour at a time.”

[keichanz]

Biggest Fears

yeaaaahhh, so...i ended up just buying the standalone Microsoft word because i’m a finicky bitch with preferences and MS word has spoiled me lmao. 

i tweaked the prompt for this one; originally it was darkest fears, but i thought fuck it and made it biggest fears because honestly who the hell cares anymore i want this fucking thinG DONE.

Spooktober Day 29: Biggest Fears

“Mama! Are you watching?!”

“I’m watching, honey,” Kagome called back to her son from her place on the park bench, lifting her head to put truth to her words and watch as he disappeared inside the brightly colored tube slide then reappear at the bottom, grinning and giddy.

Smiling as her youngest laughed and zipped toward the ladder to slide down the, well, slide, once again, Kagome waved to show she was watching and then shifted her gaze to search for her daughter. Izayoi hadn’t moved from her location on the swings, surrounded by Rin and her friends as they chatted and ignored all the little kids and grownups around them. Unsurprisingly Raiden and Kohaku along with a few other boys she didn’t immediately recognize weren’t far away, roughhousing with each other like boys do and generally just having a good time being kids. It was heartwarming and Kagome was glad her daughter had such good friends.

Checking on Tai to find him at the bottom of the slide playing with some other children his age, Kagome felt her phone buzz in her hand and dropped her gaze to read the newest text, secure in the fact that her children were safe.

what r u wearing?

Kagome snorted loudly and quickly typed her reply.

new phone who dis

oh shit don’t tell my wife

She laughed aloud that time and couldn’t stop the stupid grin from spreading as she responded.

That you’re a no good cheating mutt?

u spelled charming and sexy wrong

Your wife is a saint.

yeah i kno, dunno why she puts up with me

You make pretty babies.

is that all?

Kagome bit her lip to stifle the urge to giggle madly. Well okay you might have one or two uses…

oh yeah? care to enlighten this no good mutt?

Liiiiiiike…killing all the spiders :)

not really what i was thinking tbh

She snickered, an impish grin curling her lips upward. Oh no? well what other uses do you have other than jar opener and resident Tall Person among the Short People

think real hard baby 👅🐈

Shoulders shaking in silent laughter, Kagome swiftly typed up her response and she could practically hear his exaggerated groan.

Why are you licking the cat? Do I need to call animal services or

Hitting send, she sat back with a rather smug grin on her lips and waited. Only a minute or so passed before her phone buzzed and this time she burst out laughing at his predictable reply.

fucks sake woman ur damn lucky u ain’t here right now

Cackling gleefully, Kagome typed, OOOOOHHH okay I think I got it now...

A minute passed. Then, i swear to god wench

Kagome felt positively devilish as she sent her response, the contents of which being three emojis.

🍆🍆🍆

Her husband’s reply was instantaneous and there was no mistaking the proud grin that spread across her features as she read it.

😂 god i fucking love u

I know 😘

“...Kagome...?”

“Hm?” Turning her head with a smile, Kagome opened her mouth to greet whoever it was that said her name. Her gaze landed on a slim figure standing a little uncertainly next to the bench, and when caramel brown collided with twin pools of familiar cinnamon, Kagome gasped.

“K-Kikyou?”

Relief flitted across the woman’s face and she offered a friendly, if a bit awkward smile. “So it is you. It’s...been a while.”

Kagome was too dumbstruck to do anything but stare and nod, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted in shock.

Kikyou’s smile faded somewhat and she shifted on her feet, looking a bit uncomfortable. She glanced at the playground, glanced at Kagome, and then hesitantly asked, “May I...?”

She gestured to the bench Kagome was seated on and finally snapping out of her shock, the other woman shook her head and gave a strained smile as she wordlessly scooted over to make room.

While she said a quiet thank you and settled beside her, Kagome thought to herself that her formal rival hadn’t changed a bit. Still drop dead gorgeous with the same sleek black hair, model-perfect body, slender legs, and a flawless complexion Kagome had always been jealous of. She looked older, of course, but she had aged extremely well and didn’t look a day over twenty.

Sitting back with a sigh and crossing one leg over the other, Kikyou rested her hands in her lap and offered another smile. It was small but genuine with perhaps a bit of uncertainty, and her brown eyes held a wealth of burgeoning hope that had Kagome suddenly remember her and Inuyasha’s conversation on their deck the night she’d come knocking on their door.

Having absolutely no idea what to say, Kagome managed to return the smile before looking away, cursing herself for the awkwardness that settled between them. No doubt Kikyou could feel it too because she didn’t say anything, allowing the silence between them to grow until Kagome felt like you could cut the tension with a knife.

