#now they get people calling the authorities on them from burner numbers

[saltedswan]

I almost made a very long, extremely personal plea to chill the fuck out about making it your mission to ensure someone who you dislike never sees a peaceful second. but then I realized that sentence alone should be read and absorbed.

I am begging you. chill the fuck out.

[kieranxvalentine]

Source of Happiness. {Yandere!Idol Oc}

༻♡༺✎ You were his source of Happiness, and you were coming home with him. ༻♡༺✎ Yandere! Idol x Reader ༻♡༺✎ 17+ (Mentions of drugging, delusional thoughts, stalking and other behavior) ༻♡༺✎ 0.7k words ༻♡༺✎ Authors Note: Welcome to my next OC! I hope you enjoy this, and poll will be at the bottom for which one you guys would like next! (This is not proof read!)

“KAHN” “KAHN” “KAHN!”

He listened to the crowd yell his name, the loud roar of the screams of his fans never ceased to amaze him.

But none of them mattered.

He only had his eyes on one person, he scanned for his love in the seas of thousands of people before finally landing on them.

Their (h/c) hair done in their favorite style, their e/c eyes looking up to the stage with such excitement, their light stick waving in the air as they recorded with the other.

Oh how he adored you.

Kahn, or Kanato Watanabe, was a popular idol, having been in the idol industry for nearly 6 years now, and before he never felt such joy when he performed.

Kanato was a handsome 5'10 male with natural brown hair and alluring hazel eyes. He had a wonderful voice, he was jokingly called the siren in his group due to his way to swoon people easily with his voice.

Don’t get him wrong, he loved his fans, but when it came to you. Oh his heart just did somersaults, he would start to blush, stutter over the words of the songs he knew so well each time he made eye contact with you.

You made staying in this hellish industry worth it.

He remembers when you became a fan, it was roughly 4 years ago. He met you during a fansign.

Kanato locked eyes with you and felt like it was love at first sight. He remembers stuttering and nearly messing up his signature which his group members relentlessly teased him for.

You were just so perfect, he listened as you rambled off how important he was to you, about how his music saved you when you were in a dark place and that sold him right there.

Various songs of his group STXRLXGHT were based off you and his emotions for you, and his manager and company surely wasn’t complaining. Everytime he wrote a song that was about you, it would do big numbers, charting on the billboard and getting them recognized by big brands who would sponsor STXRLXGHT.

Kanato wasn’t worried about all of that, he wanted you. 

He wanted you to know that majority of songs that many other girls thought were about them were solely about you. You were the one who made his heart beat, made his head spin, and made him feel powerless whenever he was in your presence. 

When he figured out your name, he would stalk your social media under a burner account. 

Oh you said you’d like to see him with a certain hair color? He would change it just so he could see you freak out about it. 

You posted an outfit you’d like to see him in? He would buy it and post it to the group instagram, loving the way you would keyboard smash about it.

It would eventually get too much and he would decide that he had to have you.

Messaging you from the burner account he was using, he would message you. He knew you’d be suspicious, after all, many scammers scammed fans by pretending to be their faves all the time.

So when you questioned him, he would respond with.

“Let’s facetime.”

And when you did, he loved seeing the surprise on your face, he enjoyed seeing you freak out and pinch yourself believing it wasn’t real.

He would sing with you, sharing ideas and spoiling you with information that no one was supposed to know yet. It’s not like anyone would believe you anyways…

He would arrange a meeting finally. Roping in one of his managers by threatening his family.

“You are to help me get my beloved or say goodbye to your pitiful excuse of a family.”

Kanato had the power to, he was the leader and main singer of the main money maker of the company, of course they weren’t going to tell him no, nor were his group mates going to question him either, they were just like him.

He would ask to take you out to dinner, he would be in disguise of course as to not draw attention from any wandering or lurking eyes. He would spoil you, treat you like a princess, getting anything you want, he had the money to anyways.

Kanato would offer to have his manager drive you back home after you began to get tired, (he slipped a drug into your food when you got up to use the bathroom).

As you were driver home he would keep an eye on you, watching as you slowly slipped into unconsciousness, he would smile and hold you in his arms as he ordered his manager to drive back to the hotel they were staying at.

You were coming back to Japan with him whether you liked it or not. Its not like you could tell him no either. He had already prepared a nice home in the countryside where the two of you could live together. Oh! How happy it made him!

He could see you welcoming him home after a long day of practice, welcoming him with a kiss and hug.

Oh how he could not wait! Everything had fallen into place just as he had wanted them to~!

So just be a good little beloved and come home to your husband..

Isn’t that what you called him online anyways?

©kieranxvaletine 2023 <3 Hope you all enjoyed! also! vote for which fic you would like tomorrow!

[chrisodonline]

Finale Spec/Wishes, pt. 3

Just in case you aren’t one of the two people who are actually following this, see part one and part two. Again, this is non-formatted liveblog/recap style version of my brain. 

Part 3 of ???

Farmer’s Market lady ran when Kensi and Deeks identified themselves, so she was immediately sus. They take her in. Have her in the boat shed. They grill her about Good Queen Bess. Farmer’s Market lady is like, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Kensi and Deeks explain that her booth has not been doing well — more people are wanting vegan-only choices, and others are tight on funds. You sell grass fed beef. Money problems = motive for chicken ransom. Deeks suggests, “Or maybe you wanted to score some money in an underground chicken fighting ring?” Farmer’s market lady is like, “There’s no such thing as a chicken fighting ring. Who would do that?” Deeks follows up with, “There’s a first time for everything. It would be like the GLOW version of cock fighting.” 

Farmer’s Market lady is still like, “And why would I expect to get money out of a chicken ransom?” Kensi offers, “Maybe you weren’t trying to get money. Maybe you were trying to get intel. To watch High Ranking Chicken Guy trip up.” Farmer’s Market lady, “What would I do with intel?” Kensi says sell it for the right place. This guy obviously has a weakness for his chicken. Good Queen Bess is his Lock Screen. Good Queen Bess has her own castle. A desperate man makes bad decisions. Kensi and Deeks just sit and look at her. Deeks adds, “You know we’re checking your phone logs now. Some odd numbers.” FM lady is like, “What’s odd about them?” Deeks explains, “4 of them were only in service for a few days each. Do your Farmer’s Market friends have a need for burner phones?” FM lady looks away. Kensi and Deeks stare more. FM lady is like, “Fine. Someone did call and offer me money to take Good Queen Bess. But I didn’t take her!” Kensi asks why didn’t she say something sooner — or report a possible chicken-napping to the authorities. FM Lady says she thought the person was half-joking. Deeks asks if this person gave a name. FM lady says no. And then when they realized she wouldn’t do it, they threatened her. Kensi is like, “Your life?” And FM Lady is like, “No. They were going to kill my cows. They’re my livelihood! And they were going to poison them and then make sure there is enough on social media to suggest I’ve been selling tainted meat. They’d ruin me!” Deeks says, “I guess that makes sense. I’d hate to see a bovine massacre. I hate to be the one to say it, though. Not sure Southern California is the best marketplace for beef.” 

FM lady starts crying suddenly, “It’s all I know! I moved here with my husband, but then he won a reality show and left me! We were supposed to be the Chip and Joanna Gaines of the Cattle World!” She continues crying. Kensi and Deeks step out of the room. Kensi says, “Well that seems like a dead end unless we can get more on those burners. This whole thing is kind of crazy, don’t you think?” Deeks says, “Tell me about it. No one will ever be the Chip and Joanna Gaines of anything other than Chip and Joanna Gaines.” Kensi just smirks at him. “So you don’t want to be the Chip and Joanna Gaines of our field?” Deeks, “Oh, oh. Ohhh. I love that you speak my language and know exactly what to say at all times. I’m going to remember this after work.” 

Kensi shoots him bedroom eyes, and they’re interrupted with the sound of someone clearing his throat. They turn and it’s Callen and Sam in Ops, staring at them. Kensi asks how long they’ve been listening. Callen replies, “Long enough to wonder if that makes us the Property Brothers.” Deeks just says, “I KNEW you loved those shows, man. I KNEW it.” Sam just shakes his head. “You all need to get out more.” On this, Kilbride enters Ops. “I believe we are in agreement on that, Agent Hanna. I would also suggest that you all need to get to solving this case more. I take it from the lack of arrests and lack of a chicken, our main lead did not pan out.” Callen says he’s right. They’ve hit a dead end. Kilbride says, “Well I hope you are able to revive that dead end because this is the Office of Special Projects, and I expect you all not to get stuck. Especially on this case.” Sam adds, “We always do, Admiral. We always do.” Kilbride nods and says, “Carry on.” Then leaves. Deeks asks, “Is it clear?” Callen and Sam say it is. Deeks says, “Do you guys ever feel like he uses whatever bugs Hetty had in Ops to perfectly time coming in to insult us?” 

Rountree and Fatima are with High Ranking Chicken Guy. They explain to him about the burner phone caller offering to pay for intel gotten from the chicken ransom. Does he know anyone, an enemy, who would benefit from info he had? Who also knows about Good Queen Bess? High Ranking Chicken Guy asks if they think she’s already dead. Rountree and Fatima explain that two things work in her favor: 1. she’s worth more as a ransom and 2. She’s a chicken, so she can’t identify her kidnappers to the cops. High Ranking Chicken Guy is like “Well there is This Criminal Guy we’ve been after for a while but could never get enough to bring him in. We’re closing in on him, but only a few people know what we have. I did hear that the fact that we’re close may have made it past the designated personnel.” Rountree and Fatima immediately phone this in. Callen and Sam thank them and pull up info. Sam wonders why High Ranking Guy didn’t mention this enemy when they first asked. Fatima hand waves it and says he seems so distraught. 

Kensi and Deeks go back into the room. “We have a video we want to show you.” They show FM lady a video from YouTube of a guy unboxing a shop vac. FM lady asks why they’re showing her this. “We just want to know if it means anything to you.” “Like what?” “If we tell you, that might influence you and you misremember.” “I don’t have that model of shop vac, I know that.” Kensi and Deeks just look at each other, debating on stopping the video. Then FM lady says, “Oh, wait. Do a quick jump back, so I can hear him say that again.” They do. “That’s it! That’s the voice!” 

Cut to Criminal Guy’s warehouse location — because that is a shady person’s base. Both duos are on the ground in their tiny ass vests ready to go in and take Criminal Guy down. If they didn’t have him on international drug smuggling, they’ll definitely have him on chicken napping and coercion with cow threats — which Deeks dubs “cow-ercion.”  They go in and take down Criminal Guy. Kensi asks, “Where’s Good Queen Bess?” Criminal Guy asks, “I don’t know. Maybe take a time machine and go to England in the past.” Deeks says, “First off. That’s not even a good joke. You kidnapped a chicken, and you can’t afford to look any lamer. Second, we know you have her. Where is she?” Callen contacts Rountree on comms, “You guys have any luck yet?” Rountree says, “No.” Fatima is also searching, “Is there anything that would make a chicken squawk so we can find her?” “Are you saying we go around bocking?”  Kensi says, “Maybe something to freak her out. Chickens don’t get quiet when they’re scared.” Deeks says, “Look at you, Wikipedia.” Fatima is like, “Oh, hey, I got it!” She starts tapping her phone and asks Rountree for his. She works on his and then holds up both. Rountree asks what she’s doing. Fatima says, “What we always do.” She plays the most blaring, annoying alarm sound on both phones at the same time, creating an echo and extending everywhere. Rountree covers up his ears quickly, and so do Kensi and Deeks. Callen and Sam do the same. Sam says, “You couldn’t have told us to cover our ears before in case it blasted through all the comms?” Fatima says, “Sorry, I-“ Then they hear it. They hear Good Queen Bess clucking loudly. Rountree looks over impressed. “How’d you think to do that?” Fatima simply says, “Like I said. What we always do. A little chaos A little shock and awe.” Deeks throws in, “Or bock and awe, in this case.” 

[castle-dominion]

7x5 meme is murder

the snappamatic episode liveblog

Ok so I have p much no time. I have a full time job now instead of part time plus school assignments to do. I'm just going thru the transcript while I have a free half hour instead of yk... doing my Menu Demographic assignment.

update: it's still several days later & I'm only now getting the chance to watch it, on my day off. Heck the only reason I'm able to watch it is bc even tho I had to go to two different schools today & my uncle usually comes over, mum & lil bro are gone & my uncle is not coming over so I can watch this in the evening. I... have less than two hours before I need to be asleep.

Music <3 I see nobody here. Lots of mirrors. Pretty gal. Love how we're getting only one side of the phone call. why is the number already blocked? it's her! She dead!

When I watch this I'm going to join in on the vocal warmups I swear (I did lol) my mom's shiny forehead Martha <3 I love her bouncing BTS stuff I love, hey do you remember-- no that was s8 when someone was filming the dead body in the theater place. Mo! (who even is mo?) (you know I named a character Miyawatam who goes sby the nickname mo) walks away from mom with "oh my god" face wait I need captions on lol & since I've pre-liveblogged this, I can watch while doing my mustard seeds!

Misleading. Ha on the downloa-d. Remember the bloopers? NF has to catch books over & over.

Good for castle! Minor blow to my ego! Ok becks but PLAYING yourself is different from BEING yourself. Ah the coffee clink! RC: It’s time I let technology wrap me in its warm, lucrative embrace. Me: Bro if it's warm ur battery is overheating transcript doesn't say how tall the building is (love castle & the unis)

SHE is a maintenance worker, good for her. nvm misread the transcript, maintenance FOUND her Esposito kinda pretty. Heehee so creepy. Julian & LT in the background <3 Ryan also pretty ig but meh RC: Well, so much for the warm embrace of technology. Why si it always a burner phone? I mean they are homicide detectvies so of course it is there... I just remembered how the killer got in. Anyway the dets get burner phones with more regularity than normal ppl. Did she get killed after hanging up on him & getting the text?

Ryan's eyes in this lighting Club Doom Small time celebrity sort of like how castle is a famous author but not easily recognizable. Wow 500k is a lot. My youtube only has 320 & mu tumblrs have way less. (btw carlos is kinda pretty) Oh maintenance celebrity was a comedian! Makes sense! not stalkers but u need followers

HOLD ON I KNOW AN EDWARD HAN IRL. he is NOT an acupuncturist, at least he wasn't in jr high... RC: And who better than an acupuncturist to kill with accurate punctures? Perhaps with a giant needle. JE, who is rly pretty: I don’t get it. Posting dumbass photos all over the place? How does she have a fan base? How did this become a career? Me: so right bestie *liveblogging on tumblr* RC: Welcome to the sharing economy. JE: More like oversharing. Me: & it's worse when they share info abt random people on the street or prank them. At least Just For Laughs gags points out the cameras in the end & asks permission. KB: Really? And you’re opposed to all photos of oversharing women? *eyes emoji* JE: o-o JE: That’s … different. (funny but not clipping) (ryan said that making eye contact to beckett & everyone but also that deep eye contact with esposito)

Yeah she messed up Han's business I'm mad at her Ooh info: Abby said someone had been following her for the last month. But I didn’t track her down until a week ago. So the stalker couldn’t have been me. I don't have proof, that's your job

What's up with the lighting btw? KB: “The brightest stars burn quickest.” Me: we spark & fade they die by threes ooh wood varnish Pulls up a chair for someone (castle ig) The guy filming-- no that was castle's book. Mixing in my mind with the one in the future. lol Netslayer??? totally would have a better pfp imo

Like the cheese that the guy posted online that happened to have his finger that had his fingerprint that got him arrested

Heck yeah privacy! Oren Wilder: Look, no one is more upset about this than we are. KB: I bet Abby Smith was. Yay 10minmail Snappamatic stays a thing in future episodes, being associated with murder is not going to ruin it. Like those tiktokers who found a body in a suitcase. Metadata my beloathed What if the netslayer had his idea for snappamatic stolen by these two? Why would netslayer not scrub the metadata? JE: We already did. It’s a one man shop owned by one Bill Garrett. It turns out he used to be a cop until he had a nervous breakdown. And get this – he worked in the cyber division.

Ew guns. no vests tho.

Lol screw you & your fellow officer bs. You are to be treated just like any other human being. Even when u delete them they can be recovered, yes he knows that he was in cyber. He can't have killed her bc he wouldn't mess up like that. Bill Garrett doesn't go near the web unless he has to? mr cyber division? Also brings up a question. When did the police need to make a cyber division? (& then why does he have wifi at his shop?) BG: And I quit cyber because a frat boy date raped a girl, posted the photos online, and then got away with it, so I flipped out and I put him in the hospital. Me: so valid bestie

Ooh it's them! they're being stalked! Taunted! Serial killers taunting cops are always fun in media. So why... why did the netslayer show off instead of letting them arrest him & he'd get away with it? Oh wait I remember. He wants attention. I lovebeckett's face at the body parts

RC: Human Sausages... (makes sense for a serial killer)... in november...... (not so much) Except that mr cyber might be able to change his security system to say he has an alibi their NEXT murder or a murder they've done which u haven't found yet? Speaking of which, did he post the pics before or after the body was found? Huh, nov 12 is World Pneumonia Day. KR, annoyed: Yes castle we're also looking into that

I don't like the animations. I'd expect Tory to do more alt-tab back & forth between the cropped photo & the normal photo. In fact, let her do it several times & maybe one of the dets says "stop i'mma get nauseous" Food blogs my beloathed

Ooh german cuisine Hey 47 followers in a week is good!!

Maybe these are personal, not for the web-celeb. Go back to your first suspicion.

KR: But Leek’s pretty low on the Snappamatic totem pole. He only has about two thousand followers. Heck, my blog has more than that. First of all, "heck" is a good word, second, Let Me See Ryan's Blog! Like how bbc made john watson's blog! RC: U have a blog? KR: Yeah, yeah. The Ryan Report. It’s the musings of a homicide detective? The ryan report <3. Ok so the transcript says becks knows what he's talking abt but does she? does she read it? does she just know about it? I'm glad castle isn't reading it tho bc he'd make so many comments & corrections. (& watching it I see becks also looks surprised when ryan says his blog has over 2k followers) (Actually watching it I see becks makes hand gestures as if she knows abt the blog, meaning she knew abt it but not that it was over 2k followers or she was faking.) KR: Well … that’s going to be difficult. He’s at an art opening in Seattle. He doesn’t live in New York. Ok & one more thing abt the ryan report: is being a homicide detective his only personality trait? (I mean in early seasons he started reading castle books & then ofc he's also a parent, & it's revealed he took piano lessons & he'd open a winery if he won the lottery, but still, his blog is about homicide?) Castle shaking his hands when he figures it out, adhd moments

RC: Expiration date on spoiled milk. Plus grilled bratwurst equals … spoiled brats. (they don’t really follow) That’s the message. That’s what the images mean, leading us to … (off their lost looks) Seriously? Anyone here besides me a consumer of vapid online magazines? ESPOSITO, RYAN, and BECKETT all chorus “no”. CASTLE deflates. (but the way they say it is so... chill & small, I love them. not worth clipping tho. btw I love how far forward beckett's head is when listening & then she brings it back to normal good posture when she shakes her head. But maybe I should clip. But maybe I shouldn't.) Ok but weren't there 3 photos? Yeah body parts I DID IN FACT NOTICE THAT THE ARTICLE'S PHOTO WAS THE COLLAGE

Ok I should put this on hold *after eating second breakfast* Maybe I can just liveblog a little more...

Becks maybe she doesn't know abt the netslayer yet, it's been less than a day. Could have said "we have reason to believe that you are the target of an upcoming homicide" So she knows abt the netslayer obv, but abby had up to half the followers you did, which is a lot. (also, ryan's blog has 2k followers!?!? that is plenty!) she's awful. doesn't deserve to die but wow. Yeah it's hard when you go from mademoiselle to madam or miss to maam or senorita to senora. (but esposito's eyes when she said that lol) Bye bye! *man's dead*

hhh pushzoom So when did the netslayer kill cam if the cops were right there?

I always thought it was weird how they just have a tv up in the corner but they used it for the baby lottery & they don't just idk. tv is weird. she can pause it? remember the dead pool? the guy was a car thief? Or ambidextrous

Ok so the timing of it is an issue. It looks like they are still chill, but this was before they got on the scene.

First name

Hug <3 This is so early 2010s or whenever this show came out. Love anonymity. The cops just bought a 3d printer? I'd expect the guy to maybe use one at the library. Ryan looks so sweet. I love him look at that. Ok but u need to have it the right size. & orientation. The key is twisted to the wrong size. But ryan is sooo smart look at him! look at what he did! (also that key is possibly a 1284x) Castle uses the word outstanding now! (the killer didn't snap a pic, the vic posted a pic) mr rich castle man XD (beckett's voice this ep sounds like she grew up with a british or other european accent & is working to not have that accent but it is not rly working.)

Yeah u don't drive ur can in new york, it's for getting out of the city.

JE: So I’ve been running the people that rented Abby’s apartment. KB: Why would anyone let complete strangers stay in their place? TE: Extra money. KB & JE: TE: (sheepishly) After this I don’t think I’ll be doing it anymore. (yeah she's an underpaid "lowly tech worker" I don't think even a real cop. I have a friend who does work like that, or at least did, idk what happened after june 2020) So this guy has been planning this since Abby rented out her apartment. Carlos said she USED to rent out her place, now she doesn't.

Bill garrett, welcome back! Is it a fake beard or did he grow up & grow a beard?

Myspace XD Except I have a question, would he, if he's been this traumatized, not be super aware of where all the cameras are now? ig not Computer geek? My man has computer friends then.

how does he get paid then? Oh wait online stuff. that's how he paid for the 3d print job. JE: Hey, get this. I ran down Tim Witherspoon, Lane’s bully. Turns out, he’s dead. Unsolved homicide. He was stabbed in his apartment ten months ago. !!! RC: That’s right after Lane’s mother died. Maybe that’s what triggered him. He might still have the key, like when james gillies went to his childhood home & kidnapped someone

wow guns

her phone is in the velcro on her jacket?

Oren and Kent Wilder from Snappamatic, oh no. (they got kidnapped WHILE working with tthe police!?) This is hilarious, I read a fanfiction like this once. It was very typical fanfiction tho, I can't take this seriously.

It's like gofundme, a popularity contest where if you lose you die bc you can't afford ur medical bills. Becks is right, they both might. I mean, maybe if nobody voted nothing would happen. Hey here's a question: how are the votes connected to the machines? What if instead of finding the room, they stop the timer & the votes? Yeah sure u can track down snappamatic office photos OR you can find out where/when/how they were snatched & figure things out that way. (bro they can't even track the photos, remember?)

Adam Lane: What’s the expression? Three hots and a cot? (shrugs) Works for me. They probs can't send him there AL: It can’t be any worse than high school. he's .. maybe not that wrong? girl u'r not going down with manson & the zodiac. AL: I’m sick? (scoffs) Nobody had to follow me. No one has to vote for Kent or Oren. But they can’t help themselves. They want to be a part of it. They have to watch. So … who is really sick? He's not too far off there actually

I thought that garret would go in & talk to him

Ryan doing tech stuff, esposito walking around canvassing Well if the site crashed, nobody can vote so that's good. Maybe it disabled the timer & now they won't die. What if oren & kent just,, already died bc the system boot killed them? bc it is after all connected to the site & the votes...

AL: If you cops were capable of doing your jobs you’d know. there was a hint. He did spoiled brats... he left a hint somewhere else. & I think I remembered how it ends. {hs, right?} ew fakes electrocution, surprised me Becks u need to make it believable. Send Garrrett in. Or u can bully him becks. that... ok. He didn't exactly say they were to/g. *using description* tiled walls & stale air. Why so much description my man? BOTH fry wait, he also said the votes were irrelevant.

*jumps over the thing* Bro what if you just peel off the stickers? (except with only this many seconds left u might not want to touch the things) The countdown ends and an electrical box beeps. ESPOSITO reaches over and grabs a fistful of the wires and pulls them out. The wires spark, but they’re safe. Like castle & the bomb! for a sec I thought esposito went to hug him lol, but it was the duck tape on his mouth

I love seeing the whiteboard with the writing but no pics, it;s cool

The way he swings his arms

YAY THE RAGIN HEAT WEBMERCIAL I AM SO GLAD THIS IS ONLINE I'M NOT CLIPPING BC I CAN JUST LINK IT BUT HECKING CROWS I'M HAPPY.

Transcript: Hi, I’m Crichard Rastle Captions: Crichard Ratchel Me: so did he mess up saying his own name or was it youtube pooped together? I;M SO HAPPY THIS WAS DUMB & PPL DIDN'T ENJOY IT BUT I DID & I SING IT TO MYSELF ALL THE TIME. his face doing the boomerang thing RC: (horrified) A million people have seen that?

Great ending btw with just the "hi"

sdklsjdfljksj so that was fun. Can't wait for the bloopers I'll show you some good.

[fanficimagery]

Five Years After

Imagine going to the feed store for your sister, only you come home with more than just feed for the animals.

Words: 5.1K Author’s Note: The ending of this imagine was definitely inspired by a TikTok video :)

When the Blip happened, you were in complete disbelief. Chaos erupted all around as planes fell from the sky and automobiles crashed because their drivers had vanished into thin air. Everyone was a complete mess as they attempted to call loved ones, their calls going straight to voicemail or being answered by another family member that were having to deliver the bad news of a disappearance.

Your only living relative was your sister Laura and her children she had with her husband Clint, so when one of your co-workers and a handful of your customers vanished into thin air, your first call had been to your ex-Avenger of a brother-in-law. Unfortunately Clint was just as clueless as you and the phone had nearly slipped from your hand when he gave you the news that Laura and the kids had vanished. You had nowhere to go and were so scared because of the looting that had started, so Clint told you to pack your things and get to the farm as soon as possible.

You'd only been on the farm for a full day before Clint's friends came looking for him. Natasha, who you had met after your sister had married Clint, greeted you with a rather solemn hug. It was Steve Rogers, however, who attempted to introduce himself with as much joy as he possibly could in order to be polite.

You had shaken his hand, smiling sadly. "You don't need to force a smile for me, Rogers. The circumstances suck. I get it."

That had surprisingly pulled a short laugh from Natasha. "See, Steve? Told you she wouldn't be expecting the Man with a Plan."

Steve and Natasha had proceeded to stay for the duration of the day, telling Clint all about a fight that had taken place in Wakanda and who out of their friends had vanished. It was a devastating blow and you had no idea how everyone was going to cope. Then soon after the two Avengers had left, Clint went into overdrive. He was making phone calls left and right, packing bags and weapons, and you were at a complete loss.

You had decided to leave him be and it was only the following morning when you woke to an empty house did you find the letter on the kitchen counter. In the letter he had apologized for leaving you after everything that had happened, but went on to explain that there were criminals still out there who had survived the Blip when others who were sin-free didn't. He couldn't leave them be while people like his wife and children were no longer alive, so to work through his aggression he was going to hunt those criminals down. Fortunately enough, he left you in possession of the farm-house and made it so you were able to access his bank accounts. He told you not to look for him or get the others involved, so you waited a whole day before contacting Natasha and telling her all about Clint's derailment.

Clint left no trail, leaving you all alone. Or so you thought.

With Clint's vanishing act, Natasha and Steve made you their responsibility. They made sure you knew they were only a call or email away, but only after Nat drove down to give you some technological devices since the regular power grid was fluctuating. Since Earth lost half its population, everything seemed to be falling apart.

Then Tony Stark was brought back home and the world seemed a little bit brighter.

For years you drifted, working at a grocery store in town to keep yourself busy. The Blip took a toll on everyone, but it was nice to have to talk to someone even if the other person moved on autopilot. Clint sent an email every other month from a burner email, so it was a dead end every time Natasha looked into it after you had forwarded it to her. And about the only news-worthy thing that had happened after the Blip was the announcement of Tony and Pepper Stark's baby girl Morgan. You didn't know the Stark's personally, but it didn't stop you from sending their little girl a present every year on her birthday for the next five years on behalf of yourself and the Barton family.

