#now phillip we need to keep all options on the table

[boanddonatetoblacktranspeople]

Spoilers: Some ‘Glass Onion’ Thoughts

- You know how in ‘Among Us’ killed crewmates can no longer talk to anyone else, just haunt them as ghosts? That but it’s Andi following everyone, clapping and hyping Helen up for her sleuthing, comforting her when Andi is clearly distraught, when Miles does his thing she’s like “He... He just GAVE Duke the glass and LIED about it!?! THATS the plan?? Holy SHIT you imbecile...”, screaming at him as Miles continues to gaslight everyone, and hooting and hollering when her sister brings the whole house down

- “Something’s different about Andi... What’s she playing at?” Yea ok Claire technically you were correct but also holy shit last time you’d seen Andi y’all betrayed her and let Miles leave her with nothing as he gloated about it and went on to make his atomic bomb-fuel, like, yeah maybe she WOULD be acting a lil’ ‘off’??? 

- not only are the ‘Disruptors’ ‘Shitheads’ going to turn on Miles but they’re absolutely going to cover Helen’s ass on burning the Mona Lisa. “Uh, yea, saw Miles trying to fan the flames and he accidentally jammed the button” “yea that dumbass was screaming and he must’ve hit the ‘unlock button for the painting what idiot has an ‘anti-failsafe’ for the Mona Lisa???” - A companion piece to this movie is Adam Conover’s Youtube video ‘Elon Musk Is An Idiot (and so are Zuck and SBF)’

- Deleted end scene where Benoit Blanc’s reading an Agatha Christie novel in bed at night to dim lamplight when he suddenly snaps the book closed- “What would ‘inbreathiate’ even MEAN if it were a word???” And Philip, on the other side of the bed, groans behind his sleep mask and rolls overs- “Goodnight, dear,” and throws a pillow at him

- Just made the connection between Miles installing an ‘anti-failsafe’ so he can enjoy the Mona Lisa ‘freed’ from behind glass- to its detriment-, and Miles giving his guests some mystery, very-very-likely-fake anti-covid substance so that none of them have to wear a mask over the weekend

[c0wb0yenthusiast]

❝Sweet as pie❞

Phillip Graves x Reader

So basically me and @sarahs-secrets2 exchanged ideas and I hope I did it justice!

Summary - you're a waitress and you're dealing with a particularly cocky regular.

✮

The sun was peeking over the horizon, hazy colours still swirling in the sky as you parked outside the café and opened up for the day. It was quiet, except for the sound of cars speeding by. It was only a stop n' go after all.

Buttoning up your uniform and now stepping out to see an array of customers filling up the booths, chattering away as you passed to get your notepad from counter.

That was until you heard a distinct voice.

"Hey, doll."

Your head swivelled around quickly to meet with him.

For the past week, this cocky, smart-mouthed man had sat in the same booth. For the past seven days, playing out the same exact routine.

"God, is it just me or do we keep running into each other?", he smirked, removing his aviators from his face and tucking them into his shirt pocket.

"Hi. Again. Do you want the usual?", you rested your hands on your hips, letting out a sigh. You'd met many douchebags in this café and he wasn't any different from the rest.

"Of course. You know me so well, already. Why don't you sit down and we can get to know each other a little more?", he grinned, batting his lashes innocently up at you.

He's just another country bumpkin who's trying to get laid.

"Honey," you smiled back at him, "I'd love to have coffee and hookup in the back of your lovely little jeep parked outside, but I'm actually quite busy because I have a life. Okay?"

He took a moment to process what he heard, before breaking out into laughter.

"Honey? Oh, girl, you're just adding fuel to the fire."

You didn't respond, tapping away at the tiled floor with the sole of your foot. You wanted to stay longer, but this café, the customers and the overstimulation it brought made you bossy and unsociable.

"Ah, are you alright?", the chuckles died down and he now raised a brow at you.

"I'm fine, I just- I really need to get to work."

"Sure thing, doll. Come talk to me when you're free."

The whole time you rushed from one table to another - he was still there. Sitting idly with his cup of coffee, fumbling with the dog tag hanging around his neck. You could feel his eyes boring into you every time you passed by his booth.

He always ordered the exact same thing: 'A black coffee - and keep em coming, darling.'

After running through the majority of the day around the café, it started to quiet down and people were filing out slowly but surely. Only a couple lingered by the afternoon, including him.

Slowing your steps, you approached his table again, he seemed a little taken aback to see you once more.

"Hey."

"Hi.", you breathed, letting out the pent up air you seemed to be holding in this whole time.

"Take a seat.", he nodded in front of him, to which you obliged and attained yourself not to collapse into the booth.

"What's it like?", you blurted out loud, now setting off a panic in your head yet keeping calm - mainly due to how tired you were at the moment.

"Hm?"

"Not having to run around and serve entitled customers?"

He let out a low chuckle, "It's alright, but I'd rather be here than my job."

"How come?"

He shifted in his seat, making his biceps flex under the short sleeves of his t-shirt.

"I'm going to be deployed soon, so I just thought I might enjoy my last couple of days until work. It's nothing, really." he added, seeing the way your expression softened.

"I can't believe you just told me all that-"

"Well-"

"And I don't even know your name!"

This made him grin, before lifting off his dog tag and sliding it across the table.

You caught it clumsily, eyeing the writing.

"Phillip?"

"Mhm, now what am I supposed to call you?"

You let out a fake gasp, "Did you ever bother to read my name tag? Or were you too busy looking at my tits?"

He shrugged, definitely the second option.

"I don't have to tell you, do I?"

Before he could reply, you leaned over the table and pushed out your chest slightly, your badge shining from the dimmed rays of the sun.

Graves blinked, his eyes widening and now reading the name.

"Y/n. That was a.. forward way to ask for my number.", he now fished in his pocket, bringing out a beaten phone with a car as the background.

You snorted, still practically laying on the table to meet him, "Alright, hand it over. Maybe this will help you when you're lonely at work."

Now tapping in your number, you turned the phone over in your hand. "How come it's so broken? I thought you guys get paid."

"Of course we do, but all of that goes to my other stuff.."

".. Like?"

"I don't know, my car, food, er... My car?", he mumbled hesitantly, now listing things under his breath.

You couldn't help but laugh, "That's nice, at least you're not engrossed in your phone."

"Darling, I only have that thing to call people, I don't need it for anything else."

You weren't focusing on his voice, just now seeing the scar on his cheekbone.

"Mhm.."

He caught your lingering stare, "I'd love to tell you the story, but I think you're too special for the tactics I use on all the other women who flock to me."

You grinned, sliding his phone back at him to which he clumsily caught, "You're the one who came to me."

"Sure, darling, have it your way.", he seemed to relax in his seat, gaze still fixated onto you.

After a small amount of silence, you cocked a brow, "What?"

"hm?"

"Do I have something on my face?"

"No, no.. I was just thinking about something.."

"What is it?"

He let out an amused huff, "Why should I tell you?"

"Because I'm bored."

"Alright.", he put his glasses back on his face, "How about we go for a ride?"

What?

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, you're bored and I've already paid my bill so we're off the hook-"

"But-"

"Don't fret, doll. I'll buy you dinner too, okay?"

That definitely shut you up.

[dailyrugbytoday]

Wales Rugby crucial Six Nations clash against England

New Post has been published on https://thedailyrugby.com/wales-rugby-crucial-six-nations-clash-in-england/

The Daily Rugby

https://thedailyrugby.com/wales-rugby-crucial-six-nations-clash-in-england/

Wales Rugby crucial Six Nations clash against England

The protracted row around the Professional Game Board table at the Wales Rugby Union over a long-term pay deal for the four Welsh regions has developed into one of the biggest soap operas in British sport.

For plenty of the past years the regions, who have ex-Harlequins chairman Malcolm Wall as their the front guy, have been in a battle with the these days departed WRU leader executive Steve Phillips over a truthful and equitable pay deal to attempt to stabilise their finances and keep their best players primarily based in Wales.

With no deal yet in sight, gamers are actually conserving talks with ‘nothing off the table’ including capability moves, just 10 days earlier than Wales’ vital Six Nations conflict towards England.

More News :: Super Rugby Pacific 2023

Phillips left his post a fortnight ago, a result of the abysmally handled sexism and misogyny claims which have embroiled the WRU. Many thought the very last blockage in the system had been removed together with his departure, yet still there is no conclusion.

You can song the debate lower back to 2019 while a meeting became called to finalise a proposed merger between Scarlets and Ospreys. That changed into beneath the tenure of Martyn Phillips, then CEO, and Gareth Davies, the ex-chairman.

How Wales rugby descended into chaos

That plan nose-dived at the 11th hour and ever when you consider that Welsh rugby has been attempting to find a economic option to assist the 4 groups now not most effective stay alive, however somehow thrive.

The latest temper track from the WRU Board, which is currently trying to promote a brand new governance shape to its members within the wake of the revelations from the BBC reveal that featured their former preferred supervisor of women’s rugby, Charlotte Wathan, is that a deal is near. Tell that to the marines!

The Cardiff director of rugby, Dai Young, flawlessly summed up the on-going frustration being felt by way of gamers and coaches alike at all four areas. They have been told to move away and prepare to desk contracts for their players, yet nevertheless haven’t been given the pass-ahead to verify some thing in writing.

“We are all getting a bit bit bored of announcing next week . . . Next week. We aren’t in a position in the meanwhile wherein we are able to offer absolutely everyone a agreement to sign. I nevertheless don’t have a showed budget for subsequent season,” admitted Young on Tuesday.

“There isn’t any more statistics than we’ve had for a while and the longer it is going on the more agitated the gamers and group of workers can be. Everyone desires to recognise what their destiny holds.

“I’m seeking to keep the players’ heads at the task because we’ve a few very important video games arising.”

Young is nicely versed within the problems of handling golf equipment dealing with a financial crisis following his decade in fee at Wasps. But the contemporary drama is a piece like demise via a thousand cuts.

“We face a situation where we aren’t able to preserve the players we need to keep just because of the budgets. We could be slicing our numbers and we are able to be decreasing salaries,” stated Young.

“The sport in Wales can not maintain the salaries and numbers there in the intervening time. That’s a truth and a state of affairs, however to what ranges we cannot say until we get the finances in front of us.”

There are fires raging all across the WRU’s territories. On the playing the front, the senior men’s team has lost 11 of its last 13 internationals – including games in opposition to Italy and Georgia – and neither they, nor the Under 20 aspect, have gained a sport thus far inside the Six Nations.

Some senior global figures are looking to at ease their futures via playing out of doors of Wales, setting some of them outdoor the 60-cap rule which prevents them from playing for their us of a. A in addition exodus is anticipated as soon as news of the income cap comes into play, with the pinnacle players receiving a ceiling determine of £278,000 a 12 months – a drop of up to £70,000 for some.

The pay pain will also drop down via the ranks because the areas battle to discover a way to live solvent, for that reason developing large uncertainty and anxiety for the 2 hundred+ expert players and support group of workers on the four teams.

The PRB chair, Wall, has observed in the footsteps of Amanda Blanc into the hottest seat in the game in Wales and has kept his head down for the past yr whilst hard running to find a solution. The proposed six-year deal that has been anticipated to be announced sees payments to the regions drop from round £26 million a 12 months to £18m inside the final three hundred and sixty five days of the deal.

Blanc, now the CEO of coverage giant Aviva, left her submit because she felt she wasn’t being listened to or properly respected. Her departure precipitated a number of the ripples which have was a tidal wave this is currently engulfing the WRU.

Cardiff’s global scrum-half of Lloyd Williams, who these days have become his vicinity’s maximum capped player, admitted the scenario is “irritating” and has had an effect at the performances of a few players.

“There are extra vital things than gambling for Wales,“ stated the two-time World Cup participant.

“It is a motive for gamers to stay in Wales but the boys have families, they need a residence to stay in and they need food on the table. So, until playing for Wales is what the participant desires, having task safety is greater vital

” Hopefully within the subsequent fortnight some thing may be sorted, however unfortunately for the boys for the time being there are no contracts to sign.

[arrowflier]

Fic prompt: How do people who tangentially know Ian react when Gay Jesus goes viral? Do they reach out to Ian/the Gallaghers? Lip's college friends, Milkovich cousins, ROTC classmates, Kash and Linda ... Is Gus Pfender telling someone Gay Jesus was his brother-in-law for 4 seconds? :D

I Heard it Through the Grapevine

“This is a pretty new one,” Gus Pfender said into the mic, sitting onstage at a little bar on the outskirts of New York City. “About a girl I knew a while back. A girl that was totally crazy, you all know the type.” He paused and waited for the knowing laughter to die down.

“No, but really though, she was!” he continued, idly tapping on the neck of his guitar as he talked. “She got me to marry her and everything, then slept with her ex, then tried to marry some other guy before we were even separated! Can you believe that?”

The laughter was more awkward that time, but he didn’t notice.

“Anyway, turns out she came by crazy honestly, runs in the family or something.” Even his band mates were starting to get a little antsy behind him, but he wasn’t quite done throwing his ex under the metaphorical bus.

“Yeah, get this—her little brother started a cult, called himself Gay Jesus or somethin’. Just saw him on the news—he blew up a van!” Gus laughed so hard he almost fell off his stool, but the audience was quiet.

The drummer cleared his throat behind him, and Gus finally got with the program, righting himself and coughing into the mic before saying, “Anyway, here it is; sing along loud if you know it, maybe she’ll hear us all the way back in Chicago.”

And he launched into the opening chords of “Fuck You Fiona”.

In the audience, Mandy Milkovich straightened up at the first round of Fiona’s name echoing around the dimly lit room. Her date—well, her client—touched her arm, and she jerked away before she could remember herself. Remember that she was supposed to like being touched, now.

“Sorry,” she simpered at the short older man, putting her hand on his when he let it fall to the table between them. “You just surprised me, hun.”

She smiled at him sweetly, pressing her tongue to the back of her teeth until it hurt. “Be right back,” she promised him quickly, before standing and grabbing her purse from the back of her chair. “Just need to go freshen up for you.”

She cringed as she said it, but it had the desired effect, the man just waving her away as he turned his attention back to the stage just in time for the rousing chorus of “fuck you”.

As soon as the bathroom door slammed shut behind her, Mandy was leaning over the sink, breathing heavily. Chicago. Fiona. Crazy family. Little brother.

Ian.

She fumbled in her purse for her phone, a sleek black thing that one of her more dedicated clients had bought for her. She swiped past the homescreen that he had set to a picture of the two of them, and opened up her browser.

Ian Gallagher she typed in, holding her breath as the results of the search loaded.

It came out in a single whoosh when she saw it, leaving her limp against the dirty porcelain.

Chicago’s Ian ‘Gay Jesus’ Gallagher Charged with Arson and Destruction of Property read the very top headline. Mandy skimmed the rest through the tears that filled her eyes, not daring to let them fall.

Ian Gallagher, middle child of six, pled guilty by reason of insanity at his trial last week, claiming his unmedicated bipolar disorder was the reason for his irrational behavior.

Oh god, Ian.

Last time she saw him, Ian had his shit together. He had a job, and a boyfriend, and he was taking his meds, and he kept her calm and helped her deal with a fucking body and gave her a place to stay for the night. What had happened since then? How had things gone so wrong for him again?

She didn’t know. She needed to know. She needed to know that he was okay.

Mandy bit her lip, mind racing as she considered her options. None of them were good. Mickey was gone. She didn’t speak to the rest of her family. She could call Iggy, or Colin she supposed, but she wasn’t even sure they weren’t in jail themselves. Besides, if they weren’t, she didn’t want Terry overhearing.

With shaking hands, she dialed a number she had been pretending she didn’t know, instead. A number that she had been trying her best to forget.

Phillip Gallagher picked up on the very first ring.

“Yeah, alright. No, I know, Mandy. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you posted.”

Lip sighed as he pressed the end call button, rubbing a hand over his face. Joaquin, sitting next to him, blew a stream of smoke in Lip’s face until he straightened again, coughing.

“The hell was that for, asshole?” he asked, waving the smoke away. “You know how much shit I’m gonna get if Tami smells that on me?”

Joaquin snorted. “Still can’t believe you shacked up with your baby-mamma, man,” he teased. “You have a kid now, what the fuck?”

“Yeah, well,” Lip muttered, reaching over to steal the joint right out of his hand despite his warnings about the smell. “A lot of things have changed since the last time I saw you.”

No shit. The last time Joaquin had seen Lip Gallagher, he’d been helping him steal money from the high-end startup Lip was working for. Then he’d just disappeared, only to wander into the little cafe where Joaquin liked to take lunch just a few days ago. They’d been catching up a little bit each day since, but Joaquin’s head was still spinning trying to equate this short-haired, run-down family man with the brilliant guy he knew back in the day.

“So, who was that?” Joaquin pried. “Who’s Mandy? You two-timing your girl already, Gallagher?”

“Fuck no,” Lip exclaimed, nearly spitting out the joint. Joaquin snatched it back immediately—the Gallagher he knew never would have risked the good stuff like that.

“No,” Lip repeated more calmly. “I uh, used to date her,” he revealed. “Before I knew you. But that was a long time ago.”

Joaquin nodded. “So what’s she callin’ you for then?”

Lip rubbed at his lip—Joaquin giggled in his head at that thought—and went quiet for a long moment. Joaquin just sat by him and smoked, content to wait it out.

“She was asking about my brother,” Lip answered finally. “They were friends.”

“Which brother?” Joaquin questioned. “The janitor, or the crazy one?”

Lip eyed him oddly. “The janitor is the crazy one,” he said, but Joaquin shook his head.

“No, no,” he rambled, “the little guy, the one you thought was dealin’.”

“Carl?” Lip clarified, and laughed, fingers picking idly at the knee of his jeans. “Nah, Carl’s actually doin’ alright now, I think. It’s Ian. The one you met.”

“What’s goin’ on with him?”

Lip hesitated, and then, “You heard about Gay Jesus?” he asked, and Joaquin felt his eyes go wide. He almost dropped the joint himself this time.

“No way,” he breathed out. “That was him?” He gestured wildly. “With the kids, and the cult, and the van?”

“That was him,” Lip confirmed grimly. “Off his meds, we think. That’s what he says, at least.”

Joaquin whistled, and handed the joint back. “Think you need this more than me right now,” he said.

Lip didn’t disagree when he took it.

Linda looked up when a stranger entered her store, then promptly rolled her eyes and went back to her magazine. The kids were with the sitter and the store was practically empty, so there was no reason not to take some time for herself for once. A single stoner wandering around the aisles wasn’t that much of a concern.

Still, she kept an eye on him as he poked through what they had to offer. He wasn’t bad looking, despite his floppy hair and red-rimmed eyes—reminded her a little bit of a young Kash, even.

She promptly hated herself for thinking of her absent, no-good husband, and hated the stranger in the store for making her do it.

So when he finally came to the counter, holding two bags of chips and a Red Bull, she might have been just a tad ruder than normal.

“Put it on the counter,” she ordered gruffly when he just stood there, staring into space.

“Whoa, yeah, sorry, sorry,” he rambled, doing as he was bid. “Just came from visiting a buddy, guess I left my mind behind a bit, huh?” He giggled. A grown man just giggled in her store.

“Maybe you know them, the Gallaghers?” He continued while she rang him up. Her hands barely paused when she heard the name. That was a long time ago, and they didn’t come here anymore.

The stoner was still talking, though. “Man they’ve had some bad luck, you know?” He shook his head. “First with Lip’s stuff, now his brother again?”

Linda stilled, bag of chips still in hand.

“Which brother?” she asked despite herself. She shouldn’t care, but somehow she still did. That little shit had stolen her husband, got his boyfriend shot in her store, and bailed on her with no warning, but when he had been there, he had been good to her. Helped her run the store, even helped her with the kids if she begged. She’d been sad to hear it when he went off the rails, but the rumor around town was that he was doing better, now.

“The crazy red-haired one,” the stoner answered, and she guessed a rumor was all it had been. “They call him Gay Jesus now, he blew up a van and everything.”

“Ten seventy-five,” she told him, not commenting any more on the topic. It wasn’t her business.

But as the stranger walked out the door, leaving her to her magazine again, she considered sending some sort of basket to the Gallagher house. For old time’s sake.

She was so caught up in her thoughts, she didn’t even notice the bell over the door ring a second time as someone else hurried out.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Iggy Milkovich muttered to himself as he rushed off down the street away from the Kash’N’Grab, forgetting to even steal anything in his hurry.

Ian fucking Gallagher. Gay fucking Jesus. How had nobody around him seen that coming?

Iggy remembered when Ian was living with them, before he went crazy the first time. Or while he went crazy the first time? Who fucking knew, that kid was always off the rails if he thought taking up with Iggy’s kid brother right under Terry’s nose was a good fucking idea.

But there was that one time, when things were mostly still going good, when he remembered hearing Mickey talk to his boy about crashing some funeral. A funeral for a fairy soldier that Ian knew when he was going by his brother’s name out at bootcamp. They’d come home from that thing with Ian practically vibrating, bouncing off the walls with fury at the protest they had wandered into, and he had seen the way it made Mickey freak out.

Mickey was in Mexico now. Iggy knew that. Everybody fucking knew that, even if they pretended they didn’t. And it was a bad fucking idea for him to find out about this, for so many reasons.

But Iggy couldn’t do that to his brother. He couldn’t hide something like this. And if Mickey found out some other way, from someone else…well. There was no saying what stupid shit that fucker might do.

So when he got home, he hit the bong to calm his racing heart. Then he picked up the phone, and dialed a number he wasn’t supposed to know.

“Yeah, thanks Ig,” Mickey said into his burner phone. “I already knew.”

His partner for the day, some new cartel wannabe that got paired up with the Gringo to see how he managed the streets, gave him a weird look as he shoved the phone into the pocket of his jeans.

“Who was that?” the burly man asked, voice rough, and Mickey rolled his eyes.

“Your girlfriend,” he answered dryly. “Wanted to know if I had dropped your ass in the grave yet so we can go fuck in peace.”

The idiot looked like he actually believed it, and Mickey snorted.

“A fuckin’ contact, okay?” he revealed. “And none of your fuckin’ business ‘til you manage to climb the ladder past ‘basic bitch errand boy’, so get the shit and let’s get movin’.”

At least the moron followed instructions.

Mickey wiped a hand over his face while the other man’s back was turned, gathering himself. It was confirmed, then. First by those weird-ass rainbow shirts, and now by Iggy, who wouldn’t lie to him about something like that. Ian Gallagher had gotten himself in trouble, and Mickey wasn’t there to save him this time.

He sighed as his partner came back with the rest of the goods, and they set off to a new position on the next corner.

One way or another, it looked like Mickey Milkovich was going back to Chicago.

[3pirouette]

Fic: Six Dates, Times, and Places (1/1)

Title: Six Dates, Times, and Places By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette Spoilers: Endgame Disclaimer: They're not mine. Word Count: 3488 Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: The night before Steve leaves to return the stones, Bucky gives him one last mission.

