#my dad passed by as I was drawing her n he was like “this saint looks like she's been through it”

[missmolsa]

VAL siltverses the war crime/war criminal that you are <3

[megalony]

Teacher’s Pet- Part 9

Here is the new part for my dad! Ben Hardy series which I hope everyone is enjoying, the feedback for this series has been lovely thank you all for the comments.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogermeddow @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog​ @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh

Series taglist: @im-an-adult-ish @gwilymleeisbae​ @k-k0129​

Series masterlist

Summary: Gwilym sets Ben up on a date with (Y/n) who teaches at the school Ben’s kids go to. But Ben is hesitant in the relationship, desperate not to make the same mistakes and needing to put his kids first.

Enjoy.

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"What, so you just leave him awake?" (Y/n) leaned her head to the side as she looked over at Ben in curiosity and slight confusion.

"It's... he's not a baby anymore. When he was a baby or a toddler I could lay him on my chest and I'd fall asleep and eventually he would too, he was always with me when he was a kid. Now he's older I can't lay with him because I fall asleep and he either draws on me, he'll sit up and watch tv whilst I sleep or he tries to play games or read. If I leave him he lays awake and lulls himself to sleep."

When Carter was born he would lay on Ben's chest and fall asleep and when he was a toddler Ben hated leaving him to sleep at night on his own. So he would either lay him in bed with him or sit Carter on his chest and put him to bed when he eventually fell asleep.

Now Ben couldn't do that every night and he had Finn who he had to calm down and put to sleep and keep getting up to see. Carter had to learn to try and get himself to sleep because he was getting older now.

"What if he doesn't sleep or he gets up and watches tv in his room?"

"I've programmed his tv to lock him out when it gets past ten o'clock so he can't watch or play anything and if he goes downstairs I usually wake up and hear him. I'm a light sleeper with them three in the house. He'll lay in bed and try and sleep and if he can't, normally he will just lay and rest and think or maybe read a book which I don't mind as much."

Ben knew Carter couldn't help what time he went to sleep, it only bothered Ben if Carter tried to stay awake and watch movies or play games or keep his mind active. But if he just laid down and chilled or tried to relax and calm down then Ben was happy. If it was a particularly bad night Ben didn't mind him reading because Carter got headaches easily from reading and he couldn't read for over an hour which was a godsend at night.

"What about James and Finn then?" (Y/n) leaned her head on Ben's shoulder as she pulled the cover a little higher over them both. All the boys were now in bed and she and Ben were in his bed watching a random movie on tv. It was ten o'clock now but since it was Sunday tomorrow they could all have a lie in. The weekends were good because when Carter eventually fell asleep Ben would leave him in bed until he either woke up or Ben woke him up late morning.

One time Carter didn't go to sleep until five in the morning so Ben left him in bed until dinner time because he needed the sleep.

"James is fine, he'll sleep through the night no problems. With Finn it's up and down, if he's been anxious all day he'll wake up during the night so I either stay awake or set an alarm to check on him during the night. If he's not been too bad during the day he might have a good night. If he wakes up crying I'll go to him but if he panics he'll come in here, I told him it's fine to come in even if you're here and asleep."

Ben had a rough time sleeping because of the boys.

He was a light sleeper ever since Carter was a baby but it was worse now, even the slightest noise woke him up during the night. Ben woke up to check on Carter at around one in the morning, then he checked on Finn, sometimes he set an alarm to check on them both at three in the morning then he was normally up by six. If Carter was up and messing about Ben woke up and stayed awake with him and if Finn woke up screaming or crying Ben settled him back down to sleep and usually kept Finn in his room with him to make the youngest boy feel safe.

Ben only got a proper night's sleep when the boys were at his parent's house or if it was just him and James at home, but he didn't mind as long as they all got some sleep.

The tv started to blur into the background and Ben was close to turning the tv off but he felt (Y/n) jump beside him when the bedroom door burst open. Ben was used to all the boys running in and out whenever they liked, it made him want to get a lock on the bedroom door but Carter would break it and Finn would sit and have a panic attack.

A sigh passed through Ben's lips and he looked at the door to see Carter all but run into the room and bound over to Ben's side of the bed.

"Can I watch tv with you please? Dad I'm not tired, can I, you said we can have a lie in tomorrow."

(Y/n) noticed the way Carter glanced over at her a few times but he didn't glare or smile, he looked indifferent like she was either not there at all or didn't make a difference and she didn't know how to feel about that. She also noticed the way he was trying not to rush through his words and that suggested he was rather hyper at the moment.

"It's past ten, you need to go to bed."

"I'm not tired, daddy please-"

"You're never tired and you're not staying in here buddy, you need to go and calm down and try to sleep. I'll come sit with you for a bit if you want." Ben sighed as he glanced between (Y/n) and Carter for a few seconds. Carter was hyper and he was either going to try and sneak downstairs to watch tv, try and play games or just sit and be very hyper for the night. Ben was going to have to try and calm him down before he let Carter try and get to sleep on his own.

"Why don't I come and sit with you?" (Y/n) looked at Ben for approval before she looked back at Carter whose eyes narrowed before widening but his expression didn't really change. He looked indifferent yet uncertain, he didn't know how to interpret this or how to act so he was trying to be neutral.

(Y/n) was going on instinct on how to act around Carter, Ben raised him and had learned Carter's ways and his expressions and tones of voice, (Y/n) was trying to navigate through them. She thought sitting with him might help to get him used to her being around and able to talk to her and it would help her to try and bond with him if he allowed her to sit with him.

"Buddy, is that okay?"

Carter nodded and they could both hear his foot tapping against the floor impatiently before Ben motioned for him to go and (Y/n) would follow but before (Y/n) got up Ben gently took her hand.

"Talking to Jamie's unsettled him, that's why he's hyper. He thinks it's good that she called and she's gonna keep calling but she won't and deep down he knows that. He's hyper because he isn't comfortable about this and that means he might be rude or snap at you because that's how he thinks he has to react. Don't take anything he says to heart."

Ben didn't want (Y/n) to go and sit with Carter and then feel upset or uncomfortable if he became rude or unsettled and snapped at her or even if he said something he knew would rile (Y/n) up. Carter became very hyperactive and very uneasy when Jamie called because it disturbed his routine and his mood. He thinks he has to be rude and be hurtful when he feels unsettled because that's how he feels he should act but he didn't mean it and (Y/n) had to know that before she went and talked to him.

"Okay." (Y/n) smiled warmly and leaned over to kiss him before she got up and went into Carter's room.

Because Carter was awake most of the night almost every night, he couldn't share a room with James or Finn and when Carter got angry he definitely couldn't be in a room with them in case he snapped and lashed out at his brothers. Having James in the room made Finn feel calmer especially at night if he had a nightmare and James was always in a deep sleep so when Finn woke up crying or upset or just from a nightmare, James didn't get woken up.

Ben could feel his eyes growing heavy but the longer he felt like he was about to give in to sleep, the more he realised that (Y/n) had been quite a while sitting with Carter and Ben didn't know how to take that. Either they were engaged in conversation which could be both good or bad, or Carter was very hyper and (Y/n) didn't want to leave him or didn't know what to do.

With a sigh, Ben pushed himself up and out of bed and slowly made his way out of the room and across to Carter's room. He didn't want to barge in if everything was going okay because he really didn't want to check up on them both but he couldn't help it. Since the door was open a little, Ben pushed it a tiny bit more and leaned his head around the door to peek into the room.

Carter's room was the box room since he couldn't share with either of his brothers. His bed was on the right hand side of the room with the window opposite the door and a tv behind the door at the end of the bed. Carter had a lot of video games in his room because he didn't like playing his games with anyone but Ben, not even with his brothers. And he had a few sensory toys for when he was upset or had a tantrum or needed something to do to entertain himself. It surprised Ben that Carter didn't mind having the smallest room but the compact space didn't bother him, it seemed to suit him rather well.

He felt safer rather than boxed in.

Ben felt a shock wave of surprise ebbing through him when he looked at (Y/n) and Carter. He assumed they would both be sitting up on the bed chatting or reading a book or maybe even having an argument or (Y/n) trying to calm Carter down from a hyper state. But instead of anything like that, what Ben saw was (Y/n) laid under the covers with Carter huddled under her arm curled into her side. (Y/n) was very slowly and methodically carding her fingers through Carter's hair like she was soothing him to sleep.

Carter's eyes were half-lidded and he looked the calmest Ben had seen him today and seemed to be on the verge of sleep already but he was trying to make the effort of keeping the very quiet conversation going.

(Y/n) stopped talking for a moment when her eyes locked with Ben when she noticed him hovering in the doorway, not wanting to intrude but unable to draw his eyes away from the scene in front of him.

She thought it would have been hard to get Carter to talk to her but he was very talkable and he wasn't trying to be rude or annoying or make (Y/n) feel uncomfortable. He genuinely just wanted to talk and when he asked (Y/n) to lay with him she couldn't refuse. Carter quickly burrowed himself under her arm like he was taking refuge and cuddled into her side, he wanted nothing more than closeness and to be comfortable and talk to (Y/n) and she found it endearing yet rather heartbreaking.

Carter wanted another figure in his life, he wanted a motherly figure because he couldn't have his own mother and he was seeking that from (Y/n) because she was the closest thing he had to a mother right now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) felt like a knife had gone straight through her heart that was doing somersaults in her chest when a scream hit her ears and tore her from her sleep. She shot up beside Ben who was already sitting up and ready to throw the cover off his frame and run out the room. They both locked eyes for a moment before another sound that resembled a growl and a cry hit their ears and (Y/n) realised Ben was confused.

"That's Carter..."

(Y/n) didn't know how to respond to that but she could see that this wasn't normal. Ben always woke up to Finn crying out for him or running into the room unable to breathe or Finn even screamed in his sleep, but it was very rare that Carter was the one screaming and crying or having a nightmare because he hardly slept. Even (Y/n) had been expecting to wake up to Finn being the one in distress needing to be calmed down during the night. She didn't think or even consider James or Carter having a nightmare.

"Does this normally happen?" (Y/n) got out of bed when Ben jumped to his feet the moment Carter let out another cry that seemed to shake the walls of the house.

"That depends if he's been asleep. He's either having a meltdown or he's having a nightmare and either way this is Jamie's fucking fault. When she left he always had nightmares and she's unsettled him now."

Carter suffered from nightmares since he was little after Jamie left because he had to adjust to living Ben and James and James' mum. Then it was just him Ben and James and that uneased him more because both mother figures had left his life. Then when Lucy came and left and Finn came into the picture he was even more unsettled because he didn't have Ben's undivided attention. Carter needed stability and Jamie was the opposite of that, she unsettled him and made him feel uncomfortable and upset and that unbalanced his world.

Ben hurried into Carter's room as he prayed that he could calm down his eldest before Finn heard and started to panic but when he went in he was scared at what he was faced with. The ten year old was curled up in the middle of the bed with the cover pulled very tight over his whole body making him a covered up ball in the bed. If the cover was thrown on the floor or strewn about the bed then Ben would know Carter was having a nightmare but the way he was hiding himself showed he was having a meltdown.

When a violent scream tore from Carter's lips and he seemed to curl in on himself more, Ben hurriedly moved over and sat down on the bed near to the pillow. He wanted to reach out and pull Carter into an embrace but he knew from experience that trying to hug him when he was like this might make him worse.

"Baby... baby you know you can't lay like this." Ben slowly peeled back the cover from Carter's head so he wasn't at risk of smothering himself but the moment Ben uncovered Carter's head he lashed out and smashed his hand into the wall with a cry. "Okay come on." Ben kept the cover wrapped tightly around Carter's arms and hands like mittens before he gently pulled Carter into his chest.

He kissed Carter's head before wrapping an arm around him when he tried to lash out and started to get frustrated when the cover prevented him from moving. His legs kicked out and his arms started to thrash and Ben could see his hands fisting in the cover he wanted to rip off his body but he couldn't and it only made him scream louder.

"Does mum want me?" Carter's words were quiet and broken and he even dared to open his eyes to look up at Ben but the look he got back was an answer enough.

"Baby... she misses you and I know she loves you, but she doesn't want to be in your life right now. I'm sorry." Ben couldn't say it. He couldn't force himself to say that Jamie didn't want Carter even though that was true, she may miss him and she may love him but she didn't love or miss him enough and she didn't want to care for him or be in his life because she couldn't cope with him. That was her fault and her loss and it made Ben dismiss her as a mother, she didn't deserve to be called a mother if she wasn't willing to look after her own son.

The scream Carter let out was almost unbearable for (Y/n) who was hovering in the doorway so she couldn't even begin to wonder how that felt for Ben to hear. No child should have to deal with the fact that one parent didn't want them, especially not a child who needed stability and extra care and more understanding like Carter. But the extra care and attention he needed was exactly why he didn't have Jamie around anymore.

"Shh, shh you're okay, you have me and you have James and Finn and nan and grandad and you've got uncle Gwil and (Y/n). So many people love you, it's okay that your mum isn't around because you don't need her baby."

Carter let out a very loud wail when Ben slipped his hands under Carter's arms so he could pick him up and sit him on his lap with the cover still cocooned around him to make sure he didn't hurt himself or Ben. But despite the cries and screams continuously leaving Carter's lips, Ben and (Y/n) both noticed he was looking over at (Y/n) a lot.

"Do you want me?"

(Y/n)'s eyes widened in their sockets and she felt her lungs shrivelling up in her chest until she couldn't breathe. Her vision blurred from the tears welling up in her eyes but that didn't distort the image of Carter staring back at her. His eyes were red and puffy, they were streaming with tears that fell down his bright red cheeks and his nose was running. He looked very angry yet scared and vulnerable but the way he looked at her made (Y/n) speechless.

He wasn't looking indifferent like he did earlier, he wasn't angry with her or at her, he wasn't snarling or about to scream at her. For the first time, he looked desperate. He looked desperate for her love and attention and if she said no to his question he might just explode.

Carter stopped screaming, he stopped letting out heart-wrenching sobs and he wasn't thrashing around to try and hurt himself or lash out. He was breathing heavily through his runny nose and his eyes were intent on (Y/n) as he tensed, waiting very impatiently for her answer. Ben had never seen his son so intent on an answer like this, nor had he sat so still and waited like this rather than scream for her to speak. Carter really wanted (Y/n) to love and want him.

(Y/n) took a few cautious steps over until she could sit down in front of Carter on the bed and she watched the way he stopped breathing when she gently brushed a few tears from his cheek.

"Yes I do honey, I don't know your mum or why she doesn't want to be involved in your life but I do."

(Y/n) almost jumped when Carter wriggled in Ben's arms but instead of crying he let out a whine until Ben carefully let go of him and le Carter wriggle out of the cover. He scrambled over until he could clamber onto (Y/n)'s lap, he locked his arms around (Y/n)'s neck to the point it hurt but she stayed silent, not wanting to upset him. She wrapped her arm around his back and tangled her other hand in his hair to try and calm him down and make sure he was okay.

"Y-you can be my mum, c-can't you? I want a mum." Carter mumbled the words into (Y/n)'s neck and she could feel his harsh breaths despite the fact he was trying his best to calm down.

(Y/n) looked over at Ben for confirmation, she didn't want to say yes and have Ben be upset or uneasy about it but she didn't want to say no and have Carter become unsettled again. If he wanted to think of her as his mum surely that wasn't a bad thing because (Y/n) was in a relationship with Ben and Carter needed the stability and it meant he was fine with their relationship and with (Y/n). It also wasn't so bad because it wasn't like it would be with Finn, Carter knew (Y/n) wasn't actually his mum but he wanted her to be anyway. With Finn if he started calling (Y/n) his mum in a few years he could actually believe it because he was so young and impressionable.

There were tears in Ben's eyes and he was biting his lip hard to stop himself from getting overwhelmed just like Carter. Ben knew with James' mum she didn't want to be seen as a mum to Carter and that hurt but Ben had to understand that Carter was hard to deal with and he couldn't expect her to take Carter on as her own. With Finn's mum she tried with both boys but Ben was overwhelmingly happy she didn't connect with them in case she had ended up hurting them too.

He never thought he would be with someone who would be willing and who would actually connect with all three of his boys. But she was already joined at the hip with James, Finn was growing closer to her every day and a lot quicker than he got closer to other people. And Carter was the hardest to get to know and feel easy around but here (Y/n) was, connecting with Carter so good that he was desperate to feel like she was his mother.

When Ben managed to nod at (Y/n) to say whatever she felt was right, (Y/n) could feel her own eyes glossing with tears.

"I'd love to be your mum."

[withyounct]

What’s wrong kid?

Reader x Single dad!Jaehyun

Genre: Fluff

Words: 2.7k

Prompt: You notice a child crying at a school playground. You decide to see what’s up and meet an extremely stressed/extremely handsome father.

Next

A/n: This is my first long story on this site. It’ll be in parts. Please let me know what you think of it. ^~^

“If I have to look at another PowerPoint slide, I’m going to fucking scream.” You groaned banging your head on the table, hoping if you hit hard enough, you’ll pass out. You were on the fifth bang in when you felt a hand stop you.

“I don’t want to carry your dead body anywhere, so please stop.” Lucas pleaded while he gently pushed you to a sitting position. Looking up at your group of friends you saw a range of expressions, but the most prominent one was ‘done’. So, you take one last look at your laptop screen and decide you weren’t even retaining anything at that point. You shut your laptop and began to pack up, which caused eyes to trail your way.

“Where are you going?” Renjun asked looking up from his textbook for the first time that hour.

“Home. You guys have fun, I’ll happily take this F I'm about to get on my quiz.” You declared. You were graced with a variety of side eyes given the fact you’ve never failed anything regardless if you’ve studied or not. After sending a flurry of kisses, you left the library and started your walk home. The university was a good 20-minute walk from your place, but you enjoyed it. You had a car, but there was something calming about walking through the streets and parks especially after a long day like this. The music you were playing suddenly stopped and you realized that you accidentally pulled out the headphone jack. That’s when you noticed the crying.

Across the street you were on was an elementary school. There was a little girl sitting on one of the school park benches crying her little heart out. You scan the area and couldn’t spot any teachers. Biting your lip, you across the street and up to the girl.

“Hey. Are you okay?” You asked softly as you slowly sat by her. She looked up and pouted. Your heart swelled; she was a real cute kid. She took some time wiping her tears and nodded.

“My dad is late again.” She whispered looking down at the little pink watch on her wrist. You look back at the school and figured the teachers assumed she was already picked up since it was so late in the day.

“My name is Y/n. What’s yours?”

“Hyunjin.” She extended a handshake. You chuckle at how cute the gesture was.

“What a pretty name.” You smile. “Okay Hyunjin if you want, I can wait with you until your dad gets here.” You offered shaking her hand. Hyunjin smiled and nodded her head vigorously. She began to tell you all about school, her friends, her dad, and her really funny uncles. You found yourself laughing at her stories and how animated she was when she told them. You asked her about her dad, and she told you that he works in a really big building and he draws other buildings. You figured he was an architect of some sort. You noticed that she never brought up her mom, so you decide not too either. About an hour and a half, you noticed her start to fall asleep and at this point she was completely leaning on you. The sun started to set and no sign of her father. You pondered on if you should ask her where she lives, but you also thought that would be a bit weird since you’re a stranger.

You were about to wake her up when a car pulled up and out popped out a man who looked not much older than you. He quickly made his way over and your first two thoughts were Man he's handsome and Holy fuck he looks stressed.

“Hyunjin.” He called out when he got close enough. The said child, who was now laying her head on your lap, woke up and dashed into her father’s arms. He scooped her up and apologized for being so late. She told him at it was okay because she met a new friend and she stayed with her. You got up, dusting off your jeans and smiled at the duo. The man placed Hyunjin down and the two walked over to you.

“I’m so sorry for all this. Works been so hectic, and I’ve been trying to make it to pick Hyunjin on time and then I got stuck in traffic. I haven’t even introduced myself yet. What am I doing? I'm Jung Jaehyun, Hyunjin’s father. Thank you so much for staying with my daughter.” He spilled in one breath while extending a hand. You laughed at his frantic manner and shook his hand.