One morning you're sitting at the breakfast table when you hear the telltale sounds of a jet overheard. You figure it's just Natasha and Steve for their monthly check-in so you think nothing of it.

The screen door creaks open and you call out, "In the kitchen!"

The steps of what sounds like more than one person falter, but then they pick back up until they near your location. "Got enough for another plate?" That oh so familiar timber makes you spew orange juice across the table. You're up and out of your seat, staring at your brother-in-law who's a lot more tatted up than you remember him being. "Hey, sis."

Tony Stark stands just a couple feet to Clint's right, but his presence isn't enough to deter you from marching up to your brother-in-law and punching his shoulder. "You asshole!" You punch him again for good measure as tears sting your eyes. "You left me. You left me all alone! How could you-"

He dodges your continuous blows, wrapping his arms around you to keep you from attacking him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but I'm here now. It's all going to be okay." The fight instantly drains out of you as you sag into his embrace, sob after sob leaving you as you clutch to him tightly.

Clint tightens his grip a little more around you until your cries turn into sniffles. "What- what are you doing here?"

"Lang came up with a plan to bring our people back." You tense in Clint's arms and pull back to look him in the eyes. "Banner and Stark made the machines necessary to make the plan work. We're going to bring 'em home. We're going to bring 'em all home, Y/N."

"Please tell me you aren't joking," you mumble.

"Nope. No joke," Tony says. "It's not a total guarantee, but we're going to try our best." You let go of Clint and turn to look at Tony who's standing by the stove and picking at the leftover scrambled eggs. "Mmm. These are good. What'd you put in them?"

"Uhh, just butter and cheese."

"Morgan would absolutely love these. She's on this whole cheese kick right now."

That earns a chuckle, and after gathering yourself you look back at Clint. "So what's going to happen now?"

"The team's getting ready for a test run," Clint says. "I just wanted to let you know I was home and that we had a really important mission coming up."

"How soon?"

"Today if the test run goes good," Tony says. He pours himself half a glass of juice before downing it in one go. "And speaking of, we need to go."

You look at Clint, a little let down that he's leaving so soon, but he grins and pulls you back into a hug. "It's going to be okay." You nod against him and he lets his arms drop before he steps back. He looks around the kitchen and his grin widens. "You've kept up good with the house. I'm impressed."

"I should hope so," you mumble. "I had to flirt with the hardware store boy so he'd help me keep the house from falling apart."

Clint laughs. "You did good, Y/N. Laura will be proud."

"Yeah, yeah. Now go bring my sister, niece, and nephews back."

"You got it, boss."

          - - - - - - - - - - 

You're grateful for the day off because it leaves you with time to clean the house from top to bottom. You need some way to burn off all your anxiousness and making sure the house looks good for your sister is one hell of a way to do just that.

You're not sure how long you'd been cleaning when you decide to take a break, and you head outside for some fresh air. You walk off the porch and onto the grass, tilting your face skyward as you inhale and exhale softly, your eyes closing. One moment all you can hear is the wind ruffling tree limbs and grass, and the next it's a cacophony of chirping birds.

Your eyes fly open and you're shocked to see the swarms of birds flying around in the sky. Sure there have been birds around after the Blip, but you've never seen so many together since then. You're too busy staring up into the sky that you don't see what appears to be ash take formation behind you.

"Aunt Y/N?" The timid voice makes your heart stop before you whirl around, your eyes widening at the sight of Lila glancing around in shock. "What's going on? Where's dad?"

"Lila?" You breathe out in awe. You stumble towards her, eyes glistening with tears. "They did it. They actually did it." You pull her into a hug, cries stuttering in your chest. As you hug her, you glance towards the open field where you see Laura appear, followed by Nathaniel and then Cooper. "Laura!"

You grip Lila's hand tight as the both of you break out into a run towards the rest of your family, you and Laura colliding with twin oomphs. The two of you are crying as Laura tries to work out what the hell happened and where Clint is, but before you can explain anything she's pulling her phone out of her pocket and dialing Clint's number. As she worries about getting her husband on the phone, you quickly hug Cooper and pick up Nathaniel to hold on your hip as you squeeze him in relief.

"Clint?" Laura sobs when he finally answers. "Clint, what's going on? I-" She stops talking all of a sudden and she looks at you, eyes wide.

"What happened?" You ask.

"I- I don't know. One second he was talking and then-" She cuts off, glancing at her children and shaking her head. "He just cut out."

You know all is not fine and that something terrible must have happened for Laura to trail off the way she did. But instead of worrying her kids, you offer a grin. "I'm sure it's fine. As clumsy as he is, he probably just dropped his phone." She forces a smile for her kids' benefit. "So why don't we go ahead and wait for him inside. I'll make something to eat while you guys relax and I'll catch you up on the five years you missed."

"Five years!?" Laura nearly shouts.

You wince. "Yeah. You guys missed a lot."

          - - - - - - - - - - 

For the next couple of hours you tell Laura all about the Blip and how half of Earth's population just disappeared- Avengers included. You tell her how Clint had you move in, and how you helped take care of the house and what few animals they had on the farm still while working at the local grocery store. You tell her all about Steve and Natasha, and how Tony Stark is now married with a daughter of his own.

"Wow." Laura chuckles. All the kids have fallen asleep around the living room, leaving Laura the time to finally ask, "And where was Clint this entire time? I noticed he brought you onto the farm, but then everything became about Steve and Nat."

You suck in a breath sharply. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice that."

"Y/N.."

"He went rogue." Her eyes widen and you wince. "He left me here with access to your bank account, which I only used to pay bills and buy groceries by the way, and not even Natasha could find him. He only came back when she tracked him down and told him there was a chance they could reverse the Blip."

"Oh Clint.." She sighs, shaking her head in disappointment.

The sound of a quinjet hovering makes you and Laura perk up, but you keep quiet so as to not wake the children. You and Laura meet each other's gazes before you carefully get up and tiptoe out of the living room, and then you're rushing out the front door and down onto the lawn.

The door drops down and then Laura is sprinting across the field to reach her husband. You joyously laugh, jogging over to catch up. But as Laura and Clint hug one another, sobbing, you turn your sights to Steve who's standing sheepishly off to the side. There are two others with him, but since you've yet to meet them you make your way towards the familiar.

"Hey Rogers. Good to see you in one piece."

He tiredly chuckles. "Y/N." You punch his arm and he opens them up so you can hug him. "How are you holding up?"

"Better now that I got my sister back," you muse. As you pull away, you glance behind him into the quinjet. "Hey, where's Natasha?" Steve's smile falls and your heart plummets into your stomach. You can practically read the answer in his eyes. "No.." You shake your head.

His breathing stutters before he clears his throat. "We, uh, we lost Tony too."

Your expression completely crumples then, but Steve is quick to pull you back into a hug. He lets you cry into his chest before Clint steals you away, and then you're crying into your brother-in-law's shoulder. Then once all the tears taper off, Steve introduces you and Laura to Wanda and Bucky.

"I'll be in contact with you about what Pepper decides to do," Steve tells Clint. "If you do anything for Nat, let me know."

Clint sniffles. "I will."

You, Clint, and Laura wave off Steve, Wanda, and Bucky as they return inside the quinjet and lift off.

"Come on," Clint then sighs. "I need to see the kids and then figure out a way to tell them all about auntie Nat's sacrifice."

"And plan a memorial," Laura says.

You frown. "This was not the homecoming I was hoping for."

After a few days of planning, Clint decides on a cookout with all the Avengers and close friends of Nat's invited. It was a couple of days before Tony's own memorial, so you were surprised when Pepper Stark showed up with Morgan in tow. You were happy to finally meet the young girl who you'd been sending gifts to and you gladly ended up on babysitting duty.

You had met more of Clint's ex-coworkers, but your attention always ended up back on the children. Then when it came time to say a few words on Natasha's behalf, you somehow ended up between Steve and Bucky as the children ran back to their respective parents with Steve tucking you into his side when the tears started.

Then when the day of Tony's memorial came, there were more guests than you had anticipated. So as Pepper and Morgan walked a small flower raft with an arc reactor replica on it and set it out on the water, you stood back with Laura and her family and waited in silence. And as the crowd dispersed, you mostly kept to yourself until you saw Steve walk out of Pepper's home in the oddest white and red suit you'd ever seen.

Walking up behind Steve, you nod at Bucky and Sam who grin at your presence. When Steve turns around, you chuckle. "Why do I got a feeling you're about to do something very stupid?"

He grins and adjusts his grip on the suitcase hanging by his side. "Someone's gotta return the stones to their original timeline."

"Mhm. Well be careful. Don't start any unnecessary fights."

"I'll try my best."

As he walks up onto the platform, you step back and nudge your arm against Bucky's. He smiles down on you and you stand by his side as you listen to Bruce who walks Steve through about what's going to happen. Bruce checks all his monitors, giving Steve the go-ahead when everything is fine. Steve nods, a mask of sorts opens up and wraps around his face, and he presses a button that had been in his hand. Bruce counts down the seconds before he flips a switch which is meant to bring Steve back, but nothing happens.

Bruce looks around his monitors and starts pressing some more buttons. "Where is he?" Sam asks.

"I don't know. He blew right by his time stamp. He should be here," Bruce says as he flips a few more switches.

Bucky sighs and you quickly glance at him, and he looks more resigned than anything as he turns to walk off.

Your attention goes to Bruce as your heart rate picks up. "Get him back."

"I'm trying."

"Get him the hell back!" Sam urges.

You and Sam are low-key panicking, but it's Bucky's calm voice that stops the both of you. "Y/N. Sam."

The two of you whirl around, gazes sliding towards where Bucky is staring off to. In the distance, on a stone bench by the water, there appears to be a man sitting there that wasn't there before. You and Sam stumble forward, and you squint your eyes, only to glance back at Bucky with wide eyes.

"Is that.."

"Go."

You share another look with Sam and he gestures for you to follow him. The two of you walk towards the man together and Sam stops just behind him as you walk around in front. When you get a good look at your friend who is way older than what he appeared to be a mere twenty seconds ago, your heart cracks just a little.

You try to force a smile, but it wobbles as an elderly Steve chuckles at you. "I'm really trying not to be so mad at you right now." Your voice cracks and he pats the spot next to him as you sniffle. You immediately sit next to him and take his left hand within your own two, a gleaming wedding band not going unnoticed. Your fingers trace it. "Was it at least a happy life?"

Steve pats your hand. "It was. It was the beautiful life I always dreamt of."

You take a moment for yourself, inhaling and exhaling deeply. "You know you were my complete impulse control, right? Who's going to stop me from trying to get into your best friend's pants now?"

There's a snort from behind you, but you don't bother giving Sam your attention. "Go easy on him," Steve tells you. "I'm not sure he even remembers how to flirt."

You grin as you lean your head on his shoulder. "I'm really going to miss you," you say after a beat. Another moment passes before you drop Steve's hand and sigh before you stand. "Well, um, I should get back my sister and Clint now." You meet his gaze and flash him a small smile. "It's going to suck not seeing you every month, but I'm really glad you found your happiness."

"Thank you, Y/N."

Your bottom lip wobbles again. "Goodbye, Steve."

As you walk away, you hold your head up high and nod to Sam when he looks at you to make sure you're okay. You continue walking, nodding at Bucky as you pass him up as well when you see Laura wave you over. "For the record, I still remember how to flirt." You stumble and and then hear Bucky chuckling quietly behind you.

"Goddamn super soldiers and your dog ears."

As the days turn into weeks, Clint and Laura offer you a permanent place on the farm now that everything seems to be going back to normal. He's promised to build you a small house on the property for all that you've done in the past five years, so in the meantime you've taken to bunking with Lila while Wanda took over the guest bedroom. Clint had also taken to bringing Bucky to the farm when he noticed the super soldier not coping as well as he was letting on, so you found yourself often sitting by the back pond with him as the two of you traded stories about Steve and yourselves.

Though you had originally joked about getting into Bucky's pants, you found yourself seeking friendship from him more than anything else and vice versa. So when you weren't working at the grocery store, you were watching the kids for Laura and Clint or hanging out with Bucky and Wanda. It was no surprise to anyone that the three of you latched on to one another after losing those that you did.

"Hey Y/N," Laura calls out. "Will you do me favor?"

You glance up as she walks out the front door, you and Wanda ceasing your conversation. You grin. "What do you need?"

"Lucky needs some dog food and we need a few bales of hay for the goats."

"Oh. Okay." You look towards Wanda. "Wanna go for the ride?"

She shrugs. "Sure."

"Thank you! You can just put it on the Barton tab at the store," Laura says. "Clint pays it monthly and I've already called ahead to let them know someone was going in to pick up some stuff we needed."

"Got it." Standing up, you pat down your pockets to make sure you have your keys, phone, and some cash. Realizing you have everything, you grin at your sister before walking down the porch steps. As you near your truck, you whistle at Bucky who was throwing knives at a target on the side of the barn. "Hey Buckaroo! We're heading into town. You wanna come?"

He throws the last knife in his hand before he turns to look at you. "Don't call me Buckaroo!" He shouts back as he makes his way towards you.

"Then stop lookin' so darn cute!"

Wanda snorts and you laugh as Bucky shakes his head at you. "One of these days he's going to flirt back and then what are you going to do?"

"Bend myself over the table and let him hit it from behind," you mumble. She snorts harder this time and your eyes widen when you see Bucky start to smirk.

As he nears the two of you, he says, "What did you say?"

"Nothing," you blurt. "Nothing at all. Wanda's just easily amused, is all."

His gaze slides to Wanda, but she shakes her head and doesn't tell him a word. You mentally sigh and praise her for being a good friend, and then you turn to walk towards your truck. Wanda readily heads for the back driver's side door while Bucky walks around to the passenger seat so he's seated next to you.

Once you're seated behind the wheel and the engine is turned on, you take a moment to find a decent song on the radio before driving. It's not too long of a drive and you find yourself pulling up to the local feed store not even three songs later.

Parking and cutting the engine right in front of the store, you turn towards Bucky. You know he's not a huge fan of being out in public, but you rather not have to flirt inside the store to get a helping hand. "Hey Buck, can you do me a favor and load up four of those large rectangular bales of hay and one bag of that dog food right next to it?" You see him tense. "I rather not have to flirt with the boy inside just so he'll help out."

He relaxes then and gives you a nod. "Yeah. Sure."

"Thanks. Just keep watch through the window. Wait 'til I give the signal for you to start loading up." He gives you another nod and you turn around to face Wanda. "Wanna head inside with me?"

Wanda grins and readily opens her door, you and Bucky following right after. But as you and Wanda head inside, Bucky remains by the tailgate of your truck and keeps watch through the large front window as you had said. Inside, Mr. Reeves is waiting by the cash register and keeping an eye on Bucky outside.

"Don't worry, Mr. Reeves. He's with me." Mr. Reeves glances at you, smiling in relief. "I need four large bales of hay and a fifty pound bag of dog food."

Mr. Reeves starts punching buttons on his register. "Alright, sweetheart. Is that going to be all for you?"

"Sure is. Um, Laura asked if you can put it on the tab? Clint will be by at the end of the week."

"Sure thing." You turn towards the window and give Bucky a thumbs up. He turns to open the tailgate and then move towards the bales of hay to start loading up. Mr. Reeves chuckles. "That's a strong fella you got there."

His words make you blush and Wanda giggle, but you can't even reprimand your friend because she is further away than you expected. She's leaning over what appears to be a warming box, hand inside as she smiles down at something you can't see. "Whatcha got there, Red?"

Her smile widens as you hear small chirps. "Ducklings."

You walk over to her, peering inside and your heart absolutely melts. Inside are the cutest ducklings you've ever seen and you know you're done for when you set your hand down inside and one particular little duckling runs onto your palm.

Mr. Reeves walks over, chuckling. "They were hatched a few days ago. All have been looking mighty strong and are ready to go to good homes."

"How much?"

"Y/N," Wanda laughs. "What are you doing?"

"I'm taking this little sucker with me." You pick up your hand, duckling still happily nestled in your palm as you cradle him to your chest and look at Mr. Reeves. "Any chance you have those small plastic kiddie pools?"

"As a matter of fact I do," he muses.

Wanda is giggling the entire time Mr. Reeves gets exactly what you need, you nuzzling the yellow fuzzball to your face. You pay with your own money and sadly hand over the duckling when Mr. Reeves has to box her up. You then carefully take the box from him as Wanda takes the kiddie pool, and you walk behind her as you make your way to the truck.

You have absolutely no regrets about buying the duckling, but you still hide the box as you walk around the truck and open the driver's door. Wanda shoves the kiddie pool into the back with her and Bucky turns so his gaze darts between the both of you- Wanda looking far too amused and you looking a little sheepish as you continue to stand outside the truck.

"What did you do?" He sighs.

"Well we went in to just buy the food," Wanda says, "but-"

"I bought a duck." You blurt. You finally put the box in front of you, on the seat, and you open the lid. The duckling chirps and you beam down at her, picking her up and nuzzling her once more. "I'm gonna name her Flauta." Bucky snorts and Wanda laughs uncontrollably then. "No one tell Laura."

"Gonna be hard to hide her, doll."

Bucky reaches over to take the duckling from you and the sight of him cradling it, holding it up to his face and smiling makes you melt once more. Wanda is staring knowingly at you, but you don't even have the urge to flip her off because you know you're fucked. Instead, you take your phone out of your back pocket and snap a picture.

"That's my new wallpaper."

Bucky doesn't bother admonishing you for taking the picture, so after setting it as your wallpaper you put your phone away and climb into your truck. He holds onto the duckling as you make the drive back to the farm, Wanda giggling every now and then when you glance at Bucky and sigh longingly.

When you make it back to the farm, Clint and Laura are on the porch as the kids play out in the yard. They both stand as you park, their expressions turning suspicious as Wanda hops out of the back with the kiddie pool in tow. You grin as you hurriedly hop out as well, leaving Bucky to carry the incriminating evidence.

You can tell he expected as much as he watches you jog around to his side of the truck, already pointing at him through the opened window. "Bucky bought a duck!"

He shakes his head at you and you blow him a kiss, Clint and Laura then joining you by the truck. "Oh really?" Your brother-in-law muses.

"Yep."

"Mhm." Clint looks to Bucky as Laura bites back a grin. "Buck, what's the duck's name?"

Without missing a beat, he says, "Flauta."

Laura finally laughs. "Nice try, Y/N." As Bucky and Wanda guess how Laura knew, she says, "When we were younger, Y/N did the same thing but with a turtle. She named him Taquito."

"And Taquito lived a long and happy life until we went off to college," you say. "Flauta will live just long, if not longer, here on the farm."

Clint chuckles and then takes the duckling from Bucky. He looks to Wanda and gestures for her to follow him. "Lets go get this little lady all set up. The kids are gonna have a blast."

Laura follows after them, but not before winking at you, and you shake your head as you're left alone with Bucky. He finally climbs out of the truck, shutting the door and then leaning against it. You nervously laugh as he smirks. "You threw me under the bus."

"I couldn't take the chance that they'd make me return Flauta." You pout. "I couldn't send her back, Buckaroo. I'd already named her."

He pushes off the truck, turning you around and laying his arm around your shoulders. For a moment you forget how to breathe. "You're just as bad as Steve."

"Oh whatever." You roll your eyes, grinning as your arm wraps around the back of his waist and start walking towards where Clint went. "Steve got you shot at. I momentarily put you in momma bear's crosshairs." He quietly chuckles. "And besides, I didn't hear you deny it. Admit it, Barnes, I'm growing on you."

"Like a fungus."

You pinch his side. "Oh fuck off." He fully laughs then. "Just you wait, Buckaroo. The day we decide to put sex on the list of things we should definitely be doing, I'm gonna withhold just because you're being an ass."

"You sure about that?" The teasing lilt to his voice suddenly makes you feel at unease. "You sure you won't immediately bend over the table and let me hit it from behind?"

Your face flames, but you can't help but laugh at your earlier words. When you manage to calm down, you can't help but say, "I hate you," as you finish making your way towards your family.

"Nice try, doll, but I'm calling bullshit."

[ivybucky]

remember - b.b. x fem!reader

Request by @divergirl99 : Could I make a request a Bucky x reader....where maybe she is childhood best friends and goes to war with them and when she thinks the boys are gone she volunteers to help stark recreate the serum resulting in her being a super soldier who doesn’t age and after civil war Nat (who she is friends with) asked her for a place to hide and she see Bucky and Steve and really fluffy reunion and Bucky remember hers and tells him he loves her?? (Sorry it is really long) - divergirl99

a/n: i'm sorry this sucks??? i might try and redo this at a later time but this has been sitting in my requests for far too long.

author: abby<3

words: 1317

“Ma’am,” a security guard stepped in her path. “You can’t enter this facility without some kind of granted access.”

“I don’t care,” she snapped. “Stark’s gonna see me whether he wants to or not.”

“Let her in, Jimmy,” Howard Stark stood with his arms crossed across his chest. The security guard reluctantly backed away. “I was expecting this at some point.”

“Howard-”

“Y/N, I know, okay?” he sighed, shoulders dropping slightly. “Why don’t you come in, I’ve got some stuff I wanna show you.”

The entrance to the SSR facility was grand, but everything with Stark was. She felt her own urgency get muddled under the views of the labs they passed down the all.

“What’s going on here Howard- what do you have that I don’t know about?”

“We recreated it.”

“You what? Howard-”

“We were able to do it, finally, I think.”

“You think?”

“We haven’t tested it yet.”

“And what if this gets into the wrong hands? What if someone like Hydra? Steve wouldn’t have-”

“Y/N,” he sighed. “I miss him too. Why do you think I’m doing this? I know he’s still out there. But I can’t do this by myself.”

“You have at least 300 bodies in this facility.”

“You know what I mean.” Y/N looked around at the viles, the serum that covered the table slabs of the room. “I’m asking for your help.”

“Howard,” her arms tightened around her own waist. “I lost my best friend and the man I had fallen in love with in the same war. I don’t know if I have anything else to give to the cause. They were the ones who could have helped, I’m just an agent.”

“Erskine chose you too. How many women do you see fighting these wars? He knew what you were meant to do, just as Steve did, just as Bucky did. This is it, Y/N.”

She thought about Bucky, how he tried to be everything Steve was molded into. She thought about how he fell, without the chance to realize himself was plenty good enough. She thought about Steve, how the world would be blind to his deeds as he sat in the ice, not knowing what he did to keep the world that had treated him so cruelly safe.

“Fine,” her arms fell down to her sides, a decision already set on her face. “Rig me up, Stark. For them.”

“Who is this?” Y/N bit into the burner phone that never rang. “How did you get this number?”

“Well,” Nat’s voice sounded over the speaker, causing her mouth to tip up slightly. “After all this time, that’s how you greet an old friend?”

“Well, it has been ten years, Tash,” she sighed, untensing her shoulders. “I wasn’t sure you were still out there. Deep doesn’t have a whole lot of press coverage around here.”

“I’m still out here,” Natasha sighed, clearing her throat. “A lot of people, Y/N, are still out here.”

She paused, back straightening once more. “Natalia-”

“They’re both with me,” her voice was firm, and concerning. “And we need to lay low for a bit.”

“You’re already on your way, aren’t you?”

“What, no? You’re at an undisclosed location, how could I possibly-”

“How far out are you?”

“Two hours,” Nat laughed, but Y/N heard the sadness, the pain that lined her voice.

“I’ll see you soon,” She breathed out with an unsteadiness of the reunion to come. “Be safe. Do they know?”

“I’ll tell them before we get there.”

“Natasha,” Steve’s tired voice called out, as he rubbed a hand over his face. “You haven’t told us where we’re going yet.”

“That’s because I need to explain some things,” her gaze dropped to Bucky, who looked like he was still reeling. “To both of you.”

Steve chuckled darkly, “More secrets?”

“I need you to understand that until now, if you had known, the mission, the undercover, all of it would have been compromised, and she could have been killed.”

“She?” Bucky spoke, for the first time since he boarded the jet. Steve stood up, his memory serving him well.

“Natasha-”

“After Steve went into the ice, Howard Stark didn’t stop,” she began, sitting down and looking at her hands. “There were attempts, too many, from all around to recreate what Erskine had used for Steve. But he knows he wasn’t supposed to be the only one.”

Steve’s chest rose quickly as he sucked in a breath. Bucky stood up, his own breath leaving his body. “Steve-”

“Stark was able to recreate it. But he quickly destroyed the serum after he used it on one test patient, and realized once again what the wrong hands would do with it.”

The quinjet landed, the ramp lowering onto the field they were located in.

“Are you telling me that-”

“Y/N’s alive.” Natasha stood up and walked down the ramp. She turned back around at the super soldiers. “And she’s got the serum.”

Once the ramp met the ground, Bucky took off in a sprint. He ignored the calls of his name, the one he had to learn again, behind him. The wooden steps that lead to the front door creaked under his heavy frame. Consciously, he banged on the door with his flesh hand.

“Okay Nat, jeez-” The door swung open, and Y/N stood there, unchanged, unaged, just as she had the day on the train.

She tried to ignore the moisture building up in her eyes as she saw the man she had loved from afar, with grief, for nearly a hundred years. “James-”

His hands shook as he reached out to caress her cheek, to solidify the image before him. Her hands wrapped around his wrist, pressing her face into his hand. In a second, her body was pressed against his. Bucky buried his face into her neck, clenching his eyes shut in fear that she would disappear once he opened them. He felt her sigh beneath him, hand sweeping up his back. She mumbled against his chest, watery and shaky, “I wasn’t sure you would remember me.”

“Remember you?” He pulled back and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Y/N, you’re the reason I’m not completely gone, doll. I don’t remember everything,” he sighed, cupping her face again. “But I remember you, and I remember how much I love you.”

Y/N gave a watery smile, pressing her lips into the palm of his hand. “I love you, too, James. I always have, and always will.”

His lips against hers were firm, finding purchase in a place he thought he would never find, in a home he thought he would never return to. Her hands wrapped around his neck, something she hadn’t done in this way before but something she knew she was meant to do. She breathed him in, as if he was her only air supply. He smiled into the kiss, something he wasn’t even sure he knew how to do anymore. They broke apart for breath, and to wipe the tears that were flowing away.

“Are you gonna hog her this whole time, Buck,” Steve laughed from behind as he walked up the stairs. “Or do I get to hug my best friend too?”

“Steve!” She launched herself into the arms of her friend, her brother, who she wanted to do everything for. He squeezed her and spun her around as she laughed. She was set down, and immediately went back to Bucky’s side. “Come on inside, we’ve been standing out here too long.”

She smiled at Nat as she followed Steve inside. Bucky pulled Y/N back into another hug, squeezing her with a lightness he couldn’t remember feeling before. And while he regretted a lot of what he had done in his past, he was sure nothing else could have led to having her in his arms again.

Forever Tags(all characters)

@avengers-do-it-better @maisondumepris @hamiltonwrite12

Steve & Bucky

@fab-notfat @mcueveryday @nanners-the-great @mcubuckyandsteve @captainfile @yes-sir-hotchner

Bucky

@aletheladyinred @antheiagoddessofflowers @stevieintheimpala @friendlyneighborhood-fangirl

[archived-kin]

genshin modern au cheat sheet

i’m planning to do more pieces set in this au, so i’ve put together a quick list of the characters i'm planning to write about/include!

there are three main groups here - the zhao family, the ragnvindr family and friends, and the Miscellaneous Pals™

(the next volume in this au is going to be a xiao piece, and that should be up within the next two or so days!)