A/N: Check out THIS POST for links to a guy on Tik Tok who says it about Steve and Bucky better than I ever could. This was inspired by his posts, and this satisfies the “Bucky Barnes” square on my Steggy Bingo Bash card.

~*~ The Night Before

Bucky sat across from him, quiet. Steve was waiting him out, and Bucky was thankful, for the millionth time, for his best friend. He scratched his head, eyes squeezed shut. “I just… I don’t know how to say it, exactly.”

Steve kicked his feet up on the coffee table between them, “If it’s about me going tomorrow- it’ll be quick. Five seconds for you, not even.” Steve smiled and laughed lightly, trying to reassure his friend. “Doubt you could even finish taking a piss in the time I’m gone.”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh, his eyes still shut tight. “Yeah, yeah, I guess.”

“I’m not worried. We did it before…” Bucky opened his eyes, watching Steve cross his arms. Bucky knew his friend was harboring at least a little anxiety even if he didn’t want to admit it. He could see it in the set of his shoulders.

Bucky couldn’t keep the smile off his face, but it was more from nerves and the gnawing feeling in his stomach that what he was about to do would somehow screw it all up. “Yeah, see, that’s the thing. It won’t be ten seconds for you.”

“A few hours—”

“Years.”

Steve tilted his head at Bucky’s correction, but didn’t say anything.

“You see, I thought I was going nuts, when they first got all that programming out of me. When Shuri insisted I could trust my memories, because they were…” Bucky stopped shaking his head. He’d told Steve some of it. His best friend knew what nightmares haunted him.

“But there were a few times…” he started again, leaning forward and running his hand through his hair, “There was this one memory that I just could not get to make any sense. And now?” He laughed, lightly at first, but it grew. It grew until he was actually smiling and he looked up at Steve with joy in his eyes. “Now I know it’s real, because time travel is fucking real.”

Bucky’s grin was contagious, and Steve couldn’t help but smile a little. “I don’t understand.”

Bucky nodded, his voice still light and anxious. “I know you don’t. But I don’t know if I should tell you, either. Won’t it like- mess up the space-time continuum or something?”

Steve shrugged. “Bruce and Strange say anything we do- did- in the past will be fixed when I put the stones back.” He leaned forward, kicking his feet back down and placing his elbows on his knees. “I don’t claim to really understand it, but Strange assured me that it will work out. That the things that have happened, that will happen, are supposed to and…” Steve spayed his hands, shaking his head. “I gotta trust these guys know more about it than I do.”

Bucky sat quietly for a minute, his hands interlaced, his flesh fingers playing over the ridges in his vibranium hand. He stood, pulled a small piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Steve. He didn’t let the man take it, though, just held his hand in both of his, the paper between them, and looked down at him. His voice was low when he finally spoke, serious. Melodious Russian fell from his lips. “Now you,” he nodded down at Steve.

Steve was confused, but he tried to repeat it back, stumbling over the sounds.

Bucky pursed his lips and shook his head, still holding Steve’s hand tight. “You have to say it exactly as I say it, and you have to promise me you’re never going to forget it, ok?”

“Buck- what—”

Bucky’s dark look stopped Steve’s words. “Promise me.”

“I promise.” Steve’s reply was without hesitation.

They repeated the call and response a dozen times until Steve’s words sounded exactly like Bucky’s.

Bucky let go of Steve’s hand, satisfied. Steve unfurled the small folded paper, his brows furrowing as he looked back up. Bucky’s shoulders slumped, a memory he wasn’t ready to share taking over. “You’ll know,” he mumbled as he walked away, “you’ll know.”

~*~ 1948

Steve tried to keep a low profile as he moved down the path. It was a long and winding path along the riverfront, and he didn’t know what he was looking for, which made things worse.

Date, time, place. Six neat rows in Bucky’s blocky handwriting on a scrap of paper. He didn’t know for sure what they were, but he had guesses.

He knew the nightmares that haunted Bucky. He knew about some of the things he’d done. Steve wanted to help, he did, but he only had enough Pym Particles for one more trip. He picked the earliest date on the list and prayed he could find Bucky and stop him, find a way to save him, before anything else happened.

He prayed he figured it out this time, because in his heart he knew he’d use those particles to go to the next date on the list if he didn’t, and end up taking the long way back to his friends.

He wasn’t abandoning Bucky, not when he’d so clearly asked him for help.

It was the only thing that had made sense. Steve couldn’t quite tease out why the Russian phrase was so important, but he’d spent the night awake, lying in bed, repeating it over and over. Buck had asked for help without saying it, had given him the choice and the opportunity, knowing they were giving him a few more Pym Particles than he needed, just in case. He was going to overpower Bucky and… and help him. It was the only option he had.

He knew he couldn’t take Bucky back with him for multiple reasons, but maybe he could get him to someone that could help. It would be too early for Fury, but Howard, maybe, or Phillips…

The walk along the Potomac was buzzing with people, the crisp Spring air of ’48 a draw, the cherry trees in full bloom around them. It would have been a nice night for a stroll if he wasn’t so anxious. The cheap windbreaker he bought only barely covered the shape of the shield on his back, but it kept the chill of the wind off the water away. It would have been a beautiful place for a walk if he wasn’t so intently looking for any sign of the Winter Soldier…

He stopped in his tracks, eyes glued across the way. He felt like he couldn’t breathe.

There she was, just sitting under one of the cherry trees in a little nook away from the water, legs crossed, a cup of coffee in one hand and eyes on the folder in her other hand.

He watched for what felt like forever, his eyes glued to the way she sipped the coffee, the attention she was giving the file, the way she bounced her top leg and wiggled her toes to keep her shoe on just right.

He’d been afraid of this.

He’d been afraid of coming here and seeing her.

Peggy Carter. Alive. Breathing. Young and beautiful and within a few yards of him.

He almost hadn’t made it out of Lehigh last time. Tony never knew he’d seen her, never knew that he almost gave it all up for a chance to hear her voice say his name again.

He’d asked Tony to put it all on the line, and he’d been ready to throw the future of the masses away just to hear his name on her lips.

She was so much younger here. Still in the SSR. Still making a name for herself. Still working to build Shield.

Still two years away from a marriage to a man whose name he didn’t know, and didn’t think he wanted to know. He’d never asked her, and she’d never said. He was happy she moved on. Proud that she’d been able to do so much professionally and personally.

But as he stood, the cherry blossom petals falling around her, making her look like a princess out of some fantasy movie, he wanted nothing more than to march up to her and fall to his knees and tell her everything.

He wanted to rest his weary head in her lap and feel her red nails scrape through his hair and lull him to calm.

He wanted to hear the soft English accent tell him that he was alright. That he’d made the right choices.

He wanted her to know that he loved her, deeply, and he had never and would never stop loving her even seventy years from now.

His heart was pounding in his chest, the effort to keep his feet where they were monumental when he saw it: the tiniest reflection of light along her shoulder.

His stomach clenched and his mind raced. He knew that glint, he’d seen it far too often on the battlefield a lifetime ago. He’d never forget the way the light reflected off Bucky’s sharpshooter rifle as he adjusted it to get his man in his sights. He’d seen it too many times.

Steve was yelling and moving before he could think.

She looked up at him, already wide eyes growing comically wider as she saw him, but listened as he shouted for her to hit the ground. Her papers scattered as she dove to the concrete, tucking and rolling with him as he covered her and pulled her behind the bench as two silenced bullets put holes in the concrete in front of them.

He pulled her to her knees behind the bench. He shed the jacket he was wearing and pulled out the shield from his back, hiding her behind it. Her breaths were shaky, jaw bouncing as she looked at him, unable to form words. She reached up, a hand going to his cheek, disbelieving.

She was about to speak when another bullet ricocheted off the vibranium, the sound telling them both the shooter was closer than they’d thought. She scrambled, pulling up the side of her skirt and pulling a gun from her garter. “I expect answers,” she told him shakily as she turned towards the bench.

He nodded, refocusing. “Stay here I’ll—”

“Bloody unlikely!”

Another shot against the shield startled them, this one even closer. Steve didn’t give her a choice as he stood. “Cover me!”

He jumped over the concrete bench and dropped the shield just in time to raise it again and ward off another shot. He tried to stay calm, tried to think of him as the Winter Soldier, but all he could see was Bucky in his full tactical gear, face covered, mentally broken and twisted and aiming at Peggy with a chilling, myopic gaze.

Steve threw himself forward, knocking Bucky off his feet. The men grappled on the concrete as the people around them scattered, yelling. He could hear Peggy behind him, but he tried his best to keep his focus. Bucky had always been good in a fight, but Hydra and the Russians had trained him well. Steve managed to get the gun out of his hands, kicking it away toward Peggy for safe keeping as Bucky managed to get to his feet and ran at him again, this time a knife in his hand.

It was like deja vu, the way Bucky fought. The blows and parries were almost identical to the fight he put up years ago when Steve met Bucky as the Winter Soldier for the first time, fighting under the interstate. Steve was on the defensive as soon as they were up on their feet again, thankful for the shield he was able to keep between them. The crack of a gunshot filled the air and Bucky’s right knee collapsed for a moment, enough for him to lose focus as he looked back at Peggy.

Steve took the opening. He managed a spin, taking Bucky off guard and knocking him to the pavement, already off balance from the bullet wound. The victory was momentary: Bucky kicked himself back to his feet and pounced at Steve, despite the limp in his step.

After a frenzied moment of pushing, pulling and punching, Steve growled, pushed hard, and hit Bucky in the side of the head with his shield. “Bucky, stop!”

Bucky stepped back, pulling a small handgun from the back of his belt as he shook his head. His eyes cleared for a moment before the cloud of the Winter Soldier took them back over. “You are not my mission,” he growled out in English, the mask over his face slurring the words as he lifted the gun and leveled it over Steve’s shoulder.

“Steve, I don’t have a shot!” Peggy shouted from behind him.

It felt like time was standing still. Like he could step out of his body and see it all. In that moment, he understood exactly what Bucky had wanted, what Bucky had been trying to tell him.

Years, Bucky had said. But he’d said it with a smile.

Six dates, times, and places.

Not times and places where Steve could stop him.

Six times and places where Steve already did stop him.

Six dates, times, and places where the Winter Soldier would try to assassinate the head of Shield, Margaret Carter.  

He charged forward, jumping and catching Bucky around the waist with his legs, forcing his shot to go wild up in the air as he dropped the shield and locked his arms around Bucky’s neck. They both groaned, hard, as they hit the ground, but Steve didn’t let up his hold. He waited just long enough for him to slow his struggle, and he said it. Loud and clear, Steve repeated the Russian phrase Bucky had taught him, and the Winter Soldier went limp in his arms.

Bucky stopped struggling, his eyes clouded and unfocused. Slowly, Steve untangled himself, letting the man stand. He grabbed his shield as Peggy slowly got closer, gun drawn high. The Winter Soldier looked at them both, looked around, and without a word disappeared back in to the outcrop of bushes he’d come from.

Steve and Peggy followed wordlessly, but by the time they’d beat their way through the underbrush to the edge of the river, he was gone. Not a footprint, not a broken branch, nothing to give them a hint of the direction he went.

Peggy stopped a few feet away from Steve, staring at him in the setting sun, her gun still in her hand and only a second from being expertly aimed at him if need be. “That man was sent to kill me.”

Steve nodded, shield hanging limply from his hand, heart pounding. “Yes.”

He could see the shake starting in her hands. “And you stopped it.”

“Yes,” he nodded again, afraid to step closer.

She closed the distance, jaw clenched tight, stopping only inches from him. Her eyes roamed his face, looking for something that he didn’t know how to give. “Are you working for them, now?” Peggy asked cautiously.

“Them?” He tried to slow down his breathing, but found it was near impossible now that he could smell her perfume.

“The Russians,” she supplied, pursing her lips tight as she inched closer. “What you said to him…” She took a deep breath, “Though I suppose if I have to tell you…” Her smile was tentative. “You never were a good liar.”

He slipped the shield on his back slowly, never taking his eyes from hers, his voice soft but stern. “I’m not working with the Russians.”

Peggy’s hand reached out, slowly coming to rest on his chest. Her smile grew as she felt him, firm and real, under her fingers. “Where have you been, Steve? I thought you were dead.”

His hand covered hers, gently. “It’s…” He faltered. He’d never imagined actually talking to her, actually being forced to say all that had happened, all that would happen. He didn’t know how to get her to believe him, to trust him. He swallowed, hard, and took Peggy’s hand in both of his. “It’s a long story, and I’ll tell you as much as you’re willing to listen to.” He cleared his throat, emotion welling up. “First, I think I should apologize for missing our date.”

Her hand tightened her hold on his, but her eyes stayed sharp. “Copacabana Club at 9 in the evening.”

Steve smiled and shook his head, knowing she’d need to hear it from his lips. “Stork Club. Eight on the dot. I was gonna have them play something slow.”

“So you won’t step on my…” She let the sentence fall away and nodded, satisfied. Her smile was blinding, even though tears were welling in her eyes. “You’re late.”

He let his hand fall over her cheek and pushed the hair away from her face. “I won’t be ever again. I promise.”

~*~ Immediately After

Bucky waited until Sam stepped back, bag with the shield in it slung over his shoulder, to approach him. “Was I right or was I right?”

Bucky saw Steve’s shoulders shake with laughter. He wanted to say he looked frail, but he could tell despite the wrinkles around his eyes and the larger clothes designed to hide his frame that he was still strong and sharp.

Steve looked up at Bucky, smiling as he sat next to him. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Thought I might mess things up.” Bucky shrugged his shoulders, hands still stuffed in his pockets. “Wasn’t sure if I was supposed to or not, or even if my own brain was fucking with me, so I figured a few hints and your smart ass would figure it out.”

Steve nodded, his eyes tearing over. “We tried, Buck.”

Bucky lifted his right hand, pressing it to Steve’s shoulder. “I know you did.” He looked his friend in the eyes, and could see past the wrinkles and the grey hair to his best friend that he shared sleepovers with in the floor of his Brooklyn bedroom. “You guys tried really hard to get me out of it. And I’m convinced, now more than ever, it’s all gone exactly the way it was supposed to go.”

Steve nodded, looking away over the horizon. “I’m still sorry about it.”

“Don’t be,” Bucky moved his hand back to his lap, lacing his flesh fingers with his vibranium ones. “You got me out eventually. You stopped me when it counted.”

Steve’s jaw clenched, “Not every time.”

“Enough times.” Bucky was adamant, his voice sharp and brokering no arguments. “You know that if I had—" Bucky couldn’t say it, didn’t want to say it. Howard’s death was already heavy on his conscious, but if he’d managed to kill Peggy, too? He didn’t know how he’d be looking Steve in the eyes right now.

Steve softened, “I know.”

The comfortable silence between them was filled by the sound of a flock of birds taking flight, and he and Steve watched for long moments until the birds were gone and it was quiet again.

Bucky asked a question he’d been waiting years to know the answer to, “Who was that guy in ’86?”

Steve chuckled. “The one that kicked your ass?” Bucky nodded, amused by Steve’s mirth. “That was our son.”

“No shit!” Bucky smiled, clapping Steve on the back. “I guess we have a lot to catch up on.”

Steve nodded, reaching a hand out. “Help an old man up.” Bucky stood and pulled him up, and Steve finally asked what he wanted to know for so long. “What did those words do?”

“You never found out?” Bucky asked, his brow furrowed. He could See Sam and Bruce starting to come closer. He knew their time alone was drawing to an end, at least for now. Steve shook his head, and Bucky licked his lips, looking away. “Random string of words that formed a deactivation code. A failsafe one of my earliest handlers built into whatever they did to my brain. It effectively erased the last mission and sent me back to my handler. Always managed to screw me up so bad they had to scrap whatever they were doing. It was meant to keep them safe if I ever went off on them.”

Steve looked at him, eyes sad. “Did it?”

Bucky looked away, not wanting Steve to see the darkness in him. “I never gave them enough time to say it.” He looked back, shaking his head. “There was always some part of me that knew you, though. That gave you enough time to get it out.”

Steve reached out and hugged his friend, and Bucky let himself melt into the embrace. Steve had saved him, more times than he could count now, and he knew that those memories he thought had to be hallucinations were real.

Six dates, times, and places where Captain America had stopped the Winter Soldier, and six dates, times, and places where Steve Rogers gave Bucky Barnes hope.

~*~

A/N- So, this was conceived as a singular story, but now that I’ve written it I KNOW that if I were a reader I’d want to know about those other 5 dates. I don’t have anything planned for them AT THIS TIME, but I will leave this open to potentially being a series, and I’ll fill in those dates as I come up with compelling ideas.

[princess-of-the-worlds]

tldr: As of this October, it has officially been one year since I first watched Torchwood and started reading fics. Although I didn’t start writing my own fics until March 2020, I have written...like a lot of fics in the past seven months. But I wanted to celebrate my favorite fics by other people. So here is Part 1 of probably several eventual fic rec posts. These are what I consider fandom staples.

To The Sticking Place by zephyras13 

The end justifies the means. Failure is not an option. There is always a choice, except when there isn't. These are the phrases Ianto Jones lives by and he refuses to allow anyone, even Captain Jack Harkness, to change that. Jack/Ianto, AU, Torchwood One Agent!Ianto.

(janto & others | complete | mature | 96K)

Nik: I legitimately cannot explain why I love this fic so much other than the fact it is so great! It was one of the first fics I read, and I still adore it. It follows canon so well while making you feel very range of the emotion spectrum. The author’s take on Ianto is so complexly-written but still feels true to the canonical Ianto. Literally one of the first fics I’d rec to anyone new to fandom. A must read.

only fools fall by transjackianto

“Oh my god,” he gasps out when his laughter has died down to softer chuckles, “I am so glad I stuck around to hear that.  Thank you Jack, I needed to laugh today. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he pushes back from the table for the third time but Jack stops him again with a hand over his own. It is a softer touch than before and that unnerves Ianto more than anything.

He looks up, terrified he’s going to see some kind of earnest emotion on Jack’s face.  When he finds Jack looking instead like he swallowed a handful of pins he relaxes. He’s not sure he could handle finding out Jack had some kind of ridiculous unrequited crush on him.

“I know,” Jack groans, dropping Ianto’s hand and letting his head thunk against where his arms are crossed on the table, “I want to punch myself just for saying it, but I mean it Ianto. I need you to be my boyfriend.”

-

Aka, Ianto just wants to make it through his summer as a newly single sixth form graduate and eagerly await the end when his ex comes back from her summer trip and they can reunite.

His ex-friend Jack Harkness throws a wrench into the works.

(janto, lisaianto, & others | complete | mature | 182K)

Nik: Okay, so I’m a tiny bit biased with this one considering that the author is my friend whom I adore and also one of my favorite people in this fandom. And I...also betaed this entire fic. But take it from me! It’s so, so well-written and the shift from enemies to lover is so perfect. There is angst, oh so much angst, but it is worth it. Plus, it’s incredibly hot! And I know the author has eventual plans for a sequel, although no promises when it’s coming. Another must read!

Halfway Back by Sholio (@sholiofic)

Team Torchwood run a sanctuary for magical creatures, and this time they've got a basilisk on their hands.

(gen | complete | teen | 13K)

Nik: Okay, so literally anything by Sholio is perfect. They have an incredible grasp of the team dynamic that still blows my mind, and their fics have topnotch Owen-Ianto interactions. But I chose this fic because the premise felt like almost nothing I’d read in this fandom before. Plus, there is still the requisite amount of Owen angst in this. (Also check out The Cartography of Feeling, which is another personal favorite.)

Conversational Japanese, Plus Frogs by james

Tosh and Ianto have been taken prisoner. They cope.

(janto | complete | teen | 6K)

Nik: One of the older, shorter recs on this list but still a classic. A fascinating in-depth character study of Ianto and Tosh and their friendship in confined quarters that also explores the trauma that follows some of Torchwood’s misadventures. I don’t think I can say much else besides urging you to read it!

Sharkreef (Or, Why Torchwood Was Set in Cardiff and Not the Bermuda Triangle) by queenfanfiction

There is the story of a team who tried to save Earth from aliens. This is not that story.

(janto & many, many others | complete | teen | 2K)

Nik: Look, I know that some will actually despise that I included this rec, but this fic is ICONIC. It’s cracky, yes. Cracky crack. Very crack. But it’s also legitimately one of the strangest/whackiest/what-the-fuck fics I’ve ever read. It always startles a genuine laugh out of me. It has all of our favorite tropes...coupled with some lobsters. (Sidenote: This reminds me of John Mulaney/SNL’s Diner Lobster sketch, which I also encourage you to watch.)

Insignificant Other by parachutewoman 

Ianto is tasked with telling Rhys that his newly wedded wife has ditched him to go to London with Jack on a “very important mission”. Refusing to have his day ruined, Rhys drags Ianto along to the Six Nations final and the two ‘other halves’ try to make sense of their place in the world and their partners’ lives.

(janto & gwenrhys | complete | mature | 6K)

Nik: Ianto-Rhys friendship content is something that is severely lacking in this fandom, which is a damn shame. You can see from COE that Rhys seems to genuinely care about Jack and Ianto, which I presume is from post-Exit Wounds bonding with his wife’s coworkers. And I know that the audiobook Ghost Train has a lot of good Ianto-Rhys bonding, although I just haven’t had the time to listen to it yet. Either way, this fic, and the other fics by this author, are very well-written and beautiful. This one, set circa S2, has just the right amount of angst mixed in as well as you watched Ianto go from reluctantly accompanying Rhys to actually enjoying himself. I definitely enjoyed this fic.

Beast Inside by Flamingbluepanda (@flamingbluepanda)

"Argue with anything else, but don’t argue with your own nature.” - Phillip Pullman

Inside us all, there is an animal that expresses our soul. How would the world change were those animals outside?

(janto & others | complete | mature | 26K)

Nik: Admittedly, this one is also a bit biased because the author is my friend and I am their loyal occasional beta, but I started reading it before I met the author. Although daemons do come from His Dark Materials, they have become a sort of AU on their own, and thus, you do not need to have read HDM to read this excellent fic. I definitely have not. There is angst, there is fluff, there is canon compliance. And there is Dai. Dai, Rhys’s corgi daemon, is probably not the one you would expect to steal the show, but he stole my heart. (I mean, Navi and Emma, Jack’s bear daemon and Ianto’s terrier daemon, adorable respectively...but Dai!) Expect to fall in love with Dai by ths end of this fic!

To Let by Amand_r

Ianto Jones is a good housemate.

(janto & lisaianto | complete | not rated | 12K)

Nik: Now this fic is a little bit different from the rest because it is not only second person POV but is also outside POV, which makes it slightly odd to read at first. But I can assure you, it is most definitely worth it. Ianto’s unnamed housemate makes for an interesting perspective into Ianto’s personal and domestic life as well as exploring his relationship with Jack. His housemate, of course, doesn’t remain one-sided, with loss and love and life of his own, but you can tell that his bond with Ianto is genuine. This fic provides a nice break from the explicit canon while still exploring familiar events.

Your Job Knows What It Is by ShastaFirecracker

Torchwood Three, 2045. Bram Hudson's just been recruited by Jack Harkness, it's xir first day of work, and orientation is being handled by some old man named Jones.