“Y/n. It’s fine, really. She’s the cutest thing on this planet, and we had a lot of fun talking.” You confessed and Hyunjin was all smiles. “I hope this doesn’t sound weird, but if you want, I wouldn’t mind watching her until you get off work. My classes are finished before Hyunjin gets out of school.”

Hyunjin’s excited shriek could have been heard on the next street over. She grabbed her father’s hand and nodded vigorously. Jaehyun on the other hand pondered on the idea.

“I'm not sure. I’ll have to think about it” He said with uncertainty. Hyunjin’s face immediately fell.

“I totally understand. I’m a stranger after all.” You reassured.

You both exchange numbers and Hyunjin gave you a goodbye hug, which melted your heart. Jaehyun thanked you once more and the father-daughter pair drove off. You smile at how weird all that was and continued your walk home. When you entered your apartment, you were immediately berated by your roommates.

“So, where have you been?” Ten asked from his place on the sofa.

“Out.” You replied simply.

“I made dinner for everyone tonight. Your share is in the microwave.” Kun added. You looked up at the heavens and thanked every deity out there for giving you amazing roommates.

“I love you both. I'm gonna eat and pass out. Goodnight.”

“Love you too.” Ten chimed.

“Sleep well.” Kun smiled.

The next day was normal. You went to class and passed your quiz, much to Yangyang’s dismay.

“Dude. I studied all night and failed, and you barely studied for an hour and passed. Give me your brain.” He whined as the both of you walked to the café that your friend group hung out at for lunch.

“How about I give you my notes instead?” You offered leading Yangyang into the café. Your other friends Lucas, Haechan, Jeno, Renjun, and Jaemin were already seated talking over various foods and drinks.

“Where’s Mark?” You asked, sliding into the seat next to Haechan.

“Probably dead under a piled of music theory textbooks somewhere.” He replied amused.

“Damn rip.”

Normal college talks ensued about hating everything and how inconveniencing Mark was for probably dying before they could as well. A small food fight was about to break out when Jaemin mentioned a party that was going to happen the following week.

“Y/n I'm requesting your presence at the party.”

“Request denied.” You answered stealing one of Jeno’s fries. A chorus of complaints emerged from the group, but you didn’t care. Just when you were about to steal another fry, you felt your phone vibrate. You looked down and Jaehyun’s name was displayed. You got up and was greeted with screams of ‘You can’t run away’.

“Shut up, I’ll be right back.” You yelled walking out of ear shot.

“Hello?”

“Y/n. I'm really sorry to ask this last minute, but can you please pick up Hyunjin for me? I'm stuck in a meeting and I completely forgot I have another scheduled after this one.” He pleaded and you could hear the desperation in his voice.

“Yeah. Of course.” You heard him let out a sigh of relief.

“God you're a saint. I’ll text you the address and notify the school.” He explained. He thanked you again and hung up. You walked back over to your friends and packed up your stuff.

“Alright bitches I gotta go.” You threw down your part of the bill and hightailed it out before anyone could ask you anything.

You walked back over to the university science building where your car was parked and drove over to Hyunjin’s school. You arrived a bit early, so you were scrolling through the messages in your group chat. You were laughing at the number of confused memes your friends where sending you when you heard the school bell rang. Kids were running out of the double door and you spotted Hyunjin. You exited the car and walked onto the playground. She was busy talking to another girl, so you just watched her for a bit. You noticed she looked a lot like her father and wondered what her mother looked like.

“You must be Y/n?” An older lady asked, taking you out of your daze. You nodded and she told you that she was informed that you were here to pick Hyunjin up. You both talk about her for a second and agree that she is indeed the cutest five-year-old ever. Hyunjin saw her teacher talking to you and screamed your name. She quickly said bye to her friends and ran to hug you.

“We get to hang out today!” You half-yelled trying to match her excited disposition. You both said bye to her teacher and hopped in your car. On the drive she told you all about her day and how she’s sad because her dad will come home late, but she's happy to see you again.

You pulled up at the given address and gawked at how nice the house was. It had a modern and contemporary feel to it and that was just from the outside. While you were dumbly staring, Hyunjin got out the car and opened your door for you. She bounced enthusiastically saying how excited she was to show you around. You hurriedly grabbed your bag and was dragged into the house.

The inside was even more impressive. The kitchen was the size of your living room and was filled with the latest appliances. The living room was huge and there was even a beautiful garden that Hyunjin said she and her dad had worked on from time to time. As Hyunjin pulled you around you found yourself wondering why she didn’t have a babysitter. Jaehyun was obviously well-off.

Hyunjin asked if you could help her with her homework, so she can get it out the way and you guys could play. You commented on how mature that was and that you would be honored to help.

After an hour of homework, you both were free to play. Hyunjin told you about how one of her friends taught her how to braid. You offered up your hair and she gleefully braided it all the while telling you more about her amazing uncles.

“From what you're tell me Johnny is hilarious.” You laughed. She agrees and asks you not to tell anyone because she loves all her uncles, but Taeyong is her favorite because he’s sweet and acts like a kid sometimes.

You guys play for a while and decide to make dinner together.

“Okay Chef Hyunjin what are we having tonight?” You asked carrying her to the kitchen.

“Umm… chicken pasta!” She yelled after giving it some thought. You compliment her choice and began to prepare dinner. You had to admit she was the cutest help you could have ever asked for. She knew where exactly everything was and was great at setting the table. After dinner you helped her bathe and dried her hair when she was done. It was getting late, so you decided it was bedtime. She took it like a trooper and passed out after you read some of her favorite stories.

You wandered back into the living room after making sure she was asleep. Pulling out your laptop, you worked on a few assignments. You sent a message to both Ten and Kun telling them that you would be coming home later than usual and to not send a search party. Their replies hadn’t come yet when you heard the front door open and close.

Jaehyun walked into the living room looking like the handsome version of the walking dead.

“Y/n. How are you? How was Hyunjin?” He asked undoing his tie and tossing his keys in a bowl.

“Great. Hyunjin was an angel.” You informed with only smiles. You both reconvened in the kitchen and you recounted the day you’ve spent with his daughter.

“Then she made this braid, which is pretty impressive for her age. Dinner was fun. I didn’t know if you’ve eaten or not, but I made a plate for you as well.” You said. His face lit up and it reminded you of how Hyunjin’s face did the same when she’s happy.

“I haven’t. Thank you, you goddess.” He rushed over to the conventional oven where his plate was and smiled. “Chicken pasta?”

“Yeah Hyunjin said it’s one of your favorites.” You both decide to get to know each other. He learned that you were a sophomore in college majoring in Biology.

“That just sounds terrifying. Science was never my strong suit.” He shuddered as he placed a cup of coffee in front of you. You learned that he was indeed an architect and was a really successful one at that. He owned his own company and the ‘uncles’ Hyunjin referred to were his friends and partners. You also learned that he was only 26.

“I aspire to be that successful at 26.” You stated jokingly. “So that means you had Hyunjin when you were only 21. That must have been stressful on you and her mom.”

As soon as the words left your mouth you cringed. Hyunjin, who was a child, never talked about her mother and it was in your opinion a little tactless to bring her up with Jaehyun. You were about to apologize for being rude and nosy when Jaehyun spoke.

“It was.” He smiled at you, calming your panic heart. “But Hyunjin was the light of our lives. Her mom decided to put college on hold and stay at home while I finished. She died three years ago, car accident. Hyunjin was in the car and survived.” He finished sadly.

“Oh god. Jaehyun I'm so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I have Hyunjin.” He smiled and you noticed his dimples. A smile made its way on your face as well. “You know you’re the first person that Hyunjin has taking a liking to other than her uncles. All the babysitter I’ve hired she hated them.”

“You mean to tell me that angel has the capacity to hate!?” You yelled a bit louder than you meant to. Jaehyun busted out a laugh and you shushed each other, not wanting to wake Hyunjin up.

“Yes. It seems so.” Jaehyun said coming down from his laughing high. You looked down at your watch and decided it was time to leave.

“I should get going and you need to get to bed. No offense, but you look like you’re about to die from sleep deprivation.” You walked over and placed your mug in the sink. You turned back around and saw him go into his pocket.

“Here let m-”

“No. Your daughter is the cutest thing on this planet and I gladly did this for free.” You stated.

“I recall you saying that yesterday.” He laughed. “But please I would feel a lot better if I pay you.” You both went back in forth for a few minutes and then he pouted. This grown man pouted and you gave in.

“Fine. You win.” You murmured childishly. You heard him call you cute as you passed him, money in hand.

“Would you be interested in sitting Hyunjin? I'm working a huge project right now and I would be less stressed and worried if someone like you were watching her.” He confessed to your back as you packed up your things. You smiled and turned around.

“Jaehyun, your daughter is the cutes-”

“the cutest thing on this planet, is that a yes?” He bit his lip worriedly.

“I would love to.” You watched him raise a fist in victory and laughed. He walked you to your car and stood there waving until you were out of sight.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Mr. Grinch

A/N: On the 4th day of Christmas there is no true love. Oops. 

Warning: this is not a happy tale. 

Word Count: 1,890 (at least its short.) 

Prompt from: Anon 

“When did you become such a grinch?”

“White Christmas, white lie...same thing, right?” 

Billy tapped his trigger finger on his desk impatiently. This is all bullshit. His secretary stood in front of him listing off all of the appointments and meetings that she scheduled for him that week. Most of the things that she handled for him were, in fact, bullshit. Things like haircuts and suit fittings, RSVPs to all sorts of events, sending flowers and other garbage when the occasion called for it. He still made all of the appointments that mattered to the business, trusting no one but himself with the most important things. The tapping steadily increased as she mentioned internship interviews. Billy cringed, recalling the last round of all too eager students that had interned in the offices at ANVIL. ‘Nother buncha ass kissers. “Move that to after the holidays,” he made a dismissive gesture with the hand he’d been tapping, sending an obscenely overpriced fountain pen tumbling from its holder. 

 His secretary nodded, unfazed by the way he’d cut her off mid list. “No problem Mr. Russo, does January 10th work?” 

 Billy fixed the pen and leaned forward, elbows on his desk. “Yeah, sure. Listen, Amy, there anything on that list that I actually need to know about?” He pointed to the sheet of paper in her hands, lifting one eyebrow. 

 Amy scanned the rest of the items. “Just the fundraiser. I need to know if you’re going this year.” 

 Billy swallowed, a chill flooding his veins, crashing through him like an angry ocean wave. “I can’t make it.” The sound of ecstatic, youthful laughter and cheerful holiday tunes crept in from the corners of his memory.  

 “But I haven’t even told you when it is,” Amy pushed. 

 “Look, I’m not goin’, Amy, no matter when it is.” I can’t. Not that one. He blinked, a banner and wreaths, bright reds and holly greens flashing through his mind. 

 Amy clicked her tongue, crossing the Toys for Tots fundraiser off her list. “Just send a check, then?” She asked in a curt tone that she wouldn’t get away with if her ass didn’t look so good in that skirt. Billy nodded silently. “When did you become such a grinch?” She looked up from her list and was taken aback by the shadows in his eyes. 

 “Just the way I am, sweetheart. Now,” he pointed to the paper she held. “That all?” 

 Amy straightened up, narrowing her stance and drawing herself up to her full height. “Yes, sir, that’s all.” 

 “Great,” Billy responded, hitting the hard T sound with added emphasis. “You can go.” 

 She scoffed under her breath as she turned and left his office. Gotta find a new secretary. Put that on your fuckin’ list, Amy. Billy stood abruptly from behind his desk, unbuttoning his suit jacket. In three long, quick strides, he reached the door and closed it with a little more force than necessary, locking it before returning to his desk.

 He smoothed one palm slowly over his hair as he sat back down in the black leather chair, opening the bottom drawer. Pushing the hanging files forward, he opened the hidden compartment in the drawer and reached in for the small stack of items that not a soul in the world knew existed. I wasn’t always this way… He rifled through the notes and photos until he found the one that he was looking for, dropping the rest back into the compartment. Slumping against the backrest, he held the photo, falling back into the memory, the sounds and images that he’d chased away before slicing their way back in. He swiped his thumb over the glossy surface, his own face grinning back at him with Lisa on his shoulders. Frank had Jr. upside-down, the boy’s surprised glee frozen in time while Maria stood between the men, her arms wrapped around their waists and her mouth open in a hearty laugh. I’m so sorry, Frankie…

 Billy sighed, letting the photo flutter down to his desk before hanging his head in his hands and letting the barrage run its course. 

                                         “Thanks again for doin’ this, Bill. I know it’s not really your thing but the kids are gonna lose their shit when they see you here.” Frank clapped Billy on the shoulder as the two men entered the school gymnasium. Wreaths and lights had been hung around the room, and long tables with red tablecloths had been set up, transforming the basketball courts into a holiday bonanza. A large banner emblazoned with the Toys for Tots logo, a cheerful train full of gifts, took up most of one wall, and festive music filled the air. A few volunteers from the school were setting up a snack table with cookies and beverages, candy canes and chocolates.  

 Billy tugged at the bottom of his jacket. The starchy dress blues always felt too formal for his liking. “Ah, it’s no problem Frankie, I can suck it up for one afternoon.” He sniffed, looking over the room as more volunteers brought in big empty boxes covered in patterned wrapping paper. Guess they’re expectin’ a big turn out… lots’a donations...that’s good. “‘Sides,” he turned to Frank, using the back of one white gloved hand to smack his brother in the chest. “We’ll just add it to the list of things you owe me for.” He winked and grinned, knowing that neither of them kept track of what was owed or promised. 

 Frank’s booming laugh drowned out the chorus of Silver Bells as the two of them took their place by the table under the banner. “Oh I owe you, huh? Okay.” He passed Billy a red velvet bundle. “Put your hat on, Santa, I’ll buy you a beer after this.” 

 “Oh c’mon,” Billy complained as he unfurled the pointed red hat, complete with a puffy white ball on the end. “Really?” He held it up between his pointer finger and thumb, letting it dangle in disgust. 

 “Yeah, really,” Frank laughed. “It’s part of the whole thing. Don’t be a grinch.” 

 “Fine.” Billy pulled the hat over his head, hair shifting out of place as he did. “But this ain’t for you. It’s for those kids’a yours that can’t actually be yours cause’a how smart they are.”

 “Alright, Saint Bill. You’re a real martyr.” 

 But before Billy could come back with a crude or witty remark, the doors from the school hallway opened and a stream of kids of all ages poured in, their eyes going wide at the sweets and decorations. One voice rang out, clear as day, and Frank and Billy both turned toward it at the same time.

 “That’s my dad, and that’s my uncle Billy,” Lisa proudly pointed out Frank and Billy to her friends through a smile full of metal wires and red and green rubber bands. Maria and two other moms who had volunteered to help run the event followed closely behind their excited children, trying to herd them to the tables they’d been assigned to to help collect and sort the toys that would be donated before the party portion of the event got underway. Billy caught Maria blowing a kiss over to Frank before a flash of green under a mop of dark hair came hurtling at the two men. 

 “Dad! Uncle Billy!” Jr. launched himself at his father before doing the same to Billy. “Uncle Billy! I didn’t know you were coming too!” He turned to his classmates. “Guys, this is my uncle!” 

 Frank chuckled. “See, told you. I’m invisible when Uncle Bill’s around.” 

 Lisa made her way over to them with more restraint than her younger brother, but the excitement to see both of them was clear as day. “Hi Dad,” she hugged Frank and didn’t squirm when he kissed the top of her head in front of her friends. “Hi Uncle Billy,” she wrapped her skinny little arms around Billy’s waist, hugging tightly. “I gotta go help at the tables,” she said, pulling away and setting her immature features into an all too mature expression. “But will you stay for the party?” 

 “Yeah, Uncle Billy,” Maria had finally made her way over, leaning in to kiss her husband on the cheek. “Will you stay for the party?”           She reached over and squeezed Billy’s shoulder with a smile. 

 That had been the first year that he signed up to represent their unit for the Toys for Tots drive at the Castle kids’ school. At first he’d been hesitant, having only ever been on the receiving end of those coat and toy drives, and not quite sure that he really wanted to be part of it at all. But the way that Lisa and Frank Jr. had lit up like Christmas lights just to know that he was there changed everything. Billy didn’t like kids, and he had no desire to have his own. But Frank’s kids were different. They were his family, and he found that he was just as much a sucker for them as Frank was. That was the first, but he’d gone to two more of those events during the years that he and Frank were home around the holidays, and he actually found himself looking forward to the event. 

 Until everything changed. Until I fucking destroyed everything. 

 Billy had generally made peace with the fact that he’d sold his soul on the cheap. For most of the year, he could tuck his guilt away, hide it under expensive suits, distract from it with flashy cars and government contracts. But Christmas brought it back to light. I can never go to one of those things again. Wouldn’t be right… But ANVIL was a company owned and largely operated by former members of the US Marine Corp- a highly successful company- and as such, he needed to support Toys for Tots. “Anything for good publicity”, his people had told him.

 He opened his top drawer and pulled out a black monogrammed note card, a large W.R. embossed in gold. Reaching for the pen he’d knocked askew earlier, he began to write. 

 Please know that while I would love to be there in person to support this year’s toy drive, my business is taking me out of the city until after the new year. As always, ANVIL is happy to support your wonderful work. I hope that this donation makes a lot of kids happy. 

 He signed it, his signature digging into the paper, before standing back up, fixing the knot in his tie and re-buttoning his jacket. Opening his office door, he leaned around the frame and called for his secretary, tapping the note card twice on the hinges. She appeared seconds later, wordlessly. 

 Handing her the note, he told her to send that with the check for Toys for Tots, adding that she should double the normal donation this year. She read his neatly written words and looked back up at him. “Out of the city?” 

 Billy gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. “White Christmas, white lie...same thing, right?” 

 Amy barely controlled her distaste for her employer. “Sure, sir. Same thing.” She turned on her heel and headed for the finance office to have the check cut. 

Billy returned to his desk and sat down with the photo. “It’s not the same thing,” he sighed, feeling no extra warmth from his charitable giving. “Not even close.”  

.

.

.

@something-tofightfor​ @its-my-little-dumpster-fire​ @suchatinyinfinity​ @gollyderek​ @thesumofmychoices​ @obscurilicious​ @traeumerinwitzhelden​ @jigsawlover10​ @getlostinyourparadise​ @breanime​ @nananananananananananabatman​ @lexxierave​ @songforhema​ @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes​ @lysawayne​  @ymariejp​ @belladonnarey​ @audreychaz​ @songtoyou​ @stories-you-wont-hear @luminex3​ @ificouldhelpyouforget​

[tired-college-student-writing]

A Match made in Therapy Chapter 3: Beginnings

Summary: JT and Dani know that outside of the Team Bright had very few people in his life. It was them, Gil, his mother, sister, therapist, parakeet, and his serial killer father. His circle of friends was small, but not as small as they seemed to think. Chapter 1

Chapter 2

 Chapter 3 (HERE)

________________________________________________

“Are you Matt?”

He was expecting Malcolm with the latest book he had gotten, An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness by Kay Redfield Jamison, just like he had done for the last four weeks, on his lap but this wasn’t the bubbling acquaintance Matt had made. This was a man, mid-thirties if Matt had to guess, holding himself strongly, he was trained, the clink of metal on his belt said Police. Next to him was a small girl, maybe eight, long hair brushing over her collar as she looked at him.

“Why do you want to know,” He asked, hand reaching out to grab his cane, ready to scream and swing if the man tried to grab him, less likely with the girl here, but still a possibility.

“I told you,” The girl whined, “This is Matt, He’s always with Malcolm when we’re here.”

“You know Malcolm?” He asked quietly if it was an abduction then he was targeted for a specific reason, maybe Malcolm’s money?

“Uh-Huh,” She agreed, “He’s my brother.”

The Blind boy finally relaxed, remembering how the other boy had explained and detailed how much his little sister was amazing and annoying, “You’re Ainsley?”

“Yeah! Malcolm said we should find you.”

“Why? Is he okay?” He asked, realizing his fri- acquaintance wasn’t there. Why had Ainsley and this man (was he their dad?) come instead?

“He’ll be okay,” The man relayed, “ My name is Gil Arroyo, I work with the NYPD and Malcolm wanted me to tell you that he can’t make it today because he’s sick.”