1. the zhao family

zhongli, 36: history professor at the local uni who also plays the guzheng very well, tea-enjoyer, a very proud and supportive dad who loves his kids more than anything in the universe - probably unironically has so many pictures of them in his wallet

xiao, 23: taking a degree in psychology at the local uni, has a cool motorbike, bit of a control freak, doesn’t like surprises, will drop-kick you if you look at him or his sister funny, wants a cat but his dad’s allergic, never really grew out of his emo phase

yanfei, 19: baby of the family, prodigy lawyer-in-training, far smarter than many people give her credit for, likes building snowmen, has to protect her unsuspecting dad from Evil Salespeople looking to make some extra money

xiao and yanfei are biological siblings, and zhongli adopted them when xiao was 11 and yanfei was 7. the circumstances of this adoption is a mystery that none of the zhao family members seem willing to divulge…

the zhao siblings can have a little bit of tragic backstory. as a treat.

basically they were born into poverty and often went hungry for days on end. biological parents were distant and neglecting (though not actually physically/emotionally abusive - yet.)

when xiao was caught shoplifting bread and fruit from a local grocery store so that he and yanfei could actually eat, both parents went ballistic and kicked him out the house in the middle of one of the coldest winters the town had seen

poor kid was practically freezing to death out there, and yanfei raised such a fuss back in the house that mum slapped her square in the face to get her to shut up, which xiao saw through the window, and he promptly decided that he Was Not Putting Up With This Shit for any longer

immediately went to a neighbour’s house and told them what was going on, neighbours promptly called cps, and an investigation was launched

parents were deemed unsuitable for raising kids and (after a lot of back and forth) the two kids were taken into care

meanwhile zhongli was kind of sad because he had no friends or family in this town and all he really did was write articles, read books, and mark work

then one of his co-workers mentioned hearing about xiao and yanfei’s story and it hit zhongli so hard that he immediately rang up the adoption centre and ended up taking them in

and from then on both yanfei and xiao were very happy and healthy because zhongli was literally the best dad ever and put everything into taking care of them

2. the ragnvindr family (+ friends)

diluc, 29: budding businessman who still works at his dad’s cafe but is looking to open up his own company some time soon, still buys himself juice in those little cartons with the straws, still doesn’t know how raising bread works?? how does it get bigger???

diona, 7: diluc’s adopted daughter who has her father firmly under her thumb, bit of a spitfire but can also be the sweetest kid ever, enjoys making ‘potions’ out of grass and flowers and water (diluc can and will actually drink these potions because his love for his daughter knows no bounds)

kaeya, 25: diluc’s idiot little brother who’s changed majors at least five times and still doesn’t really know what he wants to do, practises fencing and horse riding in his spare time like a nerd, spoils his niece rotten

lisa, 26: the first of kaeya’s three roommates, has a degree in english and could easily have gone on to become a leading scholar but chose to instead open a bookshop that gets way more business than expected because she’s pretty and men and women alike are all simps

albedo, 23: the second of kaeya’s roommates, bit of a genius, has already started his chemistry phd, is almost concerningly pale and exhausted at all times, has not gone a day without breaking one of the cups for at least two years

venti, 21: the third of kaeya’s roommates, studying music, acts way older than he is sometimes but is mostly just a child, asks at least one of his roommates to marry him every day without fail, was and still is both a music and a theatre kid

lisa’s actually the one who owns the roommates’ residence because it’s on top of her bookshop

i was going to keep the whole ragnvindr family trauma thing but i decided that diluc deserved to be happy in at least one au so the brothers are still happy brothers :D

unfortunately that means that i’ve transferred a lot of the family trauma over to diona

essentially her mother died when she was a baby and her father, draff, turned to alcohol to get him through the stress of raising a child alone. unfortunately this led to him drunk driving one day, and he crashed the car into one of the wall’s of diluc’s dad’s cafe.

draff died on impact since he was in the front seat, but three-year-old diona managed to pull through despite her injuries. one thing led to another, diluc ended up taking care of her for a bit while the authorities sorted the whole thing out, but then he got too attached and decided to adopt her permanently

now diona has a dad, three uncles and an aunt who are all willing to shower her with all the love she deserves :’)))))

3. the Miscellaneous Pals™:

xiangling, xingqiu, chongyun, 17: local high school kids, they’re all kind of dating each other, low-key got adopted by xiao at one point, guoba is xiangling’s guinea pig and they all have joint custody over him

barbara, bennett, razor, 17: also local high school kids, also kind of all dating each other (but a lot more tentatively), regulars at diluc’s cafe, almost never seen apart

lumine, aether, ??: they keep showing up here and there around town to climb a tree and just sit there throwing leaves at people on the streets, then disappear. no one knows who the fuck they are

tartaglia, 23: nicknamed childe by his friends, also known as Mr Moneybags, is always just hanging around the local uni campus but doesn’t actually study anything there. his real name is ajax, but he thought that was lame so he gave himself a cool new one

eula, 24: new teacher at the local high school, her father used to be headmaster and was notoriously cruel to his students so everyone’s kind of wary of her, but she’s just really sweet and wants the best for her pupils :(((

amber, 21: number one eula defender, teaches the younger kids at the local primary, likes bunsen burners a little bit too much, still can’t remember how to spell the word necessary

hu tao, 25?: shady local mortician who may or may not practise illegal things, was kind of dating yanfei at some point but zhongli sent her packing as soon as he realised who she was, no one knows what her deal is

xiangling’s already a budding master chef and has received several offers from culinary schools, xingqiu is planning to study literature/language at uni but also might just go straight to trying to get a book published, chongyun is going to continue the family tradition of studying the supernatural with maybe a side job at xiangling’s future restaurant so that he doesn’t end up with no money if he doesn’t get any supernatural work

barbara is planning to go to medical school and also sings/dances in her spare time, bennett still doesn’t know what he wants to do but is considering carpentry among other things, and razor is dead-set on working at either a zoo or an animal shelter when he’s older

tartaglia never leaves the house without at least three pocket knives and a water pistol. he’s never had to use them yet, but you never know...

eula and amber live together and are probably dating but they’ll both just dodge the question if you ask them about it

they’re most definitely together though because on eula’s birthday amber brought her entire class of little kids to say happy birthday and bring her flowers

(incidentally amber is diona’s teacher)

[egcdeath]

checkmate

summary: you’ve always refused to lose, and love was no exception. (gone girl-ish au)

pairing(s): ransom drysdale x dark!reader, a special mystery guest ;) 

word count: 3.7k

warnings: 18+ because of heavy themes! faked death, framing of crimes, manipulation, alluding to sex, alluding to cheating, terrible relationship dynamic, very loose usage of the word crazy/psychotic, implied mention of self harm, brief choking & slapping (in a non sexual way lol), pregnancy trapping (idk if thats the right term), the reader is a very bad human being, overuse of italics  *please let me know if i’m missing any warnings!

author’s note: this is my 2nd submission for @stargazingfangirl18’s 5k soft dark challenge, i decided to make the reader dark >:) but ransom is also not a good person. I used these prompts: “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.” & The town golden *girl isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks.

this is definitely the most unhinged thing i’ve ever written, but blame @literate-lamb for making me write this because when i pitched this to her and said that i’d probably never write it, she enabled me. 

okay that's enough from me. join my taglist if you want :D

“I know women whose entire personas are woven from a benign mediocrity. Their lives are a list of shortcomings: the unappreciative boyfriend, the extra ten pounds, the dismissive boss, the conniving sister, the straying husband. I've always hovered above their stories, nodding in sympathy and thinking how foolish they are, these women, to let these things happen, how undisciplined. And now to be one of them! One of the women with the endless stories that make people nod sympathetically and think: Poor dumb bitch.” Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl

Your whole life, you’d considered yourself a competitive person. Constantly overcompensating for one thing or another, whether it was the chronic desire to achieve perfection that had been installed in you since you were a little girl, or your persistent internalized sense of inadequacy. You realized early on that it was much better for you to win than for you to lose, no matter the physical, emotional, or mental cost of the prize of perfection.

For the most part, this mindset worked out for you. You graduated as Valedictorian from your high school, neared the top of your graduating class at Harvard. God knew you earned it, all those tears you shed into overpriced textbooks, all the popping of unprescribed Adderall, and robbing yourself of the parties and social events that the rest of your peers gladly indulged in. 

You were just different, which was why you gained a job nearly immediately after your exit from school, quickly climbing to the top at the Blood Like Wine publishing company after only a few years of being there. 

And one night, at the party celebrating the release of A Thousand Knives when you laid your eyes on Hugh Ransom Drysdale, the grandson of your boss, you knew that you needed to have him. Rich, hot, a bit of an asshole. You deserved to finally complete your image, and that socialite flavored eye candy seemed to fit the part perfectly. Luckily for you, he was desperate. It only took a few tugs on your dress’ V-line, and a number of knowing smirks to find yourself being finger-banged in his family manor’s bathroom.

From there, you wormed your way into his life. Leaving belongings at his place as an excuse to come back, and offering booty calls in the middle of the night. Ransom must’ve been much more desperate than you originally thought, as it really only seemed to take one night of stroking his hair while he vented about his family to make him want to be with you. Men with mommy issues were always so easy. 

Except, he wasn’t that easy. The longer you got to know Ransom, the more fucked up you realized he really was. He had no boundaries at all, became jealous and enraged at the drop of a pin, and occasionally told you things that made the hairs on your arms rise. 

This of course all came to a head after the night of Harlan’s 85th birthday party. When the news broke of his tragic death, you’d immediately known it was the works of your Hugh. If your intuition wasn’t enough, his confession in the shower, where he’d demanded you take off your clothes to display that you were without a bug, certainly was. 

You were completely devastated. The man that you’d invested so much into for years had thrown both his and your reputations down the drain in just a matter of hours. Of course, you felt bad for Harlan too. He was a good guy (when he wasn’t instigating a family fight).

Still, you showed up during the funeral in your best mourning clothes and dawning your biggest crocodile tears. You rubbed Linda’s back while she mourned the loss of her father, and the new truth about her husband. You played dumb when interrogated by some Southern private investigator, even giving Ransom an airtight alibi. You testified on his behalf in court with enough conviction to grant you an Emmy. 

You’d gotten so far, devoted so much energy into him, that you simply refused to lose now. 

To your friends, you’d seemed to lead a near perfect life. Dream job, dreamy boyfriend, dream bank account, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you just didn’t know what. 

It dawned on you while sipping mimosas at the country club, Ransom playing tennis with his friends just a few yards away from you while Danielle showed off her brand new engagement ring, a .59 Carat Asscher Diamond, that if you heard her speak of again, would probably make you lose your shit.

You zoned out as she droned on and on about the shape, and how Matt proposed to her in their own private room in one of the most exclusive Parisian restaurants, instead focusing on how you could find yourself in the same position as that airhead next to you. In all honesty, you couldn’t stand the idea that someone was doing better than you, let alone someone in your own social circle. Dani got all the bragging rights of being engaged to the heir of some tech giant, being the first in your friend group to get eloped, and worst of all, Matt wasn’t even making her sign a prenup. 

You blankly watched Ransom from afar, taking occasional sips from your sweet drink, while you thought of how you deserved all of that and more, and you were going to get it one way or another. 

——

It didn’t take much to come up with something, your first and most obvious plan being to simply ask Ransom when he was going to propose to you. Of course, this wasn’t the first time you’d tried to approach him about this subject, you just wondered if maybe this time things would be different.

Panting heavily after a rather rough night in bed, you rolled off of your boyfriend’s chest and gave him a messy, yet sincere kiss. You knew your man well, and if there was any time to pop the question, it was in his post-nut haze.

“Baby,” you said breathily, “I wanna ask you something.”

“Shoot,” he responded casually, glancing over at you. 

“When’re you gonna propose to me?” you hummed.

Ransom groaned and shook his head, rolling his eyes, “this is about Matt and Dani, huh?” he tutted, then extended a hand out to your warm cheeks so he could gently caress one with his thumb. “Thought we agreed marriage is just a piece of paper and it’s stupid.”

You huffed in response.

Of fucking course.

“I never said that,” you muttered, setting a hand on his broad chest. “Besides, it’ll be good if you get pissed and decide to like, kill your dad or something. Y’know, spouses don’t have to testify against each other in court.”

Ransom chuckled as if this whole thing was funny, like your feelings were some kind of sick joke to him. “You know my lawyers, babe. They could prove that bees don’t make honey. That bears don’t shit in the forest. I appreciate your attempt, though. This has been some really nice pillow talk.” 

“Whatever,” you muttered, pinching his nipple in retaliation before turning your back to him and yanking the blanket onto your side. 

You weren’t sure why you were so surprised that he was being stubborn, most of the time you felt like you were pulling teeth from the man. But that’s why you had a backup plan! You always had a backup plan. That’s what separated you from your boyfriend. Where Ransom was extemporized and impulsive, you were calculating and prudent. 

Although you devised your plan that very afternoon while watching your partner backhand small green balls, you were going to need some time to get everything in order, to prove Murphy and his stupid law wrong in making sure that everything that could go wrong wouldn’t. 

After all, love was a game. And you sure as hell weren’t losing to Hugh Drysdale. 

——

You sacrificed too much to have your plans ruined by some trust fund baby with impulsivity issues. You deserved your dream marriage, the stability you wished you had as a child. You wanted the white picket fence, and everything that came along with it. Your desire to be the best, to be perfect was what drove you to poke holes in every condom in the box, what led you to draw liters of your own blood in hopes of staging a fake crime scene, to buy a cheap getaway car and burner phone off of Craigslist, and reach out to a high school boyfriend who you knew was in a position as desperate as you. 

You planted seeds of doubt in your friends throughout the following weeks, feeding them lies about Ransom’s behavior, how you were afraid of telling him that you did in fact see two faint red lines on that damn plastic stick– only half of the statement truly being false–, telling them that he was behaving erratically lately.

It all was going without a hitch. Ransom didn’t seem to notice anything was off, despite your frequent visits to the bathroom and newfound affinity for true crime documentaries. 

You almost felt guilty, knowing the world of pain you were about to throw the man into. Granted, he deserved the pain. You were in a relationship with a genuinely terrible person, and that person had made a conscious effort not to commit to you. You tried to make this easy for him, give him a chance to say a few words to you and slide a ring on your finger, but no, he always seemed to take the hard route.

You slept like a baby the night before you were setting your plan in action. You made sure to uphold the facade of everything being fine, making Ransom a nice breakfast before sending him halfway across town to the hardware store with an oddly incriminating list.

Once he was out of the house, you hurried off to the fridge in the garage where you’d been keeping a small stash of your own blood. It wasn’t pretty, but it had to be done. You poured the blood throughout the kitchen, splattering bits of it on the counters and cupboards. You poorly cleaned the mess, just as he would.

You put your next move in motion, falsifying a home invasion. You tossed over a table and some chairs, throwing books and photos onto the floor, but left some aspects slightly untouched, like an upright picture frame to give yet another hint that things were not exactly what they appeared. 

You left a tiny blue post-it note on the nightstand of Ransom’s side of the bed, a quick and simple doodle of a ring along with the first initial of your name inked onto the tiny piece of paper. 

With that, you were off. Technically missing, soon-to-be presumed dead.

----

 The days following your disappearance had gone even better than you’d initially planned. Local news coverage had been all over you, search and rescue groups were assiduously looking for you, your parents had opened a tip line, and begged for you to get home safe on news segments. But the best part of it all was that Ransom had been briefly found himself in police custody, only to be released shortly thereafter. His past of an accused murder quickly made your disappearance even more of a national story, and you watched the whole thing unravel from the safety and comfort of your high school boyfriend, Andy Barber’s Newton home. 

Of course, you fed him the same lies you’d given to your friends, and seeing the rather lonely position he was in, he gladly let you stay with him. You were absolutely having a hay-day with it all, dedicating hours of your day to watching Ransom slowly unravel. Maybe it was a bit sadistic of you to enjoy torturing your partner so much, but he needed to learn his lesson. You deserved better. You needed Ransom to rise up to your level, allowing you to finally complete your image. To let you two appear to be the perfect couple. Really, this was all on him.

Andy, for the most part, had been a good host. He was gone for the majority of the day, dedicating himself to his work while you lounged around on his dangerously cozy couch. Around two weeks into your stay, you were sharing a box of pizza in the living room with your old lover when something interesting on the television caught your eye.

Ransom, broadcasted on CBS, being interviewed on your disappearance. 

You watched with wide eyes as Ransom begged for your return on national television. It was one thing seeing your mother plead for you to come back, the same woman who had installed such toxic behavior in you sob for your return, but Ransom. You’d never loved him more than in that moment.

“Hugh, if you could tell Y/N one thing, what would it be?” the interviewer asked.

Ransom turned, looking straight at the camera, directly into your soul, “Y/N, I love you so much. More than you’ll ever know. I need you to come back safely, to see you, to hold you again. I’d give anything in the world for that right now,” he looked down, a tear falling down his cheek. “I can’t live without you in my life, I-”

His sentence was cut off by Andy grabbing the remote, and turning off the TV. You turned your head and frowned deeply at him.

“Why’d you do that?” you asked with a bit of a pout.

“I just couldn’t stand listening to him talk about you like he hasn’t treated you like shit for the past few years. C’mon, let’s get ready for bed.”

Your blood boiled. Andy was once a means to an end, but now he was interfering. He was clearly much too selfish to see that you and Ransom were quite obviously soulmates. A match made in hell. 

You followed him to bed regardless, curling up on what had been your side of the bed for the past few days, and staring at the wall until Andy’s breaths moved from a soft and rhythmic pattern to loud snores. God, those snores were obnoxious. 

You slipped out of bed and to his dresser, grabbing two soft ties from the drawer, and daintily tying his wrists to each side of the bedpost.

“What‘re you doing?” he mumbled, instinctively yanking both of his wrists as he awoke.

“I’m going back home,” you whispered.

“You can’t be serious,” Andy huffed, tugging on the restraint attached to the headboard.

You shook your head, “I am.”

“I should’ve known. Why would you do something like this? Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in with the law?”

“Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in when the world finds out that you kidnapped me?” you retorted.

This threat seemed to wake him up right away, “what about this was kidnapping? I gave you a nice home, fed you, I didn’t even make a pass at you. I didn’t do shit to you,” he hissed. “You think I can’t prove that? I’m a lawyer, for god's sake!”

You nearly laughed, “Okay, Andy,” you paused for a moment, “As a lawyer, who do you think everyone’ll believe? Someone who the world was on a wild goose chase for in the last two weeks? Or the man with a family history of violence? Must I remind you that your father and your son have killed people?”

Andy shook his head, face pinched in sorrow at the mention of his deceased son, clearly a low blow. “You’re insane,” he muttered.

“Swear to god that you won’t tell a soul what happened here,” you leaned over him, getting right in his face. “Or I promise, Andrew Barber, I will ruin you. You’ll spend the rest of your life behind bars, or disbarred, or whatever the hell I decide to do with you. So keep your goddamn lips shut.” 

You pulled away and he solemnly nodded, not bothering to put up a fight. You loosened the fabric around his left wrist and walked out of the room. You picked up the keys to Andy’s Audi on your way out, checking the time as you adjusted the driver's seat. 

9:45 PM. Fatherhood really changed the man.

You pushed that thought aside and began your drive home, which turned out to be a surprisingly short trip. When you pulled up in front of your home, you were met with a slew of reporters outside of the house, along with a police car that seemed to be permanently camped there.

As you slowly got out of the car, a gasp, followed by a loud silence fell across the crowd. You limped for dramatic effect up the driveway as cameras followed you, and glanced back at them pathetically. From your peripheral view, you noticed the officers get out of their vehicle.

You finally got to your door, ringing the doorbell and waiting. You blinked harshly a few times, conjuring up the tears you needed to really make a spectacle of the event. After a few minutes, Ransom opened the door, eyes widening as he looked at you. He stepped out, and you wrapped him in as big of a hug as you could manage, genuinely missing his embrace. It was possible that you even let out a few real tears in the moment.

Your emotional embrace was interrupted by the man you recognized as Lieutenant Elliott, the same officer who’d been assigned to Harlan’s case. 

“Ma’am,” he began, only to be shut down by you. 

“Please, just let me be with my boyfriend,” you pleaded, crocodile tears streaming down your face as you spoke with the officer. You still needed time to get your story straight.

“Just give us the night, Lieutenant. We’ll come in first thing tomorrow morning,” Ransom added, furrowing his brows at the officer that he’d come into contact with far too many times. 

He looked to his partner, who shrugged, then to you, “enjoy your night.”

Cameras flashed around you as civilians, journalists, and newscasters alike attempted to catch your attention. You grabbed Ransom’s hand and dramatically pulled him inside, insincerely attempting to hide your face by ducking and covering half of your face with your arm. 

As soon as you were in the privacy of your own home, Ransom threw you against a wall. 

“Why. The fuck. Would you pull a stunt like that,” he hissed through gritted teeth, eyes wild, and a hand around your throat. 

You whimpered as he tightened his grip, rage clearly flowing through his system uncontrollably.

“Do you know what you did to me? You almost had me thrown in fucking jail. Do you understand that?”

You nodded weakly, “Ran,” you whispered, “the baby,” you glanced down at your stomach.

He paused, dropping his grip on your neck and staring at you in awe, “no…” 

You nodded again. 

“How…? You told me you were on the pill… You- you made me use protection…”

“Surprise?” you said weakly. 

“You’re a psychotic bitch.”

“I’m your psychotic bitch. And no child of mine will be born out of wedlock,” you taunted. 

“That’s what this is about?” Ransom laughed manically. “You did this all because I won’t fucking marry you?”

You didn’t even have to respond.

“I should send you to the loony bin right fucking now.”

“What happened to all those things you said to me on TV?”

“You’re fucking delusional. I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. And you will. I’ve had to put up with you and your stupid little antics for way too long. How do you think I felt when you killed your own grandfather?”

Ransom scoffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation, “you are so fucked up.”

“I’m the fucked up one? You killed your own blood in cold blood! You’re unhinged!” 

“You faked your own death for attention, and got pregnant while doing it! Is that baby even mine?”

“The fuck are you trying to say, Hugh?”

“I asked if it’s even mine.”

“Really. You’re accusing me of cheating on you. That’s rich considering Mia, Layla, and whoever the fuck else. You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being ridiculous? You couldn’t have a normal adult conversation with me!”

“Are you kidding me? I asked you time after time to marry me and it was always some bullshit excuse!” you wagged a finger in his face as you spoke. “Oh, commitment scares me, oh, marriage is just a piece of paper, oh-“ you mocked his voice in a deeper tone before you were cut off by the sting of his hand against your cheek.

“Can you shut the hell up?” he growled at you as you held your own cheek, before you reached out and slapped him back, “I can’t believe that I’m stuck with such a deranged bitch for the rest of my life.”

“Maybe work on your vows a little, dear. I don’t think that those words are as charming to me as they’d be to the rest of our family and friends.”

“You can’t be serious,” he groaned.

“But I am,” you hummed, rubbing your cheek softly once again. “Look at how fast your life fell apart without me here. How quickly the public turned on you. Imagine how upset they’d be if you left me. I love you, Ran. I really do. You and I are perfect for each other, can’t you see that now?”

Ransom took a step away from you, pacing slowly in front of you. He ran a stressed hand through his hair, and took a long and drawn out breath, clearly at a loss for words.

“So when should we have the wedding? I’ve always wanted a Spring wedding, and I know it’s a little short notice, but I don’t want to be showing too much in my wedding dress,” you grabbed Ransom’s bicep gently, as if you were just having a regular old day with him, as if you hadn’t been choked and slapped moments ago. “But we can make it work. We always make it work, right?”

Your now fiancé stared vacantly at the wall ahead of him, giving you a slow, empty nod of agreement. 

“It’s settled then,” you smirked. “I’ll start looking at venues. You find me a nice ring, okay Honey? One that puts all those other bitches’ rings to shame,” you sighed pleasantly to yourself, “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before hurrying up the stairs and into your bedroom. You heard a distant shriek of  “fuck,” from Ransom, but you truly could not care less. 

You hopped into bed, grabbing your laptop from its charger and promptly opening it. You couldn’t help but to smile at your own reflection on the empty black screen. This wasn’t how you imagined your engagement, but you did the impossible. You tied yourself down to Hugh Ransom Drysdale, he went down kicking in screaming, and you were likely in for a lifetime of cheating and resentment, but you did it nonetheless. 

You finally won.  

[earthfire-75]

Kashmir

Chapter One, Part Two: Kashmir (The Trick is to Keep Breathing)

Author’s notes: co-written with @nature-and-music , beta-ed by @lady-jane-revisited

A lopsided smile tugged at his lips, “I’ll get them for you.”

“No thank you Robert, Grant gave me the money and I’ll pay for it.”

“Oh please, just one of them then?”

I shook my head, “No it’s fine. Besides, we need to head back.”

He pursed his lips and huffed, “Alright, if you say so.”

The purchase was completed and it was time to head out, however Robert was speaking to the woman behind the counter; or flirting no less. She nodded her head and wrote something down on a note by the dresses that he brought to her.

“Thank you darlin’, have a pleasant rest of your day.”

I chuckled, “Giving her the number to your hotel room?”

“Not exactly, Anjelika. Come on we better hurry, the party’s going to start soon and you still need to do your hair and makeup,” he informed.

Somewhere along the line, we lost the other three band members. Robert took me to the hotel they were staying at, figuring they would all meet up there anyway. He let me borrow his bathroom to change and do my hair and makeup.

“What kind of party is it? Formal or informal?”

“Well, I’m wearing a suit, if that helps?”

I rolled my eyes. “Ok.” I picked out the longer dress and started getting ready. I could hear Robert rummaging around in the other room and assumed he was doing the same. I just finished when Robert knocked on the door.

“I need the mirror, love. Gotta comb out my hair and beard.”

I flung the door open, grabbing the comb from the counter. “Don’t you dare take a comb to those curls! Tell me you have a pick.”

He swallowed. “Technically? I left it at home?”

I didn’t say anything else, but grabbed his hand and pulled him out to the common room and to the couch. I then sat, pulling him down next to me. It was then I noticed what suit he was wearing, and still with his beard. Fuck! He wasn’t yet wearing the jacket, but he had the vest on and the top two or three bottoms of his shirt were left undone. Now it was my turn to swallow hard as I leaned in with the comb to fix his beard. Then I started to run my fingers through his hair carefully.

“If you forget your pick again, use your fingers, not a comb or brush. You could ruin your curls otherwise.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“Good. Now, we should probably get going.”

We both stood and, as Robert grabbed his jacket from the arm of the couch, we left the hotel room and headed downstairs. “The party is being held in the hotel restaurant,” Robert informed me.

At first, the party seemed more like a meet and greet with the other roadies and their tour manager, who seemed unimpressed that I was “some bird” Jimmy picked up off the street. But none of the boys were having it. Robert happily reassured the crew that I was indeed more than “some bird,” that in fact I was assigned to be a part of the touring as well. To be equipped with the behind the scene matters and the roadies would simply need to learn to live with this sudden change. Being the new kid in town was never easy, and I was feeling beyond self conscious about this, however I had to keep my intrusive thoughts at bay. New learning opportunities would be coming up and it was all a matter of learning the ropes. Even if a fair amount of the crew thought of me as another to be shared among the members of the band, especially with Robert since he had locked arms with me.

The party started off fairly quiet at first as we all sat down at our tables to listen to a congratulatory speech from Grant. He had nothing but high expectations for everyone involved and that this tour would be bigger and heavier than the previous one. I felt a hand touch my lap and I followed the arm to see Robert’s concerned expression. I gave him a little smile to reassure him that I was alright. The last thing that I needed to do was interrupt Peter in the middle of his talk, and right before my first day no less.

A line was formed as everyone made their way to be serviced by the chefs. All manner of succulent cuts of meat, freshly cooked fish, bubbling champagne, and assorted hors d'oeuvres were ready to be served. Everything looked so delicious and oh so appetizing, I just simply couldn’t believe my eyes. As we stood in line, I overheard Jonesy and Jimmy mention something, although it was hard to hear amongst the chatter of Robert talking to Bonzo.

“How do you suppose they’ll feel about touring?” Jimmy asked.

Jonesy shrugged, “Well, hopefully their antics won’t take away from the show. And your guitars won’t get demolished as well.”

Jimmy scowled, “If he even thinks about touching any of my guitars, I’ll bash his head in!”

“If you do, she’ll end up giving you a black eye. You know that she has a bit of a ‘short’ temper,” the bassist chuckled. “Besides, I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Well you're the bass guitar player, none of your things will be obliterated,” Jimmy whined.

Bonzo joined in, “Not unless a certain someone decides to shove a cherry bomb in the strings.”