(janto | complete | gen | 9K)

Nik: Okay, I lied. This fic is outsider POV as well, but Bram is so well-written and complex even from the short while we have with xem. As an alternate to the previous fic, this one provides great, interesting exploration into a future, slightly different Torchwood while also serving as a COE fix-it fic. Older Ianto is just as badass as when he was younger, and the insights into his relationship with Jack are sweet and will leave you craving more.

Worrisome Heart by thepsychicclam

It's 1922. Ianto accidentally stumbles upon a speakeasy owned by Captain Jack Harkness. When Ianto becomes a bartender, he quickly learns how dangerous everything around him truly is, and more importantly, how dangerous Jack is. But the longer he knows Jack, the more he doesn't care.

(janto | complete | explicit | 42K)

Nik: This fic, this series in fact, is one of the only complete Historical AUs I have found in this fandom. Set in 1922 New York, it features all our beloved characters as completely human and sans Torchwood and aliens, which - of course - means that they can feel a bit OOC at first. Still, as you read on through this fic and its three sequels, you will realize just how well adopted the events and characterization from canon are. If you going in thinking of this as original work rather than fic, it might help you adjust to the differences. Quite well-written!

Intersecting Geodesics by NancyBrown

Stuck in a time with a Jack who hasn't met him yet, all Ianto wants is a way home.

(janto & jackjohn | complete | mature | 37K)

Nik: There are numerous “Ianto gets sent into the future by the Rift or an artifact and meets past!Jack” fics existing in this fandom, but this is one of my favorites. For one, it’s written by the incomparable author who has many, many excellent fics that I like. (Their smut is seriously topnotch, especially for some of your kinkier tastes if said tastes exist.) The distanced younger Jack provides just the right amount of angst, and his eventual fall for Ianto is built-up just enough to work believably. The resolution is satisfying enough, and the author has a few other fics in this series to keep you going! 

For Captain and Cardiff by blackhemlock

"At midnight, a nationwide security alert was sent out... Torchwood London, demands all agencies' cooperation in issuing an arrest warrant for Ianto Merric Jones, 24, of Cardiff."

Torchwood Three's Archivist has gone rogue. But, he does have a very good reason, and he looks stunning in his new suit.

(janto & tenjack | complete | gen | 42K)

Nik: Admittedly, I will often be picky in my fics featuring the Tenth Doctor because of how he mistreated Jack, but this fic features a true-to-canon portrayal of Ianto and the Doctor that I adore. It does well in building up your expectations of Ianto and the Doctor’s encountering and then subverting it. There is also good room for Jack-Ianto angst, which only adds to my enjoyment of the fic. I don’t necessarily know how to explain it, but this fic also feels sleek and modern despite its timey-wimey elements.

What Dreams May Come by AVAAntares (@avaantares)

It's bad enough that a plague of alien parasites have fallen through the rift and are preying on Cardiff's citizens. It's worse that someone from Jack's past has come from the future to confront him on Earth. But when Jack himself is taken by the rift, Ianto and Gwen are forced to rely on the most unlikely of allies to keep Torchwood running without him.

Stranded in another century on a distant planet, Jack has only one hope of returning to Earth. But time travel with the Doctor has never been an exact science, and when he returns to Cardiff, things are not at all as he expects to find them...

(janto | complete | teen | 88K)

Nik: Honestly, I think one of my favorite parts of this fic may be the inclusion of an OC, Jamiya Thane, AKA Jack’s mother. I’m just a sucker for fandom’s takes on Jack’s canonical family and past as Javic Thane from Boeshane, and this plays into it well. It’s endearing to watch Jack’s found family, especially Ianto, interact with his mother. Also included is a rather brilliant time-travel mystery that will tug at your heartstrings on many levels. Excellent soft Jack-Ianto content in chapters and a creepy use of a one-off Doctor Who creature.

Ghost Story by Mad_Maudlin

I called out. "Would you like to hear a ghost story?"

For a moment Jack didn't move, and I knew he'd recognized my voice. After a moment he said, flatly, "I don't believe in ghosts."

"It's a complicated story," I admitted, and pulled the watch from my pocket by the chain. "And it starts with 'Long ago and far away.'"

(janto | complete | teen | 70K)

Nik: This fic! I passed this fic many times on my search for new fics to read, and the summary always threw me a bit, but when I decided to take a chance on it, I realized what I’d been missing out on. There’s so many fics in this fandom, and on this list, that take familiar tropes but twist them into something new, just like this fic. Without giving too much away, I can say that this fic features Time Lords, pocket watches, shifting POVs, and a COE fix-it, all packed with a brow-raising plot twist. It’s enough to make me forgive the first person POV, which I can usually not stand but actually works quite well for this fic! A fic worth reading at least once, if not many times. It feels so utterly unique!

Time Tracks by Cyborgtamaki (@cyborgtamaki) and thirteeninafez (@thirteeninafez)

It took him a second to realise what had happened; what had felt like hours while travelling through the rift shrunk itself in his head to a mere instant of searing gold. That’s when the flicker of the fire in front of him finally registered through his confused daze. In his haste to get away from the flames around him, he slipped and fell, scrambling back until he was a safe distance away from the smoke and the heat. It was only then that he took notice of the voices behind him. He turned towards the noise of a deep, northern voice spluttering and saying, confused and almost angry: “Who the hell are you?” The man rolled over onto his knees and stood up, looking around like he’d never seen a street before. “Jones.” He sounded uncertain but then spoke again with more confidence. “Ianto Jones.”

(janto & ninerose | complete | teen | 174K)

Nik: There’s many “Ianto travels with the Ninth Doctor and Rose” fics in this fandom, but this one is the longest, most recent, and one of the most excellent that I’ve read. The authors have written in-depth chapters of the Doctor Who Season 1 episodes we already know and adore as well as adding their own unique “episodes,” all of which are deeply enjoyable. There is excellent character interactions, specifically a wonderful Rose-Ianto friendship, and so much soft Jack-Ianto. The authors have, personally, promised several more installments coming by the end of the year or later, and they are sure to be worth the wait!

Club Wales by pocky_slash

In the wake of Jack's disappearance, Gwen finds comfort in a new friendship with Ianto. Gossip, bonding, and other hijinks of understanding ensue.

(gwenrhys & janto | complete | teen | 19K)

Nik: This author is single-handedly a Gwen-Ianto dynamic icon. Their grasp on Gwen and Ianto’s respective characterization is brilliant, and their friendship in this fic, and any fic the author writes, is well-fleshed out and believable enough for the moments we only really see on-screen briefly in the show. This fic, and overall series, serves as a compelling insight into how the team originally views Jack and how Gwen and Ianto grow closer. Gwen truly was one of Ianto’s big sister figures, which is excellently reflected in this fic. A must read!

Just this once by Beleriandings (@ultraviolet-eucatastrophe)

(Everybody lives.)

(Or: when a certain Doctor arrives to save Owen Harper from a stricken nuclear power station, it begins a chain of events that will lead Torchwood Three down a very different path. From time locks and telepathy to tea and coffee, high-speed chases to unresolved sibling issues, their new lives (and new and old loves) may be different, but their bonds of friendship and family grow stronger every day. But when every child on earth starts speaking with one voice, the team are torn apart again as they’re forced to fight for their lives, and to confront monsters they’d thought they’d left behind in the past. But with all of them working together – along with some allies they’ve made along the way – Torchwood Three will stop at nothing to save their friends and set the world to rights. The consequences will ripple out across the universe and into the distant future. But they have to start somewhere, and the present is as good a place as any.)

(janto & others | complete | teen | 239K)

Nik: Many fics are post-Exit Wounds and COE fix-its, at the same time, but dare I say that this one is the best? (Or one of the best at least.) The Tenth Doctor receives his own iconic “Everybody lives” moment, but that is only where this fic BEGINS. This beautiful monster, which I mean in the very best sense considering its length, traverses Exit Wounds, COE, and slightly Miracle Day and gives everyone a happy ending. In addition, the author, another friend of mine, I’ll be honest, manages to redeem and humanize Gray in a way I didn’t think possible, but I actually found myself liking him. This is definitely a must, must read, especially if you’re new to the fandom or just finished having your heart thrown out.

The Stars Might Stick You Where You Stand by methylethyl 

Following the fall of Torchwood One, Jack Harkness went to ask Torchwood Three for a job. He didn’t expect to fall a little bit in love with its director, the practical and ever-calm Ianto Jones. He also probably didn’t expect that Ianto Jones would end up holding the answers to his most precious secret.

(janto | complete | explicit | 20K)

Nik: I’ll be honestly - I’m a sucker for role reversal AUs in any fandom, and this is one fic I see rarely mentioned or recced, which I think is a damn shame. It is definitely in my top five fics; I adore it so much. Jack is cast in the role of Ianto, gunning for a job at Torchwood Three after the fall of Canary Wharf. His “Lisa” is his desperate, life-long search for his brother Gray who was taken by Torchwood when they were both children. Ianto is, obviously, the immortal director of Torchwood Three, but what makes him even more compelling is the lack of direct reference to his AU past. We don’t know who this Ianto Jones was before he, like Jack, arrived in Cardiff in the 1800s, newly-immortal and ensnared into working for Torchwood. Instead, this fic, and series, focuses on a stretch of episodes from Season 1 intermingled with elements from Season 2, as well as subverting the expected team relationships. Jack and Ianto are believably different but still realistic in their characterization, and look, I adore this AU, which I’ve already said. A personal favorite and must read!

Cling to the Ways of My Name by engagemythrusters ( @iianto-jones)

If Ianto Jones thought his legacy would die out with him in Thames House, he was dead wrong.

(janto & gwenrhys | complete | teen | 37K)

Nik: Hopefully, you’ve already read this fic by now. If not, may I dare ask what you’ve been doing with your life? This is one of my favorite fics of all-time in this fandom, as well as my favorite kidfic ever. It’s so well-written and just so damn unique. I cannot capture in words what makes it so special, although I will try. Ioan Jones is the sweetest janto baby ever, and I love him with all my heart. Jack’s adventures raising Ioan are just so endearing, and later installments, which feature Ianto, serve to satisfy the domestic Jack-Ianto as parents craving you might not even have known you had. There’s just so many little details about this fic I love, including but not limited to - Jack’s found family in the Joneses, Ioan-Anwen friendship, and Ioan loving blue. A definite must read fic to give you the serotonin you need.

Waking Gods by toldthestars 

Why are Ianto's dreams coming true? What's in the box with the symbol on it? Oh, and while we're at it, what's the meaning of the life?

(janto | complete | not rated | 7K)

Nik: This fic is another one with a completely unique premise in this fandom. In fact, there is only one other fic I’ve read that even gives me similar “vibes” for this fic. Here, Ianto suddenly finds himself gaining powerful, unexplainable abilities, essentially becoming a god, and oh my, this is excellent. Ianto is just trying to do good in the world, and the team’s growing fear and distrust of him and his power really sucker-punches you straight in the heart. It’s all so beautifully-written, with powerful imagery that left me awe-struck. The janto angst is oh-so-excellent. Reading this fic for the first time is an experience that I don’t believe can be replicated. 

fool me once, fool me twice by princessoftheworlds (aka me)

When, after the events at the House of the Dead, the Rift spits Ianto out on an alien planet a thousand years later, so begins a goose chase that will take him across the universe and across time until he finds Jack again.

(janto & others | complete | explicit | 52K)

Nik: What kind of fic writer would I be if I created a list of fic recs for Torchwood and did not include one of my own? I consider this fic my masterpiece. The House of the Dead!Ianto get sucked through the Rift and spat out across time and space, turned into another fixed point, as he begins his search for Jack. I don’t know if I can say much else without it sounding like bragging, but it features - in no particular order - a happy ending for one, Ianto getting some badass adventures of his own, a sorta redemption arc for John Hart, numerous references to Big Finish, and too many spinoffs with more to come! Give it a shot, why don’t you?

[invisibleinorange]

Swelter Weather, 2/?

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Bridgerton Rating: M Warnings: None at this point. Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington,  Eloise Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington(besties),  Bridgerton Family Dynamics, Eloise Bridgerton/Phillip Crane Characters: Colin Bridgerton,  Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton, Anthony Featherington,  Benedict Bridgerton,  Portia Featherington, Violet Bridgerton, Genevieve Delacroix Additional Tags:  Bridgerton, Polin

Summary: Colin Bridgerton is weary from travel and decides to spend the summer at the Aubrey Hall. While his initial plans were to avoid his perfect family, he ends up sharing the house with Eloise and Penelope. This is a Modern AU!

Eloise thanked every star in the sky when Colin ventured out to go riding because that meant that she didn’t have to stomach another minute of him flirting with her best friend. It wasn’t that she didn’t know that they were friendly with each other nor was it that she didn’t want them to be friendly. It was just that the two of them alone was a bit overwhelming.

She usually only caught moments of banter between them though and with a million family members around someone was always getting pulled in the other direction. She didn’t have anyone to help break it up if this pattern of behavior continued and with the rest of the family busy back in London, she wouldn’t be able to call for reinforcements not that she could have. What was she supposed to tell them that wouldn’t earn an eyeroll.

After an eventful day of showing Penelope the lay of the land, including the gardens, they’d decided to have a movie night.  There had been some discussion on whether to go with a serious documentary or a comedy.  In the end, they ended up deciding to go the classic horror route and watch Hitchcock movies.

They were half-way through Psycho, completely absorbed into the story and awaiting a suspenseful moment when Colin came into the door frame. He watched them for a moment, completely unaware of his presence before he maneuvered over plopping into the space between them, forcing both Eloise and Penelope to move a bit to make way for him. He put his arm around both of their shoulder, grinning sheepishly.

“Hitchcock night without me? I think not,” he said.

Eloise pushed his arm away from her.

“If you have to stay, be quiet,” she said rolling her eyes at the fact he couldn’t go entertain himself.

Penelope offered him an apologetic smile on behalf of his sister.  She didn’t force him to move his arm so he just let his hand give her shoulder a squeeze and left it there. Colin’s other hand maneuvered to grab a handful of their popcorn popping some into his mouth.

To his credit he did remain quiet through the end of the movie.  It helped that the couch was small and with the three of them there, it was pretty cozy.  Eloise fell asleep after a bit, veering into the arm rest.    Penelope didn’t fall asleep but she did rest her head on Colin’s shoulder which he had no complaints about.

“Should we wake her up or drag her to her room?” Penelope finally asked breaking the silence once the movie was over, though she wasn’t exactly move. She was enjoying the proximity and the scent of Colin’s soap and cologne.

“She sleeps like the dead.  I’m pretty sure we’re better off just leaving her be,” Colin told her quietly, careful to not speak too loudly and actually disturb the sleeping Eloise.

“We should at least get her a blanket,” Penelope suggested quietly.

Colin reached back with his free hand and grabbed on afghan from the back of the chair and put it over his sister.

“Does that meet your expectations?” he asked turning his focus back on the girl that was now absent from his shoulder.

“Definitely,” she told him with a smile.

He let a hand absently reach to play with a red curl that was looping extra haphazard, looping it around his finger.

“Are you tired?” he asked after a long moment of comfortable silence between them.

“Not particularly,” she told him.

“Take the party elsewhere?  I have scrabble and some gin,” he offered after a long moment.

“You had me at scrabble,” she told him with a nod.

He forced himself up before offering her his hand so that she could climb to her feet as well.  He wasn’t sure whether he kept his hand in hers longer than he should have or it was the other way around. He’d forgotten how soft and warm her hands were.

He gave sleeping Eloise another passing glance just to make sure she was actually good and asleep before leading the way out toward another room that housed the stacks upon stacks of well-used board games.

He flicked on the light once there, moving into motion to grab pillows and set them on opposing sides of an oversized coffee table.   He then went and dug through the stacks until he found the scrabble board putting it on the coffee table.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he told her, smiling when Penelope sat down.  She was honestly adorable between the pajamas bottoms and tank top she’d put on for the movie night with Eloise.  He hadn’t quite paid attention before but he definitely was cognizant of the fact she wasn’t wearing a bra. He wasn’t going to let himself stare though.

He was grateful for the fact she started unboxing the game and setting down the tiles which provided him time to grab the promised gin and two glasses.  He set that down on the table before plopping himself down on the opposing side of the table.

“I’m not going to take it easy on you just because we’re friends,” Penelope said after a long moment, as he poured their glasses.  He couldn’t help but laugh at that as he watched her shake the bag of tiles.

“I was going to say the same thing,” he teased before taking a swig of his drink. “I will, however, let you go first.  Ladies first and all.”

Penelope gazed at the letters she’d down for a couple of moments.  There were a couple basic words she could play but four letters stood out to her.  She reached for her glass, downing it before placing the W,A,N,K down to spell ‘Wank’.

Colin couldn’t remotely hide way hid body practically shook with laughter at the fact Penelope had played that word.

“Oh hush. You play what you draw,” she said shaking her head. “Besides, I knew you wouldn’t need a dictionary to know the definition of that one.”

“Touché,” he said shaking the bag and grabbing his own letters.  He smirked as he formulates his own word in retort.   He played off the K. Adding a S,U,C.  “Simple but gets across the point.”

She drew her replacement letters.

Her options were limited but she could pull off a word by adding I,N to his S.   She was pretty sure SIN worked just as good as any other out there though.

“Not my best work but it fits,” she announced.

“You wouldn’t know the meaning of that one since you’re an angel and everything,” he teased as replenished his tiles and started to debate his next word.

He added R, E,A,M to his earlier C to spell CREAM.

“An angel would think you were talking about ice cream there,”  she said raising an eyebrow.

“I could be but I’m not,” he said. “Even Lucifer was an angel though. Maybe I’m not the sex demon, you are.”

“I’m pretty sure that in order to be a sex demon, you have to actually be having sex,” she countered, looking particularly interested in her times before playing off the E and adding a D,E,P to form DEEP.

“So, you’re not seeing anyone right now?” Colin said after a minute in response to that.  It somehow felt a little less creepy than telling her than any of the other thoughts that came to mind.

He played O,O, and N against the P to spell POON.

“No,” she said in response to his question before forming DILDO off one of his O’s.  Penelope decided that this was one of those now or never moments and while she didn’t come right out and say it. This was as close as she’d ever been to straight up telling how she felt.  “It’s kind of hard when you’re hung up on someone.”

Their eyes met and Colin’s jaw tightened.

“Maybe they’re into you too,” he said after a minute.

He wasn’t quite sure how he managed to form LIPS off the L she’d played but he did.  He was certainly far more interested in her lips at this moment than the game. Maybe now was a good time to test out his little theory and see what she’d do if he made a move.

“In fact, I’d-“ he started to say but it was short lived. He was half-way to leaning across the board when the door opened with he jumped back on instinct.  The scrabble tiles and whatever was left of his drink went flying.

“I woke up and no one was there,” Eloise said as she made her way in, examining the situation with suspicion.  Her gaze moved from her brother to Penelope who looked remarkably guilty.  “I was worried that you had gotten lost on the way to your room.”

“Of course not, I was just keeping Colin company,” Penelope said as she tried to help clean up the mess that was their former game that was clearly not getting finished. “It’s getting late though and we probably should get some sleep.”

“Colin can finish cleaning up the mess,”  Eloise said, reaching for Penelope’s arm and practically dragging her up and away toward the door. Penelope turned her head to offer an apologetic gaze in his general direction as she was tugged away.

Colin was going to have to do something about all of this; especially the fact Eloise didn’t know how to read a room and get lost.  For now, he boxed up the game, cleaned up the spill and went grab a cold shower before bed.

That was his only hope.

[pixiealtaira]

Snippet One

These are fics I need motivation on...so you get snippets

Glee and Criminal minds crossover

Spencer had only managed to set their base photos out and lay a bit of basic info onto the table in front of the first board before a small knock sounded outside the door.

“Excuse me,” a soft voiced asked from the doorway. “Officer Phillips told me I could find the people who came in from the FBI back here? Do you know if they are here yet?”

Spencer turned towards the soft voice and was surprised at who was actually standing in the doorway. First, despite the high voice, which Spencer had first assumed belonged to either a young lady or a much younger person the person in the doorway was a guy, a guy in his mid-teen at least.  The grey coat and the purple scarf weren’t exactly highly masculine cut, but Spencer, contrary to popular belief, knew enough to know that both were rather high end designer items.  The young man looked exactly that though, young…and nervous. He was fingering the strap of his bag and rocking on his heels.  

“Yes,” Spencer answered, with a sigh. “This is where we are set up.”

The boy raised his eyebrows at Spencer. “You’re an FBI agent?”

Spencer raised his right back. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

The boy chuckled.  He looped the bag off his shoulders and dropped it to the floor.  Then he looked around for a coat stand before he started to remove his grey coat.  Spencer gasped at the boy and blurted out “What the hell happened to you?”

The boy looked down and sighed.   His grey sweater and white skinny jeans were more red and blue than their original colors. The boy took his coat to the coat stand and carefully hung it up as he started to talk. “Slushies six and seven.  It’s been a long day.  This is actually outfit five.  FIVE! I will never be able to get the red out of this sweater either, since I had to sit through a whole class before even being allowed enough time to try to do anything about it!  At least the teacher let me wash my face, but look at my hair! I’ll be lucky if it hasn’t stained. I really hate Mr. Lurch, and yes, that really is his last name.  It’s not like ten minutes lost from AP World History would make it so I flunk. I am absolutely certain I hold the highest grade in there.  Of course, most shouldn’t even be in an AP class, so that doesn’t say much.  And even though I’m like the only one who knows what the man is talking about, ever, he only calls on me when he has exhausted all other options. ” Spencer smiled a little as the boy spoke.   His hands were in motion the whole time and he had a gracefulness about his movements that Spencer enjoyed watching. Spencer pulled a chair over from the other table and set it to the side of the one he’d been sitting in while pouting.  The boy kept speaking as Spencer worked.  

“So my mood was not the best anyway. I was completely infuriated when I started to head home after I was informed by the principal, who watched these last two slushy attacks happen, that I could not stay at school because the representatives from Lady Margret’s were expected at any moment and I was simply no longer dressed as a good representative from McKinley and I needed to remove myself, taking the half day of absences, from the school grounds at once. Before lunch mind you, before lunch.”

The boy was ranting now; Spencer recognized the hand on the hips and quick speech.  However Spencer also figured the boy needed the outlet, so let him continue.

“Granted, I wasn’t exactly looking forward to leading around any of the members of Lady Margret’s student council, because last year one of the girls who visited in our Science class was just plain rude, and that is saying something considering I go to McKinley and nearly everyone there is awful.  But still it was somewhat of an honor escorting that student council around, supposedly, so it would have been nice to actually have been able to do so.  I almost suspect Miss Rachel Berry to have orchestrated this last round of slushies, because now she gets to be the escort and she’d been complaining about not getting the privilege for a week and half… but I have been telling myself since slushies six and seven that there is no way she would stoop so low, and besides, it was Azimio and Rick the Stick and I don’t think she dares even speak to either for fear they’d get her first.  Of course, I also suspect the honor was originally granted because I am one of the few who can actually afford to miss a few classes without my grades reflecting a missed class and not because anyone actually wanted me to talk to anyone from any other school.  Rachel, in all her glory, is involved in a ridiculous amount of clubs and can’t miss too many more class hours, really.”  The boy paused for a moment and looked around, noting the table on the far side of the room had piles of papers and such on it and the end of the table the chairs were at had boxes that were opened lined up.  “Can I set my bag here or will that be an issue later?”