Matt couldn’t stop his face from falling at those words, “But he’ll be okay?”

“He’ll be okay,” The officer repeated, voice soft and soothing, “He started a new medication a few days ago and had a bad reaction to them. He stopped taking them but he needs another few days to get back on his feet.”

“Oh...”Matt breathed, ignoring the knot in his chest that loosed as he heard Malcolm was fine, “That’s good. Thanks for letting me know.”

“No problem kid,” Gil laughed, “He did say that you might be interested in hearing a few passages from his book though, would you like me to read them or wait until next week?”

“You don’t need to-”

“Gil does lots of things,” Ainsley cut in, “Cause he wants to, even when it’s my brother calling him at weird hours in the morning and not talk, just listening to Gil talk. He wouldn’t offer if he didn’t want to read to you.”

Matt scrunched up his face, but the man’s heart was steady and even as ever, comforting almost.

“No pressure, Matt,” He said, “I don’t have anywhere to be until six when my wife wants me home, but you can wait until next week for Malcolm if you’d prefer.”

Matt was silent for a long moment, he wasn’t supposed to ask for things, but would Malcolm come back if he was rude to Gil? Whatever relationship they had was clearly a very deep one if they weren’t father and son.

“It’s called The Summer of the Danes,” Gil read off, “by Ellis Peters. Malcolm said you usually share nonfictional books but this is a new medieval mystery novel from a series he enjoys and he has been itching to read it. The synopsis says that Brother Cadfael is pleased to join his young friend Mark, now a deacon, on a mission of church diplomacy in Wales. Traveling in the safety of the Prince of Geynedd’s train, they are brought to unexpected dangers, as they seek to keep a young Welsh woman free from harm.”

Malcolm almost squirmed, it did sound interesting… but make-believe wasn’t supposed to be something he looked for. Stick used to snap about how consuming too much fiction would make him disconnect from reality.

But Malcolm wanted him to hear it…

“Can you read a little of it please?”

He could feel Gil’s smile as the man sat down next to him on the bench, and Matt couldn’t help but stiffen as Ainsley climbed up on his other side, leaning into his arm lightly.

“I want to hear too! Malcolm always reads stuff to me,” She said not bothered that her bench partner seemed to turn into a stone statue.

Gil just laughed, patting his back lightly, “Breathe kid, she doesn’t bite, and she’ll move if you want her too.”

“No, I’m okay.”

Gil shook his head slightly, but opened the book and began to read.

“ The Extraordinary events of the Summer of 1144 may properly be said to have began the previous year, in the tangle of threads both ecclesiastical and secular, a net in which any number of diverse people became enmeshed, clerics, from the archbishop down to Bishop Roger de Clinton’s lowiest deacon and the laity from the princes of the North Wales down to the humblest cottager in the trefs of Arfon. And among the commonality thus entrammelled, more to the point, an elderly Benedictine monk of the Abbey of Saint Peter and Saint Paul, a Shrewbury …”

By the time Gil had finished the second chapter, Matt found himself relaxing, even if little Ainsley didn’t move far from his side, brushing up against him in a familiar way that made no sense since he had just met her a little over an hour before. The story was enthralling, the plotlines drawing Matt in swiftly as Gil’s low rumbling voice painted scene after scene for his sightless eyes to enjoy. He had even started poking fun at the man's voices for the different characters, barely able to keep a straight face once Heledd, the female lead in the book was introduced, but Ainsley insisted he continues the voices, something Matt wouldn’t admit he was pleased about.  

As the third chapter grew to a close, Ainsley’s attention seemed to waver. The quiet jangle of a bell told him why before she even opened his mouth.

“Can we get ice cream?”

“I don’t see why not,” Gil answered with no hesitation as he used the dust sleeve to mark his place.

“Yes!” She cheered hopping to her feet, “I want bubblegum, and chocolate, and strawberry-”

“You can get one flavor Ains,” Gil cut in, “What would you like Matt?”

“Oh, I’m fine, no need to bother” He quickly replied, even as  Ainsley grabbed his hand.

“It’s really no bother,” the man soothed, “It’ll be good for us to take a break from reading anyways.”

“I… I can’t,” Matt barely breathed, waiting for the disgust, “My stomach…”

Gil was quiet, his heart squeezing oddly, “Is this an ongoing problem? Being sensitive to different food?”

“Yes…” Stick would beat him for being so weak.

“That’s okay,” Gil soothed, “Food can be tricky, we could get you something lighter, like a popsicle or just some vanilla ice cream-”

“No,” Matt’s stomach twisted into an icy ball, “No vanilla.”

“Okay, what about citrus, how do you do with that?”

Matt thought for a second, “It’s usually fine, as long as it’s not overly sugared.”

The man nodded, “Okay. I’ll be right back.”  

As he walked away, Ainsley rocked lightly on her heels, “Gil doesn’t mind you know?”

“What?”

“He’s used to people not handling food real well,” She told him, “Malcolm is bad with food too, he has been since Daddy got taken away.”

“Gil isn’t your dad?”

“No, he’s the one that took daddy away,” Ainsley explained, “Mommy said Daddy hurt a lot of people and so he has to go away for a long time. Malcolm was really sad about it. Gil worries about us a lot so he comes and makes sure we’re okay now that daddy’s gone.”

“That’s nice of him,” Matt said with a smile he hoped didn’t look like a grimace. Malcolm and he had a sort of understanding that personal questions weren’t something they liked dealing with. He never asked and Malcolm never shared but for some reason, he wanted to know what had happened to his frie- acquaintance, His acquaintance.

He let Ainsley chat aimlessly to him until Gil returned with their treats, slowly taking his.

“Maybe you can read next time, Matt,” Ainsley suggested between licks to her ice cream, strawberry from the smell of it, “I think you’d do fun voices.”

“We’d have to find another book,” He hummed, not really registering the suggestion, too busy savoring the cool popsicle. It was amazing, one of the best things he’s ever eaten. The lemon wasn’t from concentrate, instead of using fresh juice and zest, just a little sugar to turn the overly sour taste into an enjoyable tart.

“Why?”

“The book is too new,” He replied easily, with a shrug, “I’d expect it to be at least a year before they make it in braille and for the libraries to get it. Though the new ADA laws being passed might get it out a little faster.”

“They don’t just make the books you can read when they make the books we can read?”

“No,” Usually these questions just felt tedious to explain to everyone, but the general earnest in Ainsley’s voice made the questions easy to answer, “They need a special printer to make a book in braille and they don’t have as many braille printers as text printers so it takes longer.”

“That’s dumb,” She whined, leaning into his side, “You like books almost as much as Malcolm, you should have all the books!”

“I think the nuns would protest to that,”

“Then they’re dumb-dumbs. I’m gonna get you all the books so that you can read them or I’m gonna learn to read really good and read them all to you!”

He couldn’t help but laugh at her proclamation, “That sounds amazing Ainsley.”

It really really did.

________________________________________________

When Malcolm left the precinct early, instead of being drug out by Gil he could see the surprise on the team’s face, Dani quickly asking if he was feeling okay, but he just brushed them off, holding up the business card Matt had dropped off as they were leaving the station.

He was on a mission and he wasn’t about to wait any longer, especially since the case was on hold for a few hours as they secured a warrant.

The door opened right as Malcolm was about to reach it, Foggy sticking his head out.

“Matt heard me?” He asked, watching the blond pale.

“What no, of course not! You know all that stuff they say about the other senses compensating if bullshit.”

“Moth boy!” Malcolm called gruffly, as he pushed passed the stuttering lawyer swiftly “Want to tell me all about this Devilish handsome figure that’s apparently flipping through Hell’s Kitchen?”

There were two more people in the office, a pale blonde woman whose eyes had blown huge as he entered and a dark brunette that simply raised an eyebrow, holding herself defensively, but Matt didn’t look worried, instead, his face twisted in a worried snarl.

“Depends,” His voice was low, Malcolm only able to discern the anxiety in his tone from years of knowing him, “Want to tell me about Watkins and how your dad ended up in the hospital?”

“Ohh,” Malcolm hummed, “Someone did their research, but I asked first.”

“No I asked first,” Matt snapped, “Back at the precinct.”

“My escapades are well documented through the news, and by retelling of my sister for her new very loyal following, you, on the other hand, get away with only ghost stories, broken bones and a few shaky pictures of a man in an armored Halloween costume,” He shouted back, moving into Matt’s face, “I mean Devil of Hell’s Kitchen? Anyone that spends enough time with you could piece it together, it’s not like  you don’t say ‘Murdock boys have the Devil in them,’ at the drop of a hat or anything!”

“Oh, I don’t want to hear the moral high ground from you, resident! You let your mom stab your father!”

Malcolm faltered, making Matt pause as his heart flipped.

The room grew silent as Matt glared at the other man, “You’re hiding something.”

“Always,” Malcolm slide in easily, their old inside joke falling short.

“Mal…”

“I can’t tell you,” He answered back, “Not about that, the trail hasn’t even started yet for Mother.”

“If I wanted to see boyfriend drama,” The brunette grumbled, “I would go find a case, what the hell is even happening, Murdock?”

“Yeah,” The other woman added, “I’d like to know that as well.”

“Hello,” Malcolm greeted, “I’m Malcolm Bright, this blind reckless idiot’s best friend, we’re currently discussing how we’re both lack sense of self-preservation and how we’re mad at each other for not sharing our latest escapees, and you are?”

“Karen,” The blonde answered with a raised brow, “I’ve been working with Matt and Foggy on for over a year now.

“Ah,” He smiled, “You must be the Page of the Nelson, Murdock, and Page then, and you Miss?”

“Jessica Jones,”  She offered, “ Thought Nelson was Murdock’s best friend?”

“He has two,” Foggy shrugged, “He’s known Malcolm for longer and they both have the same dumbass martyr thought process.”

“Not a martyr,” The pair answered in unison.

“Not from a lack of trying,” Foggy mumbled, “But either way, I guess you figured out Matt’s night job?”

“Profiler. Didn’t even know about Daredevil until today, guess the only good news is someone has to know you pretty well to see the clues, Moth.”

Matt scowled at him, “Can we go back to the fact you were kidnapped and then witnessed your mom stab your father through the heart?”  

“No. Can’t tell you anything about Mother anyways.”

Matt squinted at him, or rather at his ear, before holding out a hand, “Wallet,”

“Why?” He asked even as he handed it over. Matt fumbled through it a little pulling out four bills.

“Are these all the same amount?”

“Yes, hundreds,” Malcolm answered with a raised brow.

“Rich boy,” Matt mumbled with a fond eye roll, “One for Jess, one for Karen, one for Foggy and One for me. Congrats Mr. Bright, you just hired three lawyers and a PI. You now have attorney-client privilege and PI level discreetment. Tell us what happened with your mother and the carousel killer.”

Malcolm just sat there blinking in confusion for a long minute before he let out a soul-weary groan, “I hate you.”

Matt just smiled back, “No you don’t.”

__________________________________________________

Taglist: @ofvalkyrja

[shyeehaw]

S/O dies giving birth HCs

Hello fellow cowboy lovers, I’m deeply sorry (or not, I’m into angsty stuff) about the amount of sadness there’s about to be written below. Enjoy (if you like that and all)! <3

Request: An angst HC with Arthur, Charles and Sean where their s o dies giving birth and the guys are left to raise them alone.

Arthur:

Isaac. That’s the first thing that came to Arthur’s mind when you told him you were pregnant.

She made sure to tell him the news on her favorite place: the beach.

What happened had a deep impact in his personality, and now life gave him another chance. To know better, to do better.

In the Saint Denis doctor, he learned that it still had time until the baby was born.

So he would to town with the biggest smile on his face, buying things to the baby. 

Unaware of what waited for him when he got to camp.

Arriving at camp he saw Ms. Grimshaw pale as ghost. His mind trying to make sense of things.

The baby wasn’t expected until another two more months. That’s... that’s why he was out.

He didn’t knew, he couldn’t have predicted it.

“Mr. Morgan, I’m truly deeply sorry, me and Mr. Pearson did...”, Arthur could no longer hear, the buzzing in his ears silencing those awful words.

His dreams once again turned into a nightmare.

Hearing the shaky baby’s breath nearly broke his heart.

He would look at that small, innocent boy and wonder how he would ever raise him without his partner.

Confusion and guilt would take over his mind. Thoughts so dark that he would never dare to write in his diary. Arthur did that to her, he wasn’t there.

He grew more apart from others, focusing all his time on the recovery of his baby.

The boy had some many aunts and uncles, the whole gang loved and protected him with all their hearts.

In the early years, he had no interest in hiding how miserable he was feeling.

Even though he was clumsy, Arthur managed to turn his fragile baby into a strong boy.

He made sure to tell his son how good of a woman his mother was. Always making him say her name.

The boy was very sensible, picking up when Arthur was feeling down and trying to cheer him up by doing all kinds of silly things.

His diary was his most treasured possession. When his son got a bit older, Arthur would read some parts about her.

It was really emotional, but a way to keep her memory alive.

Time is a cruel, but blissful thing. 

Blissful because with the years, Arthur could notice, without hurting so much, the resemblance between the boy and his mother.

And cruel, because he started forgetting the little details. The portrait he draw being the only thing left to compare the her with his son.

Sitting by the seashore, he would reminisce about how much she loved that place. 

“This is stupid, Y/N, but if I could just talk to you... tell you about our boy.”

He would be interrupted by the big curious eyes of that tiny little boy. “Are you talking to mother?”

Arthur would just nod, and take him by the hand, leaving some flowers on the grave just above the dunes. He knows she would love that view.

Charles

When she began go into labour, Charles was there holding her hand.

And when life began to leave her eyes, he held her hand too.

Charles had heard about that before, but he never thought he would need to experience it first hand.

And the blood...her warm blood, the blood that nurtured their baby, now was everywhere.

He just kept concentrating on the baby’s cry, for her, he would just listen to that sound and get his strength from there.

“It’s a baby girl!”, said Ms. Grimshaw, holding his daughter.

But Charles could not do the same, he had no strength left to take her.

He remembers falling into the ground, the first time anyone saw him displaying such raw emotions. He would sob for minutes, without stopping.

Searching for any meaning in that, he would think of how life is always balanced, how the spirit and body were different things.

But that knowledge didn’t brought him any consolation at that point.

It took him a day or two, to go search for his baby. Abigail had been taking care of her. Charles was ashamed of being weak and not being able to see her before.

He never felt this scared in his life. His fingers were too big and rough against the baby‘s soft skin.

Charles learned pretty quickly how to take care of the girl, bringing her along when he went fishing or hunting since she was a baby.

He would strap her around his chest and go on with his chores.

The baby girl was very peaceful, much like her father. Looking at her would silence all the noises in Charle’s head.

In her first birthday, everyone threw a big party, getting the girl gifts and playing with her.

It was supposed to be a happy moment, but Charles could not forget that it also meant he had lost his love for a year now.

The thought that this would always be the case robbed him the joy to celebrate that day.

But he loved his daughter deeply, her life gave his more meaning.

Charles was a pretty patient father, teaching his girl to talk and walk, and as soon as she could, to use a bow.

A wooden carved horse was her favorite toy, her father gave it to her.

His kid would always surprise him with how smart she was beyond her years. Not only being able to read, but knowing things not even adults understood.

“I’m not sad Cain died, papa, he is not in pain anymore. Mom is with him now, right?”

Charles would take her every now and then to visit her mother’s grave, by her request.

He felt like he had a lot to learn with his kid, she didn’t felt sad, just glad to be a living part of her mother.

She grew to be such a sweet and caring girl. Who loved braiding her father’s hair.

Charles would look at her and see his own appearance mixed with the one he would forever love. It was painful, but a beautiful reminder of how life goes on.

Someday he would meet her again, but for now, his girl needed him. And he would always protect her.

Sean

When his s/o told him she was expecting a baby, Sean was helpless.

There’s no denying that at first he was terrified! Too young and too dumb, in his own words, to take care of another human being.

She got apprehensive that Sean didn’t wanted the kid, but that’s not at all what he meant.

Passed the initial shock, he got really excited at the thought of playing and being the fun dad.

A little person to teach everything he knew , all the pranks, joke, songs!

He started dreaming about the life the three of them would have. It wasn’t so scary anymore.

With his love’s scream piercing through his ears, Sean fetched Ms. Grimshaw in a blink of an eye. His heart jumping on the chest.

He never seen someone giving birth before, so he couldn’t know all that screaming wasn’t normal.

It wasn’t a regular “push” scream, something was terribly wrong.

“My chest!” she would say with her clenched fists turning white “Oh god! Please, it hurts so much.”

That’s when he noticed something wasn’t right. Kneeling beside her, he would wipe the sweat of her face.

“Love, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry Sean, you didn’t wanted this and now I’m going to leave you with” she would scream in agony “with our baby.”

“Yer not leaving me, don’t say that.”, he said with tears falling into her face. He knew it was true.

Ms. Grimshaw handed him the baby, already wrapped in a blanket.

“Look at her! Stay with us, please”

“There’s another one coming!”, Pearson shouted.

The body of the woman he loved turned pale, with a last gasp, she squeezed Sean’s hand.

It would be his last laughter in a long time. Sean was hysteric, guffawing without any emotion.

From day to night, he transformed in a whole different person. He would be restless, taking care of both babies.

He had no clue what he was doing, so everyone would help out as much as they could.

Abigail would teach him about diapers and common diseases, Arthur would watch out for the kids while Sean ate or when he fell asleep, exhausted.

Mary-Beth would entertain them with beautiful fantastic tales, they loved that auntie.

The twins were the gang’s kids. Although, Sean did the best he could, turning a bit more responsible over time.

He would focus all his, once endless, energy on his children. That way he would be too tired to think about their mother.

When they got a little bigger,Jack would play with them for hours, while Sean was out on jobs.

One time, when arriving to camp, his kids sat him down and started reading to him. It made Sean so damn proud.

“Your pa can’t read but you two can? Where did I go wrong!?” He would say, playfully.

His little girl was the most troublemaker of them. She would always be up to something mischievous.

When she pranked Micah, Sean like pretending nothing happened.

But his  boy was more like his mother, kind and pensive.

“Pa, I feel bad that mom died because of me and sister.” he would confess.

“Yer mom loved ya, and your sister! If she could choose, she would always pick you two over her. That’s how us parents are!”

But hearing his son saying that, got his facade down. Sean had been pretending for too long that he was healed from what happened.

But how could he ever move on?

By learning how to play the guitar with Javier, his son got him a bit jealous.

“Yer spoiling my kid, Javier. He just wants to spend time with you now! I’m his pa!”

He found very odd how only his daughter picked his accent up, the boy talked like Arthur and made Sean a little mad. 

Even though they were everyone’s kids, the twins were super attached to their father.

Wherever Sean went, two red-headed shadows would follow.

[pointedly-foolish]

[ stíckч fíngєrs ]

word count: 1090

pairing: connor | rk800/oc

genre: gen

summary: « oh wait, where's...? the detective exclaimed as they rummaged through their bag. i must've-- sorry i really need to... they trailed off. wait here. »

the android simply nodded as he watched the figure scurry away to some part of the precinct.

in the meantime, he found a few things to distract himself with: rhythmically tapping the desk, fidgeting with his coin... he glanced up at the decorated desk and saw a prompt: [ X | ᴱˣᴬᴹᴵᴺᴱ ᴰᴱˢᴷ ] should he...?

a/n: trying to unblock myself and start writing again... so i decided to write some oc x canon stuff as tiny exercise... kinda funny thing that i wrote to also flesh out my oc in a way,,,? ya boi fell in a hole of oc x canon that he thought he would avoid for the longest of times lmao,,, one (1) android controls my life end me,,, in case you do decide to read this, tiny pointers to not be confused: - in this au connor, 60, and rk900 are deviant and work at the DPD. since they're considered rookies (only started officially working as a detective for about a month) they're assigned partners; connor with hank, conan (rk900) with gavin, colin (60) with my oc esmé. - this ficlet mentions my friend's (@miusmius​) oc, Ona Boix, who is also a detective at the DPD (i included her in the artwork, and by default in this work)... i don't own her, she doesn't belong to me... mius dont sue me pls

the drawing was made cuz i wanted to do a challenge where i draw a bunch of different ppl lol

i think that's about it? hope you enjoy this silly thing.