Jonesy smiled and rolled his eyes, “Well I suppose I’ll just need to stand close to Thunderfingers won’t I?”

Guitars being destroyed? Cherry bombs? My curiosity peaked, however I didn’t want to interrupt their conversation. At least not until I knew a little more of what or who they were referring to. We made our way to the table and enjoyed our delicious food and sparkling drinks. The champagne flowed like rain down our throats as the appetizing meals made our mouths water. A few questions were directed to me regarding how I was feeling about the new job and I answered honestly.

I smiled meekly, “Well I’m very excited about this. This is going to be something different for me for sure, but I’ll do my best.”

“You will darlin’, you will,” Robert smirked as he patted my hand. “So how long have you been playing and singing?”

“Well, for a while actually. I just picked up a few lessons from my dad and just… learned a bit on my own.”

Jimmy noted, “I did a bit of session work when I was a lad. Learned a few things myself along the way.”

Robert butted in, “Well I hope we can hear more of your singing and playing while on tour. I think you’ll sound wonderful, and the audience will love it.”

I felt myself clam up a bit at the prospect of playing before a live audience, even though it was a touching notion on Robert’s part. I didn’t think it was necessary to get myself even more involved than necessary, especially since a fair amount of the road crew weren't exactly pleased with me being here. I gave Robert a little smile and a shrug and let him know that we could put that idea on the back burner.

“I’m curious though…who were the three of you talking about earlier? You mentioned something about guitars being destroyed?” I asked. I had hoped they would have said more by now, but since they hadn’t and my curiosity was getting the better of me…I had to ask.

Jonesy laughed a little. “Interesting wording. We were talking about another band who will be touring with us. Interestingly enough, they are called The Who. They’ve got a habit of destroying their equipment. Jimmy was concerned it might spill over to ours as well.”

I know of them, of course and of that particular habit, though I had thought they had stepped doing so by this time. Then again, it's a different universe, likely also a different timeline. “I see,” I said instead. Looking at Bonzo, I got his attention. It was as good a time as any to talk to him, but I didn’t know what the other boys knew.

“Bonzo? Can we talk? Alone?”

“Uh, sure. Looks like there’s a spot at the bar surprisingly clear of people.”

We got up from the table and walked over to the bar, ordering ourselves a drink before I started the conversation, but Bonzo beat me to it.

“So…yer a Nightbane too?” He asked with such nonchalance.

“Yeah, I am. So are you. Do they know?”

“Yeah, they do. Rob found out first. He was there during my Becoming. Scared the daylights out of ‘im, but it was like he still knew it was me. Jimmy found it ‘fascinating’. Jonesy took it the worst, almost left the band when he first found out. But he came around.”

I nodded in acknowledgment and downed my drink. How did the fact that they all knew Bonzo was a Nightbane make it both a relief and up my anxiety about them finding out I was one too? Would they be able to accept the creature beneath as easily as they had with Bonzo? Granted my other form wasn’t monstrous in the traditional sense, yet, I still worried it would scare them off at best.

Bonzo smiles a little. “Don’t worry, Jonesy might freak out a little, but I really don’t think you need to worry about Rob and Jimmy at all.”

“Thanks, Bonzo.”

Someone cleared their throat behind us and we turned to see Robert. “Sorry to interrupt your conversation, but the other bands just showed up. I thought you might like to meet them, Anjelika.”

He stepped to the side and I found the members of The Who standing there, looking at me. I knew each of them by name and face, even as they introduced themselves, though I did a double take as my eyes landed on the shortest member. There, with the same blue eyes I had seen so many times before, was a very feminine looking Roger Daltrey. Now I know I’m not in my own universe…

“Rogina Daltrey,” she introduced herself to me, her blue eyes never leaving mine.

“Anjelika,” I responded back with a smile and she in return gave me a smirk.

“Bonzo!” Keith uttered, a drink in one hand as he hugged his fellow drummer, “You gained a few stones since last I saw you.”

Bonzo rolled his eyes as he chortled, holding his head in a strong arm grip. Keith complained that his champagne would fall out, but that didn’t stop Bonzo from treating him like a sibling. “Moonie, why don’t you and the lads say hello to our new friend here, yeah?”

John and Pete made their acquaintances, Keith was able to give her a little wave of his hand until Bonzo finally let him go and gave him a good slap on the back.

“You’ll have to excuse Keith, he’s a bit loonie as you can see,” Pete explained. “So what brings you here?”

“Well I’ll be going on tour with the band, and it looks like I’ll be seeing you four as well.”

Rogina interjected, “Is that right? What will you be doing?”

“A roadie, so I’ll be around helping with getting everything ready,” I mentioned.

“She might even do a bit of performing as well,” Robert mentioned proudly.

I was silent as The Who stared at me, my throat becoming dry. I tried to play off his comment as a joke, “Good one Robert. He’s just kidding-”

Rogina tilted her head as she looked at me, “Are you sure? Because if you can sing, we’d love to hear you.”

My heart was pounding, all I could give her was an unsure shrug, “Um, another time… maybe. Say why do you all go get something to eat, the food is very delicious here.”

Keith was already off to find himself a plate, with John closing in behind him. Pete kept himself occupied with discussing business matters with Jimmy and Grant. Rogina on the other hand decided to stay and talk a bit more. Everything about this Roger was pretty much the same: The height, the golden corkscrew curls, ocean blue eyes, toothy grin, muscular arms, and stylish clothing. Still it was odd speaking with her, considering the obvious factors such as a slightly higher register in her voice and the presence of breasts that protruded from her suit.

“So how did you manage to work with Zeppelin?” Rogina asked.

I tried to answer as best as I could, “Oh well… you see Jimmy let me know that a spot was available actually.” I wasn’t sure why I couldn’t tell her that Jimmy had found me like an abandoned cat in an alleyway that he felt sorry for. A little of me to say, but still I couldn’t seem to add that in.

“Is it true what Robert said about you performing? I mean you seemed awfully quiet when he brought it up.”

I sighed at the question, barely keeping myself from pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’m quickly learning that Robert's a little like a puppy…very excitable. I played a little bit for them to prove that I know what I’m doing with the guitars. Something came over me and I sang a little bit too. I never agreed to playing in front of anyone else. Let alone in front of a huge audience.”

Rogina’s smile softened at that. “He really is, though I’m sorry to hear you won’t be playing. The offer is always open and I meant what I said, I'd love to hear from you. if you change your mind.”

I returned her smile and I knew I was going to love this version of Roger too. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

G made his way over with a couple other people, one looked vaguely familiar, the other I didn’t recognize. “Anjelika! I want to introduce you to Ahmet Ertegun, owner of Atlantic Records. He’s here to support the boys. And this is Alice Cooper, joining us on the American leg of the tour.”

Both men stuck a hand out for me to shake. I took Ahmet’s first who placed his other hand over mine gently. “I must thank you for joining the road crew, dear. Though, I must admit, I was shocked to hear you were a woman. Forgive me, I mean no offense, it’s just never been done before.”

I smiled at Ahmet, trying not to take offense. It may be a different universe, but apparently the ‘70’s were still the ‘70’s. Turning to Alice, I shook his hand next, barely recognizing him without the makeup.

“I don’t know if shocked is the word I would have used, but I guess I am a little surprised. Didn’t figure I’d see a female roadie for another decade at least. Don’t get me wrong, I love that women are getting more and more involved in rock. And if anyone gives you any shit, just say the word.”

My smile grew wider at Alice’s genuine words. “Thank you, I appreciate that. Though, I assure you, I can handle myself.”

“I’m certain you can, but the offer is still on the table. I would like to stay and get to know you a little more, but I need to get back to my girlfriend. It was nice meeting you, Anjelika.”

“I’m sure there will be time to get to know each other more on the road and it was nice to meet you too.”

“Fair enough. See you tomorrow, then.” And with that he was off. G and Ahmet soon excused themselves to go talk to the boys and I was left at the bar once more with Rogina next to me.

Rogina sighed, “I know this must be all new to you. Believe me that being a woman involved in rock and roll seems to weird people out, especially guys.”

I gave her a reassuring grin, “Yeah, I’m sure you probably have gone through a lot.”

Rogina took a sip of her flute, “I may have a few stories. One of them involves Keith actually.”

I leaned in, “What happened?”

“Well let’s just say he thought that he could get away with copping a feel. He lost a couple of teeth that night,” Rogina chuckled. “The bastard will never live that moment down.”

I wasn’t sure if I could share a laugh with Rogina, even though she was able to find humor in such a terrible situation. All I could muster was a nervous smile and a nod.

Rogina took another sip of her champagne, rested her head on her palm, and pondered, “So is this your first time working with Zeppelin?”

“Yes actually. And I hope that I’ll do alright while on tour,” I admitted.

“I think you will,” Rogina claimed with a warm smile. “So what would you like to drink? The champagne is alright, but I think I’ll get a whiskey instead.”

I was taken aback, “Oh well… a beer sounds good.”

Truthfully, a Nightbane could easily drink any of these mortals under the table. As to how I would do against Bonzo, a fellow Nightbane, well that would be a matter for another day. Still I was grateful knowing that Bonzo could understand, and hopefully the remainder of Zeppelin, Who, and Cooper would as well. However it was too early to let the rest of them know. In time I would say something, only when the moment felt right.

As we waited for our drinks, I felt a strange looming presence behind me. My throat went dry the moment I turned around to see John Entiwistle, the Ox himself, towering over the two of us. Rogina on the other hand casually remarked, “I thought you were supposed to be babysitting our dear boy.”

“Well quite frankly I need a break from him,” John mentioned with a deep chortle. “I think as long as nothing blows up tonight, he’ll tire himself out eventually.” He gestured to the bartender and asked for a glass of cognac.

Rogina nodded and asked him, “Where did Pete go?”

“Probably talking some poor bastard’s ear off about Lifehouse,” he laughed.

“Oh come on John, the man just wants to share his work to the world,” Rogina noted.

John leaned in towards me, “She says that, but even she gets tired of his songs about teenage angst.”

Rogina scowled at him, “I do not.”

John raised his eyebrows, “Keep telling yourself that Rog. It was Anjelika right?”

I nodded, “Yes John.”

He responded with a handshake, “Pleasure to meet you.”

“And you as well”, I responded with a return of his handshake. “I take Keith's handful?”

Rogina and John laughed. “That’s putting it mildly some days.” John admitted.

“I swear the man can’t not cause trouble in some fashion or another for even a few hours.” Rogina adds.

“I think there’s some unspoken rule that drummers are all crazy,” I chuckled.

“That explains everything, actually.” John said with a chuckle of his own. Rogina just shook her head.

I looked up to see the time on a clock on the wall. Midnight. Where had the time gone? “I should head up to get some sleep, I want to be up early to grab a few things I forgot earlier today from the drug store across the way. Besides, I’m assuming the roadies will be up earlier than the bands to pack up the buses.” Downing the last of my beer, I shook John’s hand again. “It was nice meeting you.” I set the empty bottle on the bar and left a few bills before turning to Rogina. “Thank you for the beer.”

She surprised me by pulling me into a hug instead of giving me a handshake. “Any time. And I’ll add to what Alice said earlier. Anyone gives you any trouble, let me know, I’ll kick their ass.”

“Thank you. But I really need to go.” With that I went to find G to figure out where I would sleep tonight. I found him still with the boys, though it appeared that Ahmet had left. I explained to G that I wanted to get to bed and why, but it was Robert who interjected.

“You can stay in my room for tonight,” Robert offered. “The rest of your things are still there from earlier.”

I had forgotten about that. Hesitantly I nodded in agreement, even if I was worried about what the other roadies, especially Cole, might say. “Alright, as long as this doesn’t become a habit. Just for tonight.”

I could see the disappointment behind Robert’s eyes, but he agreed. “Here, take my key, just leave the door unlocked so I can get in later.”

Nodding, I took the key and thanked him before heading upstairs to the room, getting as comfortable on the couch as I could.

@brownskinsugarplum76 @m-faithfull @jimmys-zeppelin @lady-jane-revisited @firethatgrewsolow @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 @callmethehunter @tremble-and-shake @tophats-n-lespauls @princesspagey @tangerine-page

[hockeylvr59]

Secret Love Part 8 || Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: So uh...I wasn’t going to post this until at least Wednesday but uh....after that game...I changed my mind. It’ll definitely be a bit of a wait until the next chapter because this was the last one I had banked but hopefully it makes it worth it. Thanks Cale for making me spontaneously combust about a dozen times today. 