God, what did you even say to your husband’s former high school flame that had tried to sabotage your relationship before up and vanishing to another freaking country?

Kikyou sighed and looked toward the playground, hating this tension between them, but unsure of how to clear it. A flash of silver caught her attention and automatically her eyes sought it out, lighting on a child with sterling silver hair and very familiar dog ears that strongly hinted at who his father was.

Her eyes lit up and she smiled. “Is that your boy?” she asked softly, nodding toward the toddler as he chased after a cute little girl with brown pigtails.

Blinking, Kagome followed her gaze her and face softened, instantly finding him among the laughing, playing children.

“Yes,” she answered, her smile warm as she watched her son play. “That’s Tai. Five years old and a complete handful, but I wouldn’t have him any other way.”

Kikyou sighed and it was a little wistful, but her tone held neither contempt nor jealousy as she commented, “He looks just like him.”

It was obvious who she was talking about and Kagome’s smile broadened slightly.

“He definitely has his looks,” she agreed, “but thankfully that’s all he inherited. All of his attitude, on the other hand, went straight to his first born.”

Kikyou grinned. “Is she here?”

Kagome nodded toward the swings where her daughter and her friends had claimed for themselves. The girls were swinging now with the boys pushing them and their peals of laughter were pleasant as the sound drifted over to them.

“Oooh,” Kikyou murmured, brown eyes glinting knowingly. “His looks and his temper? Tell me, how many broken hearts has she left in her wake?”

Kagome laughed. “More like broken noses.” At Kikyou’s look, akin to confused alarm, she smiled wryly and explained, “Remember Kouga? Well, unsurprisingly his son is a lot like his father and he’s been chasing Izayoi for a while now. Not too long ago his posturing went a little too far and, well…” She shrugged. “Let’s just say my girl is more than capable of taking care of herself.”

Amused, Kikyou’s eyebrows rose into the fridge of her bangs as a little smile flirted with her lips. 

“She is her father’s daughter,” she commented, perhaps a little somberly.

Kagome’s smile dimmed a little and she nodded, her gaze drifting to the girl in question.

“Yes,” she breathed, and the two fell into another awkward silence as they watched the children play. Tai was on the jungle gym now and showing off his hanyou skills to the awe-struck human tykes. They were both 100% their father’s children, and Kagome wouldn’t want them any other way.

“Kagome,” Kikyou suddenly said on a sigh and said woman turned her attention to the figure beside her. “May I be frank with you?”

Having a good idea where this was headed, Kagome sucked in a sharp breath and nodded wordlessly.

Kikyou flashed her a quick smile of thanks before shifting on the bench so she was more or less facing her. Kagome did the same, figuring the least she could do as give the other woman her full attention, however she still made it a point to keep an ear and eye out on her children.

“I won’t insult you by beating around the bush,” Kikyou began, doing the other woman the courtesy of looking directly into her eyes. “And I’m not expecting everything to just be okay after this, but for what it’s worth, Kagome…I am truly sorry. For how I acted, for what happened, for what I put the three of us through…for everything.”

Kagome swallowed thickly and said nothing, sensing her companion wasn’t finished.

“I realize now that my behavior was immature and inexcusable,” Kikyou continued, confirming Kagome’s suspicion. She smiled bitterly and dropped her gaze to her lap. 

“For years I’ve harbored the guilt of how things ended between us and I suppose it’s not very fair that I ask for your forgiveness, and Inuyasha’s, for what I did. But, here I am.”

She shrugged and Kagome’s heart went out to her. All this time, for over ten years… She couldn’t imagine what it must have been like to bear the heaviness of guilt for so long.

“Kikyou…” Kagome began but the woman shook her head. Kagome forced herself to remain quiet, fisting her hands in her lap.

“I was scared,” she admitted, much to Kagome’s surprise. “As a teenager, my world was rather simple and it consisted of three things: shopping, my friends, and…the boy I liked.” Kikyou lifted her gaze and found Kagome’s again.

“So, when Inuyasha started showing interest in another girl—in you—I was terrified and I did things that I am not proud of. And I realize the irony only now, years later when I am an adult with a mortgage and a husband, of how much of a fool I truly was.”

“You can’t pin the entire blame on yourself, Kikyou,” Kagome said, her voice rough, unable to stay quiet any longer. “We were all young and did things we regret. We all made…not very smart decisions, and we let our emotions get the best of us.” She paused. Then, “I was scared too, you know.”

Closing her eyes and releasing a shaky sigh, Kagome bit down on her lip as she gathered her thoughts, a slight frown creasing her brow. Kikyou patiently waited, holding her breath, her cinnamon eyes holding a smidgen of hope that not all was lost.