{ [ X | ᴱˣᴬᴹᴵᴺᴱ ᴰᴱˢᴷ ] }

the desk itself is relatively neat, sheaf of paper stacked together and tucked away neatly on one side of the table. other personable belongings such as potted plants, picture frames, and a small owl statuette are organised meticulously. office supplies are placed in cups and holders, not a single item out of place. upon closer inspection, however, the android noticed one item that was not like the other: unnoticeable at first, there was a black pen amidst the others that resembled his… the fountain pen he lost a few days ago.

[ ａｎａｌｙｓｉｎｇ... ] [ ᴬᴺᴬᴸᵞˢᴵˢ ᶜᴼᴹᴾᴸᴱᵀᴱ: ᴸᴬᴹᵞ 2000 ᶠᴼᵁᴺᵀᴬᴵᴺ ᴾᴱᴺ, ᴾᴿᴼᴰᵁᶜᵀ ᶜᴼᴰᴱ ᴸᴹᵞ-ᴸ01ᴱᶠ ]

he pushed aside the rest of the result, ignoring the trivial information such as material (black polycarbonate—makrolon and stainless steel), and swiped the pen up, inspecting the pen’s body. on it was a delicately etched “connor anderson”, coining it as his pen; the one that was gifted to him. stuffing it into his pocket, he now realised how much of the detective’s belongings weren’t actually theirs: hank’s music player, det. collins’ notepad, and headphones he swore he last saw with officer chen. baffled at how no one has noticed yet, he collected said items to be returned after. though most of the stolen goods are of little value and easily replaceable, he settled to discuss the detective’s kleptomaniac tendencies with them soon.

continuing his inspection, he noted the multiple flyers and notes that adorned the detective’s magnetic board: small notices and stickers from past concert—panic! at the disco (which he found out was a well known alternative rock artist who managed to keep his career afloat even after the popularisation of android bands) and others, both popular and indie, of differing languages.

a small timetable and calendar marked a few important dates, circled and annotated accordingly. a small to-do list is taped near it, date at the top right corner. most of the writing is smudged—[ ᴿᵁᴺᴺᵞ ᶠᴼᵁᴺᵀᴬᴵᴺ ᴾᴱᴺ? ˢᴹᵁᴰᴳᴱᴰ ᴾᴱᴺᶜᴵᴸ? ] – “buy food for paris after work” it seemed odd that the detective still took on-paper reminders when a digital alternative was available, not to mention broadcasting them in full view. – “concert Jules     8:30 pm [sic.]” but perhaps they simply preferred the act of physically writing them down, or leaving behind a trace of their last location in the off chance that something happened… who was this “jules”? he decided not to look the person up, though curiosity was tempting. he resisted the urge (that his non-deviant self would have complied to immediately) if not to give the detective their privacy. he trusted them enough to know that they’d tell him about this individual if they need to.

on the top left corner of the board was a sticky note that wasn’t quite like the others: instead of the neat, smooth lines that was characteristic of their handwriting, this one was a messy scrawl that made it almost illegible—detective reed’s handwriting. under it was a smaller sticky note, belonging to the desk’s owner, which read “asshole”. « succinctly put » the android thought with a small smile of amusement.

the final object, which was a more recent addition to the heavily decorated board was a photograph of a recent birthday “party”, which was more of a potluck to be quite honest. his smile remained, and one may even note that it has become marginally brighter as his features softened. a photograph annotated with the raven haired detective’s commentary (entire precinct made up of loose canons—which wasn’t exactly wrong in his mind), which showcased the coworkers being together and celebrating hank’s birthday (while det. reed sulks on a kitchen counter, frustrated. the android chuckled at the annotations, “trash” is right.).

he scanned through each individual: his “brothers”, colin and conan—taken aback slightly at the fact that the three were called fucko 1-through-3; det. boix and officer chen (titled queens—fittingly as both were incredible at their work, though he sometimes wonder why officer chen still hasn’t been promoted yet…); the man he considers his father—lt. hank anderson—“world’s okayest dad” seeming like an understatement (though he’s quite sure it’s joke shared among the detective and the lieutenant); the two canines—sumo (the best saint bernard there ever was) and paris (the best german shepherd there ever was), and finally the desk’s owner themselves: det. esmé thomas, the person he’s waiting for right now. the picture was a slightly candid one (he didn’t recall being informed that they were going to have their picture taken), but he felt a sense of peace in seeing the group’s genuine joy being captured. it was nice to see them enjoying each other’s presence (some had a harder time showing it, though reed was slowly coming around) after the chaos a few months ago.

« hey, i’m back! sorry for making you wait... we can go now, suggested a voice from his far right. he turned his head to face its source before nodding. – alright. »

unlike hank, esmé preferred to drive in complete silence, the only sounds audible were the traffic outside and the thrumming of the car engine. after a few moments, the detective restarted the conversation: « did you have fun snooping around my desk? they asked playfully. – i was merely inspecting it… i noticed it had a new picture on it, he answered truthfully. – yup, they smirked, you like it? it was from last weekend. – it was certainly amusing, what with the flavour text. – ah, i was hoping you’d say that fucko #1, they chuckled. – so we’re a precinct filled with loose canons? he pushed playfully, rolling his eyes. – i don’t see you disagreeing, they replied, glancing briefly at the android. – touché. »

a moment of silence passed as the conversation died once more, the quietness accompanying them in their drive. but it was fine. it was a comfortable silence as they waited to reach their destination. a question was, however, on the tip of the android’s tongue for what would’ve been the entire ride so far, so he decided to ask them: « i’ve been meaning to ask you… he started. the driver made a « hmm? » to inform the passenger that they were listening. – but why are you wearing detective reed’s sunglasses? he pointed at the accessory on the detective’s shirt collar. »

the question goes unanswered and the android gives up on the thought of ever getting a reply, when the person besides him answered determinedly, not a hint of shame in their voice as they admitted the theft: « it was shiny and i wanted it. »

like my work? consider ordering a commission // buying me a coffee // checking out my art tag or my masterlist | links can be found on my desc

[silviasutton1989]

The Guest Ch. 8 “Choices”

A/N: Hey Guys (did you miss me lol) just wanted to post this one really quick before I get back to my hectic life. You guys will get a few quick glimpses of Liam and MC’ s life in the past. Just a reminder Liam wasn’t “Liam” when they met (don’t want to confuse anyone)

Rating: Mature (Course language)

Word Count: 2000

Summary: Candace makes a hasty choice leaving Constantine enough room to make a few for his son 

"He's looking at you, again." Samantha quirks up a smile handing Candace another empty salt shaker to fill.

Keeping her eyes focused on the task in front of her, "Maybe he's looking at you Samantha. You're the one gawking at him."

"Nope he's definitely looking at the back of your head like a puppy waiting to be noticed."

Without a thought Candace turns around. And it happened. Just like it had every single time before when their eyes meet, he smiles at her and she foolishly smiles right back.

"Damn it!" She quickly turns away. 

"You know what Candace? I'm going to do you a favor. I'm going to set you two up." 

"No. I don't even like him." rolling her eyes as she forces herself not to turn around again.

Samantha cocks her head knowingly. "Girl please you and Drake have been eye flirting with each other everyone here thinks so. There's actually a running bet on how long till you two to actually hook up.

"Let me guess. You went for 4 months.

"Ha Ha...actually 5, I'm giving you a little time. But that is not the point. The point is he  likes you and from the few months I have known him he's pretty much a saint.  I mean the dude can speak different languages. He's got that sexy ass accent not to mention that sexy ass ass--"

"Samantha!"

"I digress. He's also the nicest guy I have ever met. Holds out doors and feeds the homeless, he's kinda like some disguised prince." Samantha's eyes widen as she babbles on "Oh my Gawd! He's like Hakeem from Coming to America!" What if he's some undercover prince searching for his queen...in queens."

"Ha. I'm 1000 percent sure that the bust boy is no Prince of Zamunda, ok."

"Well even if he isn't, he has one thing going for him."

"What's that?"

"He makes you smile."

Candace reluctantly looks back at Drake again. This time she let the bashful smile last a little more than a minute before slowly turning back around.

"Hey Hakeem---I mean Drake!" Samantha calls him over.

Samantha!"

"Girl hush. You know what your problem is you can't make a choice to save your life! You did that with college doing it with this shitty job so just shut up and keep that cute smile on your face while I change your world."

Candace smiled as her mind traveled back to that day. She sat at the breakfast table next to Liam while��he looked over paperwork for a meeting later on.

"Hey Liam do you remember Samantha?"

"Hmm... umm the girl from the diner?" Liam doesn't look up from his papers as he speaks, lately this was their only way to communicate. 

"Yeah. I totally forgot about this but you know she had you figured out long time ago. She use to joke with me that you were some undercover prince searching for your queen. Just think if she hadn't set us up..."

"Jeeze what in the world were they thinking? A 25 percent bonus for the king's guards and not one dollar added to the scholarship programs!" He draws a large circle on his paper with an aggravated sigh. 

"Did you hear a word I said?"

"Hmm... yeah Samantha had a crush on me. Honestly the girl had a crush on everyone." 

"No that's not at all---"

"These budgets are totally screwed I have to go rework them before the meeting." He stands from the table "What do you have planned today?" half asking as he began to gather all the papers scattered about.

"Drake is going to teach me horseback riding remember?" A slight smug grew seeing his busy hands slow. It not that she wanted him to be jealous or that she liked this reaction from him, especially since he really hasn't spoken about the kiss, but at least it in that moment she knew she had his full attention. 

Liam turned to her with a pained smile. "So out of all the people in this court Drake is the only person that can teach you how to ride?"

"I have to learn before the royal hunt tomorrow. And also you were the one who picked him."

"Yeah that was before you two--"

The room grew silent.

"I thought you were over that. Liam it was just a kiss."

"Yeah...Yeah I know." He takes the rest of the papers before kissing her lightly on the check. "Have a great lesson."

"Ha... please stop! I can't breath!" 

"No seriously So here I am trying to help this old lady across the street and she takes my wallet and bolts!"

Candace rolls over with laughter tears forming in her eyes as her date goes on with his story. Her hand grips his thigh as she guffaws. Never on a first date would she ever be this open but as the hours rolled passed and their nerves died away she soon learned that a date with this man would be nothing like she'd had before.

"Oh...I'm so sorry that happened to you" she chuckles "but this is New York, Drake. Home of the pocket picking grannies. We welcome you, our most chevalier and gullible guest with open arms!"  She opens her arms dramatically her laughter only growing and suddenly he took her into his own pulling her in tight.

Her laughs stop abruptly.

"Sorry, was that too much? I mean...how could I resist New York's warm embrace. Did I overstep?"

"N-no. It was nice. Really nice." Their eyes catch and like magnets they begin to draw to each other.

"Are you sure?" His words sincere but those eyes told a different story so did his body as he doesn't pull away. "Because I want to ask you a pretty bold question right now."

"Oh...what's that?" she's breathless as his eyes pull her closer. He takes a moment before speaking.

"Can I kiss you Candace?"

With a deep breath her answer became an action as she closes the space between them he kissed her so softly so gentle he touched her as if she was something so precious, it was then and there she knew that this was no longer a date. No, today would be day one of a thousand more days with this man.

Steadying herself as she mounted the large beast, Candace took deep breaths to calm her nerves. But that did little to help her at the sound of the horses flared nostrils.

'"uhh.. nope. I want off.."

"Chill Sutton, Marybelle is the most docile animal you'd ever meet."  Drake gives the horse a reassuring rub.

"Maybe..." she squirms as they trot towards an open field " or maybe that's just her cover. And the minute my guard is down this thousand pound creature will buck me straight into the ground." 

"Ok drama queen." Drake chuckles, "But you gotta admit this " he spreads his arms wide breathing in the fresh air "this is paradise. No court no press not a single trace of red or blonde headed demons lurking the corner."

"Hmm...none of those are in New York either." it was mumbled to herself but Drake heard it just the same. 

"You know, I never cared for all the fancy crap with the royals. I pretty much hung around for Liam and my dad. But it took me growing up here to know that life wasn't for me. How are you so sure it isn't for you? I mean look at what you did for those people--"

"See that's just I didn't do anything! I snitched on a criminal. That doesn't make me a queen. And you know what else? You know what makes that whole thing so damn bad? Is that sometimes I wish I'd never done it. Me and Liam used to be partners and now since that day it's like...like he's dragging me. Maybe I wouldn't feel so negative towards it if I actually had a choice. "

"You know I think you have far more choices than you think you do." their eyes meet for a second "And you know what else?"

"What?"

"You've rode this killer horse all the way through the clearing. Look."

Candace turns around seeing the open field, the palace walls only a blur from the distance. 

"See,  Candace you're a natural. And I'm not just talking about the horse riding."

"Yeah I guess all those years of avoiding Texas was for nothing."

"Texas? Your from Texas?"

"No, but I have family there. My mom would try to convince me to spend summers down there with my cousins.  I always thought nothing at dude ranch could be worth spending my summers over," 

"Wow what a coincidence my...!" Drake chuckles as he feels his phone buzzing from his pocket and pulls it out.  "...Hello. Yes this is her son. She what? Does it sound like I've seen her?! It's your job to ---Yes sir I know this is her 3rd time ___ but you all are supposed to----"

The call continues but only for a moment until Drake shoves the phone back in his pocket his jaws clenched between his teeth.  

"Lesson's over Sutton I gotta go home."

"What was that all about."

"Nothing."

"Drake."

"It's my mother she's...she's sick. Has been since my father died. Got worse when my sister left. And now she's ran off again. Meaning I will have to go find her clean her up then convince her to go back." 

"I can come with you." She didn't even think about her response. The words just flew out. 

Drake gazes curiously. "What?"

"You will need help. I mean I don't know your mother's situation but I do know you don't have to deal with it alone. Let me come with you." 

"What about Liam? The Royal Hunt?"

"Liam will understand.... He'll have to." she mumbles the last words under her breath as they ride the horses back into the stables.

Holding his new found girlfriend closer to his chest as she sleeps, the cool dark night gave him a sense of confidence he never seemed to have before. He watched her stir in his arms looking so beautiful and safe there the words he had been holding back in saying for months just flew right out.

"I love you Candace." he exhales as if those words were a weight on his back he never really knew was there. One day he would actually tell her when her knew for sure she felt the---

"I love you too."

"What?"

Candace turns over facing him "I said I love you too."

He watched this girl in amazement "You said it so easily..." his voice breaking.

"Loving you is a pretty easy choice to make." She chuckles rolling back onto her side. 

That was the memory Liam held onto as he watched Drake's pick up truck drive off with Candace inside.

2 weeks tops.

Yeah two weeks to fuck Drake like she's been dying to do since we got here. The sting on his check was a constant reminder to never speak of such things again much less think them in his head. His mind went back to that night over and over again throughout the day.  That night when she said said loving him was the easiest choice, how easily she chose to leave now. She wasn't coming back.

 He never noticed the beaming smile on his father's face as he entered the stables alone. Or the overly pleased looks of Olivia and Madeleine as Liam dodged the constant questions the press asked about Candace. 

No, in his mind he was still in that warm bed with her listening to the New York sounds. Nothing brought him out of it until his father spoke her name.

"Press, we all love Candace she was an amazing companion for my son and treated our country with the upmost respect. But like all guest they must leave at some point. She knows Cordonia will always welcome her back whenever she feels the need to visit again. But as of today I am very sure that our lady's of Cordonia are very capable of cheering up our future king. " Constantine chuckles lightly giving the giddy noble ladies a quick wink. "Forgive me for being so bold but I believe today we have found a new meaning for the Royal Hunt."

@agent-bossypants @andy-loves-corgis@missevabean@blackcatkita@darley1101@jadedpixiescribbles@indiacater@umccall71@speedyoperarascalparty@findingdrake@stopforamoment@mrsdrakewalkerblog@bobasheebaby@itsmychoicebih@gardeningourmet

@hopefulmoonobject @smalltalk88@boneandfur@cordoniansqueen@choicesbyjade@ladynonsense@jovialyouthmusic ​@carabeth@iloveliamrys@sarwin85 @innerpostmentality@kingliamchoices @smalltalk88 @

[kinniepika]

Messy Sandwich

Hi, guys! This is a short piece I wrote in the style of an urban drift, or "derive" as the French say. It follows me, though it's in 2nd person, on my journey through a popular campus area. If you're interested, the piece will be below the cutoff :)

Messy Sandwich

The shuttle is bumpy, loud, and a sensory nightmare, but it could be worse. For one, “Irreplaceable” by Beyonce is playing over the radio, a song from your childhood, and the lyrics still come to you naturally. For once, the other passengers are quiet, as well. Usually, you make it a point to wear earbuds on the shuttle in order to drown out others’ conversations and the loud crashing sounds that the shuttle makes when passing over even the smallest cracks in the road, but something compelled you not to this morning. Beyonce’s doing a fine job keeping you calm, anyways, though you know that you’re going to be hearing to the left, to the left, everything you own in the box to the left in your head for the rest of the day. You also managed to snag a window seat and are admiring the beautiful scenery surrounding campus, like the unidentifiable creature (maybe a creepy dog?) saying “happy birthday” that someone has taken great pains to draw on the glass of a bus shelter you pass along your route. The drawing perplexes you as you squint to read the words better, but the shuttle leaves as soon as the light turns green, forcing you to forget about it. You have an hour to kill before you need to be at work, and you have no real destination in mind in the meantime. All you know is that you’re hungry, and it’s lunchtime, so lunch it is.

You get off the shuttle at the Kenilworth stop and make a beeline for Beans & Barley. There are about a million old people standing in the parking lot, which confuses you, but you pay it no mind while walking through the doors. It’s not exactly bustling inside, but not exactly slow either, and the workers are all busy, so you wait at the register for someone to take your order. A tall, lanky cashier with stretched ears and a cute smile finally greets you, and you proceed to order. “And what’s the name for that?” the cashier asks.

“Athena. A-T-H-E-N-A,” you say, spelling it out for clarity’s sake over the symphony of music, customer’s conversations, and the noise coming from the kitchen.

“Thank you, that’s such a pretty name!” he tells you, and the compliment brings a smile to your face. Though you hear it often, it’s still something you never quite get used to.

“Aw, thank you!” you say, exchanging smiles, then you finish the rest of the transaction and peruse the store’s many knick-knacks as you wait. You come across a bunch of candles decorated with celebrities depicted as saints. For some reason (lesbianism), you’re drawn to the Nicole Kidman candle. You entertain this thought no further lest you pull out your wallet.

You take your sandwich and hot apple cider outside and sit at one of the small tables near the entrance. It’s windy and a little cold, but the apple cider keeps you warm while you struggle not to make a mess on the table of pesto mayo and tomatoes. Many people come and go as you eat your lunch; you witness a kiss between two boys your age which warms your cold, dead heart, especially after one wishes the other a happy birthday. You silently wish them a happy birthday as well and watch as the group of friends departs from their lunch gathering. Later, you witness a father and daughter leave the store. The dad lets his daughter, who can’t be older than 6 or 7, try and push the door open. She tries her hardest but ends up falling into a fit of giggles as the door doesn’t budge. Her dad pushes the door open, surprised at the effort it takes. “Looks like the wind was working against us!” he says to her, laughing. You make eye contact with him, to which you smile at each other and laugh as his daughter continues to be a goofball. You finish your sandwich shortly after and get up to leave, thinking you may go to Beard MKE next. You always pass the storefront on the shuttle ride to Cambridge and have been curious about it for quite some time, but have never gone inside. It’s not even a block away, so you approach it rather quickly and enter.

It's just you inside, not counting the employee behind the counter who greets you enthusiastically. “This is my first time coming in here,” you say, and the employee smiles.

“Well, I’m super glad you chose to stop by. Pretty much, we’re just a queer-friendly shop with lots of fun stuff to choose from. I’ll be here if you have questions,” he says, and you get to it. You look at everything the store has to offer, encountering candles with silly phrases on the jars, Milwaukee merchandise, and lots of stoner humor. You pick out two pairs of socks, one leopard print pair, and one pair with sharks. You bring them up front, awkwardly setting them on the counter. You really wish there were other customers in the store to ease some of the social anxiety you’re feeling, but it doesn’t matter all that much. You make the purchase and leave, but not before telling the employee thank you and to have a good day.