Spencer smiled. He was pleased the boy had thought and asked before acting.  “If we keep things to this end it will be fine. It’d be better if you sat on the chair I pulled over.  The one across from me is not very sturdy sounding.”

“Thank you.”  The boy’s smile was exquisite. The boy walked back to the doorway and picked up his bag, continuing talking as he did so. “Anyway... just as I was leaving the parking lot, Chip called.  So all in all, it actually turned out …well, rather perfect.”

“Perfect?”  Spencer asked.  He settled himself back into the chair he’d been pouting in earlier.

“Yes,” The boy said, “because even though no one wants to meet real life FBI agents looking like this in the long run it was a good thing, because frankly, I didn’t want to end up having to sneak in or skip school, or something else like that---things that were  likely to get me grounded, just to see you guys.”

“Grounded?” Spencer asked.

“Yes.  The Sheriff? He hates me, honestly hates me.” The boy looked Spencer up and down, had they been anywhere else Spencer would have accused the young man of checking him out. “He probably won’t like you, either.  Sorry. Are you sure you are a FBI agent?  And if you are, why are you dressed like that?  That look does absolutely nothing for you.  We could do so much better.”

Spencer sighed.

“SSA Dr. Spencer Reid.”  Spencer stood and offered his hand.  The boy’s hands were even slightly stained red.  “How did you even know we were coming?”

“Kurt Hummel.  It is a pleasure to meet you, don’t get me wrong.  It’s just; you dress more like ‘absentminded college professor’ and not like what I’ve always thought FBI agents would look like.  And, I was not thinking ‘men in black’, as hot as that would be in real life.   More like regular suits…maybe nice ties…or maybe even less formal jeans you can move fast in and Henley shirts, kind of a rugged look.  That is not to say you look like a college professor, still too young for that, but you kind of dress like one.  Although, you almost carry the look, it’s almost like…”

Kurt trailed his sentence as he looked over Spencer once again and Spencer was pretty sure the boy was picturing him in clothing he imagined more suitable for an FBI agent. He could see when a thought of why he might dress the way he did and the realization of a reason for Spencer’s clothing choices took hold of the boys mind.  Spencer suspected he had the right idea as well.

“Yeah.”  Spencer said.  

“Anyway, I knew you guys were coming because of your SUVs.  Where ever they were fetched from so does not get any merit awards for their mechanic work. It was very nearly shameful.  Chip, he worked at my dad’s garage during the summers when he was still in high school.  It was nice; he was one of the good guys.  Didn’t care that the boss’s weird son was there all the time working alongside his dad.  My dad makes sure anyone who spends time working for him knows their stuff.  So Chip knew just from the sound that those SUVs made as they rolled into the parking lot here that they needed help if they were to be safe for anything other than just the very basic use for very short distances.  He called Dad and Dad told him to bring them over.  However, it was just after closing and most Dad’s regular employees had already gone home.  So Dad called me in and I came out to work with him. I haven’t worked full hours recently, so I could work without worry about overtime or anything. And I can always use the money.  Don’t worry, I’ve been certified since Dad could legally get me certified. While we were working the Sheriff sat there chattering about why they were calling you guys in and I told him that I knew of something that connected all the deaths.  The sheriff got asked to leave the shop due to the language he used as he told me you guys would never want to listen to me. Oh my stars, I thought for a few moments the Sheriff was going to just shoot my dad right then and there for daring to tell him to leave, but Dad just stood there looking at him and the sheriff finally made another slur and left the building.  Dad says the shop is supposed to be one of my safe places, at least while I’m working there. Then Chip said that they were sending FBI agents who looked at things other than just fingerprints and stuff like that, so he’d get me into to talk to you as soon as he could because maybe knowing something that linked them all would mean something.”

“You say you know something that links all the deaths?”  Spencer asked.

“All eight.”  Kurt said. “I even went back and double checked last night.”

Spencer looked around for some paper and a pen, until he gave up and fetched paper and pen from his own satchel.  “I’m going to have to get some writing utensils and paper in here, this is ridiculous.” He muttered, not quietly enough though, since the boy heard and smiled.

“Nice bag.” The young man, Kurt, said. “Good designer, rather old though.  It’s held up well, that is the nice thing about good quality work, it holds up to wear well. Abuse well, too, if the material is right.”

“Take a seat.”  Spencer said, pointing to the chair he’d set out for the boy. “Five outfits? Is that normal?”

“Nah, not even for most the others who get slushied at my school.  Honestly it’s even a bit much for me.  I always pack a spare or two, outfit wise.  A change or two a day is normal, more than three is rare. High School is…there is a hierarchy, you know, and if you don’t fit in, sometimes it’s not a nice place to be.”

Spencer nodded.  “Tossed in dumpsters and checked into lockers.” He said.

“Swirlies and slushies and shoving to the extent that you face plant. Exactly.”  Kurt sat down and pulled his bag up onto the table.  As he did, Spencer noticed a wince and wondered.  “Outfit one was a loss even before school started, they served spaghetti for lunch yesterday and the dumpsters aren’t emptied until just before lunch tomorrow.  Of course, even without the dumpster toss this morning I would have had to change…slushy one was grape and huge.  Plus even before I managed to get to my locker to drop my bag off and extract a new outfit, I ended up slammed in to Locker 279.  Luckily, I had a minor setback at home before I left and traded my good under t-shirt for one of the cheap ones my dad buys me and I had removed my good coat before the dumpster toss.  Locker 279 met with some sort of trauma earlier this year and needs replacing.  Like, the school year, not calendar year. Do you know first aid?  I patched the slice across my back best I could and wrapped it in the remains of the cheap t-shirt, but it’s not feeling quite right.” Kurt scrunched his shoulders and rolled them before pulling his bag onto the table and starting to empty it. Spencer smiled again as the boy continued talking while looking through the notebooks, books, and folders he removed and pulling out papers here and there.

“Anyway, patched and redressed I almost made it to my first class except Puck’s trying to get his rep back up and was going to slushie Jacob the Creep…that is Jacob ben Israel and he is very much one of those makes the skin crawl creepy people-I try not to think about just where that boy might have hidden cameras lurking about in that school because my dad says I have to go to school and I cannot be homeschooled and if I think long about Jacob the Creep and his cameras I just start to freak out and so I just try very hard not to think about it …” The boy across from Spencer shuddered and grimaced before looking back down to the papers he was collecting from inside his pile of belongings. “Anyway, one of the Hockey Players pushed Puck and it got me.   Puck punched the hockey player so I guess he sees me as a …friend maybe… which can only be a good thing. Puck’s in Glee club with me, and I think maybe the fact we’ve helped him out a bit with some of his issues this past little bit…we as in my dad mostly and me a little…has made him a bit less eager to make my life completely miserable. I was worried about that since I hadn’t really had a conversation with him for well over a week and the last one wasn’t exactly a good conversation and was well, rather weird.  Totally thought I’d weirded him out so bad he’d never speak to me again. Outfit two down.  Outfit three made it through first and second hour, but met its demise with slushies three and four right outside of the choir room.  Glee club isn’t even going on really since we lost regionals and can’t compete in any other competitions until next school year and apparently that is what glee is about...instead of working starting now so we don’t lose next year… but we still have that hour scheduled for class so we still go and well, it’s become the most dangerous class to go to since we lost regionals, not that it was safe before.  Apparently that is what makes us all targets, except half of us were targeted just as much, if not more, before we started up in Glee club, so really it’s just a handy excuse. Outfit four made it through glee, but not two steps past leaving the door of the choir room…slushie five and Karofsky.  Only he has it down to the locker check and then slushie in face combo. I’ll have bruises from that, too.  And outfit five never even made it into fourth hour.”

“Slushies?  Like crushed ice drinks?” Spencer asked.

“Yes.  They are horrid.  The syrup stings your eyes and they are sticky and yet slimy and cold.  There is a machine for them IN the school.  It is ridiculous.”

“Thank God my high school didn’t have those.  So, are your dumpsters the kind with the huge hard plastic lids or the metal lids?”

Kurt shivered.  “Plastic, thank goodness.  I’ve only had the lid shut on me twice though, both last year when I was a freshman.”

“I preferred those over the metal lidded ones, I think.  The ones by the lunchroom at my school were plastic lidded, but smooth and hard to climb out of, but if you could get to the top they were easier to open.   You’re pretty much tall enough that you probably can push the lid up without too much problem.   I had to walk by the dumpsters at the side of the school where the offices were and they had metal lids. I was tossed in those pretty much every day, and they shut the lid every time - Not so bad on my clothing as the ones by the lunchroom, but the first day no one found me until Mickey the Janitor came out to toss some papers from the main office and finally fished me out, four and half hours after I’d been tossed in.  I was too little to manage to get the lid to open even with the grooved sides that I could use to climb out. After that first day, every day ten minutes after second hour started, Mickey would fish me out of the dumpsters so I could get to my class. I think Mickey must have explained it to the teacher, as well, because even though I was ten minutes late every day I was never marked tardy.”

Spencer looked at Kurt, who looked back at him with an odd expression.  Spencer raised an eyebrow.  

“Sorry,” Kurt said, looking down and straightening the pile of papers he’d pulled from his various books and folders.   The Kurt looked up again and met Spencer’s eyes.  “It’s just…you get it.  You’d understand it all, wouldn’t you?”

Spencer smiled. “Probably.  I started high school right before I turned ten and graduated when I was 12.”

“Some sort of super genius, then.  I should have guessed, I suppose. I bet the other kids hated you more than kids hate me.  Was it bad all the way through high school?”

Spencer nodded.  “Most of it. I was severely bullied my last year, until about mid December when I joined the basketball team and they won every single game for the rest of the season.”

“You played?”  Kurt asked. Kurt was watching Spencer as he stuffed books and folders back into his bag.  

Spencer tilted his head back and laughed. “No…just, no.  I didn’t even go through a growth spurt of any type until I was like thirteen or fourteen.  Late bloomer. I took over coaching.  Basketball is fundamentally mathematics and physics.  Angles and statistics. On your team,  if you know who can make what shots consistently and you put your players in place and you teach them how to make the math work for them…you win.  The team had lost all four games they had played, their star player had just been expelled for selling drugs, so when I brought them my plan, and the coach figured they had nothing left to lose, they put it to use.  And they started winning every time they put my plans into play.  The other thing I did was break down other teams shooting strategies, so we knew who and what to watch out for and how to foil the other teams’ plans.  Most the bad bullying stopped after that.”

“Nice.  I wish it would have worked for me.  I joined the football team. Heck, I was the reason they won the only game they won this past year.  Made no difference in the bullying, at all.  In some cases it made it worse. Technically, I even won the Cheerios, that’s our cheerleading team, their national title. They probably could have won without me though….maybe. The coach signed me on solely for my singing voice.   Nearly fifteen minutes of Celine Dion in French and that was only one of the six fifteen minute routines she made me learn perfectly.  Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t just sing.  The coach made sure I could do anything she asked the other cheerleaders to do, as well….while singing. Everything, that lady is insane.   Didn’t stop the bullying.  The bullies were more careful about when they bullied, and I dealt with a whole lot more of being shoved and pushed and that kind bullying instead of the slushies…but that was because Coach Sylvester would have killed them if they messed the uniform up too badly.”

“I’m sorry you have to deal with that,” Spencer said.

Kurt shrugged. “C’est la vie, I guess. It’s what you get by being different, by being an outcast. You always hear it gets better. Did it get better?”  Kurt asked.

Spencer cocked his head to the side and ran his fingers through his hair.  “Most of the time I think so, but I still have issues.”

Kurt looked him up and down again and nodded.

“Well, I’ve always known I can’t expect miracles and that there will always be problems.  But I rather hoped they would be less if I moved away from here.”  He said with a sigh. He looked up at Spencer. “The murdered guys... those guys weren’t, you know.  Outcasts.”  

“What do you mean?”  Spencer asked.

[justjessame]

Starting Over Chapter 39

I woke up wrapped in the security of Bucky’s arms - and wearing my nightclothes which I have to admit took a few extra beats to catch up to remembering the cause - but his lips were on mine and it didn’t matter why.  Nightclothes, late nights, even gunshot victims sleeping their pain meds off on our couch didn’t matter - not when Bucky was kissing me awake.  

“Brooke!,” the tiny voice that called my name had both mine and Bucky’s eyes snapping open and widening. “Buck kissed you up like Rora in Sleepin’ Beauty.” And then a round of toddler giggles that had both of us pulling away with what I had to think was a silent prayer of gratitude for our fucking nightclothes.  

There, with her tiny chin propped on Bucky’s side of our bed and her dark eyes staring up at us, was Bryn.  And now that we were WIDE awake, I could hear voices downstairs - and if I wasn’t completely fucking insane - I was hearing MORE than just Connie and Sharon’s.  

While I kept Bryn occupied, Bucky slid out of my side of the bed.  A three year old does NOT need to see what Bucky Barnes is packing early in the morning, trust me.  I pulled her up into the bed with me and grabbed the remote to the TV.

“What do you want to watch?”  After putting it on her favorite early morning cartoon, I settled back against the headboard and smiled when I realized that Byrn had compared Bucky to a prince.  “Bryn?”  She hummed and I slid my fingers through her loose curls.  “What’s the prince’s name in Sleeping Beauty?”

“Phillip.” It didn’t come from Bryn.  It came from the doorway and a very masculine voice.  I glanced over to where Bucky stood, fully dressed now and I grinned with a raised eyebrow.  “What? She told me while we were talking about her dolls and our tea party.”  

I nodded and he came over to join us.  “Did you do any recon?”  He snorted.  “What would you call it? Super sneaky Winter Soldier ninja snooping?”  

Shaking his head, he kissed me again.  “I did.”  He sighed.  “Sam, Chris, Carrie, Connie, and Sharon.”  I knew my eyes were wide enough to be in threat of falling out of my head, but for fuck’s sake.  “Come on, Bryn,” he held out his arms and she hopped up and jumped into them.  “Let’s go downstairs and see if we can get some breakfast ready for Brooke while she gets ready for the day.”  

I contemplated staying in bed.  Our house had been invaded - and while I’d sworn that I’d answer my phone and door, I hadn’t been given the OPTION of answering - they’d just barged right the fuck in.  Giving myself about five minutes to stew and wallow, I finally rolled out of bed and grabbed some clothes to toss on.  A stop in the bathroom to brush my hair and my teeth and then downstairs to meet the invaders.

They were in the kitchen - ALL of them.  Gathered around the table and island, watching as Bucky worked on another omelet - omelets I corrected as I came in and moved closer to him.  Sam was drinking coffee, and I almost asked where he’d gotten it since he was drinking out of one of my mugs, but then I noticed that someone had started up my parents’ coffee maker.  I hadn’t tossed it out, of course I also didn’t buy coffee for it - Connie shook her head and nodded toward the bags of groceries that she’d clearly put away before we woke up.

“Morning,” I greeted our guests, “everyone.” Started strong, but the landing left something to be desired.  “To what do we owe this -”

“Well,” Connie came over and wrapped her arm around my neck.  “I knew that you probably hadn’t had a chance to go shopping for groceries since you got back.” Whispering very quietly in my ear that she knew exactly WHY I hadn’t and she APPROVED of why.  “I thought I’d do a run while Bryn and I were out -”

“We saw how much she grabbed and -” Chris volunteered, grins growing.  Such good samaritans and great friends.   “We couldn’t let her struggle.  She had her own stuff, yours, AND Bryn.”  

Carried piped up, “we stopped by her house and dropped hers off first.  When we got here, Sam had just arrived.”  She was beaming - and why not?  She just met the new Captain America, after all.  

“Since I have a key for emergencies,” Connie finished the tale with a shrug.  

I nodded.  “You have a key for emergencies and groceries are an emergency.”  Bucky’s shoulders were shaking, and I knew he was enjoying this shit immensely.  “And letting Captain America in - I mean, I’m sure he made it sound like it was an emergency.”  

Sam was taking a drink when I said it and he snorted, spewing coffee just a bit.  “Don’t make it sound like I was being all sneaky or something, Brooke.” He sputtered.  

I raised an eyebrow and reached for one of my tea towels.  Tossing it to him, I waited while he cleaned up.  “It’s broad daylight, I highly doubt you were being sneaky, Sam.”  He nodded.  “So?” 

“So?”  Confusion glowed on his face. 

“The reason for your visit?”  

“Ah,” I shook my head as realization dawned on his face.  “Sarah -” shit the print, but he went on.  “She and I wanted to invite you and Bucky to a celebration back home.”  

They were planning on a huge party in Delacroix - and for good reason - hometown boy makes VERY good.  And now that they weren’t selling the boat, or house, I could see why they’d want to have a party. Bucky glanced at me over his shoulder, wanting my input on whether we should go or not, but in this instance the ball was in his court.  

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, plating our breakfast - for all eight of us - and lining them up on the island for us to carry into the dining room.  “We’ll drive down.”

“Drive?”  Sam was curious, carrying his plate and refilled cup of coffee into the dining room.  “Renting a car instead of flying?”  

We settled around the table and I shook my head when Bucky moved to sit at one of the sides.  “Head, Bucky.”  His eyes went wide, but I stood firm.  OUR house, and he was the man of it.  Everyone waited to tuck in until he sat, and then I took my seat.  “Yes, drive, Sam.”  I smiled across the table at Bucky, who was staring at me like he was amazed by me again.  “We like to take our time - Bucky and me.”  That got a few chuckles, but then everyone took a bite of their food and suddenly no one was laughing - because once again they were surprised by Bucky Barnes.  

Our guests didn’t stay too long.  Bryn understood that it wasn’t the day for our tea party, since she hadn’t brought along any princesses for it.  I watched as Bucky got down on his knee to have a long conversation with her - privately, they told the rest of us, and I smiled when she hugged him tight at the end of it.  

“I think Bucky has a fan,” Sam was beside me, watching Bryn with Bucky.  “Seeing him like this -”

I felt my smile growing. I loved hearing anyone’s tone change to reflect them seeing him in a new light.  “You think this is the Bucky that Steve knew, don’t you?”  He hummed an affirmative.  “It is,” I bit my lip as Buck turned, his gaze meeting mine.  “He’s always been there, Sam.  Just took him a little longer to surface than he expected.”  Bucky came closer to include me in Bryn’s goodbye hug, and got me to promise her that sleepover too, despite my misgivings.  A kiss to her soft cheek and she was handed off to Connie.  

“We’ll let you two get back to -” I rolled my eyes as Connie waggled her eyes in her attempt at being suggestive.  “Bye, Brookie.” She was grinning when she gave Bucky his own parting, then Chris and Carrie gave us a less gregarious, but no less friendly goodbye, leaving just Sharon and Sam behind.  

“And then there were two,” I murmured, getting a chuckle from Bucky, coupled with a soft sigh.  

“I heard that,” Sam offered, carrying a stack of dirty dishes to the kitchen and shooting Sharon a dirty look when she hissed while she tried to grab some to help.  “Sit your wounded ass down.”  

She glared at him, but with a hand on her side, complied.  “Hey,” I got her attention and tilted my head toward the hall bathroom.  “Want me to have a peek at your bandage?”  

“Do you have -” she bit her lip, and I nearly laughed at her conundrum.  Does she insult me by asking if I have first aid experience after I gave her clothing and a roof over her head or does she humor me?  

“I took some classes,” I assured her.  “My parents liked to make sure all the bases were covered.”  Helping her carefully to her feet, I got her to the bathroom where one of the many family first aid kits lived.  Opening it up and setting it on the countertop, I saw her eyes widen.  “I told you - my parents liked to keep the bases covered.”  Our first aid kits weren’t something you bought at a local pharmacy or online.  “Mom was an RN,” I gestured for her to take her place on the toilet seat again.  “She made sure to keep me up to date on my safety classes.”  Every CPR class, first aid requirement, and anything else she imagined a layperson might need - she signed me up for.  I helped Sharon with the loose shirt Bucky had grabbed out of my drawer, and smiled at the wrapping the ER had put on her wound.  “Good news,” I bent down and took a closer look.  “You haven’t started bleeding through the packing and wraps, so I don’t have to rewrap you.” She sighed and I chuckled.  “Damn it,” I glanced up to see her looking down at me wearily.  “I kind of hoped to use you for practice.”  

She shook her head and a tiny smile threatened to creep onto her lips.  “It hurts like hell though.”  She started to pull the shirt back into place.  “Gonna make getting back on the road a trial,” I was just opening my mouth to tell her she didn’t have to rush when she stopped me.  “Thank you, Brooke, for your and Bucky’s generosity and hospitality, but trust me, I should go - and soon.”  

I nodded, standing up to help her to her feet.  She was taller than me, just like every other person in my life.  “Take my number,” I watched as she pulled a phone from her pocket and I rattled off the number while she tapped it into the contacts.  “If you need me or us -”

“Thank you,” she smiled, a small one, but I thought it might be genuine.  “Steve would have liked you.”  

“So I’ve heard,” I shook my head and put the first aid kit away.  “Do you need another change of clothes?”  Sharon wouldn’t hear of taking more from me, and insisted that she had a car coming to take her away.  “If you’re sure -”

“I am.” We left the bathroom to the sounds of Bucky and Sam in the kitchen, soft music not hiding the sounds of them bickering over how to fill the dishwasher.  “You’re going to have your hands full.”  

“Yeah, I do,” I agreed, shaking my head as I listened to the two of them, their back and forth, and thinking that they sounded more and more like brothers.  “I think they’re getting more -”

“Partners,” Sharon nodded.  “They’re a team now.”  

“Scary.” I heard a soft knock on the door and Bucky’s head appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room.  “I think -”

“It’s for me,” Sharon offered, hand back on her wound.  “Time for me to go.”  

“You sure?”  It was Sam who asked, coming up on Bucky’s left, arms crossed over his chest.  “You could stay, I could always -”

“I think you’re making enough waves, Cap.”  I bit my lip at Sharon using the nickname so soon.  “I can wait for my pardon.”  She was moving toward the living room, with me behind her in case she stumbled.  “I’ll just grab my small pile of stuff and be out of your way.”  She grabbed her clothes - the ones she’d changed out of and turned to find me waiting at a close distance.  “Hovering?  That’s a very Steve Rogers trait, Brooke.”  I rolled my eyes.  “I’ll be fine,” she assured me, moving her hand from the bandaged side and sighing.  “Keep those two out of trouble.”

“Yeah, right.”  I muttered, opening my arms, thinking what the hell - a hug was warranted.  She allowed it, awkward though it was.  “Stay safe, Sharon.”  

“I’ll try.” She murmured. “You too, ok?”  