Gif credit: @mitchmarner

Warnings: cursing, smut

Word Count: 3,975

~~~~~~

It had been a week since Cale had gotten home and although you’d seen him, you hadn’t had any alone time together. Cale had come over a few times, once with just Laura to help you do some more unpacking, a second time with his mom and dad who had bought you a patio set as your housewarming gift and then a third when his promised king-size bed had arrived and he’d brought his brother Taylor to help swap it out with your double.

Each time, you’d had to settle for a quick hug, unable to kiss him like you wanted to in front of his family. If you were slightly frustrated by having him so close and not being able to act the way you wanted, you didn’t let it show, but it did contribute to the utter exhaustion you were feeling.

Work was crazy, anyone wanting to move trying to do so while school was out for the summer. On top of that, you were trying to get the house completely unpacked, just wanting to be able to live without tripping over boxes or having to dig for something you needed. You’d been eating far more takeout than you would have liked, so when you came home to find Cale in your kitchen cooking, you almost immediately started to cry.

“Hey, you’re home…” Cale grinned, stirring something in the pot in front of him. When he noticed the tears, he adjusted the burners before stepping to wrap his arms around you. “Why are you crying?” He questioned and you just sniffled into his chest, so many emotions swelling inside of you.

You weren’t shocked that Cale was in your home, you’d sent the security code to the hide-a-key to Cale and his family in case of emergency. But the fact that he was here...cooking dinner...you certainly hadn’t expected that in your exhausted state. As your body finally settled at the feeling of Cale’s hand rubbing your back, you leaned up to kiss him gently.

“I just...this was unexpected and I’m exhausted and you caught me off guard.” You murmured. Cale nodded and kissed you again before glancing over at the pots on the stove.

“Well go change. Dinner is almost ready.” Cale insisted. Following his instructions you moved to throw on a cotton sundress, letting your hair down from where you’d clipped it to keep it off of your neck. By the time you returned to the kitchen, dressed down and barefoot, Cale had glasses of wine poured and was in the process of serving dinner. “Take those glasses outside and I’ll meet you there in a minute?” He suggested.

Taking a sip of one of the glasses of wine, you moved through your house, out the backdoor, and into one of the cushy chairs surrounding your outdoor table. It was a beautiful evening, and Cale’s surprise appearance was just what you needed after a long day. The fact that he’d cooked...well that impressed you even more and you couldn’t wait to taste what he’d made. A minute or so later, Cale was setting a plate down in front of you, loaded down with chicken alfredo.

“My favorite.” You declared, smiling over at him as he settled into the chair next to you, scooting it just a little bit closer.

“I know.” He replied. “Hopefully it tastes okay. I uh...I’ve never made it before. I had to google a recipe.” Honestly, it was a hard dish to screw up and Cale wasn’t totally incompetent in the kitchen so your hopes were relatively high.

“I’m sure it will be great. I didn’t have to cook it and it’s homemade not takeout.” You assured him, squeezing his hand before reaching for your fork. The food was more than okay and you devoured your entire plate fairly quickly. Cale finished fairly quickly as well and leaving your plates on the table for the moment, the two of you moved over to the loveseat, just enjoying each other’s company.

Cale’s fingers stroked gently at the skin just above your knee and his chin rested on top of your head as you laid yours on his shoulder.

“I’ve missed you.” He breathed, pressing kisses into your hair.

“Me too…” You agreed. “This whole sneaking around thing is hard when I want to kiss you all the time.” Cale chuckled, his chest vibrating against you.

“I know…” Cale conceded. “I just…” He started speaking until you cut him off.

“But we both know your mom would ask a million questions and it’s kinda nice not worrying about what anyone else thinks even though I know she’d be happy for us.”

“Exactly.” Cale mused. “Speaking of my mom though…” He transitioned. “She uh, she suggested I come talk to you about something...which saved me from having to make an excuse...” He admitted trailing off.

“What?” You questioned, confused.

“I uh...I’m thinking about taking a trip,” Cale explained. “Mom suggested I ask you to go with me.” Your eyes went wide immediately wondering if Laura had picked up on this even if you hadn’t told her anything. “She said it would be good for us to spend some time together after everything. I think she’s still worried about our friendship.” He continued, rubbing at the back of his neck after a moment.

“Oh.” You whispered, your brain just a step slow on the uptake.

“I uh...was going to ask you anyway for the record.” Cale clarified. “Her suggestion was just the prompt for me to come over tonight.”

“So a trip huh?” You breathed, curious as to what he had in mind. “Like to Banff or BC?”

“I was thinking Iceland.”

Your eyes went wide and you twisted to face him, your stunned reaction making his cheeks flush.

“Iceland?” You repeated. Cale could have given you a million guesses as to the location he had in mind and you still never would have guessed that.

“Yes, Iceland,” Cale said, completely nonchalant. “It’s supposed to be beautiful in the summer. And let’s face it, you and I aren’t really beach people. Looking at all the things there are to do there, it sounded like a trip we’d both enjoy.” Cale was right, neither of you was really a ‘lay around on a beach all day’ kind of person. The fact that he’d put thought into what you would like when selecting a location made your heart skip a beat.

“So what do you say?” He finally inquired. “Take some time off work and go on a trip with me?” You were nodding almost immediately, excitement filling your veins. As if you wouldn’t go pretty much anywhere with Cale if he asked you to. “Good.” He grinned. “I’ll make all the plans and let you know the exact dates.”

Standing, he pulled you to your feet and wrapped his arms around you.

“Our first vacation together as a couple. I can’t wait.” He breathed, kissing you softly but deeply.

“Hopefully it’s just the first of our many adventures.” You murmured against his lips. Cale continued to kiss you until your knees started to go weak before he pulled away, moving to clean up your dishes. “I can do that.” You insisted. “You cooked.”

Your attempt to grab the dishes failed when Cale dodged your hands and moved inside.

“Relax sweetheart. I got it.” He called, and you shook your head feeling spoiled. Little gestures like tonight meant worlds more to you than any material present ever could and you felt blessed that Cale always seemed to want to do things to show you just how important you were. Letting yourself back inside, you moved through the living room where the picture Cale gave you last week was now settled among so many others. While not every photo included Cale, a good number of them did and it was amazing to see just how far your relationship had come.

Pictures weren’t the only things you had that revealed the depth of your friendship. Moving into the guest bedroom, you sat down on the bed, your fingers immediately drifting over the fabric of the quilt you’d found stored in one of your boxes from your childhood home. It was made of every jersey Cale had ever worn, even including the avs. You yourself had worn pretty much every one of these jerseys as you cheered Cale on from the bleachers.

Lost in thought about all of those weekends and afternoons spent at various rinks you missed Cale searching for you.

“What are you doing in here?” Cale murmured, his body leaning against the doorframe.

“Just thinking…” You responded, smiling over at him fondly. You felt Cale’s eyes just take you in before he realized just what you were sitting on. He had never seen your quilt before so you watched as his eyes went wide.

“This is…” He cut himself off and you reached out to him, drawing him further into the room.

“The summation of all of the years I spent freezing my butt off while supporting my best friend.” You ribbed him, your fingers running along his abs as he stood in front of you. Cale had a mystified expression on his face and you reached for his hands, holding them in your own. “I’ve always been so proud of you, you know that right?” You insisted. “Like my family has always joked that being your biggest fan is one of my defining personality traits.”

Sliding to your feet in the limited space between Cale’s body and the bed frame, you gently pressed a kiss to his lips.

“My mom saved all of the jerseys and I guess when I was in college she sewed them all together to make this.” You explained. “I got it shortly after I graduated but I forgot about it for a while. Then I found it while unpacking and decided it would be perfect in here.” It was something sentimental and it made you feel even more like this home was a place for the two of you. It was a piece of Cale present even when he couldn’t be.

Cale’s only response was to kiss you again, his hands pulling your body close with the sort of touch that made you feel both powerful and powerless at the same time. The more time you spent with him, the more all of those suppressed feelings rose to the surface ready to sweep you away. You weren’t ready to admit it, even to yourself, but a nagging voice in the back of your mind was getting louder and louder by the day with one clear message: you love him.

Pulling back from the kiss you let out a long yawn, your eyes blinking slowly.

“Someone really is tired.” Cale murmured, his arms wrapping around you snugly. Nodding against his chest, you relaxed against him, some of the tension in your body slowly slipping away.

“I need a shower though...so I can’t go to bed.” You mumbled, your words muffled by his shirt. Cale still heard you though because suddenly he was scooping you up bridal style and carrying you into the bathroom, setting you down on the vanity. After closing the bathroom door behind him, Cale opened the shower door and reached in to turn the water on.

Before he’d even turned back to you, you were already certain that he had plans for the two of you to shower together. That was confirmed when Cale removed his clothes before slipping his hands under your ass to slide your dress over your head. Gentle hands pulled your undergarments off as well before falling to your waist to carefully set you onto your feet on the bathroom tile.

Checking the water temperature, Cale stepped in, pulling you with him under the spray. The sight of his wet body in front of you made your mind go blank. You knew you were lucky, but god...the sight of him was mindboggling.

“Are you going to shower or stare at me?” Cale prodded, leaning down to kiss you quickly but firmly. Rolling your eyes, you wet your hair before stepping from under the water to get shampoo. “Just hold still.” Cale directed, his hands already covered in a soapy lather. Watching him, you felt his fingers run through your hair before they lightly scraped at your scalp, massaging gently.

“That feels good.” You hummed, tilting your head a bit into his hands. As more stress left your body, Cale guided you back under the spray until all of the soap was washed down the drain. He repeated the process with your conditioner, making sure not to coat your roots, lazy kisses killing time before it too was washed away.

Quickly washing your face yourself, you turned to find him squeezing your body wash into his palm. Though the feeling of his hands rubbing over your back was innocent enough, by the time you turned to face him you were relaxed and on edge all at the same time. His hands on your breasts drew an unsolicited moan from your throat and immediately his eyes flashed with lust.

You couldn’t tell from his behavior though, his touch remaining light and caring as he drew his hands up and down your body, lathering you in soap. Though you were still exhausted, as you rinsed off you couldn’t help but feel that uptick in heart rate and tingle all over your body that signaled your desire.

“Remind me to shower with you more often.” You said softly, reaching out for him. “That was really nice...thank you.”

“Such a hardship,” Cale replied, an easy grin on his face. It was impossible not to take what he had tee’d up for you and you dropped your fingers to trail along the v of his hips.

“I mean something is hard.” You smirked, just barely grazing your fingers against his semi-erect dick. Cale immediately let out a low grunt in response. Eyeing him for a moment, you moved to drop to your knees but Cale’s hands stopped you, quickly pressing you against the shower wall. “Cale...let me take care of you...you’ve been taking care of me all night.” You requested.

“And I’m not done yet,” Cale announced. A shiver ran through your body and you bit your lip watching as he moved to step out of the shower. As your mind flashed to the condoms in the vanity drawer, you thought about your upcoming trip.

A split-second decision had you reaching out to stop him, and this time when you bit your lip it was because you were slightly nervous. You hadn’t been with anyone in a long time besides Cale and you knew you were clean. You were fairly certain he hadn’t been with anyone else besides you in the last few months and you knew the Avs players were tested fairly regularly for all manner of things. And with your birth control given via shot every three months the risk of pregnancy was extremely low.

“Do you not want to…?” Cale asked. It was clear that you had confused him, so swallowing hard you moved to remedy that.

“I do. Of course I do.” You assured him. “I just...I was thinking…” There really wasn’t any reason for you to be nervous, you were both adults who could have this kind of conversation, so swallowing hard you just spit it out. “I get a birth control shot every three months and I know I’m clean. I’m pretty confident you are as well and it would be nice not to have to stop to reach for a condom every time if you’re comfortable going without.” Taking another deep breath you spoke once more before stopping to await Cale’s response. “Of course if you want to continue using them we can...your comfort is important to me.”

It seemed to take Cale a minute to process what you threw at him but after a moment he nodded and stepped toward you again.

“Are you sure?” He questioned, his eyes revealing that he wasn’t fully certain but he was definitely intrigued.

“That my birth control is effective? Yes. That I want to feel you and only you? Yes. That none of that matters unless you’re okay going bare? Triple yes. So go grab a condom, Cale.” You murmured pushing him toward the shower door.

When he resisted your push you sighed, the sound choked off as Cale’s mouth came down with a demand that had been absent before.

“I’m okay with it.” He insisted when you finally pulled away to breathe. Searching his gaze, all those hesitations that were there before were gone, leaving nothing but desire.

“Then why don’t you take care of me like you promised.” You suggested.

Cale’s strong hands fell to your thighs, hauling them up his body and around his waist as he leveraged you against the shower wall. It was a show of athletic strength that sent a wave of moisture to your core, one that Cale quickly discovered as he brushed his thumb through your folds, ending at your clit.

“You wet enough for me?” Cale asked, his nose bumping against yours as he pressed a needy kiss to your lips. Feeling him hard, pressed between you, it was impossible to do anything but nod. He didn’t move, however, until you eventually found your voice.

“Need you inside me.” You commanded softly. Cale started to shift but then cursed lowly.

“Spit in your hand.” He directed. Realizing he was concerned that the water was washing away some of the natural lubrication you followed his instructions, spitting and then wrapping your hand around cock. You’d barely started removing your fingers when he pulled back to shift and adjusting your grip you settled his tip at your entrance. He slipped through your fingers as he pressed up inside of you and the dual sensation drew a sharp moan from deep in your belly.

The lack of a condom wasn’t super noticeable, but you could have sworn he felt a little hotter and the friction was a little smoother without a barrier between you. They were minute differences but just as you were aware of every other sensation Cale’s body created, you were aware of those as well.

As Cale thrust his hips against yours you took in the difference between this time and your previous two times together. Of course the location was different, but while the first time had been need driven and the second beyond soft, this was a combination of the two. The physical exertion required on Cale’s part meant that he couldn’t take his time, but he was also acting ever so gentle, truly focused on taking care of you.

Determined to do your part, you wrapped your arms around Cale’s neck, kissing him as you rolled your hips down against his. Each hip roll created slightly different timing against Cale’s thrusts and the variety of angles created drew curses from your lips.

“Fuck…” You moaned when one angle hit a particularly good spot deep inside of you. “Right there…” Holding your hips still, Cale’s next thrusts hit the same spot and your head fell back against the shower wall. One, two, three more thrusts had you screaming Cale’s name, your orgasm crashing down on you hard, taking with it all of the frustration you’d been feeling before.

With a pleasurable numbness settling in your muscles, it took you a moment to realize that Cale was still grinding again you, seeking his own orgasm. Though you were slightly oversensitive, you wanted Cale to orgasm so you trailed your hands over his arms, appreciating just how big and broad he was. His body held such power that it both amazed you and turned you on.

Feeling Cale’s strain you pulled him into a kiss, your hand dropping between your bodies to gently roll his balls between your fingers.

“You gonna fill me up handsome?” You breathed against his mouth. “Gonna let me feel your cum deep inside me?” His balls twitched and he groaned your name. With one more half-thrust you felt him pulse inside you and his hot sticky semen coated your inner walls. The foreign feeling sent a jolt through you and caused a surprise orgasm to ripple through your body, completely exhausting you.

“Shit…” Cale grunted, his forehead pressed against your own. A long moment passed as Cale worked to collect his breath. “Can you stand?” He posed the question softly, his hands shifting on your thighs so that he didn’t drop you.

You honestly weren’t sure your legs would support your weight so you shook your head burying it against Cale’s shoulder.

“Alright,” Cale replied, shifting one hand quickly to turn the water off, which was surprisingly still warm, before placing it back on your thigh, elbowing the door open. Slowly pulling out of you, he set you down on the vanity, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks as he kissed you. As soon as he felt you shiver, however, he reached behind him for a towel, quickly wrapping it around your body. Retrieving a warm rag he cleaned you up first before wiping himself down. You could still feel his cum slowly dripping out of you, leaving you feeling dirty but in a good way. That was by far the most intimate thing you had ever done and it felt you feeling even closer to Cale than you were before.

Wrapped in a towel, you watched Cale quickly dry himself off before throwing his clothes back on. Then he turned his attention to you, carefully drying you off as well before lifting and carrying you back into your bedroom. Since you’d been too tired to make your bed this morning, he was able to easily settle you between the sheets. The moment your head hit the pillow you felt your eyes start to struggle to remain open. When Cale moved to your bedroom door your heart sank.

“Are you leaving me?” You whimpered, tears forming in your eyes. Immediately Cale paused in the doorway, turning to face you.

“Sweetheart...I’m just hanging the towels up and grabbing your dirty clothes. I’ll be right back.” Nodding, you closed your eyes, not opening them until the bed shifted beside you. “Come here.” Cale murmured opening his arms to you. You settled against him, your head on his shoulder as he kissed your forehead.

“Sunshine...I’m not just going to leave you after sex okay. Not unless I absolutely have to.” You knew that, you did, you were just exhausted and feeling vulnerable after that experience. Cale’s fingers stroked through your still wet hair and you felt yourself starting to doze against him, his rhythmic breath soothing you.

“I should go home at some point though.” Cale finally admitted. “Otherwise mom is going to ask a lot of questions.”

“Can’t you just tell her you fell asleep watching a movie and didn’t want to drive back when you woke up because it was the middle of the night?” You pleaded, pout settling onto your face. For a moment you thought Cale was going to resist, but then he kissed the pout right off of your face.

“Yeah, I can do that.” He agreed. “Let me go lock your doors and I’ll be right back.’’ He stated, slipping out from under you. When he returned it was with a bottle of water, which he placed on your bedside table before moving around the bed, shedding all of his clothes except his boxers. As he slid into bed, you snuggled against him once more, and this time you stopped fighting sleep knowing that he was right here with you. Right where he was supposed to be.

[babeyvenus]

The Wolf Among Us

Bigby x OC

Summary: Sonya Blaze, A.K.A. Hell Rider, is a half fable, half mundy girl who comes to Fabletown to learn more about her side of the folktales. She works alongside Sheriff Bigby Wolf's as his newest partner and together they strive to find out who's behind the unexpected murders in Fabletown.

TW: Mentions of death, gore/blood, alcohol, smoking drugs, sex implications, suicide, guns and ofc language.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

Chapter 12: Witches and Bloody Who?

1284 White Plains Ave

2:14 AM

14 minutes late

“Bigby! Sonya!”, Snow shouted, catching up with the two as they walked down the hall. “We’re late.” Snow said.

“Yeah, we know.”, Bigby said as they walked up to a door with the number 23. “This is it.”, he said as the three of them stood in front of the door. “Alright. How do you want to do this?”, Snow asked them. “We’re not storming inside, that’s for sure. We have no idea who this A.G. person is.”, Sonya said.

Bigby puts his ear on the door to listen for anything. “Anything?”, Snow asked him. “If anyone’s in there, they’re being awfully quiet….”, he says and knocks on the door. Right after, the door opens to reveal a little girl in a yellow dress and her black hair in pigtails. “Hello?”, she greets, drowsily.

Sonya covered her mouth at the sight of the little girl as the other two stared in shock. “Hi…” Snow greeted. “You woke me up.” The girl said. “Uh, sorry about that.”, Sonya said, kneeling to her height. The little girl rubs her eyes. “Sorry, there. Wasn’t aware this was a munchkin’s house.”, Bigby says, making the little girl make a confused face.

“Well, Dorothy, it isn’t.”, she responded with a smile, making Sonya snort. “She got you.”, Sonya says, making Bigby give her heel a nudge. “If I wasn’t so secure in my manhood, I’d have taken that as an insult.”, he says, smiling. The little girl giggled.

“What’s your name?”, Sonya asked. “Rachel. Who are you?”, the little girl responded.

“Well, I’m the Sheriff. And this is my partner,” Bigby started but Snow cut him off. “Uh, boss.” Snow said, annoyed. Bigby frowned at her, “I was referring to Sonya.”, he said, hushed. “Pleased to meet you. How do you do? Is there….Is there anything you need?", Rachel says.

"Is anyone at home? Does your mom live here?”, she asked her. “Does she ever…you know, make the nightstand levitate? Turn frogs into cats, that kind of thing?”, Bigby asked her.

“Is she a witch, dear?” Snow corrected. “Oh no, I would never call my mommy that. She treats me alright.”, Rachel says with a head nod. “Rachel, do you mind if we take just a quick peek around?”, Bigby asked.

“What are we looking for, specifically?”, Snow asked Bigby. “Crane. He could still be here.”, Bigby says, sniffing around the room. Sonya looked at the huge tree in the room. “This is ginormous for a house plant…”

“We’ll be super quick, and we won’t touch anything.”, Sonya said to Rachel and walked past her, looking around the cramped living area. “I’ve been here all night! Nobody’s been here!”, Rachel shouts at the three adults.

Bigby glances at her with a raised eyebrow. “Ok, Sheriff, I’m gonna trust you not to break anything…don’t get me in trouble.”, she huffs.

She glances at the record player and looks at Rachel. “Lemme guess, big band or...classical?” Rachel smiles, “Honky Tonk.”

“No accounting for taste….”, Bigby mutters, making Sonya gape at him and tap his arm a bit, earning a smile from him. He looks at a picture. “That your mom?”, he asked. “Uh huh.”, Rachel said, proudly.

“It’s pretty rare to see a burner like this.”, Sonya says, crouching down with a content smile. “Dowdy. That’s how we like it.”, Rachel grins.

Bigby sniffs around again. “Not here.”

“Your mom a hunter?”, Bigby asked as he looked at the deer skull. “Oh, no, she’d never…that was found in the woods around Dix Mountain. I think.”, Rachel responds.

“Why does she have such a huge tree?”, Sonya asked as Bigby turned to look at the tree. “Mommy uses that to carve her trinkets. It’s from the old world.”, Rachel says excitedly. “Trinkets? Like glamours?” Snow asked her, making her shrug.

“There’s no one here but me.”, Rachel repeats.

Bigby walks back over to the divider and looks behind it but sees nothing. “There’s nothing that looks like Crane was here, either.”, Bigby said.

“Great...”, Sonya mutters. “See?” Rachel said, smirking.

Sonya goes to the back of the room and sees a closet door. She opens it and sees a box with a label.

Deliver to Aunty Greenleaf

Return Address The Butcher

“A.G….”, Sonya steps back to look at Rachel. “Your mom’s Aunty Greenleaf?” She nods.

Bigby walks over to her. “The Butcher.”, Sonya muttered. “What?”, Bigby asked. “A package having to do with someone called The Butcher.”, she says, closing the door.

“Damn it.” Bigby mutters, shaking his head as if he was trying to get something off his face. “I keep getting whiffs of that aftershave of his.”

“Is that a glamour tube?”, Bigby asked, making Sonya and Snow stop. “Mommy really doesn’t let anyone play with that. Trust me, I’ve tried.”, Rachel warned.

Sonya sniffed in the air, frowning a bit. “I do, too.” Snow nods, “Me too.” Rachel rubs her eyes. “Can I go to bed now? Please?”

Sonya yawned. “It is pretty late…”, she said and started to follow Snow, who walked towards the door. Rachel follows, along with Bigby, but he stops once he notices a glamour tube on the work table.

Bigby walks up to the table and picks up the tube. “Oh, no no no no no, please please please just put that back exactly where you found it. No one is allowed to play with that.”, Rachel said, her eyes widening. “It’s alright, honey, Bigby’s not going to break it.”, Snow reassured her.

“No, you don’t understand. She will freak out if she discovers I’ve let people in here and let them touch her stuff, okay? She checks all the time to see if things move. I don’t wanna get in trouble.”, Rachel said, fearfully.

“I’m not gonna break it, I just want to open it.”, Bigby said, and started messing with the tube. “No! Put it down!”, Rachel shouted. Her fearful scream caused the room to shake which made Sonya and Snow look at her then at Bigby. “You’re pissing her off.”, Sonya mouths to Bigby. Snow holds Rachel back. “Please! Don’t! This isn’t what you think! You’ve gotta believe me, that guy isn’t here! I promise!”

“It’s gonna to be okay, Rachel.”, Sonya reassures her as Bigby starts to mess with the tube again, curious this time. “Please. I’m begging you. I don’t wanna…I don’t wanna get in trouble.”, Rachel begged sadly.

Bigby opens the tube, causing Rachel to scream in pain and transform into an old woman, “Auntie Greenleaf.”, Snow says in shock.

“It hurts…when you do it that fast.”, Greenleaf said, irritated as she rolled her shoulders. “You think we have time to waste on this shit?” Bigby asked, angrily, storming up to the woman. “You think this is some kind of game?”

“No. I don’t. But congratulations on winning it…if that matters to you.”, Greenleaf says, sarcastically.

“Look, now. We don’t have time. Start explaining! And from the beginning. ” Sonya says, crossing her arms as the old woman walks over to her couch and sits down. “I was born in the woods to a jackal and a deer….” Greenleaf started to explain but Sonya cuts her off, looking at Snow. “She thinks we’re joking around. You better get her.”

“Please, Greenleaf. Just help us catch Crane. That’s all we care about.” Bigby said, exasperated. “That’s not all we care about.”, Snow tells him, angrily. “I ain’t a fortune teller, Wolf. I have no heavenly idea where he went.” Greenleaf shrugs.

“You have to know something.” Snow said.

“You’re an accomplice to a goddamn murder, do you not realize that?”, Sonya fussed. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t help you. I have no interest in being turned into a skink and crushed under boot heels. There’s powers at work here beyond your pathetic authority.”, Greenleaf says.

“Whatever it is, Greenleaf….whatever it is that’s keeping you from saying something?” Snow said.

“We can protect you, okay? Whatever it is you’re afraid of….we can make sure that it won’t come to pass.” Bigby says, reassuring her. “You have no idea what’s going on, do you?” Greenleaf asked, making Sonya sigh harshly. “Y'all keep saying the exact same shit. We’re asking questions so we can know. We want to help.”

“Okay, you know what I think? I think we’ve been more than patient with you.” Snow said, angrily, storms up to Sonya and Bigby. “This witch has been selling illegal glamours that continue to undermine everything we’ve built….she’s harboring a fugitive that took advantage of it, and now she’s resisting every attempt to make things right. I frankly don’t give a crap if she’s afraid for her life, we can at least make sure she never hurts us again.”

She walks up to the tree and looks at it before she says. “We’re destroying the tree.” Sonya’s eyes widened. “Now, hold on-”

Greenleaf abruptly stands up and shouts. “No!”, she yells, causing the room to shake. Sonya stumbles to a knee, looking up at Greenleaf as she looks between the other three in anger.

“How dare you come in here and threaten to take from me the one thing that-” She takes a breath. “That tree is ancient, it’s part of the family, and it’s the only thing paying for this shithole apartment! And the Fables who can’t afford the glamours from you come to me for help. Without them, where do you think they could go?”

“Don’t give me that! You’re making money off of other peoples’ misery. Two Fables are dead because of this crap!”, Snow shouts, turning to Bigby and Sonya. “It’s too dangerous leaving this stuff with her.”

“You think I like being the old woman in these stories? The men are heroes, the ladies are whores…and the old hags like me get to watch everyone they love die!”, Greenleaf growls

Snow was about to say something but Sonya cuts her off. “Hear me out. You aren’t exactly in any position to want to destroy someone’s work, okay? Hell, I’m the one who should want her tree to burn but I won’t.”, she says, looking at Greenleaf. “There’s a better way to handle this.”

“We have very different ways of handling our fate.”, Snow said. “Very different means to handle it, too.” Greenleafs retorts.

“We’re not burning the damn tree.”, Sonya says, making Snow and Bigby turn to her.

Snow looked at her in shock. “You want this to continue?” Sonya hardened her look. “Don’t put words in my mouth. I said there is a different way to handle this.”

Bigby walked up to the tree. “Sonya’s right. Isn’t there another way? She’s a witch, can’t she just….work for us? That way she’d be official….”

“You want to reward her for criminal behavior? We can’t trust this woman on the Thirteenth floor.”, Snow said.

“It doesn’t matter cause I’d never do it. I’m not a house cat and I don’t play well with others.” Greenleaf said. “Oh, trust me, no one would confuse you for a cuddly animal.” Snow sneered at the witch. Greenleaf glares at her, making Snow turn to the other two. “Bigby, Sonya….this is an order. Burn the tree.”

Greenleaf runs in front of the tree and confesses. “No! Look, look, I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you…Crane was here, he was here and he left. He went to the Pudding n’ Pie to try to use my ring on the girls over there to get information.”

“What does the ring do?”, Sonya asked her.

“He thinks it’s the Ring of Dispel….you know, that it will pierce the protection around the girls’ speech. He says pulling the truth out of them will prove his innocence. It won’t, though….damned thing lost its power decades ago.”, Greenleaf informed.

“I’m sorry, but….we still can’t let you keep the tree. It wouldn’t be right after what’s happened.” Snow said. “Guys?”

“Please, Sheriff...Deputy….”, Greenleaf begs, looking at them sadly. “We’re not burning the tree.”, Sonya says.

“Today is your lucky day, Greenleaf. I’m hiring you as the Business Office’s newest witch in residence.” Bigby said.

“Bigby!”, Snow shouted in disbelief.

“The witches over there will keep her out of trouble, and–and we have a glamour shortage as it is. It makes the most sense, Snow.”, Bigby explained.

“Snow, people are out there without glamours. If anything, she can help us since apparently giving glamours aren’t working without her help. Because Toad still hasn’t gotten his, right?”, Sonya asked Bigby. “Just because you’re disappointed with Crane’s actions, doesn’t mean we have to punish her for his bullshit.”

She turns to Greenleaf. “You’re working with the other witches.”, she says, finally and walks to the door. “Don’t expect me to bow down to your queen over here.”, Greenleaf said to her. Bigby sighs, walking next to Sonya. “Don’t think for a second that this is over.” Snow threatened, following the other two.

“So what, are moving trucks gonna show up here or something?”, Greenleaf asked. “Something like that.”, Snow said. “We’ll call you.”, Bigby says and opens the door and lets Sonya and Snow out first before he leaves.

The cab pulls up to the curb of the Pudding n’ Pie, and hurriedly, Sonya and Bigby climb out. “I suppose you two can handle this. Get Crane and bring him back to the Woodlands.” Snow ordered before rolling the window up and letting the cab drive off.

“For fuck’s sake…”, Sonya grumbles. Bigby looked over and saw a familiar car. “That’s Crane’s car.”, he said, catching her attention. “Let’s go.”, she says, rushing to the door.

“No, it’s nothin’ you need to concern yourself with. I don’t think so, at least.”, they hear Georgie say pacing and talking on the phone. Georgie sees the two and rolls his eyes.

“Shit. Hold on.” He said to the phone and he removed the phone from his ear. “What do you want, Sheriff? Decided you wanted a taste of the wares?"

He glanced at Sonya with a smirk. "Oh, I see…come to audition your bitch.” Before Bigby could retaliate, Sonya socked him square in his nose. “We don’t have time for bullshit, Georgie.”, she growled.

“Tell me what you know! Now!” Crane’s voice shouts from the dressing room. Sonya and Bigby glare at Georgie, who gives a wavering shrug.

Sonya shoulder checks him as they rush to the door. “Hey! You can’t just go in there!” Georgie shouts after them, getting ignored.

They see Crane shaking Nerissa by her shoulders as he shouts. “Tell me who did it! Just tell me who did it, I know you know!”

“Mr. Crane, please, she can’t help–”