“When things started getting really complicated,” Kagome began, “My biggest fear at the time was that Inuyasha would get tired of it all—the drama, the fighting, the misunderstandings—and just…decide it wasn’t worth his time anymore. I was scared he’d not only write me off, but forget me entirely and move on with his life without me and I remember how I cried myself to sleep sometimes, thinking about it all.”

Kikyou swallowed thickly and rasped, “You must have hated me.”

Kagome was silent for a beat and then admitted in a whisper, “I did.”

Kikyou closed her eye and nodded. She wasn’t surprised. Because she hated herself, too, for what she did.

“But,” the mother of two continued and Kikyou’s eyes fluttered open, the breath caught in her throat. “I also envied you, Kikyou.”

At the woman’s completely baffled look, Kagome had to smile before elaborating, “You can’t tell me you didn’t notice how completely torn Inuyasha was. He didn’t want to hurt either of us by picking one over the other so it was obvious to me he still cared for you. And I asked myself, why? Why would he still care for someone who’s put us through so much torment and gave us nothing but grief? I was jealous. I didn’t want him to care for you; I wanted all of his attention for myself, for him to pick me, and forget you, and I absolutely hated the fact that you had something with him that I didn’t.”

Kikyou frowned as she tried to determine just what that could be and Kagome’s expression softened. She used to think that her former rival in love was vindictive and knew exactly what she was doing the entire time. Now she realized that she had just been a desperate and brokenhearted girl, fighting to keep her first love’s affection for herself.

Perhaps she and her husband’s old high school flame had been more alike that she’d originally thought.

Kikyou was still looking lost so Kagome finally explained, “Thinking back on it now it’s petty, and I’m a little ashamed to admit this, but I envied you, Kikyou, because you knew him longer than I did. You had memories with him that I didn’t. You got to see every side of him before I did, got to know him before me, and it drove me crazy knowing that you were his first kiss, and I wasn’t.”

The freelance writer digested that in silence, her eyes a little wide in wonder. She’d never realized that was how Kagome had felt. But then again, she’d never taken the time to really understand, had she? No, her only goal had been to get Inuyasha back by any means, uncaring who she hurt in the process, and that was one of her biggest regrets.

Sighing, Kagome finally smiled, and though it was small, it was genuine as she locked gazes with her formal rival and decided it was time to extent the olive branch. They were both adults now, with husbands and a career; it was time to put the past behind them and make a fresh start.

“Thank you for apologizing, Kikyou,” Kagome said sincerely, glad they’d had this conversation. “And I’ll gladly accept it, but only if you accept mine, too.”

Kikyou blinked in surprise and Kagome shrugged. “I wasn’t exactly a saint either. I said some pretty hurtful things to you, Kikyou, things I didn’t mean, and I definitely wasn’t my best self. I could have ignored you and not add fuel to the fire by taking your bait, but I didn’t, and I’m sure it didn’t help matters. In fact I made them worse, and then graduation came around, nothing was resolved, and then suddenly you left and Inuyasha was devastated because he didn’t get to say goodbye.”

Unbidden tears sprang to Kikyou’s eyes and she blinked rapidly, fluttering a hand over her mouth. She definitely had not been expecting that.

Kagome gave a wavering smile and reached out to take Kikyou’s hand in her own. Stunned, the other woman let her, staring down at their hands in a combination of wonder and confusion.

“See, Kikyou,” she murmured, throat feeling tight with emotion. “I’ve been dealing with guilt too, because if I hadn’t been so selfish in wanting all of his attention for myself, maybe he would have had the chance to talk to you before you left and things wouldn’t have gone unresolved for so long.

“But you’re here now,” she continued, eyes bright with unshed tears and her smile broadening. “And you were brave enough to approach me first asking for forgiveness, and I’m giving it to you now. Will you forgive me too, Kikyou? For being a selfish brat and denying you two the closure you so desperately needed?”

Kikyou gave a choked laugh and wiped her eyes with her free hand, a smile curving the corners of her lips upward.

“Look at us,” she rasped. “Two grown women blubbering on a public park bench about events that happened in high school.”

Kagome giggled and reached up to dab at her own eyes with the sleeve of her jacket. “Inuyasha always did tease us that we were too emotional,” she said and they shared a laugh, both of them no doubt thinking about how he’d be freaking out right now if he saw them.

Relieved and so utterly grateful, Kikyou got herself together in short order and beamed at Kagome, taking her hand and holding it between both of hers. She squeezed, drawing Kagome’s attention.