I nodded and then she pulled away.  I busied myself with the living room while she said her goodbyes to Sam and Bucky, thinking that less was more in the case of Sharon Carter leaving our house.  I had just folded up the blanket and put it with the pillow when I heard the front door open and close.  

“And then there was one,” Bucky murmured, wrapping his arms around me.  “What do you think the chances are that Sam goes home to prepare for the celebration and lets us follow behind?”

“Slim and none,” Sam offered, leaning against the archway between the living room and the entryway.  “Sarah doesn’t need me to plan a party, and I have a couple loose ends to tie up here in NYC, so -”

“Don’t put away the blanket and pillow, Brooke,” Bucky kissed my cheek.  “The couch has a new guest.”

[raidbossmadi]

People Like Us: Chapter 13

Chapter 13: Blood in the Sand Previous Chapter: Here 

This chapter includes an appearance by JK who belongs to Jak

“Did you hear?”

“They would’ve taken the whole settlement out if one of the Carnivore Cities hadn’t shown up…”

The Cathedral halls were abuzz with gossip as Sloane stepped out of the private elevator on the way to a hastily called meeting. Before she could take another step one of her retinue of Handmaidens held a hand out to stop her advance. Another flagged down the nearest priest and signed to them where they needed to go. Sloane could appreciate that the Handmaidens vow of silence came in handy in situations like this where she otherwise would have to yell over the crowd.

The priest on the other hand was fully prepared to do so. Sloane watched as they inhaled a deep breath.

“Children of the vault, your Blessed Sister wishes to travel these halls. Please make way.” The words echoed over the commotion of the crowd high into the vaulted ceilings of the Cathedral. A moment passed before the crowd split, people moved to either side of the hall like a switch had been flipped.

“Thank you, Priest. You may continue your duties.” Sloane said as her handmaidens motioned her to continue their journey through the halls.

The buzz of gossip continued, albeit much quieter now that one of their gods walked among them. Sloane caught groups sneaking glances at her though quickly looking away before she could meet their glance, a few gave the CoV salute to her but most just lowered their voices and lowered their gaze.

The large doors to antechamber of the meeting hall swung open as she approached. She looked about the chamber and noted that a few handmaids were sat on one of the benches against the wall. The designs on the masks designated them sister superiors. She surmised that this meant that she was running late, the other department heads already arrived and inside.

Her handmaidens opened the door for her and she nodded in thanks as she stepped inside the meeting hall.

The other department heads were in fact already there. Jaxon, Juniper, and Lydia stood by a water cooler chatting while Hephaestus and Mouthpiece did the same across the room. Tyreen and Troy sat at the table frowning at a laptop in front of them.

“Sloane. Come.” Tyreen said not even looking up from the laptop.

On her way past Juniper and the girls Sloane made note of their body language and they seemed relaxed so she assumed there was nothing to worry about. Nevertheless the hair on the back of neck was raised, perhaps her siren senses picking up on something she could not.

She pulled up a seat to the right of Tyreen, the other department heads filed into their seats after her.

“Has everyone seen the video?”

Everyone nodded. The video in question being the Raiders attack on a CoV base. The CoV had been losing badly before the carnivore city Tartarus pulled up at the opportune moment and turned the tide of the battle. Sloane had not understood until she’d seen the video why they were called carnivore cities until the giant steel mechanism slid out of the undercarriage and ‘swallowed’ the Raiders vehicles whole.

“So you all understand what this means then right?” Tyreen asked.

The group of department heads all collectively shook heads no, this was an unprecedented event.

“It means,” Troy cut in “We’ll have to start fortifying our bases around the continent. This time we were lucky that Tartarus was nearby, otherwise that entire settlement would be gone. We have to protect what we have here, starting over somewhere else isn’t an option.”

Sloane shifted in her seat slightly, she had never been to a conflict assessment meeting before and was woefully under prepared for this side of the Twins public personas to come out.

“What would you have us do then, your Majestys?” Lydia chimed in, with talk of fortification on the table it was apparent that engineering would have to get involved.

“Halt production on the armoured T-7’s, we have enough vehicles in our armada at the moment. I want all engineers working on mobile turret units for deployment at every settlement we have here on Pandora.” Troy barked as he leaned forward, his over large prosthetic hand catching the edge of the table which strained under the push of his hydraulic powered grasp.

“Shall we send orders to Scrapburg as well?”

“Yes, I want a missive drafted and sent to Deimos by this afternoon.”

Lydia and Hephaestus nodded and pulled out their E-devs.

As Tyreen spoke Sloane felt Troy’s hand slip into her chair and wrap around the markings at her wrist. They had gotten good at discreetly siphoning energy in cases like this though the sting of the initial pull still caught her by surprise every time. He gave her a gentle pat when he was done, straightening back up like nothing had even happened.

“Juniper, I want the marketing and media teams working on getting anti-raider propaganda out ASAP. Remind them why they feel safe under our watch. The God-Queen would never let such tragedies befall her people.” Tyreen ordered as soon as Troy was done with his demands.

Juniper nodded. “As you wish.”

The rest of the meeting was dedicated to assigning priests to head out to the settlement to reassure the populace that they would be safe. The might of the twin gods would protect their flock forever more.

“Sloane, Troy, we have to go meet with the clan leaders to do damage control. I have one more thing to take care of on my way to the garage but I expect both of you to be loaded in my technical by the time I’m done.”

{ I will see to it Sloane gets there on time, my Queen} Agatha, Matron of the Handmaiden’s and Tyreen’s personal guard signed to the God-Queen.

“If you’re gonna escort Sloane who's coming with me?” Tyreen asked a clear look of surprise on her face that she tried her best to hide, it was easily apparent this was something she hadn’t planned for.

{Pallas will. You trust her to escort the blessed sister. She will serve you well.}

Pallas inclined her head at the mention, the blue and white mask obscured ever so slightly by her hood. {It would be an honor God-Queen}

“Yeah alright. Not sure what’s going on that I’m not privy to around here, but I trust your judgement Agatha if you think Sloane needs your protection for this I’ll take your word for it.”

Tyreen shrugged as she looked to her twin who rose to his feet and joined her as they exited the meeting room without so much as a glance back at their subordinates.

“We should be going too, Right?” Sloane questioned as she looked to the Matron Mother.

Agatha shook her head. “We will make it in good time, Blessed One. First though there is business here.”

Sloane blinked never having heard the Handmaid matron speak before, they only spoke in their cloister and Agatha was rarely ever there.

Juniper turned to look at Lydia who was stood with her ear on the door listening to the footsteps in the hall it would seem. Lydia nodded as she stepped away from the door and was the first to speak.

“I just want to start with I know how this looks, and you’re not in trouble nor are we planning treason.”

That got a chuckle out of Sloane who hadn’t even considered that every important woman in the CoV gathering together around her like this could have been cause for alarm. She was after all a Siren and no matter how innocent she seemed she could turn to murder at the drop of a hat were it her life on the line.

“We know what’s going on with you and Troy. That the two of you are moving on to something a little more official than before.” Juniper cut to the chase.

“Troy rambles a lot when he’s hanging around the Engineering bay of the Cathedral. I mean we wouldn’t tell anyone of course but it turns out Juniper already knew, and Agatha was filled in this morning.”

“It’s my job to know hun, and if I know it means she doesn’t which is better for all of us of course. “

Lydia gave a nervous laugh and Sloane looked between Juniper and Lydia as the pieces fell into place. She blushed, they knew granted it hadn’t been a slip on her part and she knew that Troy was not one to keep his mouth shut. The insinuation that she was in danger though, that pulled her out of the embarrassment and caught in her chest like someone had slipped a shard of ice between her ribs.

“Ok so you know Troy and I are seeing each other now is that a problem or something?” Sloane raised an eyebrow they had said she wasn’t in trouble but it sure seemed that they were here to look at her blossoming relationship under a microscope.

“Not on our part. Lydia, do you want to tell her? You were the closest to the victim after all.”

Lydia nodded. “I wasn’t always the second department head, Hephaestus was hired with his assistant, a man named Phillipe. When I joined the Children Phillipe became my mentor I learned most of what I know now from him. More importantly though, Phillipe and Troy were seeing each other. They were starting to get real serious too when Tyreen found out. She lost her mind about it, came storming into the Garage and grabbed him by the throat before having Agatha’s girls take him away in manacles.”

Agatha shifted nervously at the mention of what her girls were complicit in. Even though no one here thought lesser of them they had all had to do things against their better judgement in the name of the Twins.

“She executed him live during the morning sermon the next day. Said he’d stepped out of line. I became the new department head after that.”

“And Troy’s never had a serious relationship since…Then you came along.” Juniper interjected. She ran a hand through her curls and sighed. “We don’t want the same thing happening to you, which to be fair we don’t know how Tyreen would take the news. You’re not like Phillipe, you're one of them.”

“We‘re not even like ‘official’ yet. We’re just going on a few dates y’know. Are you sure this is something I should be worried about?” Sloane protested she felt a bit like a trapped animal she was still working through her feelings for Troy. While they were romantic in nature and she was willing to go on dates she had barely socialized with people. She barely knew what she was doing at all.

“I don’t think Tyreen cares much how official you are. If she feels threatened she’ll put the dots together in an order she likes and then you might as well be together anyway.”

“I appreciate you telling me this but isn’t it a bit late? I mean what do I do now I can’t just be like oh sorry Troy I’ve changed my mind the girls told me Tyreen might eat me?” Sloane asked a flash of fear ran through her mind like a cold river, she didn’t want Tyreen to be the enemy because as much as she had come to care for Troy the same could he said for the female twin as well.

“No not at all. We just want you to be safe.”

Sloane sat back for a moment to process this information she’d never had anyone but herself looking out for her back home. It was so strange to have them all care about her safety.

“We should get going, Iris will be waiting for you and Agatha, so can make it to Tyreen’s technical in time . You’re welcome to talk to any of us about anything Sloane.We might be loyal to the twins but we’re also loyal to each other.”

A soft murmur of agreement rose from the gathered women and Agatha motioned for Sloane to follow, they slipped back into their roles for the outside world once more.

She had a lot to think about, even so she couldn’t find herself afraid of Tyreen. Maybe the others had got it wrong, perhaps there was more to this story than any of them knew. Tyreen had only ever been friendly and accommodating but then again Troy had his hackles raised about Tyreen finding out too.

The twins were hardly ordinary people, then again she wasn’t particularly ordinary either. Though she was far less cagey about who she was before they came into her life and the trials she had faced since powers manifested. Even with the months of living under their roof and sleeping in their beds she was no closer to truly knowing where they came from save for the vague statements they made of not being from any of places they had taken her and they most definitely were not of Pandora.

She also knew that for a long time they were all they had and that perhaps it was this reliance on each other that led Tyreen to act in fear whenever it seemed her twin would need her no longer. Perhaps a fear that Troy would befriend people who did not like her and would try to take him away from her, effectively signing his death certificate without even knowing. There was only one way to get the answers to all this. Sloane would have to ask Tyreen directly, but now was neither the time or place so she set the idea aside for later.

—-

So lost in her thoughts was she that Sloane had scarcely realized that they’d been through wardrobe and that she’d changed into her ceremonial outfit which was a dress draped in silk flowers of all types and a floral crown that she was always worried would topple from her head despite the amount of hair pins she could feel against her scalp.

It was only when Agatha cleared her throat as she took a knee for Sloane to be boosted into the Technical that Sloane shook the mental fog and realized where they were.

“Oh of course. Thank you Agatha.” She muttered as she was boosted into the car. Troy and Tyreen sat with an empty space in the middle that was saved for her. Neither twin looked up from their echo devices as she sat herself down.

“Took you long enough.” Tyreen broke the silence though her gaze stayed fixed on the handheld computer.

“I was having trouble getting into the dress. But it’s fine now. You know how quickly Iris works.”

“Too small in the bust was it?”

Sloane caught off guard by the blasé tone of her voice and the small seemingly knowing smirk on her lips.

“We had that dress made before we had your exact measurements. I had Iris use mine and you can’t deny that you’re the more gifted one in that area.” Tyreen snorted the edges of her lips curling into a grin as the snort morphed into a cackle.

Sloane blushed and looked to Troy to come to her rescue but he too was giggling at his twins remark. She found that their laughter was infectious and she too laughed at the situation.

“Hoo man! That was too good.” Tyreen sighed as she settled down. Her hand came up and brushed her bangs out of her face.

This was the side of Twins people usually didn’t see, the side Sloane knew and relished the company of even when it came at the expense of her dignity.

—-

“It’s been a minute since we’ve been to the Ranch.” Troy remarked as he looked out the technical window. “Let’s hope the order has been taking good care of it.”

He was talking of course of the Ordo Agricola, a group of priests who had been absorbed into the Verdant Grove, her priests. Yet the twins had neglected to tell her what the Agricola protected only, that they were caretakers of the aforementioned ‘Ranch’ property. As such Sloane’s only contact with them in regards to running them so far was to insure they got their monthly shipments of supplies.

“Place was our first base on Pandora. We outgrew it eventually but Ty and I use it as a retreat still. We’re meeting the clan leaders here cos they don’t much like having to come all the way to the Cathedral and sometimes the easiest thing to do is the path of least resistance.” Troy cracked the door of the technical open startling the priest who was about to do the same thing.

The farmhouse and surrounding property was protected from the rolling dust storms by tall fortifications common in Pandoran architecture though they were notably newer than most of the ranch's buildings which were typical fair for a farm. Sloane recognized most of them from her childhood home farm on Eden-4. Those memories stung just a little bit, but they had been so long ago now, she had been a different person entirely.

Sloane was just about to ask where they were going when an excited yell went up on the other side of the vehicle.

“Jak-Knife my bro! Good to see you again.” Troy clapped the back of a masked bandit, dressed in gear splashed with bright neon colors. The two were clearly very happy to see each other.

Clearly not as subtle as she thought she had been Sloane found her gaze locked with Troy’s and he waved her over.

“Sloane c’mere I want you to meet my friend.”

Sloane approached, she hadn’t had much experience with bandits save for the few shopkeepers she spoke to on her errands in Temple Town. Troy’s general disposition around this one though eased her mind.

“Sloane, this is my good friend JK. They help us with the affairs of the locals that we might not be privy to and run security around the settlements. They don’t spend much time at the Cathedral which is why you've not crossed paths yet.” Troy explained.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you JK. That Troy speaks so highly of you I know you must have earned his respect.”

JK nodded, she could not see their eyes behind the mismatched lens of their mask but she felt as if they were seeing her as something other than herself.

A moment passed of the two of them just looking at each other before they turned to Troy and spoke in a whisper.

“Her verse in the song is not like yours. It is not like your sisters. Where did you find her?”

Troy blanched slightly clearly not expecting the question. He leaned down to better obscure the both of them “I’ll tell you later, yeah. After the meeting.”

He cleared his throat as he straightened back up.

“Anyway, JK here will be making sure you’re understanding everything that’s happening with the Clan leaders.”

“Oh my god, like hurry up you three we’re going to make fools of ourselves if we’re late!” Tyreen called from further up the road, impatiently waving a hand above her head.

The walk from the cars to the ranch house was a grueling test all on its own. The heat of the Pandoran day swept over all who dared walk the desert. The twins had informed Sloane that there would be no use of a parasol for this walk as there often was when they had to cross large swathes of desert. The clan leaders would see as much as a sign of weakness and they had promised that once they were inside she could have as much water as she wanted.

She cleared her mind and focused on the cacti scattered around the place. They could manage in such temperatures for their entire lives as could the bandits she was about to meet so what was her excuse? The heat melted away to a minor annoyance as they continued the trek.

Outside the ranch house several banners were freshly stuck in the dirt. The arriving clan members had stuck theirs into the soil before they entered the house to mark attendance. Tyreen counted them one by one seemingly making a mental note before she nodded to herself and opened the farmhouse door. The rush of the air conditioning inside the house quickly broke the cactus trance Sloane found herself under as she realized in that moment just how hot she truly was. She lifted the canteen that had been attached to her belt buckle to her lips and drained its contents before she sighed in relief, even though she knew that tapping into her powers like that meant she was at no risk of heat stroke when the trance broke it always made her feel so tired. Perhaps because it was an ability she had not used much until her time on Pandora and even so she did it sparingly, as it took an immense amount of focus to pull off.

Troy grabbed her hand abruptly, he pulled her in between himself and Tyreen. The door they approached had posted guards who looked them over before opening the door. Inside the room was simply the home's den, where one would expect couches to be instead sat a large wooden table ringed which was currently surrounded save for the head which was right where they were headed.

The people gathered around the table looked like they could snap all three Sirens in half and walk away none the wiser. They probably could and that was enough for Sloane to keep her eyes focused on the destination instead of letting them linger too long on any one of the clan leaders. Their tattoos and scars tell the story of lives carved from the roughness that Pandora gave its people, they were survivors.

“Good afternoon Venerable leaders of the Clans. My brother and I come before you today in the wake of an attack on our way of life. We-“

“That’s one way to put it God-Queen. I thought your MO was to avoid the Raiders detection at all. What was that settlement doing to attract attention like that?” One of the clan leaders, a well built and tall woman asked leaning over the table.

Tyreen’s eyes steel the way they always do when someone challenges her authority. “Moving ammunition. The same thing all of you do day in and day out. We have been particularly careful especially given the attacked settlement was so close to raider territory.”

“It won’t happen again. We’ve told Tartarus to stay in the area and we know the Raiders are afraid of the predator cities. Likewise we’re rolling out new defense turrets, your settlements will see them installed soon.” Troy cut in a scowl on his face as tapped his metal fingers against the tabletop.

“You weren’t here for the Lance. You don’t know what they did. Sure you read about it in your fancy books before you set foot on Pandora but you were here. The Raiders were made of people who defected but they still know the tactics they have no problem using our culture against us and you expect one lousy eating city to protect the greater population. You might want to get your eyes checked Troy you might be going blind.”

Chaos fell upon the meeting as leaders began talking over each other arguing about what the best course of action was.Then metal fist met the wooden table and the resulting crunch brought order back to the meeting.

“Enough! The next one of you to insult our intelligence gets their balls torn off and tossed out the window. So shut up or get up because I won’t repeat myself.” Golden fangs were bared, muscles tensed and ready to strike at the first sign of resistance.

“We meant no offense, God-king. To you or the Mother. Surely you can see why we would be up in arms after this. Your track record for keeping settlements safe has been fine up until this attack..”

A murmur of agreement rose from the crowd and the meeting began to disperse, however as one of the clan leaders walked around the back of the twins to go their guards snatched Sloane by the back of the neck like one holds a misbehaving Skag puppy.

“You really doing this Diamondfist?” Tyreen hissed which earned her a hard stare from the rugged man who had earned the name Diamondfist from the studded brass knuckles that were now on full display. “Kay, your choice.” There was a flash as Tyreen lifted her left hand and Sloane felt the grasp on her harden.

She looked down and saw the fingers around her neck had crystallized into Eridium and a sharp kick backwards sent the entire statue toppling over. She landed on the ground with a thud and pried the remaining fingers of her neck. She shivered as she flung the purple stone digits away from her, so perfectly preserved that even the fingernails were still present.

“It’s rude you know to not introduce someone who's gonna sit there and listen to us spill our secrets. Didn’t even hear a peep outta her.” Diamondfist growled as he observed the remains of his guards.

“My name is Sloane Idunna.Servant of the Twin Gods, who are you to lay such hands on me.” Sloane puffed up slightly in a bid to make herself look more intimidating despite the fact she was quivering in her boots.

“Bray Diamondfist, leader of the Diamondfist clan. You know nothing of our way of life and your God-twin handlers have sheltered you from it don’t think we don’t know that you stay cloistered away behind their walls. When the God-twins came to Pandora they started in the dirt like us all. They earned the respect of the leaders you see gathered here, just because they vouch for you and see some use in you doesn’t mean we all do. Even now they had to bail you out of this.”

“I’m… Sorry?” She tilted her head not understanding what the big fuss was.

“You should be. Words however, are hollow. You will meet me in the field outside the house and we will settle this the bandit way.” Bray stormed out of the house doors nearly flung off their hinges in his wake.

Sloane looked at the twins in confusion but it was Jak-knife who stepped up. “You will have to fight him. He will not hold back, one of you will have to die.”

“This is asinine let me handle it.”

“No Tyreen,” Troy placed his human hand on his sister's shoulder. “It has to be her. The others won’t accept her if she stands down. We knew this might happen, we had to do the same to earn their respect.”

Tyreen grumbled to herself but she knew her twin was right all they could do was have faith in Sloane.

The four of them walked out into the desert strip just outside the front door, where Bray was waiting. It felt like a scene from an old western, Sloane thought, all they needed was for a tumbleweed to slide in.

With little ceremony the man charged forward and with a flick of her wrist, a motion so well practiced she did it without thought seeds scattered from her pocket onto the sandy ground.

Vine erupted at her feet a moment later and latched onto the charging man. Her right hand lashed out and the vines responded in kind throwing Bray across the field. He kept coming though as she watched him pick himself off the ground and growl with renewed fury.

He was closing the gap faster this time and her blood was roaring in her ears. In all the fights she’d picked on Eden-4 she’d had the high ground, she had calculated her attack before she made, there was no time for that here. She was a bit too slow to dodge taking a hit to mid section that knocked her off her feet given the size disparity between them she tumbled head over heels in the sand. Troy growled from the side lines Tyreen trying her best to hold her larger twin back.

Sloane took stock of herself quickly and this time she threw herself, vines wrapping around her waist and tossing her skyward. Siren instinct took over as she got her bearings in the air and in a flash of green light her wings moth-like in appearance sprouted from her back and she turned in the air.

“This was cute, but I'm done messing around.” She hissed between gritted teeth. Below her the vines doubled and twisted around Diamondfist’s limbs. She was aware of a prodding in the back of her mind, more like an itch than anything else, A new source of plant life calling out to her and it was inside the clan leader. There was a wet tearing sound, a strangled yell, and a splash of blood as the leader of the Diamondfist clan was torn apart from the side by a thorny flowering vine unlike the ones that gripped at what remained of his limbs. The spores had just been there inside his lungs, exposure of some sort she supposed but this was interesting because she could feel them now in the people all around her. They had all been exposed, but to what.

As the adrenaline rush died down she fluttered to the ground and clutched at her side which she was aware now ached something fierce as she drew breath, broken ribs if she had to guess.

“Christ.” Troy breathed as he rushed to her “Good thing I was filming, plenty of content for the next let's flay.”

She snorted only to regret the action as it caused the pain in her side to flare up once more. Without words he scooped her up with his prosthetic.

“Get her back inside, We can get Allison air dropped to us faster than we can get back to the Cathedral.” Tyreen remarked. She bit her tongue lest she fall into a barrage of hounding the other siren for being so reckless and how that had made her feel.

It was a feeling Tyreen only experienced when Troy was injured, only there was something more behind it, she had found the nature sirens display of power beautiful and she wanted to shower her with praise between berating her for the carelessness. Now was not the time though there were more pressing matters to attend to.