“I know you know what the plan is.”, Crane yells at Nerissa. Bigby glares at Crane, his teeth bared. “I won’t be held accountable for this!” Crane shouts. “I can’t-I can’t–I’m sorry, I-” Nerissa said, panicking.

Bigby storms up to Crane, spins him around and grasps the front of his shirt, raising his right hand into a fist. “Oh my God! Bigby!”, Crane exclaims, surprised to see him. “Wait!!”, Sonya yelled at Bigby. He looks over at her then lets Crane go.

Crane steps back, his hands raised. “I-I didn’t do anything! I promise you, I didn’t do anything! These girls— th-th-the girls, they’ll back me up, I j-just have to get this stupid ring working, that’s all!”, Crane explained, shaking his right hand that had a ring on his ring finger. “They can’t talk because of that spell, but once this ring gets through, I’ll know what’s going on and this whole thing will be over.”

“Th-That’s all, please. I’m innocent, completely, completely innocent!”, Crane exclaims. Bigby rolled his eyes and slapped Crane, leaving a large, red handprint on his face.

Crane cowers back and yells, “W-Wait, I’ll show you!” He raises his arm while Bigby holds him back, effortlessly. “Damn you, c'mon! Please! Tell me who killed her!”, Crane shouts as he points his arm towards Nerissa.

“My lips are sealed.”, Nerissa replied as Vivian held her. Crane crumbles to the ground and begins to weep in sadness and fear. “How long?”, Sonya asked Crane. “W-what?”, Crane asked, looking up at her. “How long has this been going on?”, she growled out her question. “Far too long...” Crane replied, looking away.

“But–I didn’t kill those women, Bigby, please, I had nothing, nothing to do with that. I just—I-I just….Oh God…”, Crane cries. “We found the photos of you and Lily.” Bigby said, crossing his arms with a glare. “I know, I know, but that’s—that was–I just…” Crane whimpers then he looks up at Sonya.

“I just love you, Sonya! I love you, I love you, and—and I’m sorry I’m not a mundy, okay!?”, Crane grovels as she stepped back. “I’m sorry I don’t do things that Mundies do! Its just- You’re so different and innocent! To know you were a half fable excited me, and I-”

Sonya had to stop herself from gagging. “I’m gonna stop you right there. What made you think that I’d ever get with an old creep like you!? And secondly, you’re not so different from Mundy men. This stalking, the pretending, they do that too. You’re fucking disgusting.” Her words made her lower his head.

She squatted down to glare at him. He looks her in the eyes for a moment then turns away to weep silently, making her eyes widen. She stood back up. “Bigby…I don’t think he did it."

"You’re shitting me, right?”, Bigby asked, shocked and confused. “The guy’s a complete coward. Look at him. Do you really think this man-" She paused. "Lemme rephrase that. Do you really think this child murdered these women?”, she asked him as she pointed at the sad man.

“He’s not…he wouldn’t be brave enough….”, she said, glaring at Crane.

“We’ve been chasing this guy ….why now?”, Bigby asked. “That’s my point. He sent us on this wild goose chase, pretended not to know anything, and cowered away the entire time. If he really was a stone cold murderer, he wouldn’t be here freaking out.”, she said.

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this. Did you see how he was acting when you showed up?” Vivian asked her.

“Yeah, I get it–”

“Why would he even come here if he wasn’t covering his tracks?” Vivian asked.

“He thought he was being framed. And maybe he is.”, Sonya replied.

“This fuck-up knows more than he’s saying.”, Bigby said. “I don’t! I don’t!” Crane shouts. “Yes, okay, he probably does. But there’s a difference between being involved and being the guy who did it.”, Sonya says, shaking her head.

“Okay, but if Crane didn’t kill Faith and Lily, I’m sorry, but who the hell did?”, Vivian asked. “This whole thing is bigger than Crane. He wouldn’t have the stones to send the Tweedles after us. Somebody else is involved.”, Bigby said. “Well, shit.”, Vivian mutters.

“I didn’t intend for any of this to get so–”

She took a deep breath. “Ichabod Crane. You are under arrest for disrupting Fabletown's funds and the suspicion of murder. You’ll have the right to counsel and the right to depose witnesses. But as of right now, you’re coming with us."

“I don’t wanna hear your weak ass apologies. You’ve done so much screwed shit, you’re lucky you’re not down that damn well!”, Sonya yelled.

He looks at her fearfully then lowers his gaze to the floor. “We’re not going to kill you. So quit your shivering.”, she growled.

Sonya glanced at her boss. “Easy, Bigby. We don’t need the princess to have another thing to hold above our heads.”, Sonya rolls her eyes, making Bigby glance at her with a softened frown.

"You are extraordinarily lucky Miss Blaze was here to save your ass. Because if it was up to me….I’d have your head swinging from the Washington Bridge.”, Bigby snarled.

“You think…she has what it takes…to run that office? You think I didn’t make sacrifices? I made sacrifices! And Miss Snow won’t be in that chair one minute before she has to give up something she cares about just so the wheels don’t fall off the goddamn wagon.” Crane stands up and continues to fuss. “I did the best that I could with what I had. And the town took everything it could out of me. If I maybe took a little something back in return…then so be it. I have no regrets.”

Sonya frowned. "You took more than just a little. You went to a man who now gives you no choice but to pay him back or people get killed. That's not a little thing." Crane's eyes widened. "But-"

“Yeah, and see, the thing of it is….” Bigby starts, and grabs Crane’s collar, pulling him closer to him. “We’re also better at this than you are.” He turns Crane towards the door and pushes him forward.

They went through the side door, out to the alley. Sonya sighs, pulling her hood over her head as it was raining again. Crane walks out after her until Bigby shoves him off the stairs. Crane falls on the ground. He stood up and dusted himself off and muttered. “Stupid girls and their preposterous schemes….”

Sonya paused to glare at him over her shoulder. “You got something you wanna share?” Crane cowers and walks in front of her and Bigby. Suddenly, a car drives up and blocks their way out. The three of them looked at the cars in shock and stopped as the car started to slowly drive towards them.

“Back. Now.”, Bigby says as he holds his arm out, pushing her behind him. She walked around the other way with the two men only for two more cars to come up and block them.

They stop as the Tweedles climb out of one car while a woman, with short black hair with red highlights, climbs out of another car.

“Hi. Whatcha got there?”, The woman asked in a childish tone. Sonya's eyes began to glow a scarlet hue as the Tweedles pulled out their shotguns. Bigby growled lowly, watching them intently.

The woman pulls out a gun and loads it. “Look, it’s recently come under our attention that you’re, how shall I put it, attempting to claim what is the personal property of the Crooked Man.” She gives them a slight smile. “He’s about yea high, a hundred and twenty odd pounds, pissed his sheets until he was fourteen….sound familiar?”

“I haven’t told them anything!”, Crane cried in fear. “Not now, not now, shhhhh, the grown ups are talking.”, the woman says, mockingly.

“Who are you?”, Bigby asked her.

“No, no, no, no, no, that’s not how this works.”, The woman said, mockingly as if she were talking to children. “How this works is you are going to walk Crane over here….like a good doggie.”

“It wasn’t my fault!”, Crane exclaims. Sonya growled and punched him in the stomach. “You shut your fuckin’ mouth.” She steps up to Bigby’s side. “You’re interfering with official Fabletown business. Step aside.”

“Tweedle Dee, what’s the, uh, y'know, that thing the mundies call me?”, she hummed. “Wh–What?”, Dee asked in fear. “My nickname. You know what I’m talking about.” The woman said as she gave a side glance at Dee.

“Uh…Bloody Ma–”

“Bloody Mary, that’s it. Thank you.” Mary said, making Sonya’s eyes widen.

“And do you know why they call me that? Because some of them, they think it’s funny to have their little sleepovers and go into their little bathrooms and say my name five times in the mirror." She frowns.

"They find it less funny when I actually show up and feed their lungs to the family dog.” She lets out a small bark and smirks evilly at Sonya and Bigby.

Sonya gritted her teeth, “This night just can’t get any better.”, she muttered.

“And I do that for a hobby. Like golf, to relax. This is my job, I like my job. So think about what I’m gonna do to you, your girl, your princess and the rest of your friends if you don’t hand over the sockpuppet now!”, Mary said to Bigby.

“This was really the wrong day to try and pull this shit.”, Bigby growled.

“I told you he’d never just give him up.”, Dee smiled at Mary. Mary glared at him then looked back at the other three and shrugs. “Fuck it.” She walks away while the Tweedles step forward and raise their guns.

“Oh boy…”, Sonya muttered and was suddenly pushed out of the way once the Tweedles started shooting, missing Bigby purposefully before loading him with buckshots.

Bigby was pushed back until his back hit the wall and he slumped down. The Tweedles stopped to smirk at each other much to Sonya’s horror. She teared up. “B-Bigby?”, she whispered.

Bigby moves his head as he lets out a groan. He opens his eyes which were now red as he slowly gets up on his feet, shocking the twins. Bigby begins walking towards the Tweedles as they fire multiple bullets at him until one bullet hits Bigby's side, making him lean against a box as he regains his composure.

He falls to his knees only to get up, now transformed as a gray wolf. Bigby reaches to his left and grabs the dumpster and throws it at the twins. They fall and dodge the dumpster and get back up while Bigby goes to the right and grabs the high voltage container and throws it at them.

They dodge that as well and Bigby uses that as a chance to charge at them and jumps on Dum. He shoves his clawed hand into Dum’s chest and slams him in the air conditioner box multiple times. Dee shoots Bigby in the back, making him slowly turn to him and drop Dum.

Bigby back hands him hard and grabs him to look over at Mary, who was leaning against one of the cars with a smirk. Bigby throws Dee at her but she moves, causing Dee to hit his car. Mary stands there unfazed.

Dum goes to hit Bigby with his gun but Bigby grabs the gun, throwing it away. He grabs Dum and slams him against the wall and holds him up.

“Fuck….you….Wolf….”, Dum gargled as Bigby pondered about killing him. He lowers the Tweedle harshly and looks over at Sonya with a solemn expression. She looked at him, shocked that he stopped.

He opened his mouth but a shocked look crossed his face as he was shot. He felt a searing pain on his side. Sonya whimpered to see him stumble to the ground, glancing over the attacker. It was Mary who shot him, wearing a large grin on her face. “Bigby!”, Sonya yelled, in a panic.

“It was a good show, but, you know. It just didn’t know when to end.”, Mary shrugs as she puts her gun away then walks to the limo, opens the back door and pulls out Woody’s axe.

Sonya’s eyes widened and illuminated brighter as Bloody Mary walked over to Bigby. She pulled out a chain to whip at her, only for Mary to dodge the end that hit the limo behind her.

She rushed to stop her from getting close to him. Bloody Mary smiles wildly, clashing her forearm with Sonya’s. “Look at you, protecting your poor little puppy.”

Sonya growled as her face melted into a skull, the rain peppering her flamed engulfed head into steam. “You’re not touching him.” Bigby’s eyes widened to see his deputy shielding him. “S-Sonya…”

Sonya pushed her and sent a punch towards her face. Mary dodged and pulled out her gun and shot Sonya in her thigh, hardly fazing her at the time. Mary tried shooting her again, but Sonya caught her hand, preventing her from shooting at all. She tried swinging the axe to her side but Sonya caught her hand a little late, causing the axe to gash her side a bit.

Sonya winces before she kicks Mary’s knee, making her drop to the ground in pain for a moment before tackling Sonya and breaking her arm, causing her to let out a yell of pain.

She growled in pain, not wanting to move her bent arm, watching as Bloody Mary picked up the axe and walked over to Bigby.

“You know, you wouldn’t think silver bullets would work on anything but a pure werewolf, but…as it turns out….that’s just not the case. Right. Wolfie?”, Mary says, laughing as she places the axe on her shoulder.

Sonya looked into Bigby distant but pained eyes and turned over to grab Mary’s ankle, heating her hand up to burn the woman’s skin. Anything to stop her from killing him...

She looked down at her kicking her over on her back and stomped Sonya’s face, breaking her nose. Sonya chokes on her blood, coughing some out to breathe as much as she could.

“I mean….hey, look, I know it sounds ridiculous, but….really guys….Can you argue with these results?”, she asked as she kicked Bigby to lay him on his back. “Cause I know I can’t.” She aimed the axe at Bigby’s neck then raised the axe high over her head.

“WAIT! STOP!”, Sonya yells and coughs. “Fuck…” Mary looks over at her as Sonya glares at her. “Just….take him, okay? Take Crane.”, she coughed out. “Just stop. Please.”

“Mmmm….yeah. I don’t know.”, Mary said as she pretended to think, before placing the axe on her shoulder again. “Sonya….mmph–don’t….”, Bigby groans, stretching his arm a little to reach her.

Mary notices a certain hand motioning her to come. “It’s your lucky day, kid. The Crooked Man says it’s okay with him.”, Mary said, smiling. “Bigby.”, Sonya whispered, looking at him. “I’m sorry…”

“Hello, Ichabod. Got a stomach ache?”, Mary asked Crane as he tried to sneak away. He stops, turns around and walks towards Mary. “Oh, and just between us girls….Crane ain’t no killer.”. Mary says as Crane walks up to her.

“I mean, look at this face. Couldn’t stick a pig if his life depended on it.” She grabs Crane’s ear, pulls his face close to hers to give him a grin then lets him go. Crane begins to walk to the limo as Mary watches him.

Before she leaves, she turns to face Sonya and Bigby. “Kinda like your boyfriend here. Too pussy to ruin a Tweedle’s day.”, she says, walking up to Bigby and stomps her foot down on his left arm.

Bigby lets out a roar of pain, making Sonya glare at Mary for causing him more pain. She looks to see a bone sticking out of his arm and bares her bloody teeth at Mary.

“Well, this is gonna be….a beautiful relationship we have with you guys. Really. I mean it. I’m jazzed about it.” Mary bows.

“Out with the old….in with the new. Long live the Queen.”, she said as she walked away from the broken duo.

She turned her head to look over her shoulder. “I’m sure we’ll be in touch. See you around.” She salutes and gets inside of the limo and the two cars drive away.

[bookish-black-girl]

2021 Reading Year in Review

I read a lot of books in 2021! However, my overall quality of reading went down from 2020 to 2021. I’ve concluded that I’d rather read a small number of amazing reads that make me slap-happy than 100 reads that don’t do a thing for my soul. 

Things that went well:

Middle grade reads! This is definitely a goal I will carry into the next year because it’s nice to know what the younger readers are getting into plus MG literature is so bright and hopeful and wonderful in a different way from other genres (not to say that things don’t or can’t get dark because they DO but yeah)

Lower read count goal! I originally went with 20 books then bumped it up to 25, and all of this was an anticipation of me putting more focus on making my game + other responsibilities and tasks. The pressure was off to read a gazillion books but the number was super low that I didn’t insult myself. 10/10 would do it again. 

Not counting rereads. Again. I know many people are of the belief that rereads can and should count but I know myself and if I count my own rereads, then I’m less likely to read new books. And while I WISH I would have indulged in some rereading every now and again this year, I will continue to only count new books towards my yearly goals. 

Things to improve:

Topic, author or subject based reading: Ehh, I think I just got really ambitious with this goal and forgot that at the end of the day I’m a mood reader. Like...I had Jane Austen, and Baldwin, and dragon books, and something else, and then 2021 *happened*...And then it happened multiple times. And then I just straight up kicked the bucket in November. 

Ignoring Hype reading: I do like keeping a pulse on what’s popular on bookstagram and now book tok, but there were more than a few books I DFned and the more time that passes, the less likely it seems I want to try again. 

Buying books before I read them + purchasing preorders: Simply put, I don’t like having books on my shelf that I read and didn’t love or even really like. Buying a bunch of books doesn’t help that goal. This wasn’t a problem before I worked at a bookstore, but instant gratification truly is a bitch....

There will be a cuter version with graphics and everything on IG, but this structure below lets me unabridged my overview to my heart’s content/ place focus on other things.

Most Challenging Reads

The Heart Principle

Burnout and autism rep and a brilliant, imperfect, wonderful protagonist who had me ugly sobbing sometimes. Romance was on the back burner a bit but I didn’t mind in the slightest

A Psalm of Storms and Silence

wheewww....I have no more words. Refer to review. I’m still angry but also love Malik and Karina but mostly Malik as that’s my YA comfort character...

White Tears/Brown Scars: How Feminism Betrays Women of Color

So so so so eye opening and wonderful to have the terminolgy to explain what’s happened to me and my mom and the other women in my family when dealing with white women and white supremacy and the in depth deep dive history of it all 

Calling My Name

this book is like reading a diary, if diary entries were a stream of consciousness. It’s uncomfortable but it’s real. Growing up Black in the south, with an ultraconservative point of view, and experiences that weren’t mine but reminded me of the girls I grew up with pretty much sums this reading experience for me

My Favorite Reads

The Lady or the Lion

Like Home

Announcing Trouble

The Heart Principle

My Favorite Reads (Honorable Mentions)

Rise to the Sun

This Poison Heart

Cupcake

Fat Chance, Charlie Vega

Fresh

Black Boy Joy

The Ex Talk

Raybearer

The Henna Artist

Hana Khan Carries On

Things We Couldn’t Say

Disappointments :(

Happily Every Afters

Pride

Anne of Manhattan: A Novel

The Upside of Falling

DFNs

Ace of Spades

Counting Down To You

Your Own Worst Enemy (hope to return to this one)

Sisters of Sword and Song

What Could Be Saved

These Violent Delights (may return to this one)

Counting Down with You (may give a 2nd chance)

The Betrayed (HIGHLY DISAPPOINTED)

Dragonblood Ring

Manga and Comics Corner

Go Go Power Rangers

Next on the list is the Mighty Morphin series, and I’ll stick to reading in volumes rather than issues

Sonic the Hedgehog (IDW comics)

Honestly saved my life a few times this year. When I couldn’t read or my mental health was bad, or I just felt taxed for no reason, I remembered my comfort character and chilled TF out

Princess Jellyfish

blew through this in like a month!! bought the volumes too. in hindsight, I wish I had just checked out the volumes instead but it’s alright, I had a good time and while it’s not my fave manga, I still really enjoyed it

[socketz]

All is Pain in Poetry, But, Oh, The Play Goes On; Chapter One.

A Dead Poets Society Fanfiction story!

Charlie Dalton x Female!OC

Warnings : Mentions of Abuse, slight *slight* signs of it, mentions of bullying, name-calling I suppose, profanity, smoking, just some people bein’ mean :/

Word Count : like 11k (I’m pretty sure)

Summary : It’s the introductory day, unpleasant to speak the least, and Jane rejoins a few familiar faces.

Authors Note : There is like barely any Charlie content in this chapter (forgive me, pls) simply because it is the first, and I have so many plans for this being a sloooow burner. Anyways, I love Nuwanda, Meeksy, Pittsie, Neil, Todd, and Knox. Cameron can die. I also just realised that there’s no Pittsie in this chapter :// it’s okay though, our long boy will be there in the second, I promise.

Chapter One, The Summer Was No Better, But Hell-ton’s Surely Death.

“Come, now, Jane.” Father called, his suit elated to a perfect crisp. His face contorted with that of a ghostly scowl, drawn down and impossible to relieve. Father was not an impressionable person, though most certainly easy to disappoint. 

I made my way, wordlessly, to fall beside him, and found my complexion flushed with something of a gentle scarlet hue, nerves to embrace oneself in a mantra of lightly peppered sweat. My uniform - a dreadful thing, really - had been fitted during the summer; ‘You are but a young Lady, now, Jane,’ Father had insisted, ‘It is only right to find your clothing of a perfect fit.’ Though it had hardly mattered the years before, smothered within the lies my Father somehow wriggled us out of, and I could bitterly recall that it mattered not then, either. 

I felt ridiculous, swaddled in the warmth of a blazer, littered with perfectly aligned badges - meaningless copper circles, infused with the reminder of every stupid achievement I had picked up throughout my years - and long, iron-pressed, grey trousers - enclosed with a tight-fitting belt, for the weight I had seemed to loose beneath the summer heat had made an alarming appearance, and it seemed all too improper to alter them a mere seventy-two hours before the introductory day. The shirt - blouse, as I had never before become accustomed to occupying - was of a snug fit, particularly comfortable upon my partially flat breast, the tie hardly a bump higher than the other boys’. 

My shoes, shining with a fresh layer of polish, squeaked upon the echoing floor of the filling hall, and I found a breath slipping from my clenched jaw. It would merely be the same routine as every year had solemnly been. And, - I had no doubt about this, you understand - I knew I would grow to loathe it all the same. 

“Chin up, Jane.” Father scolded, a sharp pinch to the back of my arm. I hardly reacted, ripping myself away from such a close proximity, and fixed my expression with something blank, jaw set and teeth grinding. The walls, the candles - the scentless gloom that filled the air - reminded me of nothing other than Death. Than everything morose and unethical. 

The bench was cold, lifeless, and I found a sour taste to elope my grimace, subliminally displeased to be trapped within the grounds of Hell-ton for another draining, horrible, year. A low level of murmurs ran along the sea of suited heads, and I nearly - almost, though not quite - found an ache of sympathy for the innocent youths, trembling nervously, within the front row. Such excitement, I sighed, such naivety. They shall be ruined, it seemed clear, by the haunting excrement Hell-ton deemed ‘successful methoding.’ 

There was a poke to my side, the ratty whisper of an antagonizing tone. “Feels good to be home, huh?” Peter taunted, undoubtedly pleased to rid of myself for the better side of ten months. 

My silence remained, an ache to the clench in my jaw, and I simply hoped that his teasing would soon dissolve upon quiet nothingness. Though, as he prodded my side - supposedly the older twin, mind you - and he mumbled crude names within my ear, I found it reasonable that a lack of response would do little to deter his act of childishness. 

“Rat.” He whispered, prodding my side once again - a jab sure to leave an inklet of a mark. “God, I can’t wait to get rid of you. Two months by your side is enough to push me over the edge. I’d surely contemplated killing myself-” 

“Oh, why don’t you, then?” I snapped, a glare surely cut to burn. Of course, I didn’t mean it, though I found myself unwilling to project any kind of apology. He hardly deserved it, and I - as well as him, it seemed - had had just about enough of his relentless bullying. “Leave me alone, Peter.” I said. 

He scoffed something bitter, “At least I’d be missed, Snot-face.” He bit. 

I doubted it was much of a lie, and settled for a roll of the eyes. “Fuck off, Mutt.” 

“Billy-no-mates.” He hissed. 

“Worthless narcissist.” I sneered. 

“Virgin.” 

“Self aggrandising cunt.”

“Moron.”

“Boring, talentless, vegetable-” “Stop it!” Father snapped, another hushed whisper to intervene that of our own. I had hardly realised our spluttered, mumbled, argument, and the way in which it seemed to progress, “Both of you.” Father muttered, quiet and surely furious.  And yet, although it seemed it was not I whom began the fight, at all, my hair was ragged by Father's rough grip, and I were forced to attain a regularly seated position. I hissed upon the contact, a scowl to thunder my expression. “You will not embarrass me again, Jane.” He sneered. 

My silence loomed once more, and his grip released roughly, a violent jerk to my neck as he did so. Jane, I thought, an internally suppressed scoff, It’s always Jane’s fault. 

The blare of a riveting shrill erupted from the southern doors, clunking open in their heavy weight, and the bagpipes - those terrible things, awful, truly - began their entrance. A sigh slipped the breach of my lips, for I knew this mantra, and I knew it well. In a kind of solemnly delightful way, I suppose I was enthralled to enjoy my final experience of such liberal torture - it was my last year, after all. 

A pair of first-years trailed to the front of the line, followed by a blonde boy - of whom’s name I had forgotten, though he wore glasses, and was rather small - from my own year. The dreadful musician was to follow, and I decided to pay him no mind - perhaps ignorantly so - as the banners began to flutter forth. 

Tradition - upheld by none other than the snobby, pristine and particularly ginger Mr Cameron, a boy of whom mine own experiences seemed rather potently bad. 

Discipline - a familiar, soft, face. An expression of boredom, nonetheless, though I found a certain fondness about Knox, and thus my gaze seemed to brighten. He was a gentle boy, kind, sensitive.  

Honour - I hardly recognized him, though his… his similarity - a striking thing, one must admit - to Peter’s level in intelligence seemed all too familiar, through the grave number of classes we had shared across the years. 

Excellence - Neil Perry, a boy in which I knew little of, yet heard so much about. The sweetest of souls, the saddest of smiles - trapped, was Perry, in a loop his parents laid down. Perhaps I found a little of myself engulfed within his big brown eyes, upon the rare occurrence we happened to share a glance - always a grin, always a wave. Polite, the boy was, and nothing but the fact. For my life was nothing but the script in which I had been given, raised upon lies and bred to know no freedom, and he was much the same. 

There was a curt breath of silence, and the boys shuffled into line. It seemed the song had finished - a heavenly notion - and the perplexing weight of Mr Nolan’s tone - a sound no better than that of nails to a chalkboard - fell upon the seated audience. “Ladies, and Gentlemen.” He said. Oh, how I hated his voice. “Boys.” The summer had been long, tedious, and I liked it no more than I could have, and yet still - still, despite the liberal torture, and the inevitable bullying of mine own blood - it were of a better nature than this. 

This, of course, that was Mr Nolan, and his lengthy speeches, drawled upon every sentiment with a mean glare, or a calculating stare. 

“The light of knowledge.” He declared, tone blank, devastatingly boring. For although I could not shed a glance to the nervous boys, perched stoically, within the front row, and their expression remained ambiguous, I knew the routine all too well. There was a loud rip of applause, and I knew - within a moment's notice, as Father glared pointedly for my compliance - that the first candle had been lit. 

The boys, aligned to the front, circled to their seats, maneuvering among my peripheral vision. The ruckus had died down, and I slumped - only slightly, as to deter from a kind of beating - unto myself, lightly distracted by my heavy-lidded eyes. Oh, I scolded, how stupid I had been, to lie awake all night reading. 

Nolan began his speech, undoubtedly much the same as it always seemed to be, and I took a deliberately long moment to gaze upon the great array of teachers. It would seem, I noticed, with a harshly contained grin, that they were all particularly deathly looking. Perhaps, over the course of the summer, they had been returned to their graves, where their corpses lay to rest for the period of time - only to be dug up again as the school year returned. They seemed so withered, so pale - lifeless. Though I supposed it was particularly fitting, really; deathly teachers for a murderous school. 

“Gentlemen,” Nolan bellowed, “What are the four pillars?” 

Another sigh, I breathed, standing among the sonorous chorus of muffled shuffling. “Tradition, Honor, Discipline, Excellence.” We sang, a recital of the faculty’s pounding, and took our seats once more. 

His rambling continued, and I found myself physically incapable of paying it any mind - one would simply drift into a noticeable dream of slumber - as I drank in the sullen scowls of the boys reluctantly returning. I, myself, reciprocated a glance of hidden blue, and I knew that they simply loathed the man - Nolan - much the same as I. 

It was rather strange, really - the way in which my attendance to Hell-ton came about. For I was eleven: much the same nervous, wilted, and shelled child as the boys of the front row, and my application was riddled with lies. 

Name : Peter Joseph Darling, the first line read. Only, as I had continually pestered my Father upon, my name was Jane Elizabeth Darling, and my twin brother - Peter, you understand - should have been clothed within the uniform, instead. ‘He hasn’t the mind of you, Jane.’ Father had scoffed, mocking, as though I should have known better. Though I still didn’t understand. ‘Welton is an excellent opportunity, and they have accepted you, through the name of your brother.’ My misunderstanding, as I came to dislodge many a month later, were perfectly reasonable. Why was I, a girl, to attend an all boys boarding school, with the faux persona of my twin brother? It seemed strange, though - in my foolish naivety that youth would always bring - I found no reason to protest upon my Father’s wishes, and complied nonetheless. 

I was a late bloomer - much as my Mother had been, as old relatives would jest - and thus my identity was easily concealed - hair to be cut, in a similar style to the other little boys, and my figure hidden by the tatter of oversized suits. 

I became - rather unfortunately, on mine own behalf - one of the best students ever to attend Hell-ton. ‘Top grades,’ Father would boast - as though he had ever congratulated me, before - ‘our Jane is something truly spectacular. The top of every class, and a routine winner in almost every sporting category.’ Though what he said was true, it made it no less frustrating and mortifying, as he would babble on about my achievements, and leave no room for a word in edgeways. It seemed the only time he could bother to call, were if my report card had yet to arrive, or there was something - unexplained, you understand - for myself to receive the blame. 

‘Jane.’ He would bellow, tone furious over the line, ‘Your report card.’ He would then say, as though it were I who sent them off. ‘Where is it? It had better be here tomorrow, young Lady.’ 

Sometimes, I hated my Father, too. He made it frustratingly difficult not to - though, admittedly, I tried little to stop my fury. 

It seemed, however, that his plan were not entirely fool-proof. For when I did begin to develop breasts - as flat as they may be -, with little curves, and a more womanly figure, it was surely something noticeable. And my hair had grown out, over the months of neglect, and I allowed the soft blonde curls to have their way - and, suddenly, I looked far more a girl than ever before. 

My face, although chiselled by my petite weight, grew more round, less sharp - feminine. The rise of my cheekbones increased, and my eyelashes found a natural curve. Perhaps I could have considered myself pretty, if it weren’t for the insistent teasing Peter had enforced upon me. Thus, instead, I depicted myself ordinary, and decided to move on. 

Nolan, upon discovering my true identity - though how such a thing had gone unnoticed, before, I had no idea - riddled himself sick with rage. His expulsion threat was vengeful, and he loathed my Father’s guts. Such conflict had only truly occurred eighteen or so months before, and thus the tension seemed inevitably thick, whenever I found myself surrounded by the ever-depressing company of Nolan. I discovered a true beating upon Father’s account, for poorly concealing his awfully supported lies - ‘You cannot even pretend - not for a godforsaken moment - to be a boy,’ he had yelled, as I spat my blood upon the floor, ‘You shall learn to listen to me, Jane.’ And teach me to listen, he surely had. 

Fortunately, though I hardly see such as fortunate, at all, Nolan had - somewhat reluctantly, somewhat pretentiously - decided that my education be isolated, and my attendance a nuisance. My grades - my high, substantial, grades - seemed enough to access his persuasion; my lack of discussion and silent account another contributing factor; my sporting ability and lack of complaint a cherry on top for it all, as it should so seem. He found himself obliging to my continuation at Hell-ton, and I - perhaps expectedly - were undoubtedly disappointed. To leave such hellish faculty would be something joyous - greatly anticipated. Alas, there I was, sat - again - among the rows of morose expressions and pressuring parents. 

My dormitory, that year, was to be separated. Not a roommate, neither a shared bathroom - utter isolation. I minded not for the quiet, nor the lack of company, though it should seem the segregated seating within lesson perched a little too far, for my liking. It was rather ridiculous, I should have thought, that male brains were incapable of focusing upon the task at hand with a female sat to their left. Pathetic! Utterly, truly, pathetic. 

I had been branded a number of grilling rules - mandatory to abide by, you understand.

1. No perfume. 

2. Hair is to be kept up, tied tightly, and not disruptive. 

My hair, you see, was not a particularly easy tamer. Rampant blonde curlage, spilling from every direction. I could hardly control it on the better days, never mind every day. 

3. Skirts, or dresses, to be worn below the knee (if at all) and shoulders should remain contained at all times. 

4. No make up.

5. No fraternizing with other students. 

6. Meals are to be eaten alone, or not at all. 

7. Curfew is at 8:30PM. 

8. Toiletry business should be contained to a seperate bathroom, use the locker room provided - NOT the male students’. 

The list truly seemed to go on, and on, and it surely rambled for far too long - I had merely shared a glance with such paper, and thrown it to my bag in retaliation. Meals to be eaten alone? I had hardly the chance to converse between lessons - never mind during - and no longer could I discuss, nor listen in upon, with others among meals? It was true bullshit, for I knew such were never applied to me before - before they discovered my true identity. And the curfew - eight-thirty p.m - was utterly ridiculous. What was I to do for thirty minutes more, idle within my room, with not but a roommate to keep me company? The boys’ curfew was hardly nine p.m, anyhow - they were always allowed an extra number of minutes or so, and I knew - I hated it, but I knew - that I would have not but a choice to comply. 