“Of course I forgive you, Kagome,” she said and laughed lightly at Kagome’s relieved sigh. “We were young and dumb—”

“And full of c—”

“Ohmigawd, don’t say it!” Kikyou squeaked and Kagome snickered, eyes flashing with glee as she covered her grinning mouth with a hand. Kikyou relented and dissolved into giggles as well and the two of them sat there laughing quietly, feeling comfortable, all previous awkwardness completely vanished.

“And full of the cafeteria’s awful Mystery Meat,” Kikyou finished with a grin and elicited an indelicate snort from an equally grinning Kagome. “And maybe it was that dreadful concoction of questionable food the school fed us or something else entirely that made us act the way we did—”

“Teenage hormones?” Kagome put in.

“I was thinking PMS,” Kikyou opined and once more the two giggled quietly together before the writer continued, “But now it’s in the past, we’ve realized the mistakes we’ve made, so now I’d love to say let us let bygones be bygones and finally put the whole thing behind us.”

Relieved, Kagome smiled and gently tugged her hand from Kikyou’s before extending it.

“A clean slate,” she announced and felt something loosen in her chest when the other woman without hesitation clasped her hand. “And a fresh start. I like the sound of that.”

Feeling like she was going to break down and cry all over again, Kikyou gave a trembling smile, squeezed Kagome’s hand, and breathed, “Me, too.”

Half an hour later, after making plans for the four of them – Kikyou, Kagome, and their respective husbands – to meet up for lunch this weekend, the two women bid each other a fond farewell and went their separate ways. Kagome collected her children and started the fifteen-minute walk home, trailing behind them on the sidewalk and watching with a small smile as her daughter and niece swung Tai back and forth between them. Raiden, Kohaku and their friends left to head home as well, and Kagome had pretended not to notice Raiden tug Izayoi aside to whisper something in her ear before kissing her cheek and leaving the half-demon in a blissful state of euphoria.

As Tai’s laughter rang out in the crisp October air, Kagome smiled and pulled out her phone, bringing up her messaging app with a few taps of a finger.

Inuyasha.

Only thirty seconds or so passed before he responded; he never kept her waiting and it was one of the many things Kagome loved about him.

what’s up baby

Feeling warm all over as her heart burst with affection for her husband, Kagome quickly typed her response, a mere three words.

I love you.

She didn’t wait for his response; closing the app, Kagome brought up the keypad and dialed a familiar number before bringing the phone to her ear. When her mother didn’t answer, however, she wrinkled her nose and tried another number.

“Hey, Sango,” she said when her friend picked up. “Listen, would you mind watching the kids for an hour or two? I want—” She paused as her friend interrupted and her eyebrows slowly lifted into her bangs as an amused smile lifted the corners of her lips.

“Oh…he did? And Miroku agreed? I see. Yes, don’t worry, everything’s fine. It’s just…well…I had an interesting chat with someone and I just…I dunno, I want to spend a little time alone with him, is all.

“Not right now,” she said apologetically as her house came into view. “I promise to call you tomorrow though, and tell you everything, okay? Trust me, you’re gonna need a glass of wine for this conversation. Or two.”

Kagome laughed at Sango’s begrudging agreement to wait and with a promise to see her tomorrow, the school teacher hung up and pocketed her phone, increasing her pace to lay a hand on her children’s shoulders and quietly tell them to head to Sango and Miroku’s house. She assured them everything was okay at their questions and she just wanted to talk to their father alone for a bit. Izayoi still looked unconvinced, however she nodded and waited for Tai to hug his mother before taking his hand and leading him across the street to their aunt and uncle’s house. Rin waved and jogged down the street to her own house, and Kagome watched for only a minute before turning and going home to her husband.

The house was quiet when she entered through the side door and she was shrugging out of her coat when two arms suddenly snaked around her waist and a mouth dropped to her neck. Kagome smiled and leaned back against him, reaching up to slide her hand into his hair and find a soft ear, rubbing the flesh gently. She was rewarded by a low growl reverberating against her back and a sharp nip to the ear that had her gasping as her heart beat a rapid tattoo in her chest.

Turning around, Kagome lifted her chin in time to receive her husband’s hungry kiss and she wrapped her arms around his neck as he effortlessly swept her up into his arms. She gasped, he growled, and with a shared, intimate smile, Inuyasha carried his wife upstairs to their bedroom, murmuring against her lips how much he loved her and how goddamn lucky he was to have her.

Kagome’s response to that was a trembling smile, a loving kiss to his lips, and a whispered plea to show her how much he loved her as she tugged the door shut firmly behind them.