As she watched Troy carry Sloane back into the house and she reached for her echo phone to call Allison, only one thought roiled inside her head. Sloane was the most beautiful creature she had ever seen and she wanted to make Sloane hers.

[hopevalley]

The Real Problem with the Love Triangle

Here we are, in Season 8, and I feel like I’ve finally settled on what it is I hate about the love triangle.

I mean, there are a lot of things wrong with it. It divides the fans, it splits the attention of the scenes between two “potential” romances instead of one certain one, and, perhaps one of its biggest offenses: it’s in the spotlight due to the fact that the plotline was given to the main character.

I could talk about all of these, and I could do it all day, but let’s just look at them quickly (because I do feel there’s a bigger issue than any of these at play, here).

It divides the fans. Yikes? They clearly expected some kind of...I don’t know, Twilight-era Team Jacob/Team Edward split, but Twilight’s endgame was always painfully clear. It’s not that fans weren’t disappointed by the reality when it hit, but...I don’t think many people were...genuinely surprised by it, either. Splitting the fans of an already itty-bitty teeny-tiny fandom was maybe not the best idea, but I guess I can see why they took the risk. After so many characters left the show in S5 (Frank, Dottie, Phillip, Shane, Jack) they probably felt they had to do something drastic to keep the fans invested in the show.

It splits the screentime between two potential romances instead of one certain one. This is less yikes in some ways and moreso in others. The biggest issue with this is mostly that When Calls the Heart has limited screentime to begin with, so splitting screentime and therefore also believable development of any romance makes everything take twice as long to happen, which can either bog down the show (if they take the time to do things correctly) or everything will feel rushed (if they skip proper character development).

It’s in the spotlight. Obviously they had to do this to get attention from the fans, but I can’t help but think that a genuine love triangle for a side character/background character might have been a more appealing option story-wise. Having the focus of the triangle be on Elizabeth means that most of the fans are very invested in their choice...which is GREAT up until the point where it’s suddenly not anymore. Writing yourself into a position where approximately half of the fanbase will be disappointed, perhaps even to the loss of their viewership when things don’t go their way (this is always a risk) is...maybe not the best idea. I can’t imagine anyone would quit over a minor love triangle storyline (for example, Bill/Molly/AJ or Fiona/Kevin/Hickam). Sure, you won’t have the level of engagement in the fans that Lucas/Elizabeth/Nathan brings to the table, but I think it could be fun while also not really risking anything. Not many people would stop watching if Fiona picked Hickam over Kevin, you know?

There are other problems with the love triangle and the concept/use of it, but I think the writers at least tried to make it feel balanced. Did they succeed? Well, that’s personal opinion, so I won’t get into that, but you can tell the effort was there from the start.

So we have a love triangle. Lucas and Nathan are both vying for Elizabeth’s affection, and the crux of Season 8 is: she needs to choose one of them.

Which brings me to my thesis statement.

The problem with the love triangle is that the choice is limited to two options.

She chooses Nathan.

She chooses Lucas.

I think logically as a fan and as a writer who occasionally does enjoy trashy tropes, it’s really no surprise that one of these choices is going to be endgame. What’s annoying—what hurts the love triangle the most—is that they are also the only options presented to the audience. They are the only options Elizabeth and those around her are openly considering.

In reality, there are at least three options.

She chooses Nathan.

She chooses Lucas.

She chooses nobody/to remain single.

We all know When Calls the Heart is a romantic “period drama” so naturally the writers leaned into writing the romance. And again, we know that one of these men is endgame.

But when you’re writing something like this, a plotline that is most assuredly risking future viewership to some degree, you can’t really forget that Staying Single is equally as good an option as Lucas or Nathan.

It’s made worse with things like time skips. Elizabeth has had plenty of time to make a choice if she wanted to make one. She’s obviously not that attached to either man if she’s just going to leave them hanging like that. I think it could be argued that she’s avoided letting herself get too emotionally intimate with either of them on purpose—because she’s scared to try again after what happened to Jack, she’s afraid of having to feel like that again—but that lends credence to my thesis: if she’s not that emotionally attached, and she’s not ready to actually move forward romantically, then...Staying Single is looking like a great option.

But...not one character in the show has told her that. No one encourages it. Not Rosemary (which I sort of expect), not Bill or Henry or Florence (who all seem likely candidates), not anyone. It’s not like Elizabeth’s still heavily mourning Jack (if so, I could see her friends eagerly encouraging her past that). She seems perfectly content by herself and is seemingly doing a good job of raising her son. She doesn’t need a man. She doesn’t act like she wants one.

So why does she have to choose between TWO of them?

What could fix it? Not much at this point. Elizabeth said ages ago that she was ready to move on, or at least try, and that was followed up by all of her friends (Rosemary and Clara specifically) being extremely pushy about how she needed to find romance again. Not once were all of her fears/anxieties seriously discussed and validated.

The best they can do now is have someone close to Elizabeth point out that if she’s not ready to move on, or simply doesn’t want to get involved in a romance again, she doesn’t have to pick anyone (but should be honest with both Lucas and Nathan that she’s not looking for that kind of commitment in her life). It’s also possible that Elizabeth herself could come to this conclusion and speak it aloud to a friend like Rosemary. Just because both men are interested doesn’t mean she has to pick either of them.

I know the fans have been really frustrated at the triangle, specifically how drawn-out it’s been, but I think the reason for that is that Elizabeth’s character has been written in this...really confusing sort of way where...she’s understandably not ready to move on right after her husband has passed away, but even though she’s still in mourning the “potential suitors” get shoved down her throat (and ours) for two full seasons. We (and she, by extension) never get the idea that she could just choose to stay single. The next “logical” step is to choose a man. And that would be fine if she were like Mary Dunbar from the first season, but...she’s the main character. We should see her considering all of her choices.

And like, not to be a fun-killer, but...everything from the past few seasons makes me think she’d just be happier single. That’s the issue, too, with not giving Elizabeth “staying single” as a valid choice: we’re all kind of at a point where we all see how poor her relationship to both suitors is and we’re like, “Hey...maybe neither of them are good options for her at this point in her life.”

Certainly the ensemble-style show lately has contributed to less screentime for Elizabeth and therefore also Lucas/Elizabeth and Nathan/Elizabeth stuff, but I think this could all be fixed if...her choice wasn’t between the two of them, but between choosing to date again vs. choosing not to. She has a career. She has a child. She has a lot of friends. She doesn’t NEED a man, so I want “choosing a man” to feel like...she actually WANTS to date. She WANTS to be romanced. She WANTS physical affection/sex/to be loved and cared for in a romantic fashion.

If I felt that Elizabeth was wholly into the idea of romance and dating and finding someone to live out the rest of her life with, then I might feel good about the love triangle, and about her trying to decide which of two decent men she’d like to allow to court her first.

But because she doesn’t seem eager to court or date, we feel like she never made the decision to move on, and as a result of all of this and the writers trying to keep the love triangle balanced (which unintentionally makes her seem equally DISINTERESTED IN BOTH MEN), her relationships with both Lucas and Nathan feel flat and uninspiring. 

TL;DR? The love triangle should have been presented from the start as Nathan vs. Lucas vs. Staying Single, and then we wouldn’t be in a situation where she’s known these men for two+ years and has been ready to move on for more than one of those years, and still doesn’t feel like she knows either man well enough to choose which of them she might like to court.

If we would have started with three choices, she could have spent all of Season 6 working on eliminating one of the options (staying single, in this case) while also being open to CLOSE friendship with both Lucas and Nathan*. Then, in Season 7, she could find that while it’s flattering to have the attention of two good men, it’s emotionally draining and anxiety-inducing to feel she has to choose between them as she likes them both a great deal and doesn’t want to hurt either of them.

*I think they were sort of trying for this, but it fell flat. It would have been ideal to have Lucas and Nathan confide in Elizabeth about deeply personal/emotional things that never leave those scenes. Fears, concerns, they could have some inside jokes... In order for a love triangle that lasts a long time to work, she has to feel very close to both men...and right now she doesn’t feel close to either of them.

As an aside, the love triangle would definitely feel softer around the edges if it wasn’t pushed from Day 1 as a Thing They Were Doing. Elizabeth forming close friendships with two men without TPTB ever saying anything about romance (let alone a love triangle) would have given the characters time to feel like they’re friends first. What we got was romance shoved down our throat (à la “Elizabeth’s still in mourning because her husband seriously just died BUT ALSO LOOK AT THESE TWO NEW MEN... WHICH WILL SHE CHOOSE WHEN SHE’S READY TO MOVE ON?!”) which put too much pressure on the triangle and the characters/interactions from the get-go. It felt like they jumped from brand-new acquaintances to love interests in the span of five minutes...which is, you know...bad.

[starsescape]

Audrey isn’t here.. Jill remember the girl she had promised to find. Audrey was the missing member of the uptown teens who had saved Jill from an alleyway after she had been overwhelmed by the infected. The two teens, Megan and Ellie, were waiting in their apartment with Rachel who Jill had call to come and look after them while she would search for Audrey. Maybe she didn’t make it this far after all. Now on top of her search for Audrey Jill made the decision to retrieve Abraham’s inventory from the Apple Inn Hotel. She was getting sidetracked even more, but the chance of getting her hands on useful merchandise was too good to pass up. I could buy something off him before I leave from here to get the rest.

[New side mission has been added to Jill’s diary.]

[Abraham’s suitcase contains drugs and healing items.]

Reaching top of the stairs Jill took the first step on the upper walkway. It creak underneath her weight, but the board held. Great.. She had hoped that the renovation of the walkway had been done during the summer, but the work had clearly been postponed for one reason or the other and now it would be postponed indefinitely. The walkway was old, but as long as Jill was careful and didn’t rush it she should be fine. She look at the shelves that ran along the wall, each one filled with the files of decade old cases, and then gaze down to the main floor of the library. Jenny.. She saw the officer with short blonde hair step out of the private reading room. Their uniform look formal, but two buttons at the top were left open to show cleavage. The girl they had been with didn’t come out, undoubtedly still resting and putting their clothes on after their session.

Their eyes met and Jill felt the unease when Jenny’s lips turn into a smirk. It display unsated hunger. Neither said a thing and Jill look away first. She didn’t wish to imagine what they thought of her with the way they look at her, especially not right after she had seen Jenny using her position as an officer for her own gain.

Moving further on the walkway Jill saw that near the end of it, just before where it went over the private reading room underneath, a table was set with two officers leaning over it and focused on making plans. First she smile brightly as she recognized one of them, but then it turn dim. Jill approach them and call out “Hello..” As she stop.

The senior officer, a man with a buzz cut hair, raise his head. “Jill!” His thoughtful expression turn to one of joy as he push himself off the table and rush to Jill with open arms before slowing down as he hesitate. His smile died down, but it linger there just like Jill’s had. “Jill, I’m sorry.. I..” He start to explain.

Just let it go! Jill couldn’t hold herself back anymore. Couldn’t pretend that she wasn’t happy to see him. She ran to him and hug him. After a second of shock she felt his arms wrap around her too. “Water under the bridge.” Jill’s arms close around him tighter as she forgive him. “It’s good to see you safe, Marvin.”

Marvin rest his head against hers and pat Jill on the back as they hug it out. “You too, Jill.” He was the one who ease their hold first and move back. “We should have listened to you.” Marvin show regret, the kind that would propably never go away, but he look relieved to know Jill didn’t hold it against him for not believing her and the surviving S.T.A.R.S. members back when they tried to warn them about the Umbrella without having any proof to back up their claims after the mansion incident. “But I promise I will listen to you now. Will you help us?” He motion towards the table with notes, maps and pens scattered on it. “We are trying to form a plan.”

The other officer had a short blonde hair, not much different from what Jenny had, but their eyes had hope and their smile was genuine. “Rita Phillips, from the patrol police.” She extend her hand to shook Jill’s. “Both I and officer Jenny Bailey work under Marvin’s command.. Though she hasn’t been with us hundred percent anymore.” They held back their tongue, but the message was clear that Jenny, who Jill had already seen, wasn’t with them.

Jill shook Rita’s hand and nod. “Nice to meet you.” She hadn’t met them before and judging by the way they carry themselves they were rather new to this job. Not a rookie, but still new. The type who would volunteer and act, but might freeze if the situation gets out of hand. “What do we have here?” Jill join them around the table to study the map of the police station and the notes the two had written on it. Next to the map was the list of the survivors. Jill pick it up.

Susan and Lena Pittman

Evelyn Cain

Juno Townsend (volunteer)

Ruth Fletcher  lost downstairs

Abraham Sanford

Tommy ?

Greta Huber

Moira Barnes

Katherine Warren (With the chief)

Jill didn’t ask about Ruth. She could imagine what had happened and guess where it had taken place. That bathroom stall... The one with the cum splattered walls and shredded clothes on the floor. How bad it had- Then Jill realized Marvin was talking to her.

“-we had to evacuate the downstairs.” Marvin explain with a heavy heart. “We lost one of the civilians when we pull back.” He pause and then point at Katherine’s name. “The mayor’s daughter, she is with the chief who wish to keep a close eye on her after we move here.”

Rita continue with a quiet voice. “There might be more we lost.” She sound unsure. “We got new arrivals right before the attack that followed the battle at the main street.” Her hands clench into fists. “I- I didn’t have time to list them. Everything happened so fast.” Rita took a breath and held it as she relax her shoulders before releasing it. “They might have made it to the basement.. Hid someplace safe or made it out.”

Jill nod, but didn’t say anything. She felt that it was best not to focus on what might or might not have happened to them since each thought spent on them weight more heavily on Marvin and Rita. “I met Juno on my way here.” Jill point at the west corridor of the first floor on the map. “She fixed and closed the safety shutters here.” She almost smirk remembering what they did afterwards in the dark room, but she held it back. “We part ways after that.. I belive she went to the press room to receive new orders.” Jill was happy to deliver the good news as she saw the others smile. “The west wing of the first floor should be safe now, but a few of the infected remain there.”

“Good to hear that she is safe.” Marvin smile and point at the press room on the map. “The officers in charge of rebuilding the defences of the first floor hold up there. Once they finish their task we have been ordered to launch an counter attack to clean up and retake the first floor.” He shook his head and his expression turn grim. Marvin look over the railing to see that Jenny was further away before he spoke again. “Our orders are to hold the station, but I don’t believe that is possible. We have lost too much already. We are trying to plan our escape.”

“Take a look at this.” Right after Marvin had finished Rita reveal the map of the uptown area. “The barricade on the main road near the front of the station isn’t the strongest.” Rita point it at the map and then let her finger slide along the main road that ran towards the suburbs instead of the way Jill had walk through to reach the station. “If we could clear or blow it up, we should be able to bring an escape vehicle to the front doors without the need for the civilians to walk such a long distance to the parking lot behind the station. We wouldn’t have to worry about running into the infected during a short walk if everything goes smoothly.” There was a pause, Rita was clearly making a guess. “The roads should be clear past the barricade and we should be able to find a safe place if we won’t drive out of the city.”

Marvin sigh. It imply that they had this talk before. “We have no idea if the roads are clear past that.” He look at Rita with a firm expression, but Marvin look proud of her for daring to speak her mind and bringing another option to the table. “We could drive in to an ambush or it might just be a dead end.” He took a breath and continue. “Not to mention that blowing up the barricade will alert every infected in the area along with the men Iron’s have ordered to make sure no one leaves the station. It is simply too dangerous. We should hold out here until we know more or bring the survivors either straight to the underground garage where the vehicles are or to the parking lot at the back to wait for pick up after we make sure we have a car or two to make our escape.”

Jill realize she was smiling. They were acting against a direct order to hold the station in favor of trying to make it out. We still need to scout and clear the route if possible before we bring the people out.. Secure an escape vehicle. There was a lot that need to be done. Too much to do with the time I have. Jill knew what she carry inside of her.

“Are you with us, Jill?” Rita ask what Marvin didn’t need to.

[Vote for what Jill should do]

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Love Isn’t Always on Time Part Sixteen

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist Notes: Roessel isn’t a real place in Germany. Pretty sure. I googled it and couldn’t find anything (which is what I wanted but like if it’s a real place and Google lied pls tell me??) Not Beta-Read. Warnings: Some violence; injury CW

Summary: I had figured that, as a soldier, I’d manage war just fine, but this was brutal. I couldn’t find a single mission that I’d run in my time at S.H.I.E.L.D to prepare me.

Sometimes your loved ones believe you no matter what. Other times, you tell your loved ones that you’re a special agent from the future and they tell you to cut the shit.

—

“You alright over there?” I shot Dum-Dum my best smile, doing my best to ignore my fatigue.

“Right as rain, thanks,” I said. He smiled, patting my shoulder and he passed me to roll out his bedroll. We’d been on the road for months, slogging through enemy territory and taking out Hydra bases. It felt like the cameras were never far behind, focusing on Steve and the others. That was fine with me. I didn’t need the attention or want it. But then, neither did Bucky and Steve. I glanced up as Bucky rolled his bedroll out beside mine, plopping down on it tiredly. “Took a pretty hard hit today,” He commented, looking me over. I shrugged. “Wasn’t the only one. ‘m fine.” Bucky gave me a long look like he wanted to say something else, but instead, he kept his mouth shut and gave me a curt nod. I was slowly earning the guys’ trust back, but Bucky was even slower to it than Steve was. Maybe it was what had happened to him on that base that made him so wary of me. I had told the boys, in no uncertain terms, that if they really didn’t trust me, they had the option to turn me into Phillips, have me investigated. They didn’t call my bluff. In my clearest moments, I told myself it was a deep, lingering trust; in my darkest, I let myself believe that they still loved me. I had figured that, as a soldier, I’d manage war just fine, but this was brutal. I couldn’t find a single mission that I’d run in my time at S.H.I.E.L.D to prepare me. Some things, the fighting, the shooting, I could handle fine. But it was relentless. I kept reminding myself that things could change; that the war would end; that I’d find a way to keep Bucky safe and Steve out of the ice. I wasn’t sure how I’d do it yet, but I’d manage, consequences be damned. —

“Are you asleep?” I opened my eyes to see Steve peering down at me. I shook my head. He nodded me up and I sat up, looking around. The others were asleep; it must’ve been Steve’s watch. I got up, following Steve over to his post and sitting beside him. “How’s your arm?” I asked. Steve glanced down, eyeing the bandage of the spot a bullet had grazed only hours before. “It’s alright. Should be healed by tomorrow.” I snorted quietly, shifting in my spot and resting my chin on my hand. We sat in silence for a while. “So why’d you get me up?” I asked, looking over at Steve. He shrugged a shoulder. “We haven’t had… Much time,” He said. “For what?” “Talk. We used to talk all the time.”

“And you used to shorter. Things change.” Steve smiled a little bit, head dropping forward. I reached out, lightly rubbing between his shoulders. “How have you been handling all of this?” I asked, “It’s a lot to handle in a short amount of time.” “Think it’d be worse if I didn’t have you and Bucky around. It’s hard, it is, but… You, the Howlies…” He glanced back at the others before looking forward again. “It feels right. Helping. Not like Bucky wanted, me staying back at home.” “Bucky said that because he wanted to protect you,” I pointed out softly. He nodded. “I can appreciate that now that things are…” “Different,” I finished. Steve hummed before he turned back to me. “Did you ever think you’d be here?” I pulled my knees up to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. “Here specifically? On the forest floor in the middle of Germany? I’m going to have to say no, this was nowhere in my life plan growing up.” We shared a smile. “But,” I went on, “After being with you two for a few months, I knew I would follow you anywhere.” Steve looked my face over before he reached out, cupping my cheek. “You scared me out there, today,” He said softly. I turned my head into his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm. “And you’ve scared me every damn day I’ve known you, Steve. We might almost be even by the time we get home.” “Makes two of us.” We turned back to see Bucky coming up behind us. He settled on my other side, nudging his knee with mine. “You and I might be even by the time we get out of here, too.” I smiled, shrugging. “Maybe, but I doubt it. You on that… That table,” I mumbled. Bucky wrapped his arm around my shoulder, drawing me into his chest and pressing a gentle kiss to my head. “Won’t ever have to see anything like that again. That’s a promise.” I didn’t respond, reaching out and taking hold of one of Steve’s hands in my own. If I closed my eyes, we were back on our couch in Brooklyn.

—

“We’re not sending anyone there.” I woke up to the sound of Bucky’s voice. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but he was not happy. “We need an eye on the inside—“  That was Steve.

“And it is not going to be you.” Bucky again. I pushed myself up on my bedroll, scrubbing my hands over my face. “We’ve got our faces splashed all over newsreels, and you’re public enemy number one, Cap,” Dum-Dum pointed out, “The world’s seen all of us.” I pushed myself up, walking over to the Jeep where the others were looking over a map. “Not all of us,” I pointed out, looking down at the markers before turning my eyes to Steve. “Where’s the fight?” Steve and Bucky turned to me, horrified. “No—“ Bucky started, but was cut off by Morita: “We got a message from Phillips. There’s a base in Roessel. It’s completely new, top of the line facility. We think they’re trying to construct a new type of bomb.” “We’ve got proof?” I asked. “Scouts, some photographs, but nothing solid,” Jones said, “No one’s been able to get close enough. We need someone on the inside… I’m assuming that’s what woke you up.” “It is,” I confirmed, giving him a small, tired smile before turning back to Steve and Bucky. “You know they’ve been filming around me. I’m unrecognizable. I’ll go in, get some pictures, take some notes, get out.” Steve’s mouth was set in a grim line. “She’s our best hope, Cap,” Dernier pointed out. Steve glanced at him before turning back to me. “You’re sure you wanna do this?” “Wouldn’t have volunteered if I didn’t,” I pointed out. “Let me pack up and I’ll be ready to roll out.” “Bucky’ll drop you five miles outside of the base’s limits. We leave at 0800.” I nodded, stepping away from the truck.

“You’re sure you want to do this.” I turned back to see Steve standing over me as I rolled up my pack. “Course I am,” I straightened up, “It’s just recon, simple.” “You need to get in and out of there, and quick. There’s that—“ “Train. Zola’s train, I know. I’ll be back well before we need to make our way there.” I reached up, giving Steve’s shoulder a squeeze. He glanced around, concerned that one of the others would see before he swooped in for a quick, firm kiss. “You come back in one piece,” He ordered. I smiled, giving him a quick, mocking salute. “Sir, yessir.” —

“In all the time I known ya, this has gotta be the dumbest thing you’ve ever done,” Bucky commented dryly. I smiled. “I think you and Steve are rubbin’ off on me.” “Me an’ Steve? Oh no no. This is just Steve. All of this is just Steve,” He said, waving his hand vaguely at me while keeping his eyes on the road. I snorted, leaning back against the seat. “… You promise me you’ll be careful?” Bucky asked quietly.  I turned my head to look over Bucky’s forehead. He was frowning deeply, brow furrowed, and I knew for sure that it wasn’t the rough terrain we were driving over. “I swear, Buck,” I said, matching his tone. He nodded before he reached a hand out for mine. I took it, intertwining our fingers. He lifted it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of my hand. “End of the road,” He said, stopping the truck at the tree line. I nodded, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before letting go and getting my bag from the floor.  I made to get out of the car, but I felt Bucky’s hand on my knee. I turned back to face him, brow raised, questioning. He leaned over, kissing me warmly. I leaned into him, resting my hand on his cheek and holding him close. He rested his forehead against mine. “I’ll see you in a few hours,” I promised. “You radio if you need help,” Bucky said firmly. “I promise,” I said firmly before getting out of the car. — “You promised,” Bucky grumbled. I didn’t answer, too tired to say a word. I’d been ambushed inside the factory and had barely made it out with the camera film and my life. Rather than lead them back to Bucky I had taken a long way back to Bucky’s hiding place, and had bled through my shirt by the time I reached the truck. I winced as Steve stitched my side. “… We need to get you somewhere safe to recover,” Steve said softly. I shook my head. “I’m not leaving—“ “It’s an order,” Steve said firmly, “I’ve already radio’d Phillips, you’re going back with the film crew tomorrow.” I turned my head, eyeing him. “But who will look after you two?”