To enjoy my stay, - at Hell-ton, you understand - seemed merely impossible - as a woman. Or, rather, to be known as a woman. For although its endeavours were painfully unbearable for the boys, it was all so much worse for I. The rules and regulations simply doubled in their length, and the eyes of concentration, inflicted by those of great authority, I found only to increase. Depressingly so. 

Oh, how I hated it all. 

“Jane,” Father hissed; a sharp jab to my side, and a smirking Peter. “Pay attention, would you?” He whispered, a furious glint to his icy blue glare. The roar of applause began to die down, and I found myself gathering my hands at the final few claps, settling within the silence once more. 

Nolan spoke again, his tone ever-droned, ever-dull. “As you know,” he said, chin tilted with a fauxly embodied confidence I hardly understood his deserving of, “our beloved Mr. Portius - of the English department - retired last term.” Mr Portius were nothing more than a rotting corpse with the political beliefs of all things dreadful. An awful man, truly. “You will have the opportunity later to meet his replacement,” He said, turning something gradual - no doubt riddled with arthritis, and with marrowing bones - to meet the seat of the said replacement. “Mr. John Keating.” 

Keating  stood, and his stature was comfortably acceptable. He were of something small - noticeably shorter than the other corpses - and his expression dripped in kindness. His thin lips played a soft smile, and his eyes gazed tenderly - calculating, but gentle, nonetheless - upon the great array of prying students. 

“Himself an honours graduate of this school,” Nolan droned on. “And who, for the past several years, has been teaching at the highly regarded Chester School, in London.”

He was good, then, it seemed. The low rumble of shuffling rang among the hall, as students and parents, alike, maneuvered their gaze to fumble upon his position of casual confidence. Another, small, round of applause was to follow, and I - for perhaps the first time - voluntarily joined in. 

Keating took his seat, and the clapping drew to a close. 

“As I’m sure you are aware,” Nolan continued, addressing the audience with that monotonous death. “This year may seem a little different.” His gaze wandered, scrutinizing - harrowing - and settled upon I - upon Father, Peter, and I. I held his glare, cold and stubborn, for I would never have allowed myself to succumb to the fright in which he inflicted upon others. “This year, there is to be a girl in attendance.” 

A low hum of mumbles rang out, and the subtle gasps of distraught Mothers were something pathetically blatant. I found myself deeply suppressing the urge to scoff; I were a girl before, in the years of my previous attendance, thus what did it matter, now? 

“Miss Darling,” He bellowed, tone fit to carry among the greatest disturbance. A moment of nothingness graced the hall, as the murmurs of concerned Mothers, and outraged Fathers, simply rose in their volume. “Miss Darling.” Nolan echoed, his tone of something hauntingly venomous. A sigh slipped from upon my lips, and I rose to my feet with a glance of perfect nonchalance. 

Silence. 

The corner of my mouth found a quiver, for - Oh - were they all so frightened of me that they should hardly breathe?  The smirk was riddled with amusement, bloomed from the very  depth of my stomach, for their quiet hatred, and their burning silence, were all so wonderfully foolish. 

Nolan sneered, gaze writhing with gauging disgust - sewn by the tattle of hierarchy, and of misogyny. “Miss Darling is to accommodate her own - separate - housing,” he began, dislodging his stare and addressing his crowd. “There will be no contact between herself, and the boys. You needn’t worry for their concentration, Ladies and Gentlemen.” His wry smile was something sickening, as it danced upon his wrinkled lips. 

Die, I thought, die with your pathetic beliefs, and die a horrible death. 

~*~

The breeze of the fresh air seemed so close, so delicious, as we approached the ever-slow line, all smiles and polite passing greetings, yet so unfortunately far. I trailed after Father, step slow and gradual, certain his discussion would be tense, and it would be awful. “Mr. Nolan,” Father greeted, somewhat sheepishly, somewhat humorously. The old gargoyle glanced - unappreciative - to his nervously outstretched hand, shaking it with something of a pointedly stern glare. 

“Frank.” He nodded, tight-lipped and utterly infuriating. For although I held no sympathy for my Father, nor for the manner in which Nolan depicted respectable as he addressed him, the mere sight of his wrinkled person found my scowl something deep, something noticeable. 

“Wonderful ceremony, as always.” Father smiled. “And I must thank you for allowing my Jane into your school.” He said, as though it were not I who attended the years before.

“Yes, yes,” Nolan smiled, a ghostly thing, with a hollow foreground. “Well, I’m sure she is aware of the expectations, yes?” His stare fell upon myself, as I nodded silently, unable to erase the distaste within my gaze. “I will warn you, Miss Darling,” He continued, features to crease with that of an aggravated scowl. “Not to cross me. One wrong move,” He threatened, a wonky kind of finger held before me, “and you’re out.” 

One morning, I thought; one morning, you shall never wake up - and, oh, that morning will be such a blissful morning. 

Biting my tongue, I spoke with a faux sentiment, cheery toned and smiling kindly. “Of course, Sir.” I said. “I won’t let you down.” Fuck you, I wished to spit, though I simply turned upon my heel, and I stumbled away from his cautiously prying eyes, gripped by the harsh digits of Father’s stern hold.  

“You’ll see yourself to your room, I suspect.” Father said, tone withdrawn and utterly blank. Cold - Father, he was a cold man. My silence remained, though I nodded responsively, and allowed a solemn breath to slip the breach of my lips. The days, such melancholic tales, of summer - they were bad. They were awful - but at least they were not quite as lonely. A gentle sting graced the back of my eyes, and my jaw set achingly; an overwhelming urge to dispel my bitten tears a wave of unwanted suddenness. Wretched. For I did not want to be alone, I did not wish to be consumed by the ever-growing loneliness that life enforced upon me - I wished to be happy, free. Myself. 

Not Peter, not Miss Darling - Jane. Just Jane. 

I bit back the tears - I swallowed them whole, and I winced as they clawed upon my throat, cautious as to speak, for their wounds may crack in my tone, and damage my composure. But my smile, it was forced, and my eyes, they were glossy. “Do not disappoint me, Jane.” Father said. “I expect nothing but the best.” And with that, he was gone. 

Not but a mutter of goodbye; not but a touch of parental affection - nothing. The glaze upon my expression dropped slightly, a drooped frown to occupy my solemn features, and the smirk Peter threw over his shoulder -  barreled beside my Father, with his strides large, confident - merely seemed to ache the clench of my throat.

 God, my conscience spat, don’t be pathetic. 

And so, I balled my hands into fists, and I shoved them into my pockets; watched my Father leave, and I attempted to scrape together every time he told me he loved me. I came up with nothing - not but an utter of affection - and I remained true to my scowl, caught among the breeze, and the bustle of crying children, and loving parents. Perhaps I could have been jealous, as I glanced to the first years, embraced by the doting adoration of their guardians - though how could I force myself to envy a thing I had never known? 

The answer? I couldn’t. And so, I didn’t. 

I allowed my shoulders to sink, and I returned my gaze to the retreating vehicle - the vehicle that ached a certain - particularly ignored - part of myself. I wondered of Mother - a brief moment, though striking, nonetheless - and I pondered what she would be like. For - yes, - she was gone, and to think of such was simply barbaric, but a girl could dream. A girl could dream that she were loved, and that all of which could have been, would be so wonderful. Maybe if Mother were here, I thought, I wouldn’t feel so lonely. 

And, perhaps wishful thinking were foolish, and a dream unworthy of time - but it helped. It dulled the ache, though maybe only that little bit, and that were enough for me. 

The car was gone, lost among the mass of chaotic departure, and I found myself staring absently upon the horizon. How beautiful the sky did seem, I thought, and how well it masked destruction. 

My luggage had been dropped - previously - within my room, by Peter’s graceful volunteer. And, albeit reasonably, I were slightly fearful for the mess I would grow to discover, as I entered the living quarters - for I knew, and I knew it well, that Peter loathed me greatly, and he would do anything to tip me off. Perhaps that would be enough, I smiled, sadly, and to myself, to trigger the release of all things morose and bitterly withheld. 

Nevertheless, I found myself glumly retreating, making my way - pushed, knocked, and shoved, by bags, by luggage, and apologetic elbows - through the courtyard, and through the entrance of the school. My silence was something looming - it hung above my head, I could feel it - and it only seemed to darken with the realisation that this was reality, and that my stay would surely get no better. 

Oh, how I ached for something good - something nice, to carry me through my days. 

“Jane?” A familiar tone called, though I daren’t glance around for it’s owner. Silence. Silence. Silence - ‘tis your only company, I thought, know no better, feel no different. “Jane!” They called once more - Knox. I found myself sighing, for I knew I could not evade his greeting forever, and he was much too polite, much too kind, to simply ignore. “Hey,” He smiled, gentle and friendly. 

The scowl crumbled from my features, and I plastered on a joyous smile - teeth bared and glistening; believable. “Knox!” I chirped, allowing my expression to elope with a sense of delight. Our paths had crossed a number of times upon the past years, and thus a kind of acquaintance was to be formed. Nothing special, nothing particularly close, but he was a nice boy - a delightful chat. “How’s your summer?” I asked. 

“Great.” He sighed, grin riddled with a dream. “Busy,” he added, “but great.” 

My smile softened, “Oh, yeah?” I said, and he nodded subtly, smirk uneven and boyish - always boyish. 

“Yeah.” He sighed, again, before drawing his eyebrows to a loose pinch, “What about you, Darl’?” He asked, “Nobody heard from you all summer. Where’d you go for two months?” I shrugged something light - nowhere, I thought to admit, though what fell from my tongue was nothing but another lie. 

“I went home.” I said, “Back to England.” ‘Twas nothing of a home - not for me. 

I was beaten by my Father, and I was bullied by my brother - I was bed bound with the illness of my own crepent mind, and I found myself unable to answer the ringing phone, though I am awfully sorry for your inconvenience, Mr Overstreet - I shall be sure to spit my blood before I say ‘Hello’, yes? 

Of course, my thoughts remained thoughts, and my expression a blank nothingness behind my smile, behind my eyes. “That sounds wonderful.” He said, those dough brown orbs shining with a kind of genuineness - so honest, so true, I almost felt bad. “I bet it was nice, there, was it? Such beautiful scenery, and I bet the tea was good.” His smile was infectious, and I breathed a supple laugh. 

“The tea was perfect,” I said, “though the scenery - if we’re discussing the same London, here - was filled with nothing but Homelessness, and pollution.” 

“Oh,” He frowned, “that’s too bad.” 

Too bad? I thought; Too bad? Knoxie, my summer was horrifying. 

I shrugged gently, “It’s alright.” I said, “I’m used to it.” Though to which context I had attempted to console, I held little knowledge of. 

He smiled once more, “I’d only expect you to be.” He said, beginning to wander away; one step, two steps, three steps, four. His gaze fixed upon myself, he smiled - his eyes, they smiled - and he said:  “You comin’?” With a nod of nonchalant amusement. 

I raised an eyebrow, “Where to, Overstreet?” 

“Why, to the guys, of course.” He grinned. 

And by guys, I, fortunately, knew that he meant his friends: Neil Perry (the kind boy, of whom I shared a likeliness for terrible Fathers and passion for things they did not approve); Gerard Pitts (Pittsie, of whom was simply too tall for his own good - terrible at sport, though he surely tried his best); Richard Cameron (the ginger one, with a permanent foot rammed so far up his ass, it shall simply never be recovered); Steven Meeks (a blonde - with a tinge of red, as he had argued against last year - headed boy, riddled with curls - as was I - and the brains of something magnificent), and Charles Dalton (a typically chaotic and utterly unpredictable mess, with substantial grades, and a great yearn for women - not their love, you understand, but merely their attention - and a fascinating dedication to the saxophone). 

I had come to know them all - at a distance, though some a little more than others, as was Knox, and was Meeks - and thus found myself trailing comfortably behind the tall boy, his jacket swaying among the ruffle of his movement. 

The stairwell was something utterly cramped - a nauseating kind of warmth emitted from such, and I scowled bitterly through my ascent - our footsteps drowned among the chaos of rambling conversations, clatters of luggage - curses; groans; yells; cheers; animosity. Ah, the fresh stench of testosterone, and cologne. Expensive cologne - always expensive, always lathered. 

The crowd seemed mostly polite, peering me no mind and abiding about their business as though they held not a care in the world for the female presence - for such, I was grateful. I were far too exhausted to handle gawking boys - by the hundreds, mind you - with any ounce of grace. 

Knox held a relaxed pace, he leaned into it, as though persistently O.K, and unbothered by the great deal of shit in the word. I almost envied his carelessness, though found myself unable to ponder my digression any which further, for he paused, and then he bounded through the familiarity of the open doorway. A rush of excitement eloped within him, it seemed, as he threw himself to tackle - rather boyishly, rather fondly - a stumbling Charlie Dalton. 

The pair fell to the ground, a great thud among the ruckus, and erupted with a childish kind of laughter. I brushed my shoulder upon the doorframe, watching the scene unfold, as they lay - a little breathless, with their laughs drawn to silent breathing - and they smiled toothy, giddy, smiles. A sort of grin embraced my expression, and the moment played on. 

“Jesus, Knoxious.” Charlie breathed, the subtlety of a laugh to follow, “I’ve not seen you move like that since-” He paused, another laugh ripping from his throat, “Shit, not since little Ginny tried it with you, back in eighth grade!”

Knox let out a little snicker, “Don’t remind me.” He said, spoken with a slight shudder. The tickle of a laugh slipped from my lips, and the fluttered noise seemed to catch the attention of the red-faced boys. “Oh, yeah,” Knox mumbled, scrambling to his feet. Or, rather, attempting to - as the brunette beside him tugged to the collar of his coat, dragging him back to the ground with a great huff, and a startled yelp. 

Charlie stood, instead, and he smirked that classic Dalton smirk. One corner of his mouth found a higher rest that the other, perched comfortably with a flirted sense of amusement. “Miss Darling.” He said, and he offered a hand, “Welcome back.” I took his hand, a roll of my eyes, and shook it thoroughly. 

“Yeah, yeah, Dalton.” I scoffed, an eyebrow raised. “Quit the formalities, okay?” His smile feathered futherly full, genuine, and it seemed that the idea of loneliness grew that little bit more unbearable. For the guys - all of them, perhaps even the red-headed bastard - they could be such graciously wonderful company. And although I knew it were dangerous, and that I simply should not have wished it; I found myself often dreaming of a life - a different one, somewhere else, where things had changed, yet certain company was much the same - in which I had befriended them all - and, oh, how colourful life did seem! 

I longed, regularly, for their friendship - for the absence of my loneliness. But, as it should portray, life had other plans, and I had not but an ounce of energy to revoke against it. 

The warmth of Charlie’s palm, curled around my own, in a growing spirit of lightly peppered sweat and heated touch, found me retracting my grip, and glancing, wordlessly, to the boy upon the floor. He was sat up, no longer reclined, with his knees bent, and his arms to drape upon them. He smiled, and I reciprocated the gesture softly - softly, for it were all I could manage to plaster aloft my expression. 

“Hey, Charlie, I brought you some-” Meeks. I grinned, something wide, something wonderful, and I spun upon my heel. His eyes, they were bright, fixed largely behind the glint of his round glasses, a smile to his lips, and his hair was wild - curly as I, and graciously familiar. “Jane?” He said, a certain fondness about his tone. “When’d you get here?” He ushered, drawing me in for a tight, warming, embrace. Perhaps, throughout the list of their group, I found myself closest to Meeks. For he was witty, he was intelligent, and more of a brotherly figure than any twin I had ever known. I obliged comfortably, curled within his arms, as he withdrew, and he rested his grip upon the hunch of my shoulders. He smiled, “How was your summer?” And I simply knew for which I would have to lie - again. 

“It was fine.” I smiled. Accompanied with many-a-blue-day, and many nights of darkening contemplation. Riddled by the tangle of silence, with nothingness; raised voices, and bruising discipline. I had done nothing wrong. I had done nothing wrong. “It was great.” I said. 

He smiled kindly, that reassuring sense of Meeks I had needed during the bitter hue of summer’s company. “Good.” He said, releasing myself gently, and outstretching his grip. He turned to face Charlie, gentle in his smile, and spoke again: “I got you some more smokes, Dalton.” He grinned, “So you’ll stop moaning that we’re bummin’ ‘em.” 

The boy in question scoffed, “You do.” He said, a smirk nonetheless, as he shovelled the packet into his inner-blazer pocket. “I’d say you owe me a couple more, Meeksy.” 

“Take what you’re given.” He smirked, “Or you’ll get nothin’ at all.” 

He merely smiled, an eyebrow raised, and he spoke lightly, a bounce to his words. “You have a good vacation, Stevo?” He said, “You’re pale as ever.” 

“Always the joker.” Meeks offered, a mere mutter beneath his breath, “My summer was standard.” He shrugged lightly, “Studying, mostly. A little extra-reading, I suppose.” 

“Riveting.” Knox scoffed, a dizzy arrival to his feet. 

Charlie smirked, and he shook his head - wobbling slightly upon the draped arm of Knox’s weight. “So you’ll be smarter than last year?” He said, teasingly in his ways. Meeks’ response came witty, and it came fondly, though I paid it little mind, obtaining a subtle moment to study the features of the entangled pair before me. 

Knox was far taller than Charlie, it should seem, with his arm slung around the brunette’s shoulders, and his features somewhat softer. His eyes, though similarly brown and kind, were lighter - a brightened tinge, infused with sensitivity. Charlie held mischief, and he held youth, among the deep swirl of his stare; his smirk was crude and it were sharp, uneven, and unfortunately attractive. Charlie was unfortunately attractive. 

And, as I had hardly dared to notice, his smirk fluttered a widened stance, gaze shifting to meet that of mine own curious observation. An eyebrow raised, and he shot a wink to my stoic self - classically flirty, and ever the romantic - before grinning toothily, and rejoining the loose conversion between the other two boys. 

“The other three here, yet?” Charlie asked, nodding serupticially to the open wind of the door. 

Meeks shrugged something light, beginning to make his way - a saunter in his stride - to the opposing doorway, positioned directly before Dalton’s own. Charlie trailed suit, and I found myself obliging to the gentle push of Knox’s tender touch, as he guided my shoulders to cross the hallway, and he brushed his palms along the doorframe, gating us all in with a kind of casual amusement. I were pressed - rather tightly, mind you - between the heat of Charlie’s back, as he leaned upon the wooden frame, and Knox’s arm, held just above my head, as we peered on through. 

“Rumour has it,” Charlie grinned, pointing with mock accusement, to Neil - his sharp features conveyed by a gentle, tender smile. “You did summer school.” The boy glanced up, straightening his position. 

“Yep.” He breathed, “Chemistry.” And I felt undoubtedly sorry for him. “My Father thought I should get ahead.” There were a certain glaze - one I happened to notice, though not entirely potent - upon the mention of his Father, and I found mine own stare reciprocating a mixture of something kind, and something understanding. It should seem we had plenty in common - between our parents, and our inability to stand up against their trying discipline. Though perhaps Neil were not… Perhaps he were not physically harmed, as were I, it would do damage just the same. 

His smile was toothy, brotherly, as he approached. He shook the outstretched hand of Dalton’s own, and said: “How was your summer, Slick?” With a mischievous kind of glint.

“Keen.” Came the reply, drowned in all things sinfully scandalous and unspoken. 

The breath of a laugh slipped from Neil’s lips, a gentle shake of the head, and he retreated to his luggage, tossed carelessly upon his bed. Charlie followed, and I found myself trailing - helplessly - along. 

“Meeks,” Charlie called, over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow, and a diligent grin, pointing to the boy with spoken commandment, “Door. Closed.” I smiled - beside myself, and frustratingly so - and Meeks spoke his reply. 

“Yes, Sir.” He said, and the dark oak swung to a tight close. 

Dalton took his seat upon the unmade, bare, mattress that was Neil’s single accommodation; Knox to rest backwards within the spare desk chair, withdrawn slightly from the weak table, and to the other side of the room, and Meeks assumed his position within the seat opposite Knox, facing outwardly at Neil’s desk. I stood, quietly, and I watched the room for the moment that passed, as everyone took their place. 

The back of someone unfamiliar greeted me, his hair a dirty blonde. He hunched over his luggage, fiddling with this, and with that, and remained submerged within his own silence, undisturbed - or so it seemed - by the rather rowdy crowd of newcomers. 

“Gentlemen,” Neil mocked, leaning gradually upon the dark radiator. “What are the four pillars?” 

“Travesty. Horror. Decadence. Excrement.”  They sang, a whispered quire of mocking upon the monstrosity Hell-ton dared to deem success. I grinned, despite myself, and took a seat upon the edge of the bed, slightly pushing the sharp edge of the leather-bound case. 

Charlie spoke, a cigarette hung from between his lips, “‘kay,” He muttered, withdrawing the stick from between his muffled speech, and producing a lighter, “Study group.” He said. “Meeks aced Latin,” No surprise there, I thought, “Jane’s just… Jane.” He grinned, to which I rolled my eyes. “She’ll have aced everything.” He swung his legs to rest upon my lap, unreasonably comfortable, and he lay - utterly sprawled out - upon the bed. His touch was warm, it was cozy, and thus I did not protest. “I didn’t quite flunk English,” He continued, “So, if you want, we got our study group.” 

He lit the cigarette, as a hum of agreement rang through the room. I remained true to my silence, for I knew I would simply not be allowed within such close proximity - neither to study, nor merely to talk. Pathetic, my conscience reminded, the misogyny were fucking pathetic. 

“Alright,” Neil shrugged, “You comin’, Jane?” He asked. I glanced up, and upon meeting such a gentle expression, I smiled. 

I spoke softly - I hated the way it sounded, but I said it nonetheless. “I can’t.” I sighed. “I got new rules, now, boys.” 

Charlie scoffed, and Neil’s gaze seemed to soften - sympathetic, understanding. “Forget the rules.” Charlie said, handing his cigarette to myself, as I took it between my middle and first. “You’re coming.” 

Through a breath of smoke, I scoffed, and I said: “I’ll be kicked out, Dalton.” 

He smirked that uneven smirk, with a shrug to accompany, “For studying? C’mon, Darl’.” He challenged, “That’s a lame excuse.” 

“I can’t.” I sighed, inhaling another deep breath of such chemical smoke, holding it within the depth of my throat - as the Dalton boy had taught me, back in eighth grade - and I exhaled tiresomely. I truly wished it could be simpler. I handed back the cigarette, and I focused myself upon Perry, as he smiled - something reassuring, and gentle.

“Well, Cameron asked, too.” Neil said, and a chorus of mumbled protests rang out - I found myself groaning something light, for the red-headed bastard were nothing but a stuck up prissy, and I liked nothing about him. “Anyone mind including him?” 

I could practically hear the silent ‘Yes’ of the boys’ disagreement, as they sighed once more, and they remained true to the quiet. “What’s his specialty, bootlicking?” Charlie scoffed, lighting his cigarette once more. 

“C’mon,” Neil tried. Always the kinder soul. “He’s your roommate.” 

Charlie let out a breathy laugh, “That’s not my fault.” he said. And I did feel a little sorry for him, at times, for - indeed - Richard Cameron was his roommate, and the pair got on like butter in a sock. 

In other words; they didn’t. 

I grinned, riddled with slight amusement, for I knew Charlie held a special kind of talent for pissing Cameron off. He - regularly, you understand - played his saxophone, at all hours of the night. Only loud enough to disturb Richard, of course, but it was persistently frustrating for the ginger lad, nonetheless. Charlie would often steal his clothing, amidst his showers, and force the poor boy to return to his room in nothing but a towel - all kinds of impractical things, that I, for one, found utterly hilarious, and the school board did not agree with. 

“Ah, I’m sorry,” Meeks spoke, “My name is Steven Meeks.” 

Glancing toward the newcomer, I smiled warmly, for he looked to be riddled with nerves, and shaken with anxiety. So fragile, did he seem. 

“Oh, this is Todd Anderson.” Neil introduced, spinning him around with a soft touch. He turned to face Meeks, a light blush dusting his cheeks, and he reached out - as though nervous, I had noticed - to shake his hand. 

Meeks shook it something small, “Nice to meet you.” He smiled, and let go of their grip.

“Nice to meet you.” Todd whispered, a tone so quiet, I almost missed it. He seemed polite, kind, and softly spoken. His lips quivered with an affable smile, docile and modest, and he shared a curt glance with I, a nervous nod to be sent. 

I spoke quietly, though not quite as quiet as he, and I smiled, “I’m Jane.” I said, “Jane Darling.” 

“Hello.” He mumbled, that faint dust of pinkish hue to elope his complexion once more. 

“Charlie Dalton.” Charlie said, far louder than perhaps necessary (though I supposed it were just him, and that was that) with an azure of confidence radiating between his smirk. The boy, - Todd - he glanced with a curtly reigned frown, turning away with not but a word. The breath of a laugh slipped from my lips - for Charlie, his chaotic, messy, self, could seem so intimidating, so utterly confident, upon first glance - and I smiled with great amusement. His foot nudged my stomach lightly, and, upon glancing to his expression, I noticed a mockery of annoyance, ruined by his grin. 

Another amused giggle fell from me, and I rolled my eyes - a natural reaction, you see - as I turned to meet the introduction of Knox. He leaned up, an awkward kind of crouch, over the back of the wooden chair, and shook Todd’s hand. “I’m Knox Overstreet.” He smiled, with a subtle nod to follow. 

Overstreet fell back to rest within his chair, and Neil spoke with earnestness, although lightly uninterested upon the topic. “Todd’s brother was Jeffery Anderson.” He said, taking ahold of the cigarette Charlie had offered. 

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Charlie said, as though the name dared to ring a bell. I knew not for this Jeffery, nor his brother, as he stood before us, scoping his luggage once again. “Valedictorian.” Charlie continued. “National merit scholar.” Oh, I thought, oh, it was that Anderson. 

Todd seemed to freeze slightly, his jaw drawn to a momentary clench, and I understood that such recognition were not of something unfamiliar to him. Meeks, his eyebrows raised, spoke with light teasing, “Ooh. Well,” he said, “Welcome to Hell-ton.” 

A silent, shy, laugh reciprocated the boy’s reply, as Charlie - once more - made the pass of another loud statement. “It’s every bit as tough as they say,” he said, a tone of nonchalance to occupy. “Unless you’re Jane. She’s…” He trailed, a ribbing grin, “Well, like I said; she’s just Jane. A genius, like Meeks.” 

I scoffed, swatting the boney shin of his leg, as he smirked something proud, and shot me a wink. “He excels in flattery, Todd,” I said, “Don’t mind him.” 

Meeks snickered, “Yeah,” he agreed, “That’s why I help him with Latin.” 

“And English,” I added, a mere mutter beneath my breath. 

“And Trig,” Charlie coughed, another light kick to my stomach, with that same teasing glint to those deep, chocolate, eyes. He had taken back the cigarette, inhaling a rather deep toke upon the stick, before offering it to myself. I took it, gulping in the toxins with a sense of normality, as I leaned myself back upon the edge of the luggage. 

A subtly sounded knock erupted from the opposing side of the wooden door, and I - reasonably so - found myself lightly panicking for the stick of illegal measures, wrapped within my fingers. I glanced to Charlie, a furrow upon my brows, and he took hold of the cigarette, maneuvering himself to extinguish the final few tokes of the lit thing. Neil, Charlie, and I, made an attempt to waft the smoke away; our hands batting the air somewhat foolishly. It would still smell, I thought, but I waved my hands anyway. 

“It’s open,” Neil called, as Charlie rose to his feet, the corpse of the hidden cigarette perched beneath his shiny shoe. 

The door opened, and an older man strode - masked by a great sense of authority - within the complex. “Father,” Neil all but spluttered, risen to a wobbly stand, “I thought you’d gone.” His gaze, it faltered, and a shine of something fearful riddled among his widened eyes. Mr Perry seemed stern, the kind of man whom found small talk to be his only communication, unless condescending, or belittling, and I didn’t quite like that. 

“Mr Perry - Sir.” the boys each greeted, rising to a respectful stand, among the thickening tension within the air. I remained perched upon the bed, merely smiling something small. 

The man nodded politely, tight lipped, with a grin of something powerful, and I found myself disliking the blankness behind his gaze, behind his eyes. “Keep your seats, fella’s,” He said, “keep your seats.” And so they did - Meeks, Knox, and Charlie, returning to their assigned seats, each somewhat displeased by the presence of the elder man. He glanced to myself, smile tightening distastefully, as mine only seemed to brighten - often, I enjoyed the act of making men squirm. “Miss Darling,” He said, a light bite to his tone, “I hope you are well.” 

“Very well, thank you, Mr Perry.” I replied, somewhat nonchalantly, somewhat bemusedly. 

“Good.” He said, gaze to flutter upon my frame - scrutinizing, with a sense of uncomfortability. My smile, it fell to a smirk, for I found great fondness among his displeasure. “Neil,” He continued, attention returning once more to his son, of whom stood, nervously, with a furrow in his brows. “I’ve just spoken to Mr Nolan.” He said, “I think that you’re taking too many extracurricular activities this semester, and I’ve decided that you should drop the school annual.” 

I shifted my gaze, prominent with a frown, to meet the angered stare of Charlie, who merely sighed, a shake to his head. ‘Is he serious?’ I mouthed, somewhat silent among my breathing. The boy shrugged, nodding slightly in response. Unfortunately, his glare seemed to utter, and I found my scowl deepening. “But I’m the assistant editor, this year.” Neil attempted to reason, a glaze of solemn hurt, so potent, upon his features. 

Mr Perry, a glance of perfect nonchalance, said: “Well, I’m sorry, Neil.” With not but a flicker of apathy. No, I thought, you’re not. 

Neil tried again, “But - Father - I can’t! It wouldn’t be fair-” 

“Fella’s,” Mr Perry interjected, a great wash of impatience to succumb to his expression, “Would you excuse us for a moment?” 

There were a sudden gloom that hung about the air, thicker than the smoke that fell from our throats, as we smoked our cigarettes, and basked in the little freedom we could. Neil glanced, a sheepish kind of look, from his left, to his right - to nothing in particular, I could only assume - and the gentle thud of his Father’s footsteps were to be the only disrupance. I dared to spare another sharp exchange with Charlie, his jaw set, teeth clenched. He watched, deep orbs conflicted with a burning - obvious - distaste, as Mr Perry paused at the doorway, and Neil stuttered in his walk. 

The boy left, and the smile his Father gave - perhaps something of reassurance, though I paid it no mind - were of nothing partially kind; tight, and thin-lipped. Charlie did not smile back, he glared, though something slightly softer, and awaited the retreat of Mr Perry’s moving figure. 

A breath of silence dared to pass, and I wondered - perhaps selfishly, perhaps ignorantly - if this were how it felt to be a witness, and not a receiver. For I had never known the way it felt, to listen in upon hushed whispers of angered disputes, and the stumbled reply of someone ferociously terrified. It were usually I, whom stuttered my response, and cried silent tears, as the strike of powerful palms caressed the worn complexion of my cheek. Often, it stung. Though each time, less than the rest. 

I found myself tracing the flush of my cheek - absentmindedly, you understand - with a gaze fallen to the floor. For although I were certainly glad that the bruises had healed, and the scabs didn’t leave scars, my conscience often recalled such moments, of inner battles, and of physical aches, upon the most wretched of times. 

The summer was dreadful - as it had always seemed to be - and I held no doubt that the next break - Winter, I supposed - would be much the same. I dreaded it all, just as well. For who was I to defy the mighty hand of a man who’d taught me nothing but pain? I knew not how to love, but to hate - Oh, I could hate with great excellence. 

“That guy’s a real jerk-off.” Charlie sighed, a mumble beneath his breath. 

I smiled something small, saddened, “Yeah,” I said, “I wouldn’t invite him to tea, that’s for sure.” 

He snorted, a toothy grin to follow, “Give it to him cold.” he suggested, leaning back among the pillows once more, his legs dangling - an awkward angle, surely - up off the side of the mattress. “Or leave some mushed up cookies at the bottom.” He had a nice smile, I cared to notice; bright, straight, teeth, with a perfectly even set - he looked, silly as it may seem, rather pretty, when he smiled. A true smile, however, not a smirk. His smirk were mischievous - older - and his smile withheld the youth he often projected. 

“Too hot, maybe - burn his tongue.” I shrugged. “Though I’m doubtful he’d ever return my invite.” 

“No,” Charlie sighed, “No, he wouldn’t.” 

“It’s a shame, really,” I said, turning back to gaze upon the floor, a breath of faux despair dissolving upon my tongue, and I smiled. “I make a wonderful tea.” 

“More of a liquor kinda guy, really.” He muttered, a shrug of faint amusement. “Or a Hot Chocolate.” He added, a moment of nothingness to follow, “Wouldn’t be Christmas without one, y’know?” 