By this time, you decide you might as well start heading to work, so you continue in the direction of Cambridge. It’s not long before you’re stopped by a homeless man outside a bus stop asking for resources. Earbuds usually give you a way out of these situations, but today you decided not to wear them, so you stop and talk with him.

“I might have a few coins, but no cash. Is that still helpful for you?” you ask, reaching to pull your wallet back out of your backpack. Suddenly, he lifts his thumb to the corner of his mouth to mimic wiping food from the area.

“Hon, you’ve gotten something on your face,” he says, and your stomach drops. You immediately take the back of your free hand and wipe at your mouth, horrified at what comes back. Tomato and pesto mayo. A lot of it. You begin to reevaluate every interaction you’ve had in between finishing your lunch and this revelation.

“Oh my god, that’s so embarrassing,” you say, laughing awkwardly.

“Other side, too, girl,” he says, and you feel like you could die of embarrassment.

“Thanks for telling me, Jesus, that’s been there for a while.” You go back to digging in your wallet for change, and come back with a quarter, a couple nickels, and a couple of pennies. You sigh, hoping that there would be more, but give the change to the man anyways. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help more.”

“God bless you, hon, you helped more than you know,” he says, and you go your separate ways.

For some reason, that makes you feel a little better. You hope that someone else has more to offer him. You don’t dwell on it for too long, though; you have a shift to get to, after all, so you continue on your way.

 Now, as you watch the storm rage on from the safety of the Cambridge Restor, you think of him.

[gothxmsirxns-blog]

Holy

Pairing: Kate Kane x Reader

Relationship: Romantic

Request: nope.

Plot: Based of ‘Holy’ by Zolita. Also loosely based on one of my OC’s.

Key: [Y/N] = your name, [S/N] = sister name, [H/C] = hair colour. [B/N] = brothers name, [D/C] = dress colour.

Warnings: GxG, cursing, homophobia, abuse. 

Tags: I wanna tag @memento-scribet @maruthor and @the-singing-canary because their the ones that inspire me to write and who inspired me to start this blog.

Words: 2,203

A/N: This is my first time writing for Kate. Also, to the anon who sent me in a request, I have it and I’m just trying to think of a way to present it because I know what I want to do, but I don’t know how to write it down. This was going to have smut in it, but when I was writing it I kept going in different directions and kept changing things so I took things out. 

‘Worship your body as you walk my way

You’re the only one that who can make me pray’

Pushing a strand of red hair away from the eyes of the sleeping vigilante, a smile feel onto the face of [Y/N]. Her girlfriend always looked so peaceful when she was sleeping, not a worry line to be seen on her face. [Y/N] wished she could back in this moment forever, just watching the love of her life be at peace with herself and everything around her for once instead of worrying about what was happening in the city and how she was going to help save it.

But, she did have to get up. Things had to be done that day or else she would have stayed in bed with Kate for as long as she could. With a light sigh, she pushed the blankets of her body with reluctance and stepped out of the bed, a shiver running up her back as her feet hit the cold floor and she reached down to lift the robe that had been quickly disregarded the night before.

Walking through the home she shared with Kate, [Y/N]’s eyes scanned over every picture of the two of them that she passed as she walked towards the kitchen and as her eyes caught sight of a picture that captured the two of them in a kiss her mind was cast back to the first time she kissed a girl.

___________________

‘I can fight but the devil wins’

She knew it was wrong, well she was told it was wrong by almost everyone around her. She was told that if she did it she would be sent to hell, that the devil won if she did it. But she couldn’t help it. Mariah just looked so pretty.

She was the new girl in town, having just moved from a small town to an even smaller town, and [Y/N] was quick to befriend the girl and the town soon found them inseparable to the point that it was suspicious and the rumours began.

The two paid no attention to the rumours, until they were sat in church and the preacher spoke specifically about what a sin it was to be homosexual and the two sat with their heads bowed and their eyes cast to their laps in an attempt to avoid the stares of all those around her. Her mother berated her, telling her to stay away from Mariah, saying she was trouble and that if she continued to be friends with the girl the devil would personally come for her to drag her to hell.

But she didn’t listen, she snuck Mariah into her room a few days later and the two shared a kiss on her bed before her sister came into the room and saw the two. [S/N] rushed to tell [Y/N]’s parents, who in turned told their preacher, who told Mariah’s family that they needed to leave for ‘corrupting the youth of the town’.

[Y/N] could remember it clearly, the looks people gave her and the beating her father gave her after discovering what she had done in an attempt to force the idea that it was bad and wrong, that she should never do it again into her mind. And it did, until she moved away.

___________________

‘And I will fall like a saint who sins’

The bitter memory faded away from [Y/N]’s mind and she continued to walk into the kitchen as she ran her hand through her [H/C] hair and let out a gentle sigh. When she got to the kitchen, the first thing she did was turn the AC on before moving to the fridge and pulling out the necessary ingredients to make chocolate chip, blueberry pancakes.

As she was cooking, she started to hum along to the song on the radio and dancing along to the beat with her hips swaying from side to side. [Y/N] was so absorbed in the music that she didn’t notice a certain red head leaning against the kitchen door with a smirk on her face and her arms crossed over her chest.

That was until, she felt the hands on her hips as Kate danced along to the music with her. “Someone's happy this morning.” A kiss was placed to [Y/N]’s cheek and she smiled as she turned to Kate, giving her a peck on the lips, before she got back to the cooking.

“I guess I’m just trying to push back the nerves.” Turning the stove off,she placed the last of the pancakes onto a plate and handed a plate to Kate, “It’s the first time I’m seeing them in a long time and the last time they saw me they told me I was going to hell.”

Giving the girl a sympathetic smile, Kate reached over and gave her a kiss on the head. “It’s okay.I’ll be right there alongside you.” Taking the girl’s hand, she lead her to the island that opened up to the living room and sat alongside her, giving words of encouragement to her over breakfast.

_____________________

‘Forgive me father, I am weak’

She was nervous, hell she was petrified. [Y/N] had just gotten back from college, she had moved out of her small town for four years and found out so many things that changed her life. Things that made her more comfortable in herself and she was terrified of what her family was going to say about the whole thing.

She hadn’t even unpacked her bags yet, because she was sure there was no point, and she already had her ticket to Gotham where she had an entry level job in her desired field that she was going to no matter what happened here and now.

With a deep breath, [Y/N] looked up from the hands that she had clasped in her lap to look at her parents and siblings, one sister and two brothers, who were all looking at her with a look of concern. “[Y/N], honey, are you feeling okay? You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine.” With a deep breath, she licked her lips and dug her fingers so hard into her skin that she felt that she was going to draw blood. “I just have something I need to tell you. It’s important.” Her mother nodded along and her father motioned for her to go along.

With a another deep breath that filled her ears with the pounding of her heart she let it out,”I’m gay,” and after that everything seemed to move in slow motion. She could remember her father screaming at her and her mother trying to calm him down, she remembered the look of sympathy from her siblings as her father screamed that she was going to hell and to get out of his because she was never welcomed there again. But most importantly, she remembered her mother not trying to defend the her.

And so, with tears pouring from her eyes she stood from the kitchen table and left her family home, to never go back.  Instead she went to Gotham, where she knew she was safe and where she had found a home in the arms of Kate Kane.

_________________

‘But it’s not forgiveness that I seek’

It was finally time, it had been a few hours since breakfast and the young couple had taken things slowly. The cleaned their home to the best of their abilities while they also lounged together on the sofa cuddling and talking about their future.  But it was finally time.

[Y/N] had put on a nice crop top and high waisted skirt that meant only a small part of her midriff was showing and not all of it and Kate had put on something similar, only with jeans a leather jacket over her top while [Y/N] had a simple cardigan.

Sitting in the café, [Y/N] could help the nerves that were building within her stomach and she shook her leg up and down in anticipation for what was going to come. Kate looked over to the girl and placed her hand over her’s, with her thumb rubbing soft circles on the skin to calm her down. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. You’re not doing this alone. You have me...and I may have also told the boys what was going on so you also have Jason and Damian ready to kill them when you give the word.”

A chuckle left [Y/N]’s lips as she looked to Kate with loving eyes, “I love you.” Kate returned the smile and leaned forward to give the girl a peck on the lips, “I love you too.”

The clearing of a throat caused the two to turn their heads and look at the chairs that were facing them, there stood [Y/N]’s parents. The same parents who had kicked her out upon her coming out, [Y/N] wished she could say they looked the same but they didn’t. They were greying and old, looking older than they should have. “Mom. Dad.”

[Y/N] stood from her seat and was brought into a tight hug by her mother, but her father refused to even look at her before he sat down in the seat facing Kate. With a deep sigh, [Y/N] took a seat by Kate and looked over to her parents.

They sat in silence for a while, the air tense and filled with unspoken aggression from her father towards her and Kate while her mother simply stared at her with doting eyes and a warm smile.

Clearing her throat slightly, [Y/N] tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ears and broke the silence, “Why did you want to meet? Why now?” Looking to her father for an explanation, she was meet with a small glare and an disgruntled face.

“Your mother and I...no your mother heard about your….engagement.” The way the word engagement was spoken was through gritted teeth with a snark behind it that meant he didn’t believe the meaning of the word in this context. “She wanted to come meet your fiance and she dragged me along with her.”

Nodding slightly, [Y/N] looked down to her ring finger where a simple engagement ring sat before looking back up to her parents. Her mother was the next one to speak.

“We’re so happy for you pumpkin, that you’re happy.” A grumble was heard from her father, barely audible but it caused [Y/N] to roll her eyes and she decided that she was finally going to fight back against your father.

“Do you have a problem?” Her father looked at her shocked, “Yes I have a problem. I thought you would be over this stupid homosexuality phase by now. I thought you would be marrying a man.”

Anger spread through [Y/N]’s body as she looked at the man she once called ‘daddy’. “Excuse me? You have no right to be angry at me for being who I am and for being comfortable in who I am. Who I love and marry is none of your business. I love Kate and she loves me.”

With a roll of his eyes, her father stood from the chair angrily, pushing the chair to the floor with the force of his movement as his hands slammed against the table. “You will not marry her. I forbid it.” And with that he began to walk out.

Standing from her own seat, [Y/N] grabbed her father's arm and turned to look at him. “I am marrying Kate whether you like it or not, the only difference it will make is if you decided you’ll be there and be happy for your daughter or not.” Letting go of his arm, she let him leave and she looked to her mother, shocked that she didn’t leave with him.

“We divorced about a year after you left. Turns out [B/N] is gay too and he couldn’t take it. So I left. I was sick of him tearing the family apart because of his bigoted views. I only supported him because I had no other options, I feel pregnant senior year of HIgh School and had to drop out, so I never worked. But I did it. I got my GED and I left.” As her mother stood from her seat, she placed a hand on her daughter's cheek and smiled, “I love you and I always have. I would love to go to your wedding if you’d have me.” Wrapping her arms around the older woman, [Y/N] felt tears sting her eyes because she finally had her mother back.

__________________

‘Your love is holy’

It finally happened, [Y/N] and Kate were finally married. The ceremony wasn’t too big, but it wasn’t too small because almost every member of the Justice League was there and so were immediate family members.

But the time had come, the time for the father daughter dance and [Y/N] remained seated while Kate danced with her father, looking as beautiful as ever in her [D/C] dress that she had somehow been convinced to wear. But suddenly the dance stopped and Jacob started to walk towards [Y/N] with his hand outstretched and a smile on his face, “You’re my daughter now too. Have been for a long time.

[Y/N] took the man's hand and lifted the edges of her [D/C] dress so that she didn’t trip as she walked to join Kate on the dance floor. Jacob took both the girl’s hands and twirled them before bringing them close to him together, allowing Kate and [Y/N] to look each other in the eyes as they whispered the words ‘I love you’.

[mauridianhallow]

A L L O F T H E Q U E S T I O N S

Good shit good shit this took me ages holy hell enjoy you meme loving fucks Q's for you to A Do you have a favourite sweater? I actually do, it's that kinda folded over stretchy grey one I always wear, y'know? I wore it to The 1975 and, from what I hear, it was awesome. (Although I can't remember bc I was Gin Drunk) What’s your middle name? Lawrence...no judgement...Do you still talk to the first person you kissed? I don't, I wonder how's she's doing. Heard she was studying History from her friend I met in a bar one time. Glad to hear, she was nice. Do you get on with your grandparents? I did! Sadly it's been a few years since they passed but I very much did. What was your favourite cartoon as a kid? Hmm, it's a tough one, between the 90's X-Men TV show they played on repeat on Fox Kids or Ben 10 when it wasn't absolute shit like the remake. Yeah I'm bitter. What’s your favourite cartoon now? Archer lol Do you read the news paper? Yeah pretty much every day...I swear I'm not an old man. Who was the last text you sent to? My friend Laura, asking if they'll still be at the park when I finish work. What does the last text you sent say? "Y'all still gonna be there when I get away?" If you could have any hair colour what would it be? Idk I like the one I have. Do you like nature documentaries? Not really my cup of tea to be perfectly honest. What is your aesthetic? Climbing a mountain at a 90° angle in Skyrim on a horse. When did you last pet a dog? ''Twas yesterday. Whose friend’s parents do you like the most? The twins'! They employ me! I literally get paid to hang out with friends some days that's the good shit! Have you ever been on a road trip? I've been on a couple, longest was a drive to Southern Spain from Scotland! Was awesome! Tell me about someone you know called Emma? Went to school with her, cool gal, she saw HP in London and I'm jealous, shoutout to @weewildelassAre you reading a book in english class, what is it? Oh god I'm old. I haven't had or attended an English class in over 2 years. Do you have a favourite Aunt? Well considering she also employs me...hell yeah, shoutout to my Aunt K you legend! Baths or showers? Baths for comfort and treating yo self, or sharing...😏...Showers for quickness and weird snapchats at 3am...😂 Skiing or sun bathing? Sun bathing my dude. Do you kill spiders? Sometimes, sometimes not. Have you ever made an ice pop? I have not. Are you wearing shoes right now? I'm not wearing anything rn. Tell me about you favourite primary school/elementary school teacher? Let me tell you about Mrs. Mary "The Bonecrusher" Highland, and how she was such an iconic, legendary, influential and inspiring woman that she was the person you sent into the bad fucked up schools in movies and have them all pass with straight A's, she ran a tough ship and was slow to praise but when she did, she went all out, and made you feel like what you had achieved was truly a feat. Oh and she encouraged children to learn and think for themselves, genuinely encouraged you when you said you were interested in something even when it went above and beyond the curriculum. She was charitable, friendly, and spoke to you like you were an equal, and a worthy one at that. Mrs. Highland was literally so influential in so many people in my class being successful, free minded, hard working adults that she deserves a goddamn award. And let me tell you another thing, at the end of my First Year in College, I went back to my old Primary School for a teaching assistant internship because I knew the school was becoming a bit run-down and out of control and I wanted to help the way that Mrs. Highland had, and who had they just asked to come out of retirement, come back for TWO WEEKS, sort shit out and then walk away into the sunset like some goddamn Old Lady Teaching Avenger who appears when needs were greatest? MARY FUCKING HIGHLAND, I GOT TO HELP ONE OF MY CHILDHOOD HEROES BE AN ABSOLUTE TEACHING LEGEND AND REALLY INFLUENCE SOME GOOD IN A KIDS LIFE, THAT IS THE SHIT! Seriously though, she truly is one of the good ones, they don't make em like Her anymore. Who was the last person you hugged? I think that would be my mother actually hahah. Do you wear glasses? Occasionally. Do you have a cat? I sadly do not. Do you have a favourite pair of underwear? Not a favourite pair exactly more like a favourite kind?? Next All-Black, that's the good shit, makes my ass look great among other things. What was your last tweet? "How the fuck do you work twitter" about 5 years ago and I haven't used it since. Do you still use Facebook? I do, rarely. Do you like birds? Aye pal birds, blokes, the lot. Who was the last person you called cute? That genuinely would be my niece, or you lol Who was the last person that called you cute? This is a strange answer but a regular in my work. Long story. How did you meet your best friend? I literally turned a corner and ran into a group of emo's in like Fourth Year at High School and I haven't looked back since. Escalators or elevators? Nah m8, trick question, I'd rather take the stairs. Does wonders for the thighs. Are you named after anyone, who? Ahaha yeah my dad, both my granddads, and Saint. Christoper (Catholic mum yo) What was your first url? I have no idea. Autumn or Winter? Winter I can't lie. Do you win at scrabble? I do not lol Put your ipod on shuffle , who is the first song that comes up by? "American Idiot", Green Day. Classic. Have you ever drunk from a mason jar? I have not. Can you draw? Barely even write m8 let alone draw. What was your first profile picture? I think it was Kenny from South Park. Favourite t-shirt? God I have no idea. Best tumblr friend? Shoutout to @bepizzazzed and @double-dorks-beanie and @hesitant-butthole When did you last run? Tonight when as a joke my friends took my jacket and tried to get it on top of a climbing frame? lol I had it back in seconds and decided to get some payback ahah Do you like to paint your nails? Not particularly fussed, not a look I could pull off. Did you ever do something as a kid that got you into loads of trouble? I did more things to get me into trouble as a kid that anyone should ever do. And I still did it. Who is your favourite dog that isn’t yours? Trick question, all of them. Have you ever been drunk? Literally so many times. So many. Have you ever done something you regret while drunk? Some-thing? Some-one? Getting into a slutty dance off with a professional dancer? Stealing a mannequin? The exact words "I can easily make this jump..."? The exact words "Watch this lads"? The exact words "Shots won't do me any harm"? The exact words "Another Venom? Aye no bother!" The exact words "You can crash at mine if you like...?" You get the picture...I do messed up shit I'm drunk, and yet, I continue to do so. Do you want to kiss anyone right now? Ronald McDonald ngl for the sweet sweet invention of double cheeseburgers. Do/did you like you math teacher? I had a crush on both of my maths teachers, Mr. Kelly and Mrs. Hendry, both of which contributed to me turning up to class, but also contributed to me failing said classes bc I was too busy looking at them and being a hormone ridden, horny 16 year old boy, than I was doing maths. Do you often ride the bus? I do, everyday I'm in College. Do you have a fireplace in your house? We do actually it's getting renovated right now. Are you violent when you’re angry? God no! Do you cry when you’re angry? No, I rarely get angry and when I do it can only be described as dry anger. Favourite Harry Potter book? It has to be OotP, fight me. Can you remember your last dream? I can, and let me just say, Chris Pratt, thank you. Do you go to bed early or late? "Do I go to bed?" would be a better question. Do you speak a second language? I speak various levels of different languages. Some if you dropped me in their respective countries I could find my way about, albeit difficultly, and others I can ask for the bar and the bill and that's about it. Who was your first ever best friend? A boy called Dean. Have you ever had an operation? I've had a couple yeah. Tell me about your favourite cousin? His name is Reece and he's a meme loving shit and I love him the whacky bastard. Do you have a piece of clothing that doesn’t even fit you anymore but you can’t bare to throw away? During what can only be described as the Greatest Summer of My Teenage Years; the Legendary Summer of 2014, I wore on my feet almost EVERY DAY a pair of Classic Chuck's, they cost my poor wee mum like £60 the Christmas before but they were too big and when it finally hit summer they fit perfectly. I wore them every time. If you've ever read the book Me Before You or watched the film you'll know what I mean when I say they were my bumblebee tights. Have you ever been in a musical? I played the Cowardly Lion in my school play as a kid. Do you have a porch? I do not. How many times have you watched your favourite movie? At least 100 no joke it has to be. Empire Strikes Back. What do you order at McDonalds? Plain double cheese , small fries, Oasis Summer Fruits and maybe a coffee. Do you get on with old people? Worryingly well. Science Fiction or Romance? Sci-Fi m8. Do you take naps? Anytime I can. How many classes do you/did you take in High School? In my final year I took 3 classes. At its height I think I was doing 9 classes. When did it last snow where you live? A few months back. Does it ever snow where you live? It's Scotland...hahah it very much does. How many months until your birthday? 12 m8. How much charge does your computer have right now? 42%What is your favourite Disney Channel Original Movie? I don't actually think I had one. Sorry. the City or the Sea Side? Jokes on you fool, you can have both. What is your least favourite colour? Beige. Who tf likes being beige. Do you have homework to do? Nah. Are you still friends with your first best friend? I am not. Do you have/are you the gay cousin? I have an asexual cousin, bug more often than not I'm the gay cousin. Do you own dungarees? They can look cute on peeps. Do you like to play sport? I do, not to the extent I used to but yeah. What was your favourite ever Christmas present? My baby nephew. How old are you? Ugh I'm 20. Do you ever use Internet Explorer? Not for s long time. Have you ever had blonde hair? I haven't no. I wanted to but sadly I was a kid. When did you last see the person you have a crush on? Well considering I fall deeply in love with strangers who are nice to me on the train, that question is crazy. Who did you last talk to on the phone? Laura. Pants or Dresses? This question is a lot funnier in the UK and even funnier in Scotland where a man can wear one, but to do so, he's not supposed to wear the other 😉 Do you read fan fiction? Not anymore y'know. What is you’re favourite blog? @mauridianhallow is a pretty cool blog you should check that shit out Do you write poetry? I HAVE written poetry before. Drama or Comedy? How dare you insult The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt by suggesting you can't be both. Have you ever had a hickey? Perhaps...perhaps I have. Perhaps I cannot remember how I got some of them. Perhaps I should stop buying the ENTIRE bar a round of shots knowing all too well that almost every one of these people will offer to buy me drinks all night and then I won't pay shit for another drink until the night is over. Perhaps I should...I won't but I fucking should. And perhaps this has on certain occasions resulted in hickeys I don't know.