— “Promise me one thing?” I asked, watching Bucky load the remaining equipment on the plane. “Why, because you keep all of yours?” He asked bitterly. “Buck,” I whined. He turned back to me, resting his hands in his pockets. “What is it you want me to promise?” He asked. “…Don’t get on that train tomorrow.”

Tag List: @gloryevans @redryderdesigns @winter-scolder @aactuaaltraash @secretagentben @staplerrrr​ @moli1497 @adayinmymeadow  @allonszassbutt @mannls @witch-of-letters  @niallssweetheart22 @uneniffler  @rinthehufflepuff @panic-angel3314  @firstangeldragonranch @kaetastic​ @mcuwillbethedeathofme​ @skeletoresinthebasement​ @i-dont-know-what-im-doing-yay​

[3pirouette]

Fic: An Experimental Design (7/?)

Title: An Experimental Design By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette Disclaimer: They're not mine. Word Count: Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :) 

Story Summary: Sequel to “What Number?”, also prompted from Steggy Bingo Bash Prompts.  Takes place about a week after that fic.

Chapter 7: We Have a Plan

A/N: Sorry it’s taken so long to get this out. RL has to come first, and it has been busy and stressful leaving me little time to write. Story will still be continued AND finished, just not on a regular timeline, though I will TRY for a new chapter every weekend going forward.

~*~

“We have a plan,” Howard said, sitting across from them in his lab the next morning.

“We?” Peggy asked, a single eyebrow raised. She grasped Steve’s hand tight, both excited and concerned.

Howard frowned. “I had to reach out to a researcher in California. It may be hard for me to admit,” he stood, rounding the table and shoving his hands in his pockets as he leaned against it, “but I’m out of my depth.”

Peggy dropped her head, closing her eyes tight. “Yes, well, I’m sure we’re quite the medical oddity.”

Howard dipped, waiting to catch her eyes before he spoke. “If you think, for one second, that I’m taking any of this lightly, Peg…”

“No. I—” She took a deep breath, looking at him, brown eyes full of sadness. “It’s just quite the turn for a spy to feel so exposed. I feel like everyone on this base knows all my business now.”

“Not from me, they don’t,” Howard replied, stern. “And I told my colleague in California only what he needed to know, no more.”

Howard watched her square her shoulders, her ability to compartmentalize and focus her energies at will always somehow so astounding to him. “So, what’s the plan?”

“Synthetic hormone injections.” Howard pulled his hands out of his pockets, moving them around frantically as he explained. “Somehow, they’ve been able to force your bodies to regulate your hormone levels through touch, specifically touching each other. I’m not even sure if this is what they intended to do, or if it’s just a side effect, but touching,” he gestured to their clasped hands, “keeps them on an even keel.”

Howard shifted, sitting on the table. “Once you stop touching, your bodies loses the ability to regulate. Now- we had some of the samples of Peg’s from while Steve was away, and I compared them to what we took yesterday and today- and I think…” he shook his head, sliding his hands across an invisible timeline in front of him. “What we actually know is when you guys were rationing how much you touched, it came on quicker, but built up slower.” He made a gentle slope in the air, their eyes following. “But after you shacked up and were touching all the time, it took a lot longer to come on, but the pain increased at an exponential rate.” His hands bounced through the air, trying to show them the competing graphs from his mind.

“And that means…?” Steve led, hoping for more answers.

Howard shook his head and shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know if this is how they intended it to work of if this is a side effect. Phillips has half the battalion out now looking for more small bases we’ve ignored hoping they’ll have something, and the other half pawing through old boxes of Hydra contraband for anything referencing Anchor or Winter Soldier.”

“So, when do we start?” Peggy squared her shoulders, ready to move forward.

Howard moved back to his chair, sitting heavily. “As long as the lines hold, we’ll have a batch of hormones here tomorrow.”

Steve’s shoulders fell at the thought of having to wait much longer for a solution. “And until then?”

The scientist shrugged. “You guys know what happens. You touch a lot, no pain for a while but it goes up quick. Not a lot, a little pain but longer until it gets bad.” He looked back and for the between them. “You pick. Six of one, half dozen of the other. At this point I don’t have any evidence that one approach is better.”

~*~

He sat apart from her in the car on the way back to the apartment, his hand close, but not touching in the backseat. They sat in silence for the first few minutes, Howard’s driver very carefully indifferent towards them.

“I’m starting to get used to the apartment,” Peggy muttered, her eyes on the military barracks they were passing through the window. “It’ll be a shame when we have to go back to cots and tents.”

He could feel her vibrating next to him, full of emotions and energy, concerns and questions, none of which either of them wanted to voice in front of a stranger. “There will be a lot of difficult things about going back.” She kept her head turned, not looking at him as he continued. “What do you think about Howard’s… options?”

She found his eyes in the refection in the glass, but didn’t say anything. Peggy simply crept her hand to the side, finding his fingers and holding tight.

Steve felt like he could breathe again.

The thought of holding back, of trying to avoid touching her seemed like a monumental task. He tried to keep his fingers still as the car trudged on, moving through bombed out husks of neighborhood and back through apartment buildings that had fared better. He tried to build a plan of keeping things to small, little touches, to holding hands and pecks good night with walls of pillows built up between them.

It would be so much better, in the long run, if she could fare for longer periods of time without him.

And yet he hated the idea of being so close yet so far. Despite the circumstances, despite the pain she felt and the scrutiny they were under, their quiet morning, lounging naked together and indulging in soft touches, had been a glimpse into paradise. Their days before that, in the apartment, had been a peek into the future he so desperately wanted once the war was over.

He’d never meant to let it go that far, to let Hydra take that last little bit of private intimacy away from them. He hadn’t been in control, though, and admitting that was more frightening than he thought. He was feeling less and less in control as the days passed. The more Peggy got of him the better she was, but the more he was around her, the worse off he was. She was like a drug: the more he had, the more he wanted and there didn’t seem to be any satiating his hunger.

Steve wanted to believe that, based on everything they’d already been, the desire between them was real, that it was only enhanced by the hormones, only morphed and twisted by the chemicals coursing through their bodies. He wanted to believe that eventually all of the hand holding and stolen kisses would have led to the same, blistering desire he was feeling now, if only farther in the future. Knowing her, seeing her, tasting her, had left an indelible mark on the slowly simmering desire he’d felt. He wasn’t sure how he was going to avoid touching her as casually as they had been before, how he was going to avoid pressing close to her in the kitchen or cuddling up with her at night in bed, without making her feel like he was upset with her or avoiding her.

He almost jumped out of his skin when her fingers started stroking over his, her hand pulling away and stroking at his wrist before it fell heavily on his thigh, all the while her eyes still looking out to the horizon.

~*~

She hadn’t meant to let it go that far. They’d never lost their heads like that. If she had thought it would have been a true possibility, she’d have prepared better.

She wasn’t upset, precisely, but rather disappointed that a moment she’d tucked away and looked forward to had been squandered so uselessly.

She could barely even remember it. It was a jumble of legs and arms and bodies and pain and passion.  

She wanted to know what his face looked like when he pushed into her the first time, to memorize the way it felt, to know what his eyes looked like when he lost control, and how he sounded, spent and lying next to her.

But she couldn’t remember, and they’d never have this for the first time again.

It seemed so silly to her, as she looked out at the passing houses, to put such big meaning on such a little barrier. They’d come so close so many times and she knew him so intimately. She knew how he breathed when he was close to losing control, what his lips felt like on her nipples, how his hands palmed her ass and squeezed when he was spurring her on, what his stubble felt like along her inner thigh… For over a month they’d learned each other in the most intimate of ways and yet, she held this one little thing so high…

She just wanted one thing that wasn’t touched by this war. One.

She tried to focus. She hadn’t decided, not really, about how she wanted to proceed when they got back to the apartment. The idea of staying away from him until she started to feel the tingling seemed insane to her, but she feared dependence. She feared they’d touch so much, drunk on each other’s skin, that eventually she wouldn’t be able to exist away from him.  

Her body hummed, vibrating on the same frequency as his, so aware of how stiff and tired and frustrated he was, as well.

They were all each other had in this.

Peggy moved her hand to his thigh, never turning her face, keeping quiet for the benefit of the driver.

She’d made her decision.

~*~

Before the door to the apartment was even closed, he had her pushed up against it, his lips running down her neck, leg hitched up over his hip.

“Tell me to stop, Peg,” he murmured, kissing across the exposed skin at her collar bone.

“I won’t.” She ran her fingers through his hair, holding him tight to her. “I can’t.”

He pulled away, breathless, looking into her eyes. “This is a bad idea.” He shook his head, letting his forehead gently fall to hers. “You gotta be able to exist without me. What if--”

She moved her hand fast, covering his lips. “Don’t even,” she reprimanded harshly. The thought of them being separated, permanently because of the war or any other reason, was not something she wanted to contemplate right now.

He sighed, eyes closed tight as he pressed a kiss to her fingers. “Peg…”

“Tomorrow, Howard is going to pump us full of god knows what in the hopes that something might help. But we don’t know. We don’t know if it’ll make it worse or better. If it will help or hurt or do nothing.” She shifted, her leg falling from his hip as she cradled his face in her hands, waiting for him to look at her. Her voice fell to a tremulous whisper. “What if, after tomorrow, I can’t touch you without it hurting?”  

His heart seemed to stop at that one possibility, a thought that had never crossed his mind. He’d been so focused on the hell she was enduring now that he hadn’t imagined there could be others. Peggy had. She’d probably imagined more tortures than he could ever fathom.

Peggy moved her hand to smooth over his furrowed brow. “I’m not waiting and hoping, Steve.” She kissed him, full and alive and passionate, sliding her arms over his shoulders and down his back. “I’m enjoying what we have, right here, right now.”

In one smooth move he grasped her under her thighs and lifted her off her feet, her hands holding his shoulders tight as he carried her over to the couch, gently sitting on the edge with her in his lap. She shifted to her knees as he slid back, keeping her body close to his, a smile widening across her face.

~*~

She was half asleep in his arms, her naked body still tangled in the sheets around them. It hadn’t taken them long to make their way from the couch to the bedroom, availing themselves of more than one of the condoms she’d swiped from the supply closet while they were on base along the way.

She wondered if Martins would miss them, or if he was used to GIs sneaking into the supply closet and messing up his inventory. Peggy suspected the latter, but giggled to herself, imagining the man trying to blabber his way through a briefing detailing the number of condoms missing and why they were so important to keep gun muzzles dry in the field.

Steve’s arms wrapped tighter around her. “Something amusing?”

Peggy ran her hand over his chest. “Just thinking of Martins discovering that I managed to shove a whole case of condoms in my purse.” She felt him rumble beneath her. “How often do you think he has that problem?”

“A case?” Steve sighed happily, kissing her head. “Rarely. If the guys who sneak in manage more than a handful they start trading them around like cigarettes.”

“So that happens a lot, then?” Peggy shifted, leaning up on her elbow.

Steve blinked his eyes open, looking at her, He lifted his hand to run his fingers through her hair, tucking it behind her ear. “We get issued a certain amount per month for all kinds of uses. Guys generally don’t want Phillips to know if they’re using them for non-waterproofing reasons.”

Peggy leaned down, gently letting her lips fall to his in a soft kiss. “Think we have enough, Captain?”

Steve chased her lips as she pulled away, smiling. He shifted, leaning over the edge of the bed to dramatically survey the dozens of little silver packets that were strewn across the floor.  He didn’t think he’d ever get the image of her, standing only in her panties and garters, pulling handful upon handful of condoms out of her purse, smile shining bright and eyes so full of desire it looked like she wanted to eat him alive. “Nope,” He laughed, flopping back on the bed and pulling her close to him. “I’d say we could use a few more.”

Peggy shook her head, smacking him gently. “Then you’ll be doing the sneaking into the supply closet next time.”  She sat up, looking around them and finally settled on pulling on Steve’s undershirt before slipping out of bed. She picked up Steve’s boxers and tossed them to him before collecting the packets strewn on the floor. “I’m famished. Lunch?”

Steve caught his boxers mid-air, shimmying into them under the blanket. “I do seem to have worked up an appetite.” He wagged his eyebrows at her as she set the condoms in a pile on the side table.

She just shook her head, grabbing her panties and slipping them on, enjoying the lighthearted flirting. “You’re insatiable.”

She held back a squeal as Steve snuck behind her, turning her quickly and playfully backing her against the wall. “One hundred percent your fault that I can’t keep my hands off of you.” He’d meant it as a compliment, but they both knew that the words had been wrong the second they came out of his mouth. “Peg- no. I meant that—”

Her smile was soft, not forced but not full blown. “I know.” She bit her lip and looked away, her hands sliding around his waist to pull him close. She took a slow, shuddering breath as he wrapped his arms around her. “One day, you’ll be able to say that to me simply because you find me unbelievably attractive, not because my very life might depend on it.”

He leaned back, nudging her nose gently with his until she looked at him. “I do, actually, find you unbelievably attractive,” he whispered gently.

She couldn’t help but laugh at his sincerity, at how hard he had been trying just for her. “Flatterer,” she huffed lightheartedly, trying to find the little bubble of happiness they’d just been inhabiting before his poor choice of words. She pulled back, taking his hands in hers. “Come on, I’m hungry and of the two of us, you’re the far better cook.”

Steve had joked with her though much of lunch that he was sure she could warm up a can of soup about as well as he could, but she swore up and down she’d manage to burn it somehow. She claimed dish duty, hands carefully cleaning out the bowls and pans as Steve molded himself to her back, his hands resting on her hips, slipping under the cotton of his shirt, fingers dancing playfully at the edge of her underwear. It was nice to have him so close, so gentle with her.

Peggy smiled, flicking water over her shoulder at him playfully as she cleaned the last dish. “Eager?”

He chuckled, pressing closer to her so she could feel just how eager he was. “Maybe.” He kissed her neck, following along the curve of it as she tipped her head to allow him more access. “Just taking advantage of our time here together.”

She set the last dish aside and turned in his arms, her damp hands sliding over his shoulders. “Well?” she asked, teasing and expectant.

He lifted her swiftly onto the counter next to the sink and kissed her in earnest.

~*~

Peggy sat in bed, unashamed of her nudity as she pulled her brush gently through her hair, eye on the mirror across from her. “I’ll have to get up early tomorrow,” she muttered, both hands working out a tangle. “If I walk in with my hair looking like this there won’t be a single question as to how we’ve been spending our time. I look absolutely debauched.”

Steve, laying behind her, smiled, meeting her eyes in the mirror as he let a finger glide over her hip where the sheet pooled around her legs. “I think you look gorgeous.”

Peggy bit her lip as she looked over her shoulder at him. There was something far more intimate about how they were right here, right now, than they had been this whole time. Sharing a bed, chatting as she brushed her hair, naked but for the single sheet laying over their hips… she wouldn’t quite call it domestic, but she didn’t have another word for the rightness of it, couldn’t quite voice how it made her feel inside to see his bright blue eyes lock onto hers and know for sure that he loved her and she loved him. It made her feel like a giant, like a superhero, and in this little room, as night fell with just the warm light from the bedside lamp on them, she felt like nothing could touch them.

She could pretend tomorrow wasn’t happening, that there was nothing wrong with her, that there wasn’t a war on, and that it could be like this forever.

She turned back to the mirror, focused on getting the tangles out of her hair. “This is your fault, you know.”

Steve’s finger gently slid over her hip and to the other, teasing. He kissed the dimple in her low back. “I take full responsibility.”

“First the counter… then on the couch…” she took a deep breath and shook her head, putting her brush down on the bedside table. “then back in here again after dinner. It’s a wonder I’m not bruised and battered.” She rolled her eyes when Steve’s brows knit together, his teasing touch turning more concerned and exploratory. “I’m teasing!” She sighed, turning and laying against him. She pecked him on the cheek. “Only real casualty was my elbow when we took that tumble off the couch.”

Steve lifted her arm, examined it, and though he didn’t see a black and blue forming, he kissed it gently anyway. He tucked her arm tight to his chest and leaned up, kissing her forehead. “Alarm is already set for bright and early.” He tipped his head towards the light, asking if she wanted him to shut it off. “Ready?”

Peggy nodded, but she could feel the lump forming in her throat, could feel the enormity of how going to sleep brought her so much closer to tomorrow’s unknowns. Steve reached over, flipping off the light and plunging them into darkness before turning back to her and tucking her tight to his side. “G’night, Peg,” he whispered after a quiet moment, squeezing her tight.

She turned her head, pressing a kiss to his chest, knowing she wouldn’t get a moment’s rest tonight. “Goodnight, my darling.”

[storytimefromthecreed]

Something Blue, Something Borrowed

(2)

Sore the following morning, he rolled out of bed. Shoes hitting the floor, Arno looked down.That would have been queer had he not had blood on his shirt. In a panic, Arno removed the garment and threw it aside. Inspecting himself and finding no wounds, Arno dressed and examined the bloodied shirt and dirty pants. Taking off the clothes, he laid them on the bed. No cuts. Just blood where his chest and stomach would’ve been, and mud at his knees to ankles. What the hell had he done last night? Throwing the clothes in a bucket of hot water, Arno cleaned them and set them out to dry. Burning them was always an option, but he didn’t want to yet.

This was getting out of hand. Impossible! There had to be a reasonable explaination. Tears welled in his eyes, and Arno fell against the wall. There was no way. There had to be a reasonable explaination. Tears fell hot on his skin, and he wiped his face.

An Assassin-like killing. Cuts of blue cloth left behind. Blood. Arno losing track of himself. The impossible was growing seemingly more probable.

Ducking into his hands, Arno shook his head. “I’m not a killer.” He spoke aloud, willing the words into existence. “I’m not a killer.” Glasses of water by the door were unspilled, the stacks of books and wood placed around the room meant to trip him were untouched. And here he was without injury.  

The sleep walking had started months ago. Having never done it before, Arno would not have believed he rolled out of bed one night and walked out the door had he not woken up wearing his shoes. The blood didn’t show up until a few weeks after. If he’d had blood on him before, he’d never woken up with it. It was growing worse. Waking in strange places was the most difficult part, so he was content every time he awoke in bed.

Staying up until the dead of night usually did the trick, so that’s how he slept. It had been two weeks since he’d seen the Frenchmen, and he was due for a call. Breakfast at the bridge would do nicely. After sending a letter to his friends, Arno awaited the day with dread. There had been no murders.

The night before his meeting, Arno set his obstacles down and went to bed.

That following morning, Arno awoke with an aching head. Pressing his hand against it, he met with a wet sleeve. Why was that? A shriek awoke him fully, and he opened his eyes to find the sun blinding him. How did that get into his bedroom? How did that woman? And those clamoring people?

Rolling out of bed, Arno landed on the ground. Dirt grit in his teeth and a bucket crashed beside him, drowning him in ice cold water. Waking fully, Arno leapt to his feet and wiped mud from his face. The sight should’ve gain attention, a seemingly drunk man clattering awake, but people were in disarray over the news.

Bringing his sleeve to his face to wipe it, Arno found it covered in blood. Pain shot through his arm at the movement, and Arno doubled over. Clutching his forearm to his chest, Arno waited for the stares. The attention the people would give a seemingly drunk man stirring from his sleep couldn’t be shared by what they were staring at in the center. 

Dashing in between houses, Arno ran through the crowd unnoticed, the whispers already reaching his ears. 

There had been another murder.

Lounging around the bridge, the men were awaiting. Demetri saw him first, and dropped his smile when Arno rushed past him, tears in his frantic eyes, pale, clutching his arm awkwardly against his chest, a dirty jacket over it. “Is it broken?” Demetri took hold of his good arm, and checked under the jacket.

Gerard and Phillip bound down the bridge, and Arno leaned against Phillip. “What the hell? Look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Phillip shouldered him and Gerard checked down the bridge. 

“Followed?” 

“Non, non.” Arno shook his head.

Phillip hissed and secured the jacket. “Get him to the clocktower.”

“Is it broken?” Gerard asked, trying to take a peek but Phillip pushed him away and shook his head. 

“Not here! Clocktower! Now!” Taking Arno’s arm around him, he beckoned Demetri and Gerard ahead of them. “How are you feeling?”

But Arno kept repeating, “Non, non, non.” Gaze far away like he couldn’t believe it. Phillip nodded, knowing his patient’s state of mind, and helped him to the base.

The space was meant purely to visit, not live in, so they made do with two cots, a large table, and some provisions. In his former life, Phillip was a doctor. Well, he would have been had the revolution not halted his studies. In any case, experience replaced schooling, and he would return when he had time. Clearing the table with a push, Demetri set some utensils on the side and awaited orders. Gerard ran outside to ensure they weren’t followed. 

Taking a seat at the table, Arno allowed Phillip to remove the coat. A hiss went around the room as his team took him in. Before he could even attempt to read their faces, Phillip had him laying on his back. Phillip ordered Gerard to gather supplies as he lit a candle and moved mirrors to increase the light until Arno was blindly looking up at shadows working on his arm. His mind felt dull and the voices far away.

“Thank God, it’s not broken.” Phillip muttered, cutting away at Arno’s sleeve and pressing against the wound. Arno winced. “Je suis desole, mon ami. I’m sorry, but this will hurt for a little. There’s a huge gash running the length of your forearm, almost clear to the bone. Must have been a knife or a sword. How did you recieve a blow like this?”

“I-I don’t remember.” Arno breathed, and Gerard took his forearm steadily. A needle reflected the light. Arno held his breath. “I remember going to sleep and then, nothing.”

The group was quiet at Phillip worked on his wounds. He was so close, Arno would feel the gentle inhale and exhale of his breath across his skin. “What do you remember last?” Phillip’s attempts to question him while seeming nonchalant were weak, but Arno didn’t care anymore. Now, he was frightened. Fully frightened. 

“Uh, going to sleep last night. Tuesday.” Arno mumbled, the need to rub his eyes strong. The light was irritating him as much as the question was. He hadn’t an answer for it. None that would satisfy either of them. The group went silent.

“Tuesday?” Phillip asked mindlessly. “Are you sure, Arno?”