My grin merely heightened, for I knew the feeling all too well, and I nodded. “Of course.” I said, returning my gaze to lock with his bemused glint. “As long as you don’t make them with milk.” 

He frowned, scoffed, and spoke with a tone of great offence. “How else am I supposed to make it?” 

“With water!” I scoffed. Buffoon, I thought, and a disgusting one at that. To make his hot chocolate with milk - the audacity of the boy. “Hot water.” I then said, glancing to his scrunched expression - assuming that I, myself, withheld disgust much the same. “How’d you even heat up the milk?” I asked, another scrunch of distaste to follow. 

“Jesus fuck,” He breathed, “The same way you heat up water?” He said, an incredulous kind of tone to pepper his words. His eyes widened, a placid glaze of disbelief to flutter his features, and I merely shook my head. Oh, he seemed so pretty - and, now, all was ruined. 

“Disgraceful.” I muttered. 

“Me?” He mocked, “You’re the weirdo that likes hot-water-chocolate!” 

“You make it sound like a bad thing!” I defended. 

“It is a bad thing! A damn shame, too.” He scoffed, a roll of his eyes, “I was just beginning to like you.” His smirk came sly and it came teasing, and I found myself unable to withhold my own, the slip of a gentle giggle to fall along with it. 

“Only just?” I jeered, a fond kind of smile, “Well, shit, I better step up my game.” 

Charlie shot me a wink - again - and swung to his feet, standing with a sudden wobble, as he said: “I’d say the same for myself, but my game is simply…” He paused, he grinned, “Perfect.” He said. I scoffed, rolling my eyes; for yes, he was a flirt  - potentially the biggest flirt I had ever come to know, at that - but there was nothing perfect about him. Well, nothing but that smile, of course. 

“Yeah, alright, Dalton.” I said, the ascent to my feet something clumsy - as always, it should so seem - and I stumbled a few steps, bashing my shoulder upon the chest of the boy, himself. He let out a breathy grunt, clasping me - far gentler than I supposed I had expected - at my elbow, for I jerked myself away, and I found my footing solely. A natural reaction, I thought to reason, and I pretended not to notice the brief flash of concern, as it washed across his face. “We should check on Neil.” I mumbled, tone far quieter than I should have liked - addressing the silence of the other three boys. 

Todd glanced, - nervously, I noticed - with a quick kind of look, though returned to his luggage - a bag with nothing left to unpack - as though he were too busy to follow. Meeks merely nodded, Knox rising quietly from his position, and we wandered through the open doorway. 

Charlie, the first to step out, leaned upon the cream wall, smug with his uneven, classic, smirk. I found myself positioned ever-slightly behind him, shoulder rested against the back of his arm, and Knox stood, hands in his pockets, to the right of I. Neil stared forward, jaw set, though soft - as he always seemed to be - and he dropped back against the wall, his head bouncing lightly upon such contact. 

I frowned, silent within my thoughts, for although I wished to speak upon my concerns, I knew such would simply do nothing to help. “Why doesn’t he let you do what you want?” Charlie asked, brazen as ever. 

Helpful, Dalton, I scoffed, internally, real helpful. 

Neil turned to face us, an eyebrow raised, and his silence surely telling. “Yeah, Neil,” Knox added, a light tone of confidence to ooze between his words, “tell him off.” 

My eyes rolled gravely, the comment slipping from upon my tongue before I caught the chance to reel it in. “God,” I sighed, “That’s a terrible idea.” I muttered, a shake to my head, “Don’t listen to them, Neil.” 

Knox frowned, a glance of conflict to contort his handsome features, and he said: “Why? It couldn’t get any worse.” Oh, you fool, I thought - it could get so much worse. Of course it could. 

“You don’t know that.” I said, a little too sharp for my liking. I softened my tone, “It’s best to just take it - take it ‘til you’re free.” I glanced once to Neil, his eyes fluttered shut, and I added - quietly, with a gentle stare. “Not long, now.” 

There were a great beat of silence, a shake to his head, and the brunette returned his attention to the cream paint of the opposing wall, tone tender, tired. “Ten years is a lifetime.” He all but whispered, the slip of a crack to differentiate his tone. Something within my chest ached - a gentle squeeze, and my expression fell to a sympathetic furrow. 

“No, Neil,” I said, a smile of something reassuring flashed his way, “you’ve the rest of your life to enjoy, to feel free. Ten years? Ten years is nothing.” 

“It’s forever.” He mumbled, “I’ll be trapped forever.” 

Knox shrugged smally, “It’s your life, Neil. Your future. You do with it what you want, that’s the way it goes.”

A mocking, bitterly tasted, laugh fell from the boy’s tongue, his eyebrows raised; fixture of disbelief. “Oh, that’s rich!” He scoffed, and my chest ached once more, throbbing slightly, for the weight of things all too familiar. I had witnessed this scene many-a-time before - only I were Neil, and Neil were I. “Like you guy’s defy your parents?” He continued, a hint of frustration to lick upon his tone, “Mr Future Lawyer, and Mr Future Banker.” 

Charlie, another smug smirk slapped across his expression, said, with the breath of a laugh; “Okay, so I don’t like it any more than you do.” 

Neil sighed, falling back to rest his head against the wall. “Well- Just don’t tell me how to talk to my Father.” He said, a trailed gaze to meet us all, “You guys are the same way.” And surely right he was. To defy was - to put it rather dramatically, though not entirely impossible - to die. 

Knox let out a breathy, “Alright, alright, Jesus.” and Neil retracted his gaze, a glum grin to be shot my way. “So what are you gonna do, then?” He muttered, soft eyes laced with a thinly dispersed concern. 

He fluttered his eyes shut, once more, and sighed. “What I have to do,” he mumbled, “Drop the annual.” I frowned a little, unable to miss the thick layer of sadness, as it wove between his features. 

“Well,” Charlie began, “I wouldn’t lose too much sleep over it.” 

I let out a breath, “Yeah,” I said, “It’s just a bunch of jerks trying to impress Nolan.” 

His laugh rang fake, and it fell from his lips with great force - I practically winced. “I don’t care.” He lied. “I don’t give a damn about any of it.” But oh, of all the blindest men - anyone could read his mistruth. 

There was a beat of silence, and I found myself reaching out, and placing a softly positioned hand upon the sleeve of his blazer, a curt squeeze of support - of companionship. “Well, uh,” Meeks stuttered, his breath a little warm upon the back of my neck. I flinched, be it only slight, from the sudden sensation, and bumped - once more, curse my soul - unto the frame of the Dalton boy himself. He merely raised an eyebrow, hand instinctively brushing upon my upper back, a stroke of miraculous comfort. I smiled, sheepishly, might I admit, and attempted to ignore the circular trail of his fingers upon the blazer, warped between my shoulder blades. “Latin?” Meeks offered, “Eight o’clock, tomorrow?” 

A round of agreement followed around - Neil expressing the loudest, as he passed between Knox and I, and made his way through the doorway of his room. 

“Todd,” The boy glanced up, fiddling with a small clock, and Meeks smiled, “You’re welcome to join us.” He offered, as Knox chimed in. 

“Yeah,” He said, “Come along, Pal.” 

Todd nodded, another shy movement, and he muttered a quiet: “Thanks.” And nothing more.

A breath left my lips, as the four remaining students - Meeks, Knox, Charlie, and I - turned away from the slowly closing door. I sighed, for I dreaded the condition to which Peter had left behind, upon his trail of Knightly destruction, and I wondered just what he had ruined, in the longer-than-necessary time he took, upon delivering mine own luggage to my dorm. “I’m gonna head back to my room.” I muttered, “Unpack, and all that.” 

I dared to notice the hand, rested - still - between my shoulder blades, as Charlie spoke, softer than he had all day. “Sure.” He mumbled, “Know how to get there from here?” I merely nodded, for I did; it were up the stairs, the first right upon landing, and five doors to the left. 

“See you in class, Jane,” Meeks smiled, a small wave to follow. I reciprocated, breathed a laugh. 

“Yeah, and don’t forget - you’re coming to that study group.” Charlie grinned, a subtle wink, as he patted my back - thrice, upon counting - and I began to wander the trek within the distilled hallway. Their echoing footsteps, retreating to their own rooms, I could merely assume, drowned to something of a silent aubade, as I ascended the stairs, my shoes tapping gently upon the polished wood. 

Perhaps, I thought, as I entered my hallway, and I strode to the oak of my door, this year could be better. Maybe it would be good, and not just fine. Shrug-worthy, would be a legible descriptive of past years - nothing but bland yearning, a great longing for freedom. Something tingled, deep within my bones, and I wondered if perhaps this year - maybe, just maybe - I would find it. The freedom, that is. 

It sounded so wonderful, looked so serene. I discovered myself longing for it, all over again. And, as I swung open the wooden panel, a large kind of smirk tattled upon my teeth, I decided that I would do everything I could to achieve it. I swerved, among the piles of strewn clothing, of broken picture frames, and of smashed bottles - of perfume, might I add, despite their forbiddency - and I sat upon the naked, unmade bed, smiling. I cared not for the mess, the disgusting and blatant, disrespect, in which my brother had inflicted upon the scene - for I, Jane Elizabeth Darling, grew warm; warm with a sense of fulfilling passion. 

This year would be different, I thought to myself; this year would be free. No longer was I Miss Darling, nor Peter - with a more feminine touch - Neither a future trophy wife, or a distraction amongst men - No. No, that year - beginning then, for if not then, when? - I was Jane. A bright, witty, independent, girl, with not but a man to influence her, and rag her around. 

“I am Jane.” I said, and I liked the way it tasted. 

[minifancharacters]

Taiga Woman - Megaman Classic OC (ENG)

Name: Taiga Woman (AKA: Taiga)

Creator: Dr. Cossack

Species: Robot

Number: Unknown

Description: Here your majesty comes! The self-proclaimed princess of the Frozen Forest has made her appearance! She was created to create different types of snowflakes. One day, she was in awe because of the beauty of a frozen forest in the north of Russia that she decided to protect it at all costs, even if she has to give her life for it. When she saved it from a forest fire, they called her heroine and she decided to settle there. Currently, she has found ice skating, ballet, and watching magical girls animes as a hobby.

Personality: At first glance, she may seem cold and distant, but, within that ice heart, she is sensitive and kind-hearted. She is quite vulnerable to any situation that destabilizes her as she always ends up crying about it. To avoid worrying others, she has learned to keep "that side of her" under the nature of princess that characterizes her so much and that’s why it’s difficult for her to open up to others. She always believes she’s somebody of the royalty with authority and stern nature. Despite this, she is compassionate, kind, and even a good leader. She would be able to sacrifice herself for the beings she loves and take full responsibility of the situations. Her biggest flaws are she can be very stubborn at times and she clings to something very easily. Also, she has little anger issues when she sees something she doesn't like. Sometimes, her princess pride goes to her mind she feels she lives in a fantasy.

Fears:

Lose her beloved ones

Let down the others

Things she hates:

Fire

They burn her Frozen Forest

Forest Fire

Fire Robot Masters – Although, she is learning to tolerate them more every day.

Skills:

Taiga Sleet – She summons a sleet storm which is like ice crystals that sometimes turns into water depending on the size of the ice crystals and the temperature of the environment.

Ice Shield – A quite tough shield that resists even superhuman strength.

Snow Ball – She summons a big snow ball which then she throws to her target.

Skate Cutter – When she kicks the enemy, she uses the blades of her ice skaters as a weapon.

Create ice things like snowflakes, snowballs, snowmen, ice rinks, ice crystals, among other decorative things.

Ice Skating – She uses this skill as a combat art.

Weakness: Fire (Damage X2) and Electric (Damage X1.5)

Skill which Megaman gets to defeat her: Taiga Sleet

Trivia:

She’s Tundra Man’s twin sister and she loves her brother so much.

When she was activated, she was so devoted to her brother, so much she cried a whole night when she had to separate from him to fulfill his function.

Some people say she’d be Tundra Man’s “shadow”.  

She’s known as “The Ice Maiden” because when she fights, she doesn’t’ feel compassion towards her enemies.

She looks like a weak robot when she’s calm. However, she becomes completely dangerous when she gets angry. That’s why there is the quotation "Never make mad the Ice Maiden!".

She has some outfits. However, they are usually made for battle. Nonetheless, she breaks that rule depending on the situation.

The only outfit which isn’t made for battle is her princess dress.

She fights for love and justice as well as she usually fights alone.

She likes popsicles, even though she doesn't have a mouth.

She likes to sleep so much she sometimes falls asleep even in unexpected situations.

When she shows her shoulders, she usually embeds ice crystals on her body.

When she cries, her tears often freeze as they fall to become into ice crystals.

She takes off her ice skates in summer when the ice from the boreal forest melts.

Although she wasn’t born for combat, she has developed that skill on her own since she became a heroine. For that reason, some people say that she’s as strong as Tundra Man with the Speed Gear activated.

Normally, she creates decorative things with her ice powers. However, she also uses that skill in combat.

She has a great rivalry with Torch Man, even both got to fight on several occasions. Sometimes for training, other times for some problem that comes up between them.

Since her first encounter with Torch Man, she has created ice gauntlets to avoid hurting her delicate hands.

Under those gloves, her hands are shattered by terrible burns from the first battle she had against Torch Man.

Some people consider her as “Torch Man's Counter”, as her Taiga Sleet attack is said to be the opposite of the Blazing Torch.

She considers some Fire Robot Masters as enemies as Burner Man or Heat Man.

She has a complicated relationship with Pharaoh Man… Because of the fact he has fire powers!

Her love interest is Ignis Frost.

Before she meets Ignis Frost, she was much more distant from others and she was so stubborn she didn’t want to be separated from her precious forest for nothing the world.

Thanks to Ignis Frost, now she’s more tolerant with fire robots.

Outfits:

► The Ice Princess:

► The Ice Maiden:

[nostalthicc]

send your regards | jeff wittek

mobster!jeff x reader

summary: y/n and jeff both find out some pretty unsettling things about their relationship

warnings: cursing, horribly written, hella mistakes, im just not that happy with it 

3k words

y/n didn’t find herself in a relationship very often, so she understood why her friends were so eager to hear about this new guy she had been seeing for about five months. they’ve had to watch y/n come home in the early hours of the morning, new designer items pop into her closet and her mood suddenly shifted from her usual unbothered attitude to a brand new happy woman and hadn’t even heard a peep about who caused all these changes in their friend’s life.

but today was the day, y/n’s small group of friends sat crowded around her bed as she started to tell them about her newfound relationship- if she could even call it that. “we met at sandy’s, the club near the outlet mall. and you know me when i have one, two many drinks. i thought he was gonna kick me out in the morning but ended up making me breakfast and asked for my number.” y/n said, pausing as she noticed the girls were dying to interrupt her story with questions.

“how was it?” 

“what does he look like?”

“what’s his name?”

“eggplant and baby carrot?” 

“does he have a brother?”

y/n’s eyes widen at the abundance of words thrown her way, she knew they were curious but not this much so. “one, that’s for me to know, court. two, he’s really fucking hot, i’ll show you guys a picture in a second, three his name is jeff wittek-”

before she could go any farther, her older friend, nora blurted out: “What?! Jeff?” y/n gave her a questionable look, urging nora to quiet down and explain her sudden outburst. “y/n, no, you have to end things, you can’t get involved with him.” she said frantically. “h-he’s not a good person.”

“what are you talking about?” y/n asked, her eyebrows furrowed. jeff was one of the kindest people she met whenever they were together, she couldn’t imagine a bad bone in his body. what nora was saying didn’t add up, it seems her friend must have been confused and was talking about the wrong jeff. since the first time she met him he had been nothing but nice to y/n and the people around them and every one of jeff’s friends were also highly kind to her. 

“are you stupid, y/n? jeff wittek is the mob boss that haunts this god forsake town. how could you be so clueless and naive?” nora whispered harshly, causing all the girl’s eyes to widen. they’ve never seen nora act this way, she was always chill and down to earth so to see her blowing up as she was, was shocking. 

everyone had their attention focused on nora they completely missed the look of horror on y/n’s face. little pieces of the puzzle were starting to come together, she knew he was hiding something but y/n never thought it would be of this capacity. the late-night or early morning phone calls, they obnoxious amount of weapons hidden throughout his house, jeff’s constant stance of authority with everyone around him, the bloodied clothing he swore were nose bleeds or bar fights, and the never-ending pit of drugs he had handy at all times. it all made sense now, y/n had dismissed it because she wanted jeff to tell her what his secret was when he was ready but now y/n really regrets her idea. why would he not tell her? how many people has he killed? would he ever hurt her? 

“do you know what he does? he kills people, y/n.” she seethed, earning unprovable glares from surrounding customers- not that she cared. nora knew what she had to do  and she was willing to do it at any cost. “you better get away before he kills you as he does with all his little whores!”

“nora!”

y/n had heard enough, she swiftly grabbed her coat and purse and made a beeline for the door despite her friend’s calls. frustration was building deep inside her, why had everything gone to shit in a matter of minutes? y/n slammed her hands down on the steering wheel multiple times before resting her forehead against the cool leather. when her mind drifted to jeff a new emotion emerged, fear. she was scared.  

y/n knew she needed to confront jeff or it would eat at her alive, she wants to hear the words come from his own two lips before she made any rash decisions. meanwhile, nora had escaped the mob of anger girls and was standing behind the cafe with a burner phone pressed to her ear and a cigarette between her lips. 

“hello?” a gruff, agitated voice answer on the other line. 

“do i just have the funniest story for you?” she was met with silence from the man. rolling her eyes she continued. “you assigned me to keep on an eye on y/n after you two called it quits but you’ll never guess who’s bed she crawled into...wittek.” 

the sound of glass shattering course through the speakers, he was angry, very angry. “jeff wittek?! you had one fucking, nora! one job, how did you manage to fuck it up?” 

“it’s not my fault.” nora defended herself, she was not threatened but the anger pouring through the phone and she was not going to be blamed for something she didn’t do. “i was finding out right along with her dumbass friends, apparently y/n’s not one to openly talk about relationships because it’s been going on for three months but guessing from  her reaction when she found out, i don’t think it’ll last much longer.”

“if something happens to her because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut, so be it, i will put a bullet in your head.” 

nora chuckled, blowing out a puff of smoke. “don’t joke around like that i might get excited.” 

⇉⇉⇉

todd met y/n at the front door of jeff’s overly large house, he offered y/n a genuine smile but it quickly fell when she didn’t return the gesture and kept her eyes trained on the floor. “hey, are you okay?” he asked, reaching to rest a comforting hand on her shoulder but y/n hopped back before he could come into contact with her. todd took her weird demeanor and silence as a sign to go get jeff, he can always cheer her up. 

y/n was terrified to even be in this house, so many awful things must have gone down on this very floor, so much blood. y/n wanted to vomit at the thought. nora’s words continued to fill her brain, how could she have been so clueless? why did she ignore every sign of danger? y/n shook her shook, trying frantically to think of what to say when she heard the footsteps approaching. jeff walked into the entryway with a pair of tan cargo shorts loosely hanging on his hips. he was beautiful, his dark hair and tanned skin, his eyes, his lips, her eyes wandered down to his toned abs. on any other day, y/n would be quick to pounce on the man, she was still urged to greet him with a kiss even after the newfound news.

“s-stop. stay there.” y/n tried her best not to stutter but nothing could have prepared her for this moment, she wished she would have stayed in the car and driven home but her brain never worked when she wanted it to. y/n held her hand up when jeff ignored her wish, taking a few steps back. “please, jeff.”

“baby, what’s wrong? toddy said you seemed upset.” jeff whispered softly, in hopes of not pushing y/n farther over the edge.

“why didn’t you tell me?” a sob fell through the girl’s lips, a sound jeff swore he never wanted to hear as long as he lived. his mind raked with confusion until he noticed the look hidden in her eyes, his girl was scared of him, practically shaking with fear. how had he let this happen? how did she even find out? 

jeff took a slow stride towards her, putting his hands up in defense. “baby, listen to me-”

“stop! don’t lie to me again, i don’t want to hear any more lies! i want the truth jeff!” y/n shouted, her body simultaneously stood a little taller on her toes until she remembers who she was talking to. y/n went into a frenzy apologizing to jeff, while still keeping her distance but he kept coming closer and she knew this was most likely the end for her. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry, i-i- please don’t hurt me.” 

jeff froze as he watched y/n break down in front of him, he watched in silence as his nightmares came true. “no, no baby.” he reached a hand out to her cheek, whipping away the tears as new ones took their place. “please don’t say that. i couldn’t even imagine laying a finger on your precious body if it wasn’t to worship every inch. i would never hurt you, ever. okay, y/n, do you hear me? now, tell me who told you.”

y/n sniffled, taking deep breaths at their close proximity. “nora did. she said y-you’d kill me once you were done with me.” her limbs felt numb and hollow, this was all too much. jeff cursed under his breath, looking down as he tried to make any type of connection but he had y/n pretty well hidden. 

“i would never hurt you, i could never hurt you. please, please stop saying that, you’re breaking my heart over here,” he said. 

“but you hurt other people.” she whispered, a lump forming in her throat. “how many people have you killed? how many people's lives have you claimed? what’s to stop you from doing the same to me?” y/n rambled on, asking so many questions, too many questions, pumping more worry into her head. 

“because i love you, goddammit.” jeff shouted, running his fingers through his hair, he watched in horror as y/n flinched away from him, snapping her eyes shut tight, awaiting the blow. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i just wish you’d listen to me. i love you, i really do. i wanted to make you my queen, we would lead together. i promise i was going to tell you.”

y/n shook her head. “whatever made you think i’d want to do that?” before jeff could answer she raised her hand to stop him, y/n had heard enough. “i-i need time, this is all too much.” she stood up slowly and started backing away from the man towards the front door, y/n wanted to bolt away but she didn’t know how he would react to that. by the time y/n made it to the door, she looked back a jeff to see todd’s hands on his chest. her heart broke but if he truly did love her jeff would let her think things through. 

“my dear y/n, i knew i’d be hearing from you soon enough.”

for the few days y/n had been with ricky she started to remember why she broke things off with him in the first place. he was obsessive, power-hungry, an asshole and he wasn’t him. ricky wasn’t jeff and as much as y/n wanted to deny it, she missed him greatly. maybe she was realizing she loves him but her mind couldn’t shake the thought of who jeff really was and how he had lied to her for so long. 

“god, y/n, i told you no one could treat you better than i can and you went ahead and got involved with a fucking psychopath.” ricky ranted, lighting another cigarette before turning to y/n, eyeing her carefully. y/n knew what he was waiting for and that’s exactly why she bit her tongue. ricky wanted y/n to defend jeff so he could spit a thousand more reasons why jeff is a horrible person and she was stupid for leaving him in the first place but she was not giving him the satisfaction. y/n was starting to realize calling ricky in the first place was a mistake, he clearly had gotten worse since she left; he took her phone, won't let her leave the house, monitors all her meals, and even controls what she wears. ricky was sick.

“my sweet doll, you naive, pathetic precious being,” ricky brushed his fingers across y/n’s chin, scowling as she pulls away from his touch. he was right where he wanted to be, he not only had y/n in his clutches but he had something he could use to bring jeff down. “how do you think i know so much about wittek?” he asked bitterly, the name burning his tongue as he spoke. 

y/n's eyes widen in realization. “because you're just like him.” y/n spoke, defeat clear in her voice. while running from one leader she ran straight into the arms of another mobster, she now more than ever she could be back at home cuddled up with jeff on the couch not stuck in a prison with her crazy ex-boyfriend. 

“no!” he shouted, slamming his fist on the wall. “i am nothing like him, i’m so much better. jeff wittek wishes he could be like me, lead like me, own what i have.” his eyes cast down to y/n’s frightened face, a wicked smile gracing his features. this wasn’t the same ricky y/n used to know, he changed, became a violent version of himself. before he had always been obsessive and controlling but never once had he been violent towards y/n or anyone for a matter of fact. 

“you’re sick, ricky!” he would have thought she knew to keep her mouth shut but y/n was never one to bite her tongue. it infuriated ricky that she didn’t fear him the way she feared jeff, when y/n first called him to pick her up her voice was trembling with fear. why wasn’t she scared of him too? he was just as horrible as jeff, so he thought. ricky grabbed y/n’s arm, dragging her to the living room towards the stairs when a voice halted all movement in the room. 

“it’s taking everything in me to not rip your throat out with my teeth.” jeff smirked at the ricky while basking in his frightened appearance. when he finally found out where y/n was, he went out of his mind, doing everything he could to formulate a plan to get her back or away from that psycho. it was supposed to go down two days from now but when jeff got a text from nora he knew he couldn’t wait any longer to retrieve his girl. 

ricky’s mouth opened and closed, he became a stuttering mess as he tried to form words. “h-how? what are you doing here?” he asked, his grip tightening. sure, he was scared shitless- he’d never actually seen or been face to face with jeff fucking wittek -but he wasn’t going to back down just yet, everyone had a weakness and ricky seemed to have found jeff’s. 

a chuckle could be heard from the mob boss. “newbie’s, man.” he mumbled, turning to todd who had a fancy-looking gun pointed at the rookie. “they’re always so naive.” 

nora made her appearance next to ricky, shoving a needle in his neck before he could react. he slipped to the floor, the hand constricting y/n falling swiftly to the ground with the rest of his limp body. she yelped, jumping away from nora and ricky’s body. y/n was sure everyone in the room could hear her heartbeat rumbling in her chest, all eyes were on her and all y/n could do was stare blankly at them. 

“y/n, come on.” nora coaxed the girl over to her side with a warm smile and a desperate expression, jeff narrowed his eyes as he watched the scene unfold. he knew nora wasn’t completely loyal to him or the mob but he didn’t think she would try and take y/n away from him after all he’s done for her. 

“no, y/n come to me!” jeff countered, earning a highly confused look from the girl. jeff sucked in a sharp breath when nora lost her patience and wrapped her arm around y/n, moving her into a chokehold and pointed a gun to her head. both of the guys pointed their guns at the hostage and her capture, nora had officially crossed the line of his mercy and she would not be leaving this building alive. but before jeff or todd could do anything y/n nailed nora in the stomach, grabbed her arm and pulled it back causing her to drop the gun she held onto right into y/n’s awaiting hand. not a second later she hit nora in the head with the butt of the gun, knocking her out cold. 

“god, she was annoying.” y/n muttered, dragging her hand along her throat. when she finally turned to face the boys with a smirk matching their confused and perplexed expressions. “i can tell by the look on your face, you knew, didn’t you.” 

“i prayed it wasn’t true. ignored it because i loved you, y/n.” jeff said, balling his fist at his side. even aiming a gun at his girlfriend felt foreign, it felt wrong, like he was betraying her and himself at the same time. “after your performance i didn’t believe the rumors but i guess that was a lapse in my judgment, huh?”

y/n internally flinched at the jeff’s use of ‘loved’, she wished the could have met in another light, where they were free to fall in love and be normal- rather than stuck in the life of mobs and mafias. “loved? god, jeff, you both were my targets but somehow i’m gonna get on this helicopter only eliminating one.” she explained painfully, her life with the boy she cares for so much a mere spec now, the life she built was years gone with the simple wave of a hand.  “i-i love you too and i won’t kill you, not now at least, baby. i’ll send your regards to my father.” 

[aelaer]

Author Interview Tag

Tagged by @amethyst-noir a week or two ago, thank you!

Name: Aelaer. Laer for short.

Fandoms: LOTR, Doctor Strange (and the MCU by osmosis) are the two big ones. The former will be a constant in life; the latter has been going on and off since late 2016.

Where you post: I used to post on both ff.net and AO3, but now it's exclusively AO3 due to lack of feedback on ff.net for the Avengers category. I post Tumblr prompt posts on said site first, before moving them to AO3 within a few weeks/months (just... depending on stuff).

Most popular multi-chapter fic: Post 2016, it's still "Strange in a Strange Land", funny enough (The LOTR/DS crossover). Maybe if I get another modern story to 10 chapters, it'll get near those hits/kudos. Crosssssing fingers!

Favorite story you’ve written so far: I don't tend to have one favorite. I'm fond of most of my stories for one reason or another. Generally speaking I can reread all of them because I generally enjoy them - I write what I want to read. (And I'll reread my older stuff sometimes to try to motivate myself to write.)

Fic you were nervous to post: I was a little nervous about "Untitled" due to its very serious topics about depression and attempted suicide. I was similarly a bit nervous about fic #25 - Humiliation for Whumptober because the narrator/antagonist references real world horrors in order to bring down and demotivate Stephen. But generally speaking, I pad these stories with so many warnings that if people stumble into it, I don't feel bad if someone didn't heed the warnings. If I ever purposefully tagged "chose not to use warnings", I'd probably warn on that too lmao.

How you choose your titles: Amy wrote in her answer that she has random post-it notes to lyrics she'd like to write to. I'm somewhat the opposite - I created a 4,000 word document with all my favorite lyrics from all my favorite bands and then choose from there for chapter/one-shot titles. I've been doing this for the last uh, year or so. Sometimes a lyric doesn't work out and I choose something that works thematically instead. The latter is how I came up with the title of #4 in the Earth-197320 series - which is gonna be called Illuminating the Shadows (bringing back an echo to the first story in the series and also going well with the chapter titles theme, which are all lyrics from one song that I just addddoooorrrreee). But the chapter titles, all lyrics from one of my favorite songs.

Do you outline: Yes, even one shots tend to get mini outlines. Sometimes it doesn't happen, but it's more rare for me to write in order than it is out of order, or without a sketch of what's to come. The last multi-chapter fic to actually be written in order was the LOTR/DS crossover; all others since have been out of order.

Complete: A lot. It was over 60 on AO3. If I ever commit to revamping my old LOTR one shots surrounding Aragorn, that number is only going to get astronomical. (It is something I have been considering on and off this year.)

In progress: Ughhhh more than I like. Four or five prompt one-shots and two active multi-chaptered stories. And one very long term project in the back-burner.

Coming soon/not yet started: The other half of my tumblr prompts. Getting through those is my next project after this story’s written out.

Do you accept prompts: Yes. It is just very likely it will take over a year for me to get to it. I'm doing my darnedest to get through more of the 2019 batch before the end of the year, but I may not reach that goal just because all of my writing effort has been towards Illuminating the Shadows the last few weeks.

Upcoming story you are most excited to write: Sequel #4, aka Illuminating the Shadows. It's currently at 23.5k and is the pivotal tale in the series when it comes to the emotional aspects of Tony and Stephen and their growing bond. I really hope I can do what I'm envisioning justice. The difficulty lies within the short time frame the story takes place, so I'm just hoping that it feels real, even if it is over a month rather than a year. *wrings hands* (But good news, I had a draft of this survey from about 2 weeks ago waiting on my phone for a bit and it was ‘just over 10k’ then, so progress *is* being made! And by the time this scheduled post comes out, it’ll be even further along! Wheeeeee!) (and post update it's now 30k since less than a week ago wheeeee)

Upcoming story you are most excited about: Uh, see above. Hopefully I'll be able to do it justice.

Thanks for reading!

Tagging: The writers who replied a couple weeks back! @an-odd-idea @dragonnan and @lifeofroos (though poke me if you’re also a writer who likes to get tagged in stuff).