[sincerelybluevase]

lips touch, part ten

A/N: The final chapter, guys! I originally intended something short and silly, but seeing as this is the final chapter I feel I should end with a bang, so this is one of the longer fics. It is based on the prompt ‘Sister B and Doctor T go on a train together’, which I think was requested by MariaLujan, though I’m not completely sure. Enjoy!

 Sister Bernadette liked stations. As a nun, she was familiar with the comfort that silence and rest could bring, but she felt that there was something soothing in being surrounded by a bustling crowd, too. Every now and then she would cycle to a station in London, most often All Saints, plop down on a bench and watch the people and trains passing by.

Sister Bernadette enjoyed her time at train stations the most when she felt doubtful and worn out. The last great journey she had made by train had been from Aberdeen to London, when she came to the great city to train as a nurse. She had been so full of energy and faith then. Just watching the trains would invoke that memory, and her zeal would light up like a star inside her, burning away every scrap of doubt and every fragment of tiredness.

Today, though, the puttering of the great engines did nothing for her. It just reminded her that she had been full of piety and hope for the future, a stark contrast to what she felt now. The constant coming and going of people could always cheer her up; Sister Bernadette adored seeing the bright-patterned dresses the women wore, their coats pops of colour against the dreary stone of the station. Now, it made her painfully aware of the unassuming colour of her habit, and just how lonesome she was; surrounded by people, but alone. Every unfamiliar face was a tiny stab, confronting her with the fact that there was only one face she really wanted to see.

Sister Bernadette removed her glasses, put them on her lap, and pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes.

Don’t cry, she admonished herself. It would not do to be seen crying in such a public place. Normally, Sister Bernadette was good at keeping her emotions close to her heart. She had learned not to show her sorrow after her mother died; seeing her cry would undo her father. His heart had already been broken; Sister Bernadette had felt, even as a child, that she would have to be the strong one if they wanted to continue living. So, she knew what it was to keep a stiff upper lip. However, the past few months had made it more and more difficult to just keep calm and carry on, and there was only one person she could blame that on.

Doctor Turner, she thought, biting her lip. It was bad enough that she had to work with him every day, forced to pretend to be a professional. Now, he was consuming her every waking thought, too.

Not just waking thoughts, a brutally honest voice sneered. She felt her face grow hot. How often had she awoken in the middle of the night, her breathing rapid and her skin flushed because of unchaste dreams that featured the doctor in a starring role? The lingering sensation of his ghostlike fingers would make her weep with shame.

“Sister Bernadette?” Her eyes flew open. She hastily put her glasses on. Before her stood Timothy Turner, clutching a ride kite to his chest.

“Timothy?” she cried out in surprise. “Can I sit down?” he asked, gesturing to the seat beside her.

“Of course.” Sister Bernadette scooped up her bag and placed it in her lap. Timothy carefully placed the kite between his legs.

“Are you going on an outing, too, Sister?” Timothy asked, looking at her bag.

“No. Well, yes, actually. It’s my day off. I wanted to stroll around London and do some drawing,” she explained. Her drawing pad and a box with coloured pencils were in her bag, as was a tin containing a Victoria sponge. Sister Evangelina had given it to her, remarking that it was best to get it out of the way before Sister Monica-Joan found it and let it upset her digestion.

“I like drawing. What are you going to draw?” Sister Bernadette shrugged. She hadn’t given it much thought, really; just being able not to draw anatomically correct drawings of babies in different positions would be a relief.

“I haven’t decided yet,” she told him.

“Ah. I didn’t know nuns got days off, too.” Timothy looked rather pensive at this new titbit of information, then smiled. “I suppose you can’t go to the pictures, or go out and buy a new dress or a lipstick or something, like the other nurses do, seeing as you have no money and all.”

“No.” They were quiet for a moment. Timothy let his leg dangle, sitting hunched over his kite. Sister Bernadette resisted the urge to push his floppy bangs out of his face.

“That’s a handsome kite,” she remarked instead.

“Dad and I made it. We’re going to test it today,” he said, a hundred-watt smile lighting up his face.

“Where?” “Outside of London there’s a place where we used to go every year to picnic when Mummy was still alive.”

“Oh. But your father has a car, so why are you at a train station?” Sister Bernadette couldn’t help but ask.

“The car broke. Fred is over at our house, trying to fix it. Dad didn’t want to go out anymore, but I asked and asked and asked till he said we would go, after all. He’s buying tickets right now,” Timothy explained. His eyes sparkled as they met hers.

“Sister, why don’t you come with us?” Sister Bernadette blinked in surprise.

“Me?” “Yes. It will be fun. Picnics are always more fun when you’re with three rather than two.” “But, Timothy, maybe your father has looked forward to spend a day with just the two of you. I really don’t think…”

“He’ll like it if you come, too. He’s said that he likes you best of all the people at Nonnatus at least a dozen times. I’ll go and ask him. Watch my kite!” Timothy said and he was off like a rocket.

“Wait!” Sister Bernadette shouted after him. She stood up and tried to grab her bag and the giant kite, but when she had finally clutched the kite under her arm and had taken care of the trailing ribbons she could no longer find the lanky boy in the crowds.

He likes you best of all the people at Nonnatus. Her traitorous heart beat an upbeat rhythm at these words, even if she told the organ to hush.

 X

 “Dad!” Patrick turned around to see Timothy wind his way between the queues waiting to buy a ticket.

“Just a moment,” he told the man behind the counter.

“Dad, Dad!”

“Timothy, don’t shout! And where is your kite?” Patrick warned his son as the boy stood beside him, panting.

“I left it with Sister Bernadette. Dad, could she come along?” Patrick frowned.

“Sister Bernadette?” “Yes, she’s here. She has a day off. Could we take her with us?”

“A day off? Are you sure?” The woman behind him in the queue cleared her throat and tapped her shoes impatiently.

“Yes. Can we bring her along?” “Did you ask her?” “She wants to, I’m sure!” Timothy gesticulated wildly. Patrick sighed. He had to decide, now. He could not leave the queue and ask Sister Bernadette what she wanted, because they would miss their train before they had a third ticket. On the other hand: if he bought a third ticket, she might feel pressured into coming, and he didn’t want that, either. Patrick could not deny that he wanted to be near her, but he knew it was probably for the best to keep his distance. Just a week ago, he had nearly drowned in her eyes as they had discussed spirit lamps. The desire to kiss her had been almost overwhelming.

“Dad, she looked very sad when she didn’t know I was there. I think she needs cheering up,” Timothy whispered. Those words, in combination with the exasperated sighs and grumbles from the people behind him, decided Patrick.

“Three tickets it is, then,” he said.

 X

 Timothy noticed that there was something between his dad and Sister Bernadette as they found her still sitting on the bench and told her they had bought a train ticket for her, too. He couldn’t put into words what this something might be, but there was definitely something out of the ordinary going on. Sister Bernadette, always so cheerful and open, seemed to avoid making eye contact with his father, and her voice was very soft, too. There was this air of sadness around her; Timothy may not understand what was going on, but he knew sadness when he saw it.

“You didn’t have to. I understand if you just want to spend some time with Timothy.”

“I really don’t mind. I’d be glad if you came along, actually,” his dad said. His voice was gentler than Timothy was accustomed to, and he was constantly clenching and unclenching his hands, as if he wanted to reach out and do something but had to remind himself not to. The pair of them seemed to have forgotten that he was standing right next to them. Timothy got a funny feeling in his tummy.

“We’re going to miss our train,” he pointed out. Sister Bernadette looked at him and smiled, taking his kite in her hands.

“Let’s go, then.”

“So you’ll come?” his dad asked, taking the kite from her and passing it to Timothy.

“Well, you’ve already paid for my ticket. It would be plain silly not to come.”

 X

 Patrick had to constantly remind himself not to stare at the little nun sitting opposite of him. He tried to focus on Timothy. His son was basically bouncing in his seat, his nose pressed to the window as the brick houses of London slowly made way for fields and trees. He pointed to everything he saw and absorbed Sister Bernadette’s attention completely. Patrick had to smile at seeing her laugh at his son and pointing out things he hadn’t yet seen; how different this trip already was from the last one.

It had only been a few months after Marianne had died. Patrick went through life as if through a great mist; his senses were dulled, and caring about anything was hard. Summer had rolled around, and Timothy had started needling him about going out on a picnic, like they had done every summer. Patrick had recoiled at the idea. He didn’t feel ready to visit places where they had been a happy family of three; it would only rub his heart raw, reminding him that the love of his life was buried in the earth and his heart next to it. Timothy had begged and pleaded and cried until Patrick finally relented, deciding that the boy might need the continuity. The day had not gone as planned. Patrick had made a kite in moments stolen between patients.

“Mummy always decorated the kite with ribbons and things,” Timothy had said sullenly, regarding the kite with disappointment.

“It’s a kite, Tim. It doesn’t matter what it looks like,” Patrick had said, feeling too tired to snap. Bruised clouds pregnant with rain hung overhead as they made their way outside of London, a basket packed with only sandwiches on the back seat. Patrick had parked the car outside of their usual spot inside the little town; he simply could not deal with seeing the tiny store where Marianne had bought their teapot, or the window where a seamstress displayed her dresses. Marianne’s favourite dress came from that shop; it was a white one with a scooped neckline. You had to tie in the back, and red cherries patterned the soft cotton.

“This is not how we usually go,” Timothy had whined. Patrick had ignored him, walking at an almost brutal pace. Timothy had trouble keeping up and kept shivering in the shorts he’d insisted on because he always wore shorts when Mummy organised their picnic. Patrick had felt a surge of hope as they unrolled the string of the kite. Surely everything would start feeling a bit more normal as he and his son flew it? It had, right until the string snapped and the kite had come plummeting down. Patrick had forgotten to bring more string, cutting their entertainment short. Timothy had looked small and sad, huddling on the picnic blanket (“Mummy always brought the one with the red checks”). As Patrick had handed him a sandwich with jelly he had frowned.

“Mummy always made sandwiches with cheese and ham and lettuce and tomato.” “Yes, but Mummy isn’t here, Tim!” Patrick had snapped. Timothy had jumped up and thrown the sandwich away.

“This is stupid! Mummy would have brought extra string and the right picnic blanket and fruit and cold chicken, because she knew how to cook and you don’t. I hate your sandwiches and I hate this blanket and I hate this kite!” Large tears coursed down his cheeks as he shouted. He had grabbed the kite and torn it.

Patrick hated violence and had never used it on his child. In that moment, though, as Timothy ruined the kite he had worked on with such care, he came close. Timothy must have seen the rage in his father’s face. He had recoiled, shame writ large in his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he had whispered, staring at the broken toy in his trembling hands. In that moment Patrick had been reminded just how young his son was. Timothy was a good boy. He could be snarky and sullen at times, but what child wouldn’t at losing his mother at so young an age? Patrick had rubbed his eyes, then drawn the boy close to him. Timothy had hugged him tight, shaking with grief.

“It’s alright, son. I miss Mummy, too. Come, let’s just go home.”

That day had been a disaster; today, though, things would be different. He had only to look at Sister Bernadette’s liquid eyes to know it.

 X

 Sister Bernadette had to remind herself not to stare at Doctor Turner as they made their way through a little town outside of London. The sun had climbed high into the sky and the temperature was almost tropical. Doctor Turner had rolled up his sleeves, revealing his forearms. Sister Bernadette was not a connoisseur of the male form; she had decided to become a nun when she was barely a teenager, so every minute she hadn’t spent working in her father’s store had been consumed by religious study. She had not felt the need to go out with boys. Frankly, the stories of her classmates about snogging and touching had scared her. It had nothing to do with her, was not meant for her. Men were creatures she only wanted to deal with on a professional level. If she had found them attractive, they had been so in an abstract fashion. Walking beside Doctor Turner, however, she had to confess that her image of male beauty was rapidly becoming less abstract. She told herself that she was feeling hot and flustered because of her thick stockings and the warm weather, but deep inside she knew that that wasn’t the whole truth.

“Look, Sister, here it is!” She tore her attention away from the doctor to focus on what Timothy wanted to show her. She gasped. In front of her hills covered in wildflowers stretched and stretched as far as the eye could reach, only occasionally broken by a lonely tree. A soft breeze made the flowers bob their heads gently, almost as if they were little people welcoming the doctor, his son, and the nun in their midst. Timothy took the picnic blanket from the basket his father was carrying and raced away to find a suitable spot to put it.

“So, you are happy you decided to come along?” Doctor Turner asked. His eyes were twinkling. Sister Bernadette couldn’t help but smile widely.

“Oh, doctor, it is beautiful! No wonder you come here every year!”

“Marianne loved the flowers,” Doctor Turner said, and flinched.

You are an intruder, a mean voice whispered in Sister Bernadette’s ear.

You’re only here because he misses his wife and he can’t face being here alone. He would have asked anyone to come with him. It’s just a coincidence that you are here. Don’t forget it. Never forget it.

“I understand. They are so… flowery,” Sister Bernadette decided, then cringed when she realised just how nonsensical that statement was.

“I guess they are,” Doctor Turner said, and smiled.

Timothy had put the blanket underneath one of the lonely trees and was fiddling with the string of his kite when Sister Bernadette and Doctor Turner reached him. They placed the basket with their food in the shade. Sister Bernadette took the cake tin, her sketchpad and her pencils out of her bag.

“Let me help you to get it in the air,” Doctor Turner offered his son as Timothy finally managed to untie the string.

“Sister Bernadette, do you want to have a go first?” Timothy asked politely and held his kite out to her.

“Oh no, that’s fine, dear,” she said. Timothy smiled gratefully. As he and Doctor Turner took turns running down the hill trying to get the kite up in the sky Sister Bernadette lay on the checkered picnic blanket and was content. She drew some quick sketches of the daisies and poppies and other flowers, inhaling their heady scent, then decided to try something a bit more demanding and started a sketch of Timothy and Doctor Turner. They stood with their backs to her, hands to their faces to shield their eyes from the sun as they looked at the wavering form of the red kite in the air.

Her heart had constricted a bit when Timothy had offered her to have a go with his kite. She had only flown one once in her life, and that was before her mother had passed away. She just wished she could remember; had her father held her hands in his to make sure the wind would not tear the string out of her grasp? Had her mother made sandwiches with jelly and others with cheese and cucumber? Had she packed slabs of cake and brought bowls of strawberries with sugar and cream for them to eat till their fingers were red and sticky? Had the sky been overcast, or blue and without a cloud in sight? She thought her mother had told her to bring her coat in case it got chilly, but she couldn’t be sure.

Sister Bernadette only became aware of what she had drawn when a bumblebee landed on her page and she gently sent it on his way with her fingertips. Her heart beat very fast. She had drawn Timothy and Doctor Turner surrounded by flowers, a kite no larger than a fingernail near the corner of the page. She had also drawn herself, standing next to the doctor, his arm around her shoulders.

“What are you drawing?” Timothy asked as he flopped down next to her. Sister Bernadette tore the page from her sketchbook and crumpled it into a ball.

“Just some flowers,” she said, hating the way the blood shot into her cheeks. Timothy frowned.

“You’re looking very hot. Why don’t you just remove those stockings? They must be very thick,” he said.

“Tim!” Doctor Turner warned him as he sat down next to her.

“I… I’m not allowed to,” she stammered.

“You are if it is up to me,” Timothy shrugged.

“Timothy, stop it! You know how nuns and their vows work,” Doctor Turner growled. He shot Sister Bernadette an apologetic glance.

“Well, you know what, those stockings are really very hot, actually,” she said, refusing to look at either one. “I… I think I might remove them. Just don’t tell.” She kicked off her shoes and unclasped her stockings, rolling them down swiftly before any further comment could be made. Doctor Turner just cleared his throat and started to unpack the picnic basket. Sister Bernadette folded her stockings and put them in her bag before opening the cake tin, shyly placing it in the middle of their blanket.

What on Earth were you thinking?! the mean voice inside her head screamed.

You can’t just remove your stockings, you are a nun. You can’t very well put them back on again now, either, because the doctor might see your knickers if you do. She tucked her legs underneath her body, effectively hiding them from view. She found it surprisingly easy to drown out the mean little voice when Doctor Turner passed her one of his jelly sandwiches, accidentally brushing the pad of her thumb with his fingertip.

Today is going to be a good day, she told the sneering voice, and I won’t let anything stop me from having a good time.

 X

 Patrick felt that life was good for the first time in a long time as he swallowed the last bite of cake. He had made himself eat some of his sandwiches because he had to set a good example for Timothy, but he had to admit that his cooking was lacking, even if it was something as simple as making a meal out of bread and butter and cheese. Luckily, Sister Bernadette had brought some of Mrs. B’s famous cake, saving them from Patrick’s lacking culinary skills.

“That was delicious,” he said.

“I hope you’re referring to the cake and not your sandwiches,” Timothy said. Patrick raised his eyebrow in warning. Sister Bernadette pressed a hand against her mouth hide her smile.

“Seems like you have a bit too much energy, young man. Let’s go for a walk; it will help your digestion,” Patrick decided. His knees popped audibly as he stood. Sister Bernadette stretched beside him.

“I’ll join you,” she murmured. Timothy didn’t wait for them, but raced ahead, following an invisible path along the flowers. Patrick and Sister Bernadette followed at a leisurely pace; the summer warmth was like a blanket, making them slow and drowsy and content.

“Timothy looks happy,” Sister Bernadette remarked. He saw her jump slightly as flowers tickled her bare legs. Patrick tried not to stare at them. They were a milky white and dotted with freckles.

“I have to thank you, Sister, for coming with us today. I don’t think Timothy would have been as happy if had been just the two of us,” he said slowly. She turned her head towards him and studied his face.

“It must be difficult, being here. You must feel her presence everywhere,” she said. Patrick sighed and carded a hand through his hair.

“It used to be difficult. It still is, sometimes, but you know something funny? I have found that lately my memories with Marianne are starting to hurt less and less. Some of them are still painful, but they’ve become a source of comfort, too.” He blushed; he was not used to express his innermost emotions and thoughts out loud.

“I think it is a sign that you are… healing,” Sister Bernadette whispered. They were silent, walking amongst the daisies and violets and poppies whilst absorbed in their own thoughts.