“Yes, Phillip, Tuesday! I know what the days of the week are! It was the same day I wrote you the letter!” Arno growled. Gerard tightened his hold on his arm and Arno began to curse. Phillip poured a liquid that burned over his wound and had begun probing.

“I’m sorry, Arno! Just disinfecting, looking for clues. Demetri, grab the beaker on the left.” There was a scuffle and Demetri returned. “We got you, mon ami.” Phillip placed the beaker at his lips. The smell burned his nose and the taste made him want to spit, but Arno gulped down until the beaker was pulled away.

“I trust you. You’ll fix my arm.” Arno’s lids felt heavy just as his stomach felt warm. His head was lowered softly on the table. Someone had taken off his hood and placed it as a cushion.

“Arno, it’s...” Phillip took a deep breath. “We’re going to find out what’s been going on with you, promise.”

“There’s nothing wrong,” Arno’s head turned to the side and he spied his friends. His smile slid from his face as he took in their worried looks. “When was Tuesday?”

“Two days ago.” Phillip responded gently. And Arno was out. 

Seven stitches later, Arno was motionless on the table save for the rising and falling of his chest, Phillip cleared his arms and changed his clothes. No one spoke. The killing in Paris were increasing in number and ferocity. When whispers that Arno had been responsible rose within the Brotherhood, the Frenchmen squashed those rumors easily; but now? Arno had written to them days ago and they’d shown up at the bridge as intended. What had he been doing in that time? There had been a murder, but surely....Phillip shook his head. He wouldn’t allow himself to even think that thought.

“What are we going to do?” Demetri asked, rolling his sleeves and cleaning the surgery. “What? We’re all thinking it. Arno has been losing time, we’ve been having murders, it’s easy enough to put together.”

“I thought you were opposed to the idea.” Gerard grunted, remembering that day on the bridge. 

“And you said someone had to be framing him.”

“But who?” Phillip asked, silencing them with a look. “That’s our job while he,” He gestured vaguely to Arno. “Besides, he should be out for some time, seeing how much he drank.”

“How was I to know he’d guzzle it down?” Demetri rose a brow. “In any case, maybe this is better.”

"Gives us time to figure out what caused this.” Producing from a cloth a piece of shard, Phillip took tweezers and inspected it in the sunlight. “Dagger, old but firm. Probably a guard. Demetri, I take it you’re still friends with the locksmith over on by the river? Good. See what you guys see.”

“Who put you in charge?” Demetri smirked, gathering up his things.

“My surgery, my rules.” Phillip winked and then grew grave. “Besides, I need to keep an eye on our patient. Oh, and we have to be back at the Bureau by nightfall.”

Demetri groaned, Pierre would want to know where they’ve been. Since the death of his father, the wayward son returned home and picked him up mantle within the French Brotherhood. He was charming, fun to be around, a good Assassin, and a great leader; but Demetri didn’t like him. Pierre was trying to become a Frenchmen. Not that Demetri didn’t get it, they were a cool lot to work with, but it felt wrong filling Arno’s spot. Arno wasn’t coming back, they all knew it and they did need the help, but Demetri hated endings.

Gerard twirled his axe in his hands before setting it across his back. “I suppose you’d like wine and cheese upon our return?” His tone was heavy with sarcasm and Phillip grinned.

“If you’re offering.” With a groan, Gerard tossed a towel at him and headed for the window. Performing a leap of faith, he was gone. “We have stairs, you know!” Phillip called after him, and Demetri threw on his hood.

“Why? This is the best part of being an Assassin.” With the soft thud of hay indicating they were fine, Phillip set up beside Arno and waited. Now came the hard part.

Demetri’s girl told him of a brawl a few days ago at the palace, so they headed that way. Once there, Demetri took the key he’d “borrowed” from the darling, and in they slipped. The palace was teeming with guards, extra bodies, and since they’d come in through the front door, they provided little issue.

“I feel naked like this, Greencoat.” Gerard growled, his voice low and his body tense. Demetri, on the other side, strode with ease and comfort.

“Naked is a great feeling.” Was his response, and he grew serious. “Try not to look like you’re trouble, and I find that trouble will not find you. Besides, if we wanted trouble, why did we come in through the front?” He tapped a finger at his temple. “Splitting up, we could gather more information. There was a fight here a few days ago, that would be Wednesday morning.”

“When Arno first forgets.”

“Correct. Guards are such gossip, I’m sure we’ll find something from them. But, then again, maids often see more than people think...”

“Because I want to leave in a timely manner and not get chased out by a husband you’ve offended,” Gerard chuckled, “I’ll take the maids and you take the guards. Hm?” Demetri pouted at they bound up the steps and Gerard slipped into the shadows on the right. “Change would do you good, Greencoat.” Demetri growled, but Gerard was gone and didn’t receive it. Rolling his head, he headed for the guards chambers.

Now, you might be asking yourself how it was that they knew the locations of these establishments. The answer, very simply, was that the Frenchmen Four got into trouble a lot. One such incident was the night of de la Serre’s murder. The night Arno’s life changed. And the fact that Demetri had friends here wasn’t without benefit. 

Tucking into the north side of the palace, Demetri found a room where the guards congregated, relieved the clothes of a guard who left his clothes out for just anyone to take, changed, and imbedded himself into the conversation.

“Like a madman.” One guard was saying, and Demetri gravitated towards that conversation. “Just shows up in the middle of the night like a demon out of hell, cutting a few of our guys before leaping off the roof.”

“You’re lying!” Another whispered, “Is that why the curfew was enacted? Why we’ve our routes have changed? I thought that was because of the murders.”

“Bet that’s the same guy.”

“One man can’t. It’s impossible. Besides, he leapt from the roof. That maniac is long dead.” The guards moved away, and Demetri remained in hopes there might yet be more information.

Gerard had to hand it to him, maids were mousey, and how Demetri managed to get them to talk was beside him. Keeping to the shadows, unsure how to approach, Gerard was content to eavesdrop to the gossip.

Surprise, surprise. The cook was sleeping with the matron, the lady of the house was unhappy in her marriage and sleeping with the head guard. The man of the house was too. All these Gerard listened to as a man strode into the room and the maids were silent. He reprimanded them for their idle working and set the other women out save for one. When they were alone, the man lowered his voice to a whisper. “Have you thought of what we talked about?”

“You talked.” The woman took her basket and preceded to the door. The man sidestepped her and she frowned. “You’re not funny. Move. I have work to do.”

The man pushed her back. “Do you know how many times I’ve covered for your laziness? For your mindless chatter? I gave you this postion. I can take it away.” With that, he dropped the basket from her hands and grabbed her forearms. Rolling his eyes, Gerard emerged from the shadows and the man placed the woman between them and gulped, “What- how? How did you-?”

“Is this man bothering you, Madame?” He kept his eyes on the woman,shock in her eyes at the turn of events. Gerard waited.

“All is well here, more along before I get the guards.” The man scoffed, and eyed Gerard. 

“I was speaking to the lady.” Gerard growled and turned his attention to the man who cowered behind the woman. Gently now, he asked her again. “Are you ok? Would you like me to take care of him for you?” She nodded, and the man yelled for guards. Before he could repeat the cry, Gerard grabbed him by the scuff of the neck and dragged him to a wall. Pinning him until the tips of his toes hovered over the ground was simply, and Gerard made sure the man looked at him. Every time he looked past him, Gerard moved his head in view. “Hey, I’m talking to you now. Got it? You touch my friend, yell at her, upset her again? I’ll find out. Got it? And your little guards won’t save you then. Do you understand me? I hear you’re disrespecting women again, then no one will save you from me.” The man’s eyes widened and Gerard dropped him.

Bending low, Gerard retrieved the basket and handed it back to her. The woman curtsied. “Merci, Mon-” Gerard put up a hand, and smiled.

“I was never here, mon ami.”

“How can I thank you?”

Gerard thought, “Information. A few nights ago there was an incident here. I’d like to know what happened.”

“The crazed man?” The man on the floor choked. Gerard looked over his shoulder, and the man dropped his attitude. 

“There was a commotion a few days ago, a man wandered into the palace and when the guards conforted him went into such a rage.” The woman shrugged, “They chased him until he leapt from the roof, that’s all I know.”

“He was looking for something.” The man behind them spat. “Muttering something about watch. Watch what? He didn’t do anything special.”

“Merci, Madame.” Gerard bowed and the doors to the room opened. In strode a guard, and the man fell to his feet.

“Thank God! Arrest this man! For threatening and attacking a humble servant of the castle.” The guard drew back his other foot and kicked the man in the face, making him senseless. Removing his hat, Demetri leaned against the wall.

“We have got to work on your people skills, Axeman. Oh! Marie! How are you darling?” 

“We don’t have time for this.” Gerard growled and grabbed Demetri by the scruff, Marie waving them goodbye and heading to her work. “Tell me you found something. All I found is that Arno was probably here. Doesn’t sound like the guards could touch him. Leapt from the roof.”

“Sounds like what I heard.” Demetri frowned, “They didn’t think he survived the fall and we know he did.”

“Let’s check out that site.” The side of the wall they’d found Arno had leapt off of lead into a stack of hay bales made for the horses of the palace. There they found a young boy tending the horses and Demetri gave him a coin to tell them what he saw that evening. 

“Monsieur had his eyes closed I thought he was dead!” The boy began, Gerard laughed. He reminded him of his own kids. 

“Then what happened?” Gerard ushered him back on track. 

“Oui, I believe he headed towards to center of town.”

“Did he open his eyes?” He asked again and the boy shook his head. “Thank you, back to work.” 

“How the hell is Arno killing people in his sleep?” Demetri thought aloud more than to himself than to Gerard. “Axeman, we’re missing something. Arno would never-”

“I know.” Gerard responded, “This doesn’t sit right with me either.” On they walked until night fell and they returned to Phillip.

[thesmalltowngal]

COC Snowbaz 20- S+B

COC #20: Fairy Tale/Myth Retelling

Simon as: The Prince | Baz as: Snow White | Lucy as: Queen Lucy | The Mage as: King Davy | Fiona as: The Hunter | Ebb as: The Horse | Agatha as: The Prince’s girlfriend | Penny as: The Prince’s Second in Command

~ I really really loved writing this one. I got totally lost within the story. I sincerely hope you enjoy! ~

The wood is a dangerous place. It’s full of nymphs (the tricky bloody things), dwarves, dragons, and goblins. Which is what my girlfriend Agatha had told me before I was sent on my quest by King Davy. She hadn’t wanted me to go out away from the Watford kingdom, really, but the king said there were cluster of aggressive goblins spotted on the edge of the other side of the wood, so I had to go and see for myself. After all, I was the prince, and prince’s (so I was told) had certain duties. (I had often thought that maybe I didn’t want to be prince- even though I was born that way.) 

So I kissed Agatha’s cheek goodbye and she just stood there and took it like a princess. (We were set to marry in a few months- another thing I wasn’t so sure I wanted. But, well. It was on my list of things I dare not think about.) I packed my sword and set out on my horse, on my way all alone in the wood. Of course, King Davy had wanted me to take accompaniment, but I felt as though I could do it on my own. (And maybe I was tired of always following his orders. Maybe I wanted to do something for myself.) The ride on horseback was set to take only about a day there and then a day back. That is, if I hadn’t found any trouble along the way.

So I took the ride as an opportunity to think of my duties as prince. I had thought… well, I had thought that I was a right daft bloody prince, hadn’t I? Often when I would talk, it would come out as short sputtering sentences. The king had me do speech when I was a wee ankle-biter, but it didn’t help as he thought it would. Um and er came out every other bloody word. And it didn’t help when I met Agatha through my second in command Penny. Of course, it was frowned upon to have a girl as my second, but I had known her since we were young, and I had trusted nobody more. She introduced me to Agatha, and I had thought she was bloody well stunning. Which, of course, didn’t help my stuttering. So then we dated for a short while before I introduced her to King Davy. They got on well; he was glad that I would be marrying into another rich family, as the kingdom was recently down on wealth. 

But over time, I felt as though maybe… maybe Agatha wasn’t what I wanted. Penny saw that too, I think, but although she had mentioned it to me before, I waved it off. After all, what is a prince without his lovely princess? My father (I try not to call him that, but he is the closest thing I’ve ever had to one) loved her and so did the subjects in our royal court. But for some reason, what Queen Lucy had said to me before she passed. It’s okay, Simon. It’s okay if you don’t love her the way you think you should. I’ll respect whatever you decide, love, but… it’s alright if your heart wants something else. Follow it. She said that to me on her deathbed. She was the closest thing I had ever had to a mother and her passing made me rethink… everything, really. I went a little crackers after she had went. Sometimes I thought maybe I did want to follow her advice. (My heart, that is.) But then, I’d look at all the king had done for me over the years, and I just couldn’t. Besides, I didn’t even know what my heart very well did bloody want. 

As the sun went down, I started feeling drowsy and hungry. Granted, I always felt hungry- one of the many things that contradicted the whole ‘perfect prince’ thing. I loved eating to a point of fucking obsession, and I was messy when I ate, too. Agatha always had to correct me at the table. (It bugged me when she did that; why couldn’t I just be me?) My steed - Ebb, as it were - was getting tired too. I could tell she was slowing, and I could feel her hungry stomach rumble beneath me. So we went on a bit until we hit a clearing. It was nestled in the middle of thick trees, seemingly where no one would ever find it had they not been looking, and there was a small cottage in the middle of it. (Queen Lucy once told me about the time when she and King Davy used to live in a small cottage; perhaps this was it?) 

I stopped Ebb and tied her up to a nearby tree. If someone lived in the cottage, maybe they’d spare some food and a place to sleep for the night. But as I neared the cottage and peeked in one of the windows, I saw that the inside was immaculately clean- to the point of borderline nutter. Yet no one was inside. I decided to creep around the building, and as I got to the back, hand rested readily on the hilt of my sword, I saw seven numpties. I felt a tingly feeling in my stomach; I was nervous. (Who wouldn’t be nervous? Fucking numpties. There’s no known way to kill them.) When I looked closer (still careful to be very bloody quiet), I saw that they were surrounding some sort of glass coffin. (With something - someone - inside it?) As I leaned in, I could hear bits of their conversation.

“P’raps it’d be better to grill-”

“-Roasting may be better,”

“Well he’s spelled unconscious, so it won’t matter-” Spelled?

“-be flambe?” From what I caught, it sounded like they were planning on eating someone. Not surprising, but not good, either. I could have gone back to Ebb and rode far away from there. But true to form, I could never keep my daft nose out of anything. So I jumped out in front of the numpties, standing taller than I really was. I tried to look confident, but I’m sure I just looked uneasy. (And perhaps constipated.) I s’posed there was no way I could have very well turned back then. 

“I, um-” Stop stuttering, Simon. I cleared my throat. “What rights do you have to be on the royal grounds?” They gruffly chuckled and exchanged glances among themselves. 

“Miles away from the kingdom, sonnyboy. You’re on our grounds, now.” I gulped, very showily, I’m sure. Despite wanting to run far, far away from there (see? What kind of prince runs from danger?) I held my ground and stood more confidently. 

“I’m the prince, and I’m sure that-” One of the larger ones gasped and interrupted me. 

“A prince, eh? Look at ‘im, boys! I’ve never had royal meat before…” He elbowed the numpty beside him and pointed at me. My hair was falling in my face from not having cut it in a bit, which I’m sure didn’t help my demeanor. 

“Gentlemen, I’m sure we can, erm- come to an… uh- an agreement of sorts, yes?” They all laughed at that.

“I don’t think so,” The larger one said, moving in closer to me. 

“See, we haven’t eaten in a very-” Another one started. 

“Long time.” They moved closer and closer, pressing in on me from all sides. I tried pushing against them to no avail. Just when I thought that I was going to die that way - smushed by fucking numpties of all things - one began to crumble. His friends were startled, but pressed on. But as I looked up, I saw someone agile and thin (and seemingly old- she had a white streak in her hair) hitting each numpty over the head with a… newspaper? Peculiar. When they had all crumbled, she hopped down from the rubble and extended her hand to me. 

“Paper beats rock,” She smirked. “Fiona.” I shook her hand, and decided that if she didn’t know who I was already, she didn’t need to. No need to mention the prince thing, even if I was dressed in royal linens. (Which I right hated.)

“Simon,” She smiled at me a bit and continued on, dragging me to some of the smaller bits of rubble. 

“We haven’t much time until they reassemble. Help me toss some stones in the river- they can’t reassemble if they’re missing a few pieces.” I didn’t trust her very much - it was a gut thing - but I helped her throw pieces of rock in a nearby stream and watched as the current carried them far away. When we were done, she walked back over to the cottage with me and settled beside the glass coffin. I hadn’t gone over, yet- I’d been nervous. But watching her stare down at it, I decided to move closer, right beside her. 

Inside the coffin was a bloke with long ebony black hair and skin as pale and white as snow. He had thin lips, which looked red from… (blood?) His eyes were closed, but I found myself wanting to know what they looked like open. (Perhaps that sounded a bit gay.) I didn’t know the bloke… but I thought I’d have liked to. 

“Who is he?” I found myself wondering aloud. Fiona looked at me. 

“His name is Baz. I was sent to… well, nevermind that. Just- wake him up, would you?” I nodded, even though I didn’t know exactly to what I was agreeing. “Right, well. I’ve got to be on my way… find a pig, perhaps.” She seemed to be muttering to herself, which I hadn’t really minded. I tended to do that, too. But before I could thank her for saving me, she was running back into the woods. I shook my head and turned my attention back to the bloke - Baz - in the coffin. I told Fiona that I’d wake him up, but how was I to do that? I supposed I should start with taking the lid off. So I lifted it and set it to the side, careful not to break it. 

Not knowing what else to do, I took Baz’s (very cold) hand and stared back down to his face, thinking about how the bloody hell I could wake him. I supposed I could hit him? Although that seemed borderline like abuse. I remember Prince Phillip a few kingdoms over woke Aurora with a god and proper snog. (But if you asked me, I thought the whole situation was a little rape-y. Agatha had thought it was romantic.) But I s’posed there was no other option. I remembered Queen Lucy’s words in my head again. It’s alright if your heart wants something else. Follow it. 

I leaned down over Baz’s (what a lovely name) face, and the whole time as I leaned down, I kept thinking I have a girlfriend, I have a girlfriend, I have a… I pressed my apprehensive lips to his tenderly, and held there for a second or two. As I was pulling back, I felt a gasp dance across my lips; and it wasn’t my own. I was only an inch away from his face when his eyes snapped open. Big pools of cold grey, like the kingdom’s pavement on a rainy day. Like storm clouds or the angry sea. Like… what was my girlfriends’ name? 

He sat up quickly, knocking into my head. “Ow!” I yelped, bringing my hand to my forehead. He looked around, seemingly afraid. (He was more beautiful awake. Does this mean I’m gay? Maybe a bit.) 

“What the fuck?!” He yelled, hopping out of the coffin. He was running his hands through his hair, distressed. As his feet hit the ground, he let out an exclamation of pain. “Bloody hell, that fucking hurts!” I stepped closer to him, holding out a hand. 

“Hey, it’s oka-”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“I’m…” I wasn’t sure if I had simply forgotten my name looking at him, or if I just didn’t want him to know I was a prince. (Both, maybe.) “Simon Snow.”

“Well, Snow, why the fuck are you here? Where am I?!” He seemed to like the word fuck.

“Well, there were numpties around, and then a Fiona came along and-”

“Fiona?” He sounded afraid. 

“Yes, and he killed them and then told me to wake you before he left, saying something about a pig. And then, well. Then I bloody kissed you-”

“You. What?”

“I, er- well, I kissed you to wake you up an-” He threw his arms up in distress. 

“Do you go around snogging every sleeping bloke you find in the woods, Snow?” 

“Well this would be a first,” I had cut myself off, sudden irritation building. “And anyway, shouldn’t you be bloody grateful, you tit? I saved you!” He scoffed and sneered at me with one eyebrow raised, all in one motion. It was breathtaking. We took steps toward each other, and I could feel his absence of heat getting startlingly close to me. (Was my girlfriends name… Amelia? Amy? Something with an A… I couldn’t think that close to him.)  

“You saved me by snogging me, you dolt!”

“At least I didn’t get kidnapped by fucking numpties!” The silence was deafening, and we were so close by then that I was sure he could hear my heart beating. How could such a (beautiful) stranger have done that to me? I thought he was going to attack me. Maybe I’d kiss him again, I thought. Maybe one more time, I’d feel his soft lips on mine before he tried to kill me. 

Then he kissed me. Roughly and aggressively and passionately; like he wanted to break me. Don’t worry, I thought. I’m already a bit broken- you are too, I think. 

We spent the rest of the night kissing and talking and getting to know each other. We ate. We slept. We fed Ebb. I think Baz fell a bit in love with her. But when we were all full and rested, I let Ebb go back to the kingdom. 

“Run back,” I told her, stroking her nose. “I’ll be okay, I promise. But don’t tell them I’m here.” I whispered to her. She nuzzled against me before I let her go. I was fairly sure I’d be okay- Baz didn’t seem like a murderer, anyway. 

But after a few days, Ebb came running back. She came back wildly and recklessly, and when Baz and I saw her, we ran to go pet and feed her. Baz still didn’t know I was once a prince. Maybe it was for the best- I didn’t have to live up to expectations, anymore. In fact, Baz didn’t have any expectations for me. I just… was, with him. As soon as Ebb had come back, we spent the afternoon riding her. We laughed and talked and pretended to hate each other, even if we were both falling a bit in love, in all actuality. (That made me right gay, I decided.) 

“I want to steer!” He’d whine. I would just laugh and push him playfully. 

“Sorry, Baz, but the front seat is for people who haven’t been kidnapped by fucking numpties.” He rolled his eyes and pretended to be offended, but I knew he wasn’t- there was a ghost of a smile there. 

…

One day, years later, when I was cleaning up the cottage, I saw something carved into the wood in the wall on the exterior of the house. 

“Baz!” I had called. He came running back, as gorgeous as ever. “Look at this, love.” I pointed to the engraving in the wood, a naff carving job. It said, L+D encased inside a heart. Baz cocked his head and furrowed his eyebrows. (I loved it when he did that.)

“Who’re they?” He whispered, leaning down to rest his head on my shoulder. He smelled of cedar and bergamot, which I never understood since we lived in the middle of the forest. I smiled because I knew exactly who they were. Just two fools in love, one of them to one day rule with an iron fist, and the other… the other to become my guiding voice in everything I had done since I met her. There was something poetic about Baz and I living in that same cottage, even if I didn’t quite know how at the time. 

I turned my head and placed a soft kiss on the side of Baz’s face. He laughed softly and placed a kiss on a mole on my neck in turn. (He treats it like a target.) “Dunno. But I bet they were madly in love, yeah?” He nodded his head. 

“Yeah. Lot like us, Snow. Lot like us.” For all my life, I had felt out of place- like I wasn’t where I belonged. But then, just because of a moment in the forest, I found home. I found peace. I felt complete. 

We carved our initials in a heart right under theirs later that day.