He suddenly became aware of her hand in his. He couldn’t remember when they had started holding hands, whether they had been doing this from the moment they had started their stroll or whether it had begun just a few seconds ago. Patrick marvelled at the warmth her hand radiated, at the lightness of her grip. His own palm was dry and calloused; hers was soft, only slightly marred by the demanding job she did. He wanted to squeeze her digits, explore the valleys and hills of her knuckles. Her hand was small, hardly bigger than a child’s. He moved his hand ever so slightly and could feel the stutter of her pulse in her wrist. Part of him wanted to bring her hand to his lips and kiss every digit, explore the map of the veins on the inside of her wrist; another part urged him to do nothing. Holding her hand felt like the most natural thing in the world. Patrick doubted whether Sister Bernadette was even aware that they were doing it, and he didn’t want to upset this moment, so fragile and so pure. Instead, he focussed all his attention on his right hand and made himself remember everything about it.

Patrick was suddenly struck by how different his late wife and the little nun were, all because of her hand. Marianne’s hands had been large, the fingers long and slender. She had been his first great love. He had met her when she had broken her ankle at a dance and had been struck by her shapely legs, the lovely tan of her skin. She was tall, athletic, and, for the lack of a better word, vivacious. Her blue eyes had simply sparkled with mischief; her red lipstick could not hide the sly smiles that lived in the corners of her mouth. She had smiled often and freely, showering affection on the people around them. Marianne was the one who had taught him to dance; with Marianne, he had bought his first house, made love for the first time. She had also been the first great sorrow of his life. Losing her had ripped his heart apart. Patrick was still learning how to live his life without her. He did not doubt that her name would for always be written on his heart, but he could not be sure whether another name might, in time, take its place next to hers. Deep inside his soul, he knew what name that might be: Sister Bernadette. When he first met her, she still had the look of a girl about her. She had come fresh out of nursing school, her Scottish accent not yet softened. He had been struck by her energy, the energy that only the young and righteous can radiate. She was small, her body hidden by her habit. She was shy and unassuming, but Patrick had quickly learned that she was more than a pretty face; Sister Bernadette was intelligent and compassionate and, when given the chance, surprisingly witty.

Patrick still thought about Marianne every day, but more and more the gentle face of Sister Bernadette floated in front of his mind’s eye, too. Sometimes, on the edge between sleeping and wakefulness, he wondered how different his life would look if she was his wife, then felt ashamed of the thought come morning.

Now, as her small hand lay cradled in his, he realised something else. Sister Bernadette was right when she told him that he was healing. What she didn’t realise was that she was the source. She was like a balm, soothing his ragged heart and that of Timothy, too.

Suddenly, holding her hand was not enough, but he couldn’t very well pull her in his arms and crush his lips to hers.

“Sister,” Patrick whispered, and squeezed her hand. She tore her gaze away from Timothy and looked at their laced fingers. She frowned; a small line appeared between her knitted brows.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her gaze startled. She unlaced her hand and shied away from him. Their separation was almost a physical pain.

“Sister,” Patrick said again, reaching out for her. She backed away, staring at her hands with something akin to horror.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, and turned and made for the picnic blanket. Patrick tore his gaze from her to locate Timothy; his son was far away, hardly bigger than a flower petal, completely focussed on whatever it was that he was doing. Patrick turned around and half-walked, half-jogged to Sister Bernadette. She was frantically putting her sketching materials in the little canvas rucksack she’d brought. Patrick was pretty sure that it originated from the charity bin, and that it would return there once this day was over.

“Sister Bernadette, please listen to me,” he said, halting at the edge of the blanket. He wanted to step forward and grab her wrists, make her look at him, but he was a decent man and didn’t want to upset her further.

“If you give me my ticket I’ll walk myself to the station and get back to Nonnatus,” she said, not looking at him.

“Why?”

“Because I can’t stay. I shouldn’t have come in the first place.” She put the lid back on the cake tin.

“But why can’t you stay? If you feel that you’ve hurt me, please understand that you didn’t. I… I didn’t mind you holding my hand.” Sister Bernadette’s eyes snapped up and met his. They were very large and very blue.

“Don’t you understand?” she said. “I don’t have control over myself when I’m with you. I have made a vow of chastity, and I’ve broken it twice today already, once without even noticing! I’m not responsible for my actions when you are near.” Her eyes filled with tears. She angrily wiped them away with the back of her hand. “I am a nun, doctor, but I don’t behave like one when I think of you. I think it is because I’m in love with you.” His heart wasn’t supposed to beat so hard when she spoke those words, wasn’t supposed to lurch and skip and flutter. She smiled weakly.

“And now I’ve shocked you, Doctor Turner. I didn’t mean to; you were just trying to have a nice day with your son. Please forget what I said. I’ll go now, I promise.” She put the strap of the bag on one of her shoulders and clutched the cake tin to her chest. She didn’t look at him as she walked past him. Patrick inhaled deeply, then turned around and grabbed her arm. He felt her stiffen.

“Sister Bernadette, please, please, please just look at me,” he whispered. She turned towards him ever so slowly, like a flower turns to the sun. She kept her eyes trained at his chest. He gently cupped her chin in his hand and tilted her face towards his. A tear clung trembling to her honey lashes before letting go and dripping on her cheek.

“Please don’t think that you’ve shocked me. Don’t think that you’ve ruined my day, or that your affections for me were unwanted.” He smiled and sighed. “I’ve thought about his moment a lot the past few months. I just never imagined it to be like this,” he said, and brought his face to his. Her breath hitched as he pressed his lips to hers. He could see through his lashes that she kept her eyes wide open for just one moment. Then, she sighed against his mouth and placed her hand against his chest. He put his own hand over hers, trapping it over the space where his heart beat. She dropped the tin; it rolled away, down the hill. Her eyes were half-lidded with pleasure, then fell closed completely as she melted against him. Patrick held her against his chest, stroking her knuckles with his thumb, wishing that this day would never end.

 X

 Timothy regarded his dad and Sister Bernadette from a distance. He had not seen her stepping into his father’s embrace. He guessed he didn’t need to; the way his father’s arms bracketed the little nun, the way how his hand splayed on her back told him enough.

Timothy felt that funny feeling in his tummy again. He hadn’t felt it for a long time, so he hadn’t recognized it the first time he had felt it that day. Now, he knew what to call it: happiness.

 I want to thank you guys for your support. I’ve only been writing fanfiction for a month or so, but all reviews have been tremendously kind and supporting; they’ve been real confidence-boosters! I fear I won’t be as prolific as I’ve been in the future, but I intend to publish new content at least every Friday. I’m still accepting prompts, BTW (I actually adore prompts, they are great creativity-stimulants). Well, this was it for now. I hope these ten chapters have been the right combination of the sweet, the silly, the sad, the suspenseful, and the smouldering. Let me know what chapter was your favourite (I think my personal one may be Chapter Nine; it is far from perfect, but it has a kind of dream-like quality to it which I like).

[pointedly-foolish]

word count: 1090

pairing: connor | rk800/oc

genre: gen

summary: « oh wait, where's...? the detective exclaimed as they rummaged through their bag. i must've... sorry i really need to... they trailed off. wait here. »

the android simply nodded as he watched the figure scurry away to some part of the precinct.

in the meantime, he found a few things to distract himself with: rhythmically tapping the desk, fidgeting with his coin... he glanced up at the decorated desk and saw a prompt: [ X | ᴱˣᴬᴹᴵᴺᴱ ᴰᴱˢᴷ ] should he...?

a/n: trying to unblock myself and start writing again... so i decided to write some oc x canon stuff as tiny exercise... kinda funny thing that i wrote to also flesh out my oc in a way,,,? ya boi fell in a hole of oc x canon that he thought he would avoid for the longest of times lmao,,, one (1) android controls my life end me,,, in case you do decide to read this, tiny pointers to not be confused: - in this au connor, 60, and rk900 are deviant and work at the DPD. since they're considered rookies (only started officially working as a detective for about a month) they're assigned partners; connor with hank, conan (rk900) with gavin, colin (60) with my oc esmé. - this ficlet mentions my friend's (@miusmius​) oc, Ona Boix, who is also a detective at the DPD (i included her in the artwork, and by default in this work)... i don't own her, she doesn't belong to me... so she's not part of the whole au...

the drawing was made cuz i wanted to do a challenge where i draw a bunch of different ppl lol

i think that's about it? hope you enjoy this silly thing.

{ [ X | ᴱˣᴬᴹᴵᴺᴱ ᴰᴱˢᴷ ] }

the desk itself is relatively neat, sheaf of paper stacked together and tucked away neatly on one side of the table. other personable belongings such as potted plants, picture frames, and a small owl statuette are organised meticulously. office supplies are placed in cups and holders, not a single item out of place. upon closer inspection, however, the android noticed one item that was not like the other: unnoticeable at first, there was a black pen amidst the others that resembled his… the fountain pen he lost a few days ago.

[ ａｎａｌｙｓｉｎｇ... ] [ ᴬᴺᴬᴸᵞˢᴵˢ ᶜᴼᴹᴾᴸᴱᵀᴱ: ᴸᴬᴹᵞ 2000 ᶠᴼᵁᴺᵀᴬᴵᴺ ᴾᴱᴺ, ᴾᴿᴼᴰᵁᶜᵀ ᶜᴼᴰᴱ ᴸᴹᵞ-ᴸ01ᴱᶠ ]

he pushed aside the rest of the result, ignoring the trivial information such as material (black polycarbonate—makrolon and stainless steel), and swiped the pen up, inspecting the pen’s body. on it was a delicately etched “connor anderson”, coining it as his pen, the one that was gifted to him. stuffing it into his pocket, he now realised how much of the detective’s belongings weren’t actually theirs: hank’s music player, det. collins’ notepad, and headphones he swore he last saw with officer chen. baffled at how no one has noticed yet, he collected said items to be returned after. though most of the stolen goods are of little value and easily replaceable, he settled to discuss the detective’s kleptomaniac tendencies with them soon.

continuing his inspection, he noted the multiple flyers and notes that adorned the detective’s magnetic board: small notices and stickers from past concert—panic! at the disco (which he found out was a well known alternative rock artist who managed to keep his career afloat even after the popularisation of android bands) and others, both popular and local, of differing languages.

a small timetable and calendar marked a few important dates, circled and annotated accordingly. a small to-do list is taped near it, date at the top right corner. most of the writing is smudged—[ ᴿᵁᴺᴺᵞ ᶠᴼᵁᴺᵀᴬᴵᴺ ᴾᴱᴺ? ˢᴹᵁᴰᴳᴱᴰ ᴾᴱᴺᶜᴵᴸ? ] – “buy food for paris after work” it seemed odd that the detective still took on-paper reminders when a digital alternative was available, not to mention broadcasting them in full view. – “concert Jules     8:30 pm [sic.]” but perhaps they simply preferred the act of physically writing them down, or leaving behind a trace of their last location in the off chance that something happened… who was this “jules”? he decided not to look the person up, though curiosity was tempting. he resisted the urge (that his non-deviant self would have complied to immediately) if not to give the detective their privacy. he trusted them enough to know that they’d tell him about this individual if they need to.

on the top left corner of the board was a sticky note that wasn’t quite like the others: instead of the neat, smooth lines that was characteristic of their handwriting, this one was a messy scrawl that made it almost illegible—detective reed’s handwriting. under it was a smaller sticky note, belonging to the desk’s owner, which read “asshole”. « succinctly put » the android thought with a small smile of amusement.

the final object, which was a more recent addition to the heavily decorated board was a photograph of a recent birthday “party”, which was more of a potluck to be quite honest. his smile remained, and one may even note that it has become marginally brighter as his features softened. a photograph annotated with the raven haired detective’s commentary (entire precinct made up of loose canons—which wasn’t exactly wrong in his mind), which showcased the coworkers being together and celebrating hank’s birthday (while det. reed sulks on a kitchen counter, frustrated. the android chuckled at the annotations, “trash” is right.).

he scanned through each individual: his “brothers”, colin and conan—taken aback slightly at the fact that the three were called fucko 1-through-3; det. boix and officer chen (titled queens—fittingly as both were incredible at their work, though he sometimes wonder why officer chen still hasn’t been promoted yet…); the man he considers his father—lt. hank anderson—“world’s okayest dad” seeming like an understatement (though he’s quite sure it’s joke shared among the detective and the lieutenant); the two canines—sumo (the best saint bernard there ever was) and paris (the best german shepherd there ever was), and finally the desk’s owner themselves: det. esmé thomas, the person he’s waiting for right now. the picture was a slightly candid one (he didn’t recall being informed that they were going to have their picture taken), but he felt a sense of peace in seeing the group’s genuine joy being captured. it was nice to see them enjoying each other’s presence (some had a harder time showing it, though reed was slowly coming around) after the chaos a few months ago.

« hey, i’m back! sorry for making you wait... we can go now, suggested a voice from his far right. he turned his head to face its source before nodding. – alright. »

- - - - - - -

unlike hank, esmé preferred to drive in complete silence, the only sounds audible were the traffic outside and the thrumming of the car engine. after a few moments, the detective restarted the conversation: « did you have fun snooping around my desk? they asked playfully. – i was merely inspecting it… i noticed it had a new picture on it, he answered truthfully. – yup, they smirked, you like it? it was from last weekend. – it was certainly amusing, what with the flavour text. – ah, i was hoping you’d say that fucko #1, they chuckled. – so we’re a precinct filled with loose canons? he pushed playfully, rolling his eyes. – i don’t see you disagreeing, they replied, glancing briefly at the android. – touché. »

- - - - - - -

a moment of silence passed as the conversation died once more, the quietness accompanying them in their drive. but it was fine. it was a comfortable silence as they waited to reach their destination. a question was, however, on the tip of the android’s tongue for what would’ve been the entire ride so far, so he decided to ask them: « i’ve been meaning to ask you… he started. the driver made a « hmm? » to inform the passenger that they were listening. – but why are you wearing detective reed’s sunglasses? he pointed at the accessory on the detective’s shirt collar. »

the question goes unanswered and the android gives up on the thought of ever getting a reply, when the person besides him answered determinedly, not a hint of shame in their voice as they admitted the theft: « it was shiny and i wanted it. »

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[shewritesiguess]

Annalisa Rosamund W. Holmes

A/N: I don’t expect anyone to actually read this, but I included tags in this cause hey, who knows, someone out there may actually like this but anyways, a lil backstory is I felt like writing one day so I came up with this story where Rosamund grows up and wants to be a detective like her dads (yes dads!) and she got a lil name change cause of reasons AND this also is supposed to have a sci-fi twist to it. So here's my unfinished story of the daughter of John Watson, and Sherlock Homles! 

The building was a small little facility on the edge of a broken, whiny town. I had noticed it many times over the years on my road trip to Saint Faux’s Valley, father always passed by, warning me to not step foot in this place, for a reason I didn’t know. It was hard to imagine even after ten years I could even find myself standing in front of the place.

I walked up the stone steps, and I shivered a bit at the chilling cold gripping my arms and hair. I walked inside and went over to the front desk.

I could see tired faces sitting in the waiting room, looking through papers and shuffling them quietly, along with the scribble of almost empty pens followed by a cough or two.  

My eyes darted to one of the patient's papers, and I could see the print read legal information that all seemed a blur, and I questioned why so many papers for such a small thing as a mild cold, which I noticed the girl had judging from her watery eyes and runny nose.

“Can I help you, ma'am?”

I quickly turned to her. “Oh, yes, I’m here for a family member, Morgina Rayson.”

The secretary lady sighed and tapped on her keyboard a few times before saying. “I’m sorry but, she isn’t allowed to see anyone, I’m afraid.”

I lightly smiled.  “I’m her sister though.” lies.

The secretary hesitated for a second, looked at her screen then back at me. “Sorry, what’s your name again?” she smirked a little.

“Annalisa Rosamund W. Holmes,” I told her.

The lady laughed. “Like, Sherlock Holmes?”

I nodded with a blank face. “He’s my Dad.”

She let out a loud, obnoxious, laugh, and the coughs and pens stopped for a moment, along with the paper shuffling.

The secretary noticed what a distraction she caused and cleared her throat.

The waiting room noises went back to play and the secretary whispered to me. “What are you doing here though?”

I sighed and looked around the room before saying. “Just help me out here, yeah?”

She swallowed hard and picked up a phone.

A doctor was now walking me down an aisle of rooms. “Well now, Mrs. Holmes, yes?”

I smiled lightly. “Yes, that’s my name…”

He stopped for a moment and looked at me a bit. “Aren’t you, little young to be sleuthin’ around?”

I sighed and smiled again, watching as room after room passed us. “I’m not as young as I look.” Lies.

“Alright, here’s her room, I’ll be out here.”

I opened the door and slowly stepped inside, and I instantly smelled...flowers?

And that was when I noticed it, everywhere, flowers of all sizes and shapes and heights littered the room. Roses, Magnolias, Sunflowers, the list went on.

And in the corner of the little room was a girl, drawing on the wall, her back faced towards me.

I found a nearby chair and took a seat by her bed. “Morgina?” I quietly said, not wanting to disrupt her. It was clear she was slightly on edge and unstable.

She mumbled a mess of words and stopped drawing.

“Morgina? I’m Annalisa R.W. Holmes,”

She dropped her pencil and it clattered to the floor with a dull silent echo. She turned slowly, and I could see through her tangled red hair that hadn’t been combed in weeks, her eyes were brown, light, a little, odd sort of golden. “Yes?” She said, her voice raspy and sounded as if she hadn’t used it in weeks.

“I’m here about the...murder, that happened two years ago.”

Morgina sighed loudly, and her eyes darted and looked around. “What about it.”

“I’m sorry, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you a few questions about it.”

Morgina leaned over to her nightstand and picked a dandelion from a vase with fresh water, it was then did I notice a card next to it, in pair with the flowers. “Okay, so, my first questions is…” I thought for a moment. Is she mentally stable enough for this?

I swallowed hard. “What exactly happened?”

Morgina finally looked me in the eyes. “Why tell you when I can show you?” Her lips curled into an odd smile and she outstretched a cold hand and grabbed my wrist before I could back away, I heard a ringing in my ear, and then it all went black.

His fingers interlaced mine, and we walked along the road, watching the cars pass by. I looked out at the fields and I could see the dandelions blowing in the wind. Our car was still playing something from the radio behind us, and I looked back at it. I desperately wished it wasn’t there that he had left it, it would too easily be noticed by someone.

“We have to keep going,” He said to me, noticing I had looked back. I turned to look at him suddenly. “If we stop, they’ll find us.”

“Too late.” A familiar voice said, behind us.

We turned around suddenly, our hands not together anymore, too much was at risk now.

“Lacey?” I felt my chest tighten and my eyes go blurry with hot years.

Lacey’s hair was different now, it was curled and black and a scar ran across her cheek, bringing a prominent memory of the knife.

Lacey’s hand was in a fist, ready for something.

I backed away slowly, I tried to reach out for Mark’s hand but he didn’t take it back. “No, Morgina, this ends now.”

I stumbled and fell to the floor, watching as Lacey walked towards me.

“You tried and you failed, Morgina,” she hissed.

My vision was blurry with something, not tears, something else, it blurred my whole vision until everything was bright and I was screaming for my life. “Mark!” I screamed and screamed, but it was if he wasn’t there. I followed Lacey’s footsteps, and I grabbed onto her jeans, but she grabbed my hair and threw me into the dandelion fields until I felt nothing.

I awoke to hear sirens, loud, blaring, sirens, and when I opened my eyes I was thankful for vision again, but the feeling faded so quickly as I realized handcuffs were being put around my arms. “What?” I panicked.

“Morgina Rayson, you are under arrest for the murder of Mark Tate, you have the right to remain silent, anything you say will be-”

“Mark? I would never….” I looked down to see blood, coated my clothes, and I cried at the sight. “I blacked out, Lacey Morgan was here, the runaway from Percentage Labs, she killed him, it can’t be me!”

“Lacey Morgan?” Another officer spoke up, she had stopped writing on her notepad. “She was found four hours ago and is safely back where she belongs, she checks out.”

“What?” I tried to move away from the officer's grip. “No, Lacey, was here!”

The ringing began again, and I found myself sitting in the room chair again, and Morgina retracted her hand.

“What did you, how did you-?”

The door swung open and Morgina backed to the corner of the room.

I got up, quickly seeing Mrs. Hudson standing in the doorway next to the Doctor.

“Mrs. Hudson?”

“Get your coat dear, please, we’re going home now.” She said, looking around the room.

I looked back at Morgina, still terrified at her dark past, and I followed Mrs. Hudson out the building.

“What were you thinking, girlie?’ She scolded as we got into the car, starting the engine.

“I’m sorry, I thought, I could help them solve a case or two.” “You do not help if you keep distracting your brilliant dads from their work.”

“Who figured out I was gone from school?”

Mrs. Hudson gave me a look. Who else would it be?

“Sherlock.” I sighed and leaned my head against the headrest. “Guess I’ve got to be smarter next time.”

She laughed and stopped at a red light. “Sweetie dear, it’s best if you stay out of...all of this nonsense, you wouldn’t want to get to wrapped up, you still got a life ahead of you.”

“And my parents don’t?” I looked at Mrs. Hudson and the worried look on her face, and I realized I was being too harsh. “Sorry, it’s just, why teach me to be great people like them, and not let me use it for something useful other than idiotic science labs?”

“That’s a question to ask them, not me, Rosamund.”

I huffed. “Annalisa.”

She smiled and sped down the road.

  We arrive soon at 221B Baker Street in no time and hopped out of the car and towards the door. I saw my acquaintance Zoe Harwell, standing by the door, a bag of donuts in her hand.

“Hey, Annalisa!” She called out, and I waved, already bored at her sight.

“Afternoon, Zoe.” I smiled and waited for Mrs. Hudson to unlock the door.

“So, how did it go?”

She gripped the donut bag tighter, and I wondered if she even knew exactly why she was here. It was clear she was heading somewhere else but decided to stop by.

“It was alright, still could've used more information though.”

Zoe smiled and I walked inside and looked at a random stranger leaving the place, and I immediately knew it was a new client.

I headed upstairs, hearing them talk, but I couldn’t hear what about.

I stopped at the door, my hand hovering over the handle, feeling the surge of weary lingering in my chest.

“ Come on in, I know you’re there.” Sherlock’s muted voice said through the door.

I gripped the handle and opened the door, seeing my parents in their usual chairs. Sherlock, hands together and staring at John Watson, who’s lips thinned and his eyes showing annoyance, and he breathed in and tapped his foot, and I didn't need to have keen observation skills to know he was upset, and of course, Sherlock wasn’t, he never let his emotions get into his parenting abilities.

Like when I was Seven  and I strayed a little too far away from the park and I ended up in some corner ice cream shop and they looked for me everywhere not knowing where I was and I remember sitting near the window and seeing John looking just so mad and Sherlock  seemed as though he didn’t care, because he knew exactly where I was, and he opened the shop door and lifted me up in his arms and carried me out to John sitting on the cold, lonely, park bench and Sherlock told me exactly why I shouldn’t run off when I'm not supposed to, and I understood that, and I understood John’s behavior as well, and seeing their reactions to something that to me was so small was very interesting.

I dropped my bag and nestled into one of the kitchen chairs, staring at them.

“The file,” Sherlock said, staring at my bookbag.

I gritted my teeth. “What file?”

John turned to look at me. “Don’t play dumb, Annalisa.”

I unzipped my bag and placed the case file on the table and I stood up as I did, annoyance creeping through me.

“Why did you take it?” John let his hands fall to his lap, and I paused in my place, swallowing hard and biting back my rants about everything they did.

“I wanted….” I looked over at Sherlock, his face blank and his foot tapping to something, and I knew he was thinking, probably about something else than this, maybe a case, maybe in his mind palace. “Answers about something I saw once.”

John stood up, and I watched as he grabbed the case file from the desk and opened it, and flipped through the pages that described the gruesome case of Morgina and her so-called slaughter of Mark Tate.

John took a deep sigh and threw the file back on the kitchen table. “Don’t do that again.”

I nodded and walked over to my room, and took a seat on my desk.

I could hear through the walls, that they were talking about me, my name being mentioned a couple times in their conversation, and it made me flare with uncertainty at if I should just forget the whole thing or continue all of this, and get justice for Morgina.

I sat at my desk, pondering what to do, I could text Zoe, read something, or -

My phone buzzed from within my bag suddenly. I walked over and picked up my phone, seeing the caller ID was an odd number. I picked it up, curious to see who the caller was. “Hello?”

“Is this Annalisa Holmes?” A low, worried voice croaked out, and his breathing was heavy, too heavy.

“Yes?” The voice was a frantic one, and fear and interest spiked all around me.

“My names Charles Tate,” the voice spat, and I heard a shift of something, and at the same time, I felt as though something caught my tongue. “And I think you can help me.”

[spottedpear]

Character Profile -

Name: Eliane Nickname: Ellie Meaning of name: Early saint and martyr in Ancient times. Origin of name: French, Roman Age: 17 Sex: Female Blood type: AB- Nationality: French/English Ethnicity: French Race: Caucasian Sexual Orientation: Asexual Current status: Alive Political Party: Centre-Left Police/Criminal/Legal record: Nothing Socioeconomic level as a child: Middle class Socioeconomic level as an adult: Middle class Birth date: 14th September Birth place: Manchester Current residence: (unknown) Occupation: Student Title/Rank: Miss Hobbies/Pastimes: Painting, coding, writing, hockey Talents/Skills/Powers: Zinc Mimicry (can turn her body into zinc) Past History Hometown: Avignon First Memory: Her Dad reading her a story Most important childhood event that still affects him/her: Older brother going missing Why/How? One day her brother Alex disappeared and her parents wouldn’t tell her what happened to him. Alex was her best friend. Other memories/events that still affects him/her and why/how: When her best friend was being bullied and she stood by and did nothing (shameful, cowardly), and when said friend moved away (sad, angry). Past failures s/he would be embarrassed to have people know about and why: Failed 11th Grade, because she wasn’t able to get enough credits. Biggest role model: Alex, older brother by 3 years Why? He looked after her as a child and could do no wrong. Biggest disillusions from childhood: Her brother going missing Backstory: Eliane and her parents live in France, and Eliane still reels over the loss of her older brother Alex. Her father was a French businessman named Louis, who met her mother Jane (English banker) at a conference. Eliane’s little sister Katy goes to boarding school in England, and Eliane stays in France with her family. Physical Characteristics Height: 5′ 7′’ Weight: 185 lb Posture: A bit slouched Build: A bit round Skin: Has quite a bit of eczema on the arms but mostly fair Hair: Dark brown bob cut, straight Widow's peak? No Ears: Not very big Eyes: Brown, upturned Nose: Fairly big Mouth: Thin lips, usually chapped Face shape: Diamond Expressions: Often looks a bit grumpy, but mostly happy Describe their smile: Toothy, eyes light up Hands: Short fingers, short nails Feet: Size 8 US Tattoos/Scars? Has a burn from when she tried to make tea as a kid Glasses/Contacts? None Left/Right handed? Right Distinguishing features: Quite pale, thin lips Who does s/he take after; mother or father? Father Style (Elegant, shabby, etc): Casual- lots of hoodies and sweatpants How does s/he dress or what do they typically wear? Above, and high tops Other outfits one might find in their wardrobe: One nice dress which is navy and white Jewelry: None Other accessories: Watch Weapons: None Health: Good Hygiene: Forgets to brush teeth, but otherwise good Physical Flaws: Big nose, feels she’s too fat Physical Qualities: Girl next door look, quite cute Characteristics Are they generally balanced or clumsy? Balanced Mannerisms/Poses/Movement: Snaps fingers when something goes right Describe their walk: Strong, good stride Describe their fighting style: Attack mostly Habits/OCDs/Obsessions: Loves hair clips Speech Patterns: Can’t pronounce some words with “d” or “n” in them Unique phrases/words: “cool beans” Do they curse, and if so, to what extent? Yes, but not a lot Write a piece of dialogue that this character might say (can be between someone else): “Listen, I know this may seem weird but I just need to help you” Voice: Slightly high pitched Describe their laugh: A bubbling giggle Describe their sleep patterns (light/heavy sleeper, no sleep, sleeps too often, etc): Insomniac, heavy sleeper Describe their dwelling/house: 3 bedroom one story house, wooden Describe their bedroom: Pile of clothing off to the side, double bed, laptop on desk next to school books Describe their daily rituals: Puts on concealer, brushes hair Psychological/Personality Attributes and Attitudes Intelligence Level: Average, but is better at doing rather than thinking Known Languages: English, French Character's long-term goals/desires in life: To play hockey professionally Character's short-term goals/desires in life: To pass 12th Grade Secret desires: To find brother How self-confident is the character? Not very How do they see him/herself? A bumbling mess How do they believe s/he is perceived by others? See above What is the character most proud of? Hockey skills, art skills What does the character like least about themselves? Face How do they express themselves? Drawings, art, writing Is this character generally dominant or submissive? Either or, mostly sub Patience level: Low-Medium Does the character seem ruled by emotion or logic or some combination thereof? Emotion Most at ease when: Doing art things Ill at ease when: Doing logic things Describe their sense of humor: Animals, silly If granted one wish, what would it be? To find Alex Why? See backstory Character/Personality/Mental/Social Strengths: Conversationalist Character/Personality/Mental/Social Flaws: Self deprecating If they could be described with one of the seven virtues, which would it be? Humility If they could be described with one of the seven sins, which would it be? Sloth Biggest Vulnerability (non physical): Brother, family Optimist or Pessimist: Optimist Introvert or extrovert: Extrovert Greatest Fear: Darkness Other Fears/Insecurities/Phobias: Electrocution Emotional/psychological/social peculiarities: A bit grumbly Biggest regret: Not passing school Other regrets: Not finding Alex, not doing more work Biggest accomplishment: Captain of school hockey team Minor accomplishments: Art Club secretary, class president 9th grade Musical talents/instruments: None Character's darkest/deepest secret: She’s asexual Minor Secrets: Still misses Alex Likes/Dislikes Likes: Art, hanging out with friends, computers, hockey Dislikes: Cold weather, hot weather, being sick, not being able to do things she likes Favorite:  Color: Green Clothing: Grey hoodie Place: Art studio Room in the house and why: Study, computer in there Food/drinks: Salad, lemonade (carbonated) Music genre: Electronic Songs and Singers/Bands: Caravan Palace Movies/TV Shows/Performances: The Great British Bakeoff, High School Musical Actors/Performers: (none in universe) Book(s): Jane Eyre Historical figure: Frida Kahlo Subject in school: Art Animal: Piglet Least Favorite:  Clothing: Leggings, tight shirts Place: Supermarket Food: Sweet and Sour Soup Music genre: Country Subject in school: Maths Simple Pleasures: Art, Coding Greater Pleasures: Outdoors, Hockey, running around Where does this character like to hang out? At home Where is this character's dream place to live? London What sorts of books are most likely to be found on their shelves? Art books, inspirational books, adult colouring books Motto/Personal quote: “If you can’t beat them, join them” Mode of transportation: Pedal bicycle Most prized possession: Hockey MVP trophy Why? Greatest success in life Emotional Characteristics Describe character's sense of morals: Dodgy at best If they could sum up the meaning of life, what would they say?: To enjoy yourself What do they consider taboo (something they personally would never do): Crime Describe character's etiquette: Proper, but also quite relaxed Describe character's sense of self-control: Quite impulsive Spontaneous or structured? A mixture Instinctual or logical? Instinct How does this character act in public? Calm, chill How does this character act in privacy? Worried, nervous How does this character act around strangers vs. how they act around friends? Nice, goofy How does this character act around family? Calm How has this character most changed from youth? More knowledgeable How have they remained the same? Still miss brother Has this character dealt with the loss of someone they knew? Yes If so, who? Brother How has it affected them? Made them a bit less trusting, more worried How does this character deal with or react to: Conflict/Danger: Bystander, or goes on the attack Rejection: Wants to be by themselves Fear: Hides, goes on defense Change: Nervously Loss: Sadly and generally crying a lot Sex/Flirting: Disgust, uncomfortable Pain: A lot of yelling Stress: A lot of crying Peer pressure: Giving in Guilt: Crying Being wrong: Arguing Being criticized: Arguing Being insulted (superficially: name calling, etc): Glaring, making a comeback Offending others: Apologising half heartedly Praise: Smiling Being loved: Hugs, affection Being hated: Glaring, throwing shade Humiliation: Hiding and crying How does this character express? Anger: Words, sometimes actions Sadness: Needing to be alone Fear: Screaming, shaking Happiness/Excitement: Happy screaming, jumping up and down Love (Consider the "Five Languages of Love"): Quality Time Lust: n/a Stress/anxiety: Crying, venting Dislike (of a person, thing, or idea): Venting Approval (of a person, thing, or idea): Agreeing, giving a thumbs up How does this character generally express themselves? Words, art What does this character think/feel about?  Marriage: Living with a best friend? Okay! Children: Adoption please. No sex. Family/Family Values: Looking after family is the most important Children/Youth: Wow what idiots Old age: No thank you! Sex: nope Love: nope  Friendship/Other relationships: Come under family Homosexuality: Cool, not my bag but cool The opposite sex: A good time to be around The same sex: Either great people or horrible people Money/Material things: Useful Politics: Social issues are important to me Religion: I was raised Catholic but I don’t know right now Destiny/Duty: Ehhh Magic/Myth: Nope Racism/Races in general: PoC Lives Matter Science/Technology: Cool beans Nature/Animals: Cool as well! Gotta look after it Modernity: Good stuff Antiquity: Good in small doses Their past: Good Their future: Hopefully good Their role in society/job/etc: Hockey player Drugs and alcohol: Alright, never tried but seem okay Killing/Murder: Nope nope nope Education: Important but ehhh The foreign/unknown: I want to find out what it is How does the character view life? Good How does the character view death? Scary How does the character view society? A bit messy How does the character imagine his/her own death? They try not to What does the character want out of life? To be living to their full potential What does this character consider "success" to be? The best What would  the character like to change in his/her life? Their insecurities What motivates this character? Success, people they care about Why? Because doing things for others is good What discourages this character? Being hurt, criticism, worrying Why? Fear is really powerful What makes this character happy? Things/people they like Why? well What makes this character sad? Losing someone/thing. Why? well What makes this character angry? Things they don’t like Why? well What humiliates this character? Critique What most describes this character's personality? Chatty artist Psychoanalysis (Describe why they act the way they do): Out of fear or hope Does it stem from childhood or an event, or chemical? Because they were raised to be a good person Relationships with Others (Non-Married) Relationship Skills: Good, can sometimes accidentally insult Loves (non sexual): Good happy time Lusts: none Crushes: none Girlfriend/Boyfriend(s): none Other lover(s): none Marital status: none  First crush: none  Did it last? none Why or why not? she’s asexual Best Friends: Clarissa (internet friend), Annie (hockey team member) Friends: Hockey team, art club, various students around school Confident/Mentor: Parents Hates: This one girl who bullied her friend back in primary Dislikes: Anyone who doesn’t like her Rivals: none reeeally Pets: none What kind of person would s/he consider to be the perfect partner? a best friend Is the character judgmental of others and how so? can judge people for being a mean person, and tends to ignore them How is s/he perceived by... Strangers? Nice girl Friends? Bubbly personality Coworker/Colleague? Cool person Lovers? n/a What happens to change this perception if at all? She doesn’t like them Describe their sense of trust Wobbly, unless she likes them a lot What type of individuals does s/he like or associate with? Athletes, artists What type of individuals doesn't s/he like or associate with? Bullies How do they treat members of the opposite sex? Nicely How do they treat members of the same sex? Nicely What do family/friends like most about character? Nice person What do family/friends like least about character? Talkative Do they know anyone who's died, and if so who and how were they affected? n/a Sex/Romantic Life What do they consider to be a romantic setting/activity/date? What did they do on their first date? How does a normal date go for this character? How would they like to propose or be proposed to? Virgin? Describe his/her sex life: How often does this character have sex? How long can he/she go without sex? How does this character feel emotionally, after sex? Does this character have self control around individuals of their sexual desire? Describe: Does sex play an important role in their relationships, if so, how? Turn-ons: Turn-offs: Fetishes/Fantasies: Sexual peculiarities: Sexual perks: Sexual flaws: Usually on the top or bottom? Dominant or Submissive? Describe their first sexual experience: At what age? Was it planned/originally intended? Was it consensual? How did they feel emotionally, afterwards? How has this affected the character, if substantially at all? Have they ever impregnated someone, or been impregnated? If so... Whom? Was it planned? Was it consensual? Was it a successful pregnancy (did it live)? Did they keep, adopt, or abort the child and why? Did he/she stay with the child/family/partner, and why or why not? Have they ever had intercourse or a sexual experience with the same sex? With whom? Was it planned/originally intended? Was it consensual? How did they feel afterwards? Possible psychological reasons for their sexual fantasies or behavior: Family (they were raised with) Immediate family members and their ages: Jane (49), Louis (52), Katy (13) Ethnicity and/or species of the mother: English Ethnicity and/or species of the father: French Birth order: Middle child Extended family: None really right now Any important/infamous/famous ancestors, and if so, who? None Describe their ancestral history, if anything of particular note:  Birthparent(s): Are they still alive? Did they raise this character? If not, why not, and/or what happened? At what age was the character when this happened? What did they do for a living? Are they still together? If not, how, when and why did they separate? How did each parent treat the character, growing up? How does each parent treat the character now? What does each parent think of the character? What changes their opinion of the character, if at all, and how so? How did the character treat each of their parents growing up? How does the character treat each of their parents now? Caretaker(s) (if someone other than birthparents): What is their relationship to the character? Are they still alive? At what age did the caretakers begin to raise this character? Did the caretakers know the birth parents and if so, how was their relationship? Did the character know the birth parents? How did the father/caretaker1 treat the character? How did the mother/caretaker2 treat the character? How did the character treat their father/caretaker1? How did the character treat their mother/caretaker2? Siblings (if any): Are they still alive, if not who died and when? Describe how each one treats this character: Describe how this character treats each one of his siblings: Does this character still keep in contact with their siblings? How has this character's relationship changed with their siblings since childhood? How did s/he get along with the family as a whole? How did s/he get along with the siblings, if any? Describe their family life/dynamic, growing up: Describe their family life/dynamic now: Favorite parent: Why? Family (that they have created, if at all) Partner(s): Is this their first marriage/family? (if not, copy, paste, and answer these questions for the previous marriages/families too): How, why and when did they divorce/split? Was it mutual? If they had children, who kept them? If it was a death, what happened, and when? Did they get remarried, and if so to whom? How did the children, if any, respond to that? Are they legitimately married? If not, are the other characters aware of this? When did they get married? How did they meet? How did he propose, or how was she proposed to? Mistress(es)/Secret Lover(s)/ Lover(s) outside of marriage: Does the spouse/partner know? If so how and when did they find out? How did they react, and what was the end result? Any illegitimate children with them, and if so who? Does anyone know? If so, how and when did they find out? How did they react and what was the end result? Children and their ages: Who are each of their parents (ie: from which marriage, if any other)? Were any conceived/born out of wedlock, if so, which ones? How does (each) son/daughter treat of this character? How does this character treat (each) son/daughter? How does (each) son/daughter think of this character? How does this character think of (each) son/daughter? How does this character's relationship change with their child/children as they grew older? Spiritual Characteristics Religion: Does the character believe in a god or goddess? What are the character's spiritual beliefs? Is religion or spirituality an important part of this character's life? If so, what role does it play? Superstitions: Chinese Zodiac: Astrological Zodiac: Element: What If If this character were an animal, what would they be? Why? If this character were the opposite sex what would they . . . Do? Say? Feel? If this character were to be characterized by an object, what would it be? Why? What would/does this character do if confronted with someone identical in personality? What would/does happen if this character became physically handicapped, and how would that change them? What would/does this character do if spontaneously placed in a whole new and unfamiliar environment/country/planet/etc? If they don't already, what would this character do/act like if they had a child? Other What song best fits this character? If you could compare this character to an existing character, who would s/he be and why? If you could choose an actor for this character, who would it be? If you could choose a voice actor for this character, who would it be? Who/what was your character inspired by? How the Character is Involved in the Story Character's role in the story (main character? hero? Villain? etc): Scene where character first appears: Relationships with other characters: Where, how and when did s/he first interact with other characters: What was this character's life like before something, if anything, happened to change it all: How Character is different at the end of the novel from when the novel began: Background Story: Additional Notes on This Character: