#of course i figured this out literally the second i left school for lockdown and never came back so like

[calamitydaze]

the fact that for most of my life i HATED my hair and it was the source of so much insecurity and now it’s my favorite feature 😭❤️

[study-coffee-chicago]

Seasons of PD: Season 2: Will’s Back...and There’s a Bomb (A Halstead Brothers + Halstead Sister! Imagine)

Your age: 14

Jay's age: 28

Will's age: 30

"Spoke to Dad," Will said to Jay as the two brothers were sat in Jay's apartment sipping their respective beers. "Said you two barely talk. Said if it wasn't for Y/N, you probably wouldn't see him at all."

"I mean, he's not wrong." Jay shrugged.

"Care to elaborate on that?"

"Not really, but you should've been here. You should've been home. Mom was dyin'. You were off partyin'."

"You left," Will said as he set his beer down and leaned forward on the couch.

"I left to fight a war. I came home. And you know why that was?" he asked rhetorically. "It was because my humvee hit an IED and me and Mouse were the only two who survived! And because Mom was sick! I came back for Mom and I came back traumatized! Nothing bad even happened to you in New York and you left two fucking days after her funeral, man!"

Luckily Will hadn't been holding his beer or he would've dropped it right then and there. "Jay, I- I never knew it was so hard for you to come Stateside again."

"Forget it. You weren't there then, what makes me think you're gonna be here now? You're probably taking off in another few days anyway, am I right? Not even gonna go see Y/N? Even though she always wants help on her math homework from you and you don't even have the decency to answer her phone calls!"

"I'm sorry that I don't have my phone on me when I'm performing surgeries, Jay!"

Jay's phone rang, stopping the argument in its tracks. "Speak of the devil," Jay mumbled and then answered the call. "Hey, Y/N, what's up?"

"I don't understand this stupid homework," you groaned from your desk in your bedroom at home. "Why do I even need to know the equation of a line, anyway? It's not like I'm even gonna use it in life anyway."

"Y/N, like I've told you numerous times, I can help you if it's a single variable problem, but anything more than that, I forgot how to do it. Not really helping your teacher's case for actually using this in life, am I?"

"Yeah, not at all. I guess I'll just try and call Will...he's not gonna answer anyway, but I guess it's worth a shot."

"Wait, how about you FaceTime me?" Jay suggested.

"Why? You already admitted that you can't help me."

"Just do it."

"Okay, gimme a few minutes. I gotta switch devices."

"Oh yeah. You don't have an iPhone yet, only an iPod and a slide phone. Sucks to be you."

"Well, I'm sorry that I don't have a grown-up job and can buy my own stuff, Jay."

"And with buying your own stuff and having a grown-up job comes bills. So, be glad you can't legally work yet."

You rolled your eyes. "I'll call you back in a few minutes. And, whatever this is, better be able to help me with this homework since math is my first class tomorrow."

"It'll help. I promise."

"Hmmm, sure." Then, you hung up and switched to your iPod, and hit the FaceTime icon.

"You look like- you look tired," Jay said when he accepted the FaceTime call. He almost said that you looked like hell, but he figured he shouldn't say that.

"Thanks," you replied sarcastically. "You would be, too, if you've been staring at the same problem on your homework for the past hour."

"What's the equation you have to work with?" Jay asked.

"Y=mx+b," you answered.

"Yeah, vaguely remember that. Don't know what it means, just remember hearing it a bunch. Will, you know what that equation is and how to do it?"

"Will's at your house? I thought he wasn't getting back for another week."

"I thought so, too. And then I got called to a bar today because he was being stupid--"

"Hey, I was not stupid!" Will protested.

"Fine. He was being dumb and tried to break up a fight. And, now I think he's got a job at Chicago Med because he got fired in New York--"

"Y/N," Will butted in, "you said you needed help with your homework?"

"Yeah."

"Jay, can you please give me the phone so I can help our little sister with her homework please?"

"Uh, fine. She'll know why you left New York eventually," Jay said as he passed his phone to his older brother.

"Eventually. But not tonight." He turned to Jay. "Can you get me a piece of paper? I'd grab it but I have no idea where you keep stuff in this little bachelor pad of yours."

"Like you didn't snoop through my stuff when I was at work," Jay joked and stood up to get Will a piece of paper.

"Y/N, for Christmas I'm getting you a subscription to Chegg so you don't need to call me for this."

"I'm holding you to that one."

***

God, I hate running on the track. It's literally just running in circles and seeing the same things over and over, no variety in the scenery whatsoever. I wish I could run with Emma, but she's way faster than me, so she's ahead of me by like one or two laps. Uh, this song sucks! I gotta skip--

"Run lockdown! Run lockdown!"

What? Run lockdown? What is the high school cross country coach talking about? Maybe it's just something that the high schoolers have to do for their drills because I sure have never heard of that one.

But then, you saw Emma jogging toward the bathrooms a few yards away from the track.

What the hell?

You ran towards the bathrooms a few yards away from the track and didn't stop until you'd caught up with Emma. "What's going on?"

"No idea. Something about a lockdown."

Once all of you and your coach, Mrs. Rivers, were safely in the bathroom with the door locked, did you get any closure about what was going on.

"There's been a bomb threat."

"What? A bomb threat?"

"What?!"

"So we can't leave?"

"Girls, I need you to be quiet, okay? The police are looking into it, but for now, the campus is on lockdown and we can't leave here until I get the all-clear. The school's already notified parents, so if someone else is picking you up today other than your parents, you need to call them. Just ask and you can use my phone. Everything's going to be okay, though. We have nothing to worry about. We just need to sit tight until I'm told we can leave." Her phone buzzed and you all held your breath. "Looks like Miss G got stuck in the boys' bathroom with all the stinky football boys."

"What if we walk home?" you asked quietly.

"If you walk home, a parent or someone else will have to pick you up since they don't want anybody walking home because, as of right now, they have no idea who did this."

***

"How's your brother doing?" Erin asked as she and Jay were standing around the coffee pot in the break room.

"Pretty sure he's going to quit the new job he just got at Med even though it's his first day," Jay answered.

"What? He got a job at Med?"

"Yeah. Apparently, they were looking for ER docs and he got the job. But, for some reason, now he wants to quit. And, he was late today. Decided to bitch to me about only having almond milk and not having any regular milk in my fridge. Like, dude, you're staying with me. You can deal with a bit of almond milk."

"I don't blame him," Erin laughed. "Almond milk is disgusting."

"But it's better for you...and cheaper."

"Of course that's your reason for getting it."

"Halstead!" Antonio yelled. "Your phone's been ringing off the hook for the last minute. I think it's important."

"Be right there!" Jay quickly poured himself a cup of coffee and then rushed over to his desk.

"Shit," he muttered.

"Who was it?" Erin asked as she emerged from the breakroom, holding her own cup of coffee.

"Y/N," he answered as he fiddled with his phone. "Called me three times in the past minute."

"Any idea what it's about?"

"No, but I'm about to find out."

"Jay!" you whisper-yelled from the other end of the line.

"Y/N, what's wrong? Why are you calling me so much? Are you sick? Do you need me to--"

"There's a bomb."

Jay almost dropped his phone. "A bomb? Are you sure?"

At the mention of a bomb, everyone's heads snapped towards him.

"Yeah, we're hiding out in the bathrooms near the football field right now until they get the all-clear," you told him. "But, they can't let people walk home from school today and Dad's not answering and it's Will's first day, so I was wondering if you could pick me up?"

"Yeah, yeah, I can do that. Do you mind if I put you on speaker for a quick second?"

"Why? I'm fine Jay, really. Just needed to know if you can pick me up."

Innocent fourteen-year-olds, Jay thought to himself. Of course, she just called to pick to see if you'd pick her up. She hasn't grasped the gravity of the situation, and she's probably thinking that this is just another story to tell. Not that if there's actually a bomb at her school that she could be dead any second if it goes off.

"You're sure you don't want me to stay on the phone with you?"

"You can go."

"Okay. Just, listen to the adult that's in there with you, okay?"

"Okay, okay. Bye."

"Bye I love--" He was cut off by the beep which signaled that you had hung up. "--you."

"What's going on? A bomb?" Erin asked, but Jay was already making his way down the stairs.

"Sarge!" Jay yelled as he made his way to the front desk.

"Well, hello to you too, Chuckles. If you're looking for Voight, he's just meeting with a CI and should back soon," Platt told him.

"Sargeant, all due respect, I don't give a damn about Voight right now. I just need to know if you have any idea about the bomb threat at Central Chicago's high school and middle school campuses?"

"I know that they sent someone from bomb squad and some patrolmen over there to see if there's anyone who seems suspicious--"

"Why wasn't Intelligence notified?"

Platt's jaw dropped and she stared at Jay for a second before speaking. "Because last I checked, detective, those schools weren't in our district--"

Jay slammed his hand down on the desk. "Jay," Erin said and grabbed her partner's arm. "I need you to calm down for a second, okay?"

"I don't need to calm down, Erin," Jay spat. "I have every reason--"

"I understand, but being pissed at Platt here isn't going to fix anything. Go back upstairs and I'll be there in a second."

Jay ripped his arm from Erin's grip and stalked upstairs, not without slamming the gate when he was safely inside the Intelligence Unit's area of the 21st District.

"What's his deal?" Platt asked. "I have half a mind to write him up for insubordination for that little scene he just caused."

"Sarge," Erin started, "the school that called in the bomb threat, that's the school Y/N goes to, Jay's little sister."

"What? I thought that only elementary school kids were at school right now?"

"That's true unless there are sports practices."

"And Y/N's in a sport, so she's at school right now." Platt put the pieces together.

"Yeah. And, I know that family isn't supposed to work cases, but could you maybe make an--"

"Erin, go grab Halstead and Dawson, get down to the school. I'll send the information upstairs to Atwater and Ruzek and they can see what they can get. I'll also call Voight and tell him to meet you there."

"Thank you, Sargeant!"

Erin jogged upstairs and into the bullpen. "Jay, Antonio, we're heading to the school! Kev and Adam, Platt said that you're working the case from up here. Voight will meet us there."

"Copy that," Kevin answered.

Jay holstered his gun and was halfway down the stairs before Kevin even finished his sentence.

***

"Kev, what do we know?" Jay asked as they were driving over to your school.

"Uh, I pulled footage from the high school's office and apparently an unknown dude walked in, asked a question, and then walked out all in the span of less than a minute," he answered.

"Can you run facial rec?"

"Nah, not a good enough angle."

"Description?"

"Dude looks Indian or Middle-Eastern to me. He's got short, black hair. Some stubble, not a ton, but it's enough that you can see it even with the bad angle I got. He's kinda chubby, too. Wearing a tan jacket. That's all I got."

"Thanks, man. That helps. Anything from bomb squad?"

"They haven't located a bomb yet, so I guess that's a good sign, right?"

"It is if there's no bomb," Jay replied. "But, just because they haven't found it, doesn't mean there's not a bomb. Whoever the hell did this could've just hid it really well or do whatever a psycho does when they want to blow up a school full of kids."

Jay relayed the information to Erin and Antonio who were also in the car and then hung up his phone. "Any word from Voight or anyone else when I was on the phone?"

"No, you want me to go to the middle school or the high school?" Erin asked.

"Wherever you can get in."

"Jay, we have badges, we can get in anywhere."

"Middle school then. I'm assuming that's where Y/N is."

"Okay."

"Wait!" Jay exclaimed, almost causing Erin to slam on the brakes. "When I was talking to Y/N earlier, she said that she was in the bathrooms near the football field so we need to go to the high school."

"You're sure it's that field? Isn't there a football field at the middle school, too?"

"That's just a shitty practice field," he answered. "Anyway, the high school football field is the only one that has bathrooms near it so that spectators can go to the bathroom when they go to the football games."

"I shouldn't have to tell you this, Jay," Antonio started, "But you can't just burst into the locker rooms and try to get Y/N out of there. No parents are allowed in or out to pick up their kids. And, you're no different. You have to wait for the all-clear to get her out of there."

Jay hated it, but Antonio was right. No matter how much he wanted to get you as far away from this campus as possible, he couldn't until the bomb squad made sure that there wasn't a bomb anywhere near here. If his time in the Rangers had taught him anything, it was that one misstep, and the whole place could get blown up in a nanosecond.

Erin started to pull into the parking lot of the high school near all the cop cars, when one turned on their sirens and pulled in front of them, effectively stopping them from getting any further.

"I know you're worried about your kids," the patrolman said once Erin rolled down her window, "But we can't let anyone in or out until this is all sorted."

"We're not parents." Erin pulled out her badge. "Detectives Lindsay, Dawson, and Halstead from the 21st District's Intelligence Unit."

He looked at the officer next to him. "Desk Sergeant from the 21st said that there'd be some detectives coming." He pushed the button on his radio before anybody could tell him otherwise. "I got the detectives from the 21st here right now."

"Copy," the person on the other end said.

Jay wanted to jump out of the vehicle and strangle that patrolman with his bare hands. "Are you fucking insane?" he yelled.

The one who keyed his radio stepped out of the patrol car, and Jay did the same. "Are you Dawson or Halstead?"

"Halstead. But you, you must be new here because if there is one thing you absolutely do not do when there's even the mention of a bomb is key your radios."

"No offense, detective," the patrolman in the driver's seat started, "but everyone here has been using their radios since we stepped onto this campus."

"There's no bomb," Erin muttered.

They all knew what the patrolman's statement meant: if they had been using their radios the entire time they were here and a bomb hadn't gone off, then there was no bomb to begin with.

Antonio and Erin both stepped out of the car now.

"Who's your sergeant?" Antonio yelled.

"Why? Why do you care?"

"Because of what he just said! You can't key your radios when there might be a bomb, so I think your whole district might need to go back in for a mandatory re-training!"

"I'll call Voight," Erin said.

"Fucking idiots," Jay muttered as he pulled out his phone.

As soon as he was about to dial your number, a call came in from Kevin. "There's no bomb," Jay said as soon as he answered, not even giving Kevin time to tell him anything.

"I mean, yeah, I was callin' to tell you that the bomb squad just declared an all-clear."

"Thanks."

"How'd you know before we even got the call here at the district?"

"They were keying their radios the entire time and nothing happened."

"Yeah, that'll do it."

"We should be back at the district soon."

Jay hung up and made his way to the bathrooms.

You were sitting in silence with Emma next to you when a banging was heard coming from outside causing you to jump.

What if that's the bomber and he's got a gun and wants to kill us before the bomb can get to us? It was irrational, yes, but it was still possible.

"Chicago PD! This is the all-clear."

It was as if everyone in the bathroom let out a collective breath at hearing that there was no bomb or that the bomb had been dismantled.

"Alright girls, you heard the man, we are good to go," Mrs. Rivers said. "Let's head back to the middle school so you can grab your stuff and start getting back to your parents. Was everyone able to get ahold of someone to pick them up? Because I can bring people home if necessary."

All of you filed out of the bathrooms and into the crisp fall air. You were barely onto the sidewalk when you got pulled into a bone-crushing hug.

"Who the--" You looked up. "Hi, Jay."

"Oh my God, you're okay. You don't know how worried I was--"

"Jay, I'm fine," you squeaked out. "But please let go. You're crushing me."

"Sorry, sorry," he apologized and then let go, not without looking you over for injuries even though you promised him that you were in fact fine.

"50-21 George, 50-21 Lincoln, 50-21 Frank, and 50-21 Squad, assistance is requested at Chicago Med for a 10-34. Are you able to assist?"

Jay's eyes went wide and his breath caught in his throat.

"Jay? Jay?" you asked. "You gonna answer that?"

"This is 50-21 Lincoln, hold us down on that 10-34 at Chicago Med," Erin's voice said through the radio.

"Halstead! We gotta go now!" Antonio yelled.

"Jay, what's going on? Will's at Med. What's happening?"

"Come with me," Jay said and then started ushering you towards the car.

"Shit," Erin said when she saw you. "Antonio, you wanna go with Voight, and then me and Jay will drop her off at home? We can't exactly bring her with us."

"Yeah, good idea." Antonio turned to you. "Glad you're safe, kid."

You nodded as he jogged off to find Voight. Then, you turned back to Jay. "Why are you going to Med? Whatever it is, I wanna go with you because what if Will's hurt? I wanna go!"

Jay got in the passenger seat without answering you and you got in the backseat. Erin started driving to the middle school so that you could go get your backpack from your locker.

Once inside school and connected to the wifi, you took out your iPod and pulled up google.

What does 10-34 mean?

The answer almost caused you to drop your iPod on the tiled floor.

10-34 is a police radio signal that means that a bomb threat has been called in.

You ran to your locker and with shaking hands, put in the combination. How was Jay so calm? How was he so calm when you were silently freaking out? And, to make matters worse, he got to work the case while you were going to be stuck going home and just waiting to see if Will (and Jay for the matter since he would no doubt be in the vicinity of the blast zone) was safe, just waiting to see if your oldest brother, who you just got back, would make it out of his new workplace alive.

You hustled out of school and then got into the backseat of Erin and Jay's car. "There's a bomb threat at Med?"

"Who told you that?" Erin asked, turning around in her seat.

"I googled what 10-34 meant. Jay, please, I wanna go with you. I don't wanna go home!"

"No! I know you wanna make sure that Will's safe, and I do too, but you gotta understand that it's not safe for you there, Y/N," he pleaded.

"It's not safe for you to be there, either!" you argued.

"Y/N, I know you're scared, but I'm trained for this kind of stuff. You are not."

"Please," you begged as your lip began to tremble. "I-It'd be faster for you to just go to Med from-from here instead of dropping me off at home."

"She's got a point, Jay," Erin said.

"What? No way, Er! There is no way in hell she is going in there with us!"

"She doesn't have to go past the tape with us. Just somewhere close by." Erin turned back to you. "Would that make you feel better, Y/N? Being somewhere close by?"

You nodded as you wiped away a tear.

Jay sighed. "Fine," he relented. "We'll drop you off at Mama Garcia's to get your homework done since it's a half-block away from the hospital."

"Will's okay, right? You checked in with him?" you asked.

"I haven't yet, but I promise you when I do, I will text you. I just need you to stay calm and focus on yourself right now. It's no use worrying about Will when you can't do anything about it."

"That's what Mom used to tell me when I was worried about you when you were in Afghanistan. She always told me that it's no use worrying about it since none of us were there with you."

"See, you gotta trust what Mom always told you, kiddo. She was a smart lady after all."

***

"Tell me you're not in there," Jay spoke into his phone as he and Erin walked into the police tent-like structure equipped with fancy tech gear outside of Chicago Med's emergency department.

"I am," Will answered, causing Jay's stomach to drop. "Listen, the guy who blew himself up in here, said he had something worse than Ebola."

"What, like he's spreading it since he blew himself up?"

"Yeah, so essentially, every single one of us in here has been in contact with him."

"Who was he?"

"No idea. But do us all a favor and find out."

"Son of a bitch," Jay muttered as he pocketed his phone and entered the tent-like structure where a bunch of people, including the FBI, were sitting at computers.

"Talk to Will?" Erin asked.

"Uh, yeah," Jay answered, "he says he's in there. Apparently whoever the hell blew himself up in there was infected with something that he said was worse than Ebola."

"So if these people get out before we figure out what it is and if it's treatable, we could have an epidemic on our hands?"

"Exactly. Damn, Er. With that mind of yours, you should've gone to med school."

"Very funny, Halstead. You're looking at someone who barely graduated high school and didn't even go to the academy because being in the back of cop cars on the eastside for half my childhood was more than enough experience to qualify me for this job right here."

"I'm gonna start making some calls." Jay turned his attention back to the situation at hand. "Apparently traffic was a mess earlier and Voight and Antonio got called to headquarters to brief some higher-ups about this."

"Fat chance of them knowing anything right now. They've gotta just be trying to keep all the info away from the press." Erin's phone rang. "Speak of the devil."

"I'll call HQ and try to get some more back up to control the situation," Jay said to no one in particular.

***

You kept fiddling with your slide phone, just opening and closing it as you tried--and failed--to focus on your homework as you sat in one of the far back booths at Mama Gracia's. The news was of course playing on the tv in front of you and all the headlines were about what was happening at Med.

"Again we have word of an event at Chicago Med," the news anchor read from her script. "The CFD was able to contain the victims to the ER, but Ebola was mentioned."

Ebola? That was the disease that wreaked havoc on Africa last year.

You knew Will was a doctor and that he was smart, but if he became infected and it was in fact Ebola, what if he died? What if, since Jay was close to Med that he somehow became infected and he died, too? What if you lost both your big brothers in the same amount of time because of some psychopath who decided it was a good idea to blow himself up and put innocent people--innocent first responders--in danger.

"Ay, cariña. ¿A dónde vayas?" Mama Garcia asked as you stood up and made your way to the door, intent on exiting the small restaurant.

"¿Qúe? No entiendo," you answered. You had started taking Spanish this year, so you only understood one word of what she had said to you.

"Sorry, honey. Where are you going? Your brother said to make sure you stayed here."

You and Jay were both pretty close with Mama Garcia. Seeing as it was very close to Med, when your mom had been hospitalized for cancer years ago, you'd always come in here to get dinner. It was here that Mama Garcia had taught you all the words of the toppings that one could put on their tamales, tacos, or burritos, shocking your Spanish teacher when you told her you could tell her in Spanish exactly what you would put on your tamale when you learned about food in class.

"I'm just going for a walk," you answered. "I need some fresh air."

"Okay, don't go far," she warned.

Once out the door, you breathed a sigh of relief and started to walk towards Chicago Med.

When you got close enough, you saw a big white tent and a bunch of fire trucks. You crept to the side and started walking around the side of the building, where there were barely any people and only one cop to keep people at bay. You smiled at him and watched the scene in front of you.

You had seen of those firefighters before on a rare day that you were at the district waiting for Jay and one of them had to walk the firehouse dog, Pouch. He was super cute and all the firefighters were really nice and let you pet him!

"What is it Casey?" a deep voice bellowed.

You knew Casey! Well, you knew of him at least. He was the one that Hermann always said would write him up if he was gone too long with Pouch, so that was always the excuse he gave you when he had to leave the district to go back to the firehouse.

You couldn't hear what Casey said on the other end, but you could hear whoever this guy was talking to Casey. "Okay, we're gonna need to get some CO2 extinguishers inside."

"You mean you're out of fire extinguishers?" a woman next to the firefighters asked.

"Afraid so."

You turned on your heels and sprinted back towards Mama Garcia's. You were a girl on a mission.

"Mama Garcia! Mama Garcia!" you shouted as soon as you were inside.

"Y/N, ¿Qúe pasa?" she asked as she stuck her head out of the kitchen where she was preparing a bunch of batches of tamales.

"They're out of fire extinguishers at the hospital, do you have any that I can bring over there?"

"You are just like your brother," she said, "super sneaky."

"When you live with older brothers and have to steal their Halloween candy, you learn how to be sneaky, Mama Garcia," you joked.

"I'm not even gonna ask how you know this. There's one fire extinguisher back by the bathrooms and I've got two back here I can give you. Esperes un minuto."

You went and grabbed the fire extinguisher from the spot where it was stored in the back by the bathrooms and waited for Mama Garcia to come out with the other two.

"Thank you!" you exclaimed as you took the big bag from her which contained the two other ones. She had put them in a bag for you since they were super heavy.

You slung the bag over your shoulder and carried the other one in your hand. You knew you couldn't run because these were really heavy, but you knew you had to get to Med to help them. Both your brothers were there! And you'd get there, even if it was a lot slower than you had originally planned when you formulated this plan when you were sprinting back to the restaurant five minutes ago.

***

"Is there a detective Halstead here?" a patrolman walked into the tent-like structure and asked.

"That'd be me," Jay answered as he raised his hand and turned away from the computer screen he had been looking at.

"There's a girl outside, Y/N I think she said her name was. Said you're her brother and that she's looking for you. Said she might be able to help."

Jay turned to Erin. "Go," she urged him.

Jay followed the patrol officer to where you were standing and to say he didn't look happy would be an understatement.

"I thought I told you to stay at Mama Garcia's!" he yelled over the crowd of people and the firefighters shouting out orders to each other. "It's dangerous for you here!"

"I know and I'm sorry! But, I came here to see if Will was outside, and I heard that one firefighter talking into his radio thingy, and then the lady next to him said that they were out of fire extinguishers."

Jay crossed his arms in front of his chest. He was not impressed.

"So I ran back to Mama Garcia's and I grabbed these." You held up the fire extinguisher that you had set on the ground next to you because you had been carrying it for a while now and you thought it was going to rip your arm off because of how heavy it was.

"Let her in," Jay declared.

He grabbed the extinguisher from you and then made his way over to the firefighters.

"Chief!" he yelled. "I've got some fire extinguishers here!"

Chief Boden cocked his head to the side. "How?"

"Apparently my little sister was here and she heard Ms. Goodwin say that you were out of extinguishers. So, she ran to Mama Garcia's and these are from her restaurant."

You set down the bag that contained the two fire extinguishers. "Geez, those things are heavy!"

"That they are. Thank you for these..." Chief Boden trailed off, not knowing your name.

"Y/N," you answered.

"Well, thank you Y/N."

"You're welcome, Chief. Please get my brother out of there safely."

"We're doing our best. And, call me Wallace."

He nodded at Jay and Jay placed a hand on your shoulder to lead you back to where he had been working alongside everyone else who wanted to figure out what the hell had gone on in there. Behind you, you heard the other firefighters volunteering to go inside the hospital.

"You're not making me go back to Mama Garcia's?" you asked Jay as you walked.

"No," he answered. "It's gonna get dark soon and I don't need you sneaking off from there again."

"So, I'm staying here so you can keep an eye on me?"

"Precisely."

***

You were sitting in a metal folding chair, scrolling through your iPod--wifi courtesy of Jay's hotspot--when three people entered the tent-like structure.

"Detective," Sharon Goodwin said as she entered the area where everyone was working. Jay looked up from the computer he was working at. "The parents of..." she trailed off, allowing you to assume that these were the parents of the man who had blown himself up.

"Alright," Jay said as he walked over to them. "Please, have a seat."

His voice was monotonous, not soft like when he was talking to child victims and not angry like when he was trying to get a hardened criminal to break. His voice, it was just...there.

"Is there anything you can tell us?" he asked once the parents had sat down.

"He was a smart boy," the man started, "always nice...and helpful. This country has given us so much. How could this have happened?"

"He claimed to be infected with something similar to Ebola."

You felt like you couldn't breathe. So, what the woman on the news had said was true. Your brother--and everyone else in the hospital for that matter--could be infected with something similar--or god forbid, worse--than Ebola.

You couldn't take another funeral. You couldn't take losing another family member before you even learned how to drive, hell before you even got to high school.

Your mind flashed back to when you were four years old. Will was in college and Jay was in his senior year of high school. It was springtime and the weather was just starting to get nice out.

You woke up from sleeping and realized you were thirsty. Seeing as you didn't think it was super late yet, you hoped that maybe Jay or Will would still be up and they'd give you a cup of juice. They were on babysitting duty tonight because your parents had gone out for a date night and knew they wouldn't be back until the early hours of the morning.

With Beary gripped tightly in your hand, you walked down the hallway and towards the kitchen. You saw the living room light on, and then it was quickly turned off.

"Mommy? Daddy?" you asked.

The only light now was from the hallway and you were starting to get scared. Monsters would come out if it was too dark!

Suddenly, the light was flicked back on.

"Y/N, what are you doing up?" Jay asked as he walked towards you.

"I want juice," you told him. But, then you looked at what he was wearing. He was wearing one of those shirts that he had to wear when you and your mom went to his soccer games at other schools. Jay always said that if he didn't wear this type of nice shirt, that he and his team would have to run suicides. You didn't know what those were, but they didn't sound nice. "Why you not in your 'jamas?" you asked. "You have a game? In the dark?"

"Uh," Jay blanched. He couldn't exactly tell his little, very talkative sister, that he was sneaking out to go to a party. "Let's get you some juice."

"Okay!"

Jay got you some juice and started to take your hand to walk you back to your room and tuck you back in when you turned to look at him. "So you going to play soccer? Or you going to see Allie?" He always wore those kinds of shirts when she came over in one of her really fancy dresses. And, Jay would give Allie a flower bracelet, too!

Jay crouched down so he was eye-level with you. "Y/N, you know what a secret is?"

"Yeah! It's when you can't tell somethin' to somebody. Mommy said secrets are bad," you told him, while you swung Beary back and forth in your little hand.

"Well, they're not all bad," he told you. "So, if I told you a secret, you'd be able to keep it?"

"And not tell Mommy or Daddy?" He nodded. "I dunno. I don't wanna get in trouble and have to go in time-out, Jay Jay."

"You won't get in trouble, I promise. And, if you promise not to tell Mommy and Daddy and Will, I'll get you a big pack of Oreos."

"I get Oreos for not telling Mommy and Daddy and Will?"

"Yes, you get Oreos if you don't tell them."

You'd do just about anything for Oreos!

"Okay, I keep it a secret. Where you going?"

"I am going to a friend's house to hang out."

"Okay." You didn't know what was so bad about that, but you wanted to get your Oreos, so you'd keep your mouth shut.

"Alrighty then, let's get you back to bed. Because, if I'm not mistaken, princesses need their beauty sleep."

He tucked you back into bed and got out of the house safely. Now all Jay had to do was to entrust you with the secret that he had snuck and went to a "friend's house", which was code for going to a party.

You had almost fallen back asleep when your door creaked open.

"Y/N," Will whispered.

"Will?"

"Yeah, it's Will," he answered and flicked on your bedside lamp.

"Were you talking to Jay a few minutes ago?"

"No," you lied. You wanted your Oreos!

"Are you sure about that? Because I could've sworn I heard you say Jay Jay."

"You wrong," you told him defiantly.

"Oh yeah? Because I heard him mention Oreos."

"No, no Oreos. He only got me juice."

"So you did talk to him."

"No, I didn't."

"Then who got you the juice?" Will knew you couldn't pour yourself a glass of juice without spilling it everywhere. He also knew that the glasses were up high enough in the cupboard that you needed someone else to reach them for you.

"Uh, uh, the-the juice fairy!"

"The juice fairy, huh? I've never heard of her. Because I could've sworn I heard you ask him if he was going to play soccer and he told you that he was going to a friend's house."

"No, he didn't!" you protested.

"Tell you what, kiddo, if you tell me where Jay went, I will give you Oreos, too."

You furrowed your eyebrows. Will was gonna give you the same thing and Jay might be mad at you. You needed something more. "Oreos and Sour Patch."

"Deal. Sour Patch Kids or watermelons?"

"Kids," you answered.

"Okay, it's a deal. Now, where is Jay going?"

"He went to a friend's house. But he was wearing one of those shirts he wears when he has to go to other schools for soccer," you answered.

"He's going to a party," Will muttered.

"A party? Like my tea parties?"

"Something like that." Where the tea is beer, Will thought to himself. "But, now you have to wait for Jay to give you your Oreos, and then I'll give you your Sour Patch Kids and Oreos."

"Then I have two Oreos?"

"Exactly. Now, time to go back to sleep."

The next day, Jay gave you a family sized-pack of Oreos that you hid in your room. The day after that, Will came home from studying at the library with a family-sized pack of Oreos and a big bag of Sour Patch Kids for you that you also ended up hiding in your room. And, that night at dinner, Will told your parents that Jay had gone to a party. He was grounded until the end of soccer season. But, Will had successfully taught you how to blackmail someone.

"Y/N." Erin's voice broke through your memories of being a little kid and being taught blackmail by your oldest brother. "I need you to breathe for me. Can you do that?"

"W-What if Will-- What if he gets the--"

"Y/N, match my breathing."

She took a deep breath in and you tried to follow. It took a few tries, but your breathing eventually evened out and returned to normal.

"Will," you heard Jay say.

Before you could even think, you had jumped off your chair and were barrelling towards Jay. "Will? You're talking to Will? Is he okay? Is he gonna come out soon?"

"Y/N," Jay spoke calmly, "we just need to ask him some medical questions. Go back to where you were."

"Is he okay?"

"Y/N's here?" Will asked from his spot in the ED. "Why? How?"

"It's a long story. But, I'm gonna put you on speaker so that you can tell her that you're okay and then I need you to answer some questions."

Jay put the phone on speaker.

"I'm fine, kiddo. Really. You wouldn't want to see me right now anyway. You wouldn't want to come in here either because it smells really bad."

"You promise you're fine?"

"I promise. Now, I think I need to answer some questions?"

"Yeah, yeah," you heard Jay say as you walked back towards Erin. It was quiet in there now, as everyone was listening intently to what Will was saying.

Apparently, Antonio and Voight had looked up where this psycho worked and had figured out that he was the same guy who had walked into the high school's office earlier that day, which he probably did for a distraction. Now, they just had Will on the other end telling the infectious disease specialist in the ED all the chemicals that he had been working with so that she could test for them.

***

"Jay! Why'd you turn off your hotspot?" you whined as you pulled up google.

"Because you heard the bacteria and the strain and I know you. I am not letting you go down a google rabbit hole to look this up and try and figure out if Will's gonna die."

You sighed and put your head in your hands. Jay was right, of course, he was right, he's a detective for crying out loud!

"But what if Will's gonna die?"

"Y/N." Jay walked up to you. "He's not gonna die. He's gonna be just fine."

"But you don't know that!"

Jay's phone rang. "It's Will."

"Put it on speaker."

"It's not contagious," Will said.

If you weren't sitting down, you would've fallen to the ground in pure relief.

"So, you're good?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Everyone's good. Whatever he had, it died with him. I've got some patients that need work, but I'll be out soon."

***

Everyone from the hospital, the police, and the firefighters were all currently packed into Mama Garcia's. You, Will, and Jay had snagged a booth because your backpack and homework were still there from earlier.

"That's one good thing about being the middle child I guess," Jay stated after he had taken a bite of a tamale. "Not having to be the victim in one of these bomb situations."

You knew he meant, here, today, in Chicago and not overseas. And, you weren't about to wreck his joke by mentioning that.

"Yeah, but you had to work it," Will pointed out.

"Technically, you did, too, man. I think Y/N was the only one who got out of this without a payday."

Jay's phone rang. "Why's Dad calling me?" His eyes went wide. "Oh shit! I didn't tell him that I picked you up from practice." He threw his phone to Will, who narrowly caught it. "You talk to him!"

"Me? Why me?"

"Because he likes you better!"

"But he's calling you!"

You swiped the phone from Will's hand and answered it. "Jay? Do you know where Y/N is? I came home from work and--"

"Dad, it's Y/N. I'm fine. Jay picked me up from practice and I'm assuming you got a phone call about what happened at school and then he had to go to Med to work that case."

"Med? As in Chicago Med? Where Will just started working?"

"Yes, Dad, Chicago Med. And, we're fine. We're just a Mama Garcia's getting dinner."

"It's ten o'clock at night!"

"I know, and we should be home soon. I promise I won't complain about getting up in the morning."

"Okay, well, I'm glad you three are safe. Just next time, tell Jay to call me."

"Okay, Dad. Bye, love you."

"Love you, too."

You hung up the phone and passed it back to Jay. "He didn't disown me, did he?"

You laughed. "No, no he did not."

"Y/N, right?"

You looked up at the sound of your name to be met with a firefighter.

"Yes, and you are...?"

"Matt Casey." He stuck out his hand for you to shake and you did so. Despite hearing about him, you'd never actually met the lieutenant. "Chief Boden mentioned that you were the one who ran down to Med with all those extinguishers."

"Oh, it was no big deal," you told him shyly. "They're actually Mama Garcia's. I just heard you needed them, so I asked if I could run them over to you guys. It's her you should be thanking."

"Well, you played a big part in that. So, if you want a dessert, on behalf of me and all the guys at 51, it's on me tonight."

He handed you a ten-dollar bill. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. You made up for your brother almost black-tagging Severide."

"You did what?" Jay practically yelled.

As for you, you had no idea what they were talking about. "What? What's black-tagging?"

"You know what? Never mind," Casey said. "Thanks for all your help today, you guys."

"You were the ones who got them extra fire extinguishers?" Will asked, flabbergasted after Casey walked away.

"Yeah. Jay here wasn't too happy about seeing me over there, but when I told him why he calmed down a bit."

Erin slid into the booth next to Jay and he gave her a kiss.

"Ew, guys! Child in the room!"

Jay stuck his tongue out at you.

"I think he's the child in the room, Y/N," Erin said as she thumbed at Jay.

"So, Y/N, anything else interesting happen today? How'd you do on that math homework I helped you with last night?" Will asked.

"I did really well on it, but that's not even the craziest thing that happened at school today."

"Oh, yeah? Then what was?"

Oh man," you sighed. "Where do I begin? I think to tell you that story I'm gonna need to go get me some Flan."

You picked up the ten-dollar bill Casey had given you and slid out of the booth. If someone would've told you that you'd be buying Flan at Mama Garcia's at ten o'clock at night on a school night, you wouldn't believe them, but it would be plausible at least. The rest of the day? Well, you weren't sure that anyone would believe that you and Jay had been at the location of not one, but two bomb threats in the span of a few hours.

Once you got your Flan, you settled back into the booth. "So, it started out like any normal practice except we had to go to the high school to use the track..."

A/N: Guess who cranked out more than 5k words to get this finished today? That's right, me! Anyway, thank you for almost 8k reads! I know this technically wasn't a PD episode (It was Chicago Fire Season 3 Ep 19), but it had both Will and Jay, and the timeline made it so that it was season 2 of PD, so I thought it was fitting. Finally, please reblog/like and comment and tell me what you think about this one!

If you’re in the taglist, please tell me if it worked, I’m new at this!

taglist:  @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox

[skullrock]

the campers, chapter seven

chapter seven - the fight 

series summary: Steve gets a job as a camp counselor at Camp Know Where, intending on using the summer to discover himself. When things start to go wrong at camp, the only people that can help him are the Party, Hopper, and his mortal enemy - you. [Enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort]

chapter summary: Steve, Hopper, and the Party talk theories while you and Steve engage in a feud. 

warnings: swearin’ <3 angst <3

word count: 2.8k

a/n: you can catch up on the series here! I changed two whole words in the summary to make it more accurate <3

===

The camp was on a full lockdown after the second camper went missing.

Campers now had to be escorted everywhere by a counselor. Counselors also had to escort each other. There was a sinister feeling in the air, one that left everyone uneasy. One camper going missing was one thing; two going missing was another thing entirely. It didn’t seem like an unfortunate coincidence anymore. It seemed intentional and evil.

The people who thought this most were, of course, The Party, Jim Hopper, and Steve Harrington. The evening the news of the second camper broke, everyone squished themselves into a double bedroom, theorizing and planning.

Steve came late - he had to escort campers to the dining hall. His mind hasn’t thought of anything except the missing camper. No one Steve talked to knew who it was, and he had no time to talk to you or any of the kids, beyond Mike telling him to meet in his room at nine. His chest felt tight all day, worried it was someone in the Party. Someone who had been trying to play hero and got caught up in whatever this all was. His heart hammered as he rushed towards Mike’s cabin, slipping into the crowded room with his head spinning.

The room falls silent as he barges in. Hopper is sitting at Mike’s desk while everyone else is spread around the beds and the floor. Everyone looks fearful, and as Steve’s eyes scan the room, he notices the lack of Dustin. Suzie is there, but no Dustin.

Steve’s heart drops.

“Where’s Dustin?” he asks, voice cracking.

“Relax,” Max says. “He snuck out to get pudding from the cafeteria.”

“Snuck out?” Steve hisses, but his body relaxes in relief. “He can’t be out there right now -”

“Steve,” Hopper cuts in, and beckons him to take a seat.

Steve figures that if Hopper’s not concerned, then he shouldn’t be, either. He sits beside El and Mike on Mike’s bed, staying close to Hop as he waits for information.

Hopper keeps his hand over his mouth for a moment, deep in thought, before speaking, directly to Steve, the only other adult in the room. “The camper that went missing was the same age and size as Will.” He tilts his head towards Will, who seems almost catatonic in fear. “And the last camper that went missing was also the same age and size as Will.”

“Well, what do you think that means?” Steve asks. “Do you think it’s looking for him?”

“Will said he can’t feel the Mind Flayer,” Mike interjects. “Right, Will?”

Will goes pale, eyes darting to the floor.

“Right, Will?” Mike repeats, a bit of an edge to his voice.

Will looks back up, shaking his head a little bit. His hand goes to the back of his neck and he shakes his head some more. “I can’t feel him, but I can feel him.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Max says, brows furrowed.

“It’s like… it’s like he’s not here, he’s there,” Will explains. “But there is close.”

“The Upside Down?” Lucas asks, and Will nods.

“I think it’s close, but I don’t know how close,” he explains. “I can’t feel him in this realm, but I think I can feel him in the Upside Down.”

“I can feel it, too,” El says quietly.

Mike and Hopper look at her, scandalized.

“You can feel it? Feel what?” Hopper asks.

“The Upside Down.” El shifts, pulling her legs up to her chest. “I can feel it nearby, but I can’t see it or find it.”

“Jesus,” Steve mumbles, running a hand through his hair. “So you think the Upside Down isn’t in Hawkins, it’s here?”

El and Will nod in unison, frowning.

“Well that’s just great,” Steve says, standing up. “That’s good. That’s great. So it followed us.”

“Maybe it knew El and Will were here,” Lucas tries to explain, but Hopper shakes his head.

“Why would it want Will again?” he asks quietly. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“If they feel something, then it has to be nearby,” Mike says. “Why would both of them feel it at the same time?”

“I don’t know,” Hopper says harshly. “But I’m taking you two -” he points at El and Mike, “back to Hawkins.”

“What?” everyone asks in unison.

“It’s not safe for them here,” Hopper explains, raising his voice over the racket.

“It’s not safe for anyone here,” Steve says, putting his hands on his hips. His heartbeat accelerates at the thought of you being here when this shit is happening. “We need to get to the bottom of this before anyone else gets hurt.”

The room falls quiet. Steve knows, Steve understands that no one wants to deal with this shit again. He gets that. But someone has to, and if it has to be him, then so be it. That’s usually how it goes, anyway.

“I’m not leaving until we figure this out,” he says. “So if -”

The door opens and Dustin walks in, you on his heels, looking frazzled. Dustin has a copious amount of pudding cups balanced in his arms, and you’re carrying two - the ones he managed to drop. You’d found him sneaking around on his own and accompanied him, irritated that no one else went with him.

Everyone freezes at the sight of you, bodies going stiff. Your eyes scan the room, confused - there are way too many people in here, and you don’t know who the hell this grown ass man is. Your eyes fall to Steve, brows furrowed, and then you say, “Why didn’t anybody go with him?”

“Didn’t know he was going,” Steve says, pulling Dustin into the room.

Steve’s irritated - enraged, maybe. You weren’t supposed to be here - Suzie wasn’t, either, but he could at least control what you were a part of. Dustin allowing you to come so far, literally into the room where they’re referencing things you could be killed for, makes his blood boil. Dustin groans at the feeling of Steve’s fingers burying into his arm and he drops the pudding cups.

“God dammit,” Dustin says, shrugging out of his grip and rubbing his arm. “What the hell was that for?”

“It’s curfew,” you say awkwardly, not understanding what’s going on. “You should all be -”

“So should you,” Steve snaps.

You straighten at his tone, glaring at him. Steve sighs and steps towards the door, holding his hand up to the Party before slipping out with you.

“What the hell?” you whisper. “Why are you so pressed and who the hell is that guy?”

“It’s nothing,” he lies. “I need you to go back to your cabin.”

You cross your arms. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m one of those kids,” you say, beckoning towards the door. “I can take care of myself.”

“You shouldn’t be out -”

“I wouldn’t be out if you’d just taken Dustin -”

“I didn’t know he was going!” he whisper-shouts, becoming more irritated. “Go back to your cabin.”

“You’re not the boss of me -”

“Right now, I am.”

You scoff, your own rage building. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Steve shakes his head and licks his lips, looking over your shoulder. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

Steve sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair again. “It’s complicated.”

You frown and your eyes soften, letting your shoulders relax. You can see how stressed he is and you step forward to reach for him, but he steps back, out of your reach. You frown further and your shoulders slump. “You can talk to me. You know I’m here for you.”

Steve’s inner turmoil reaches a near-boiling point here. He wants to tell you, just like he wanted to tell you at the waterfall. He wants to be like Dustin, he wants to trust and assume things will work out. But he doesn’t want you dead, and he doesn’t want you hurt. He doesn’t want you caught up in any of this. Steve feels his chest tighten, fighting with himself, before he makes the decision to push you away.

“You can’t be right now,” he says. He steps forward and puts his hands on your biceps, pushing you towards the exit. “You need to go.”

“Steve!” you nearly shout, pushing him off of you. “Do not touch me like that.”

Like muscle memory, Steve’s angry venom takes hold of himself yet again, just as it did in high school. Without thinking, he snaps, “You didn’t say that last night.”

You pause in shock, his words running through your head. You scoff and shake your head. “What does that mean?”

Steve feels bile rising in his throat, and he swears he can see Nancy standing before him, not you. He puts up the wall in a desperate attempt to not break down, his jaw clenching and fists balling up. “Don’t you ever stop to think why I don’t tell you things? Why I don’t trust you? Why I didn’t want to touch you last night?”

“Shut up,” you whisper, feeling your chest twist. “You’re being an asshole.”

“I’ve been pushing you away my whole life, why don’t you get the message?”

You know it’s a bluff, but you don’t understand why. You don’t get the total 180 he’s pulling, but you have a bad feeling in your gut. Like maybe he’s involved in shit he shouldn’t be involved in, or maybe he knows too much about the missing campers. Steve doesn’t seem evil, but his inability to open up to you makes you feel sick, and angry, and hurt.

“Stop,” you beg. “Stop being… stop being… you’re bullshit.”

You know it was a mistake the moment it left your lips, and Steve’s eyes hardening and welling with tears reinforces that. But you’re still mad, and you don’t think he has the right to be tearful right now, and it enrages you so much that you repeat it. “You’re bullshit.”

Steve feels the wall crashing down and he does everything to keep it up, locks his knees upright, clenches his fist, grits his teeth. “You think I’m bullshit?”

“You really don’t care about me, do you?” you ask, trying to keep your own wall up, trying to not let the tears fall freely down your cheeks. “Is that why you can’t remember any good thing about me? Because you don’t want to? Because you don’t care?”

Steve doesn’t know what to say, because it’s all a lie. Of course he cares about you, of course he remembers you fondly. Of course he regrets the way he treated you. Of course he’s proud of the person he’s become, and of course he owes that to you.

But he can not and will not admit that right now.

“I don’t,” he says quietly, not even understanding the words leaving his own mouth. “I don’t.”

You weren’t expecting that.

“You don’t?” you repeat.

“I don’t.” He says it louder this time, trying to convince himself it’s true. But he’s still mad, and he wants what he says to hurt, because you hurt him. “And you know what I think is bullshit?”

You don’t answer - you can only stare while forcing the tip of your tongue into the roof of your mouth.

He still remembers the words he told Nancy in the alley by the gym two years ago. I think you’re bullshit. He remembers the anger and heartbreak behind the words, how they hurt to come out, how they made his mouth dry and knees weak.

“I think you’re bullshit,” he says, and then he walks back into Mike’s room, slamming the door behind him.

You stare at the pattern in the wood of the door, mind blank after that, before walking out, trying to push your tears back in with the heels of your palms.

===

Everyone looks up when Steve reenters, noticing how his cheeks are pink and splotchy and his eyes are wet and red. He speaks immediately, scared that someone will ask him about the talk they almost certainly heard through the door. “What’s the plan?”

“You and me,” Hop says, standing from his chair. “We’re going into the woods to see if anything’s going on, or if we can find any… portals.”

“And if we do?” Steve asks.

“I close them,” El says quietly.

“We have to find out if there are any, first,” Hopper says. He heads to the window and opens it, pulls out a cigarette and then lights it. “And if there are, we close them.”

Steve wonders why it sounds so easy, but maybe it’s because he’s suddenly not the only adult in this situation.

“I’ll get my bat,” he says, eager for the comfort of the heavy weapon in his hand.

Dustin hops up and follows him out, making Steve irritated once again.

“I’m not talking about it,” Steve hisses.

“You just sabotaged your entire relationship with Y/N for what?” Dustin asks, pulling on Steve’s arm to make him stop walking.

“So that they don’t die,” Steve says, yanking his arm away. “Maybe you should try having some discretion for once.”

“I told Suzie because I love her,” Dustin explains, fighting to keep up with Steve’s long strides. “And if she knows the kind of trouble she could be in, then that’s to her advantage.”

Steve whips around, pupils flaring. “How would knowing about this help? Did you forget about the entire stack of papers we had to sign? Did you forget that they could kill us and our families and the people we love if this shit gets out?”

“So you don’t trust her then?” Dustin asks.

“Of course I do,” Steve says, feeling sick again.

“Then why don’t you tell her?”

“Because I am not like you.” Steve reaches his arm out, holding Dustin at bay, two fingertips digging into his chest. “Now back off. I’m not explaining myself again.”

Steve continues to walk towards his car, abandoned in the parking lot, but Dustin keeps up with him. Steve turns around again. “I’m serious, back off -“

“I’m not leaving you out here alone,” Dustin says quietly, looking a bit hurt at Steve’s rejection.

Steve sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose before taking Dustin under his arm, walking slower so Dustin doesn’t have to run.

Nothing is said, but they both understand.

When Steve opens the trunk to his car, a wave of hot air hits him in the face, making him cringe and step back. He leans in for it and pulls it out, smiling fondly as he does, the familiar weight of it comforting. He’d packed it just in case - maybe he’d see a bear and would need it. He never thought he’d potentially have to use it on another Demogorgon.

“You still know how to use that thing?” Dustin asks.

Steve smiles and twirls it in his hand, giving it a few practice swings. “I didn’t score the winning shot on my fourth grade pee-wee team for nothing.”

Steve and Dustin walk side by side as they head back to Mike’s room, both feeling much better with the addition of the bat. Steve’s mind runs off towards you, his stomach twisting again as he processes what he’d said to you. He feels embarrassed and disgusted. He felt like he’d come so far since high school, that he’d gotten over Nancy since October ‘84. It’s a let down for himself, but surely for you, too.

He convinced himself it was the right thing, though. He doesn’t need you to be caught up in this. And once they figure out if the Upside Down has something to do with this, he’ll apologize and come clean. He’ll tell you he was trying to protect you. He’ll tell you he cares about you.

He’ll prove it.

The door creaks open as Steve and Dustin come back in, Hopper finishing up another cigarette. He flicks it out the window and pulls it down, locking it into place.

“Let’s go over this again,” Hopper says.

Steve and Hop are to go into the woods to search for any type of portals or other things that are amiss. It’s a bit of a long shot, since there have already been search parties out for the two missing boys, but maybe they’d find something that the others looked over. The kids were to stay put until Steve and Hop came back. After that, they’d reassess and complete the mission, if there is a mission at all.

Steve silently hopes that there’s nothing out there.

“Ready?” Hopper asks, his hand gripping his pistol.

“As I’ll ever be,” Steve replies dryly, his own hands gripping the shaft of the bat.

===

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[mirkwoodshewolf]

You love him more than me; Tony Stark x teen reader

*Author’s note*

Wow it has been a long while since I posted anything Marvel related on here hasn’t it? But this request came to me literally last year on Wattpad so I figured now that I’ve finally gotten around to writing it, as well as having it be on Wattpad, I thought I’d let you guys here on tumblr read it too.

Warnings: BULLYING IS HEAVILY MENTIONED (don’t be an asshole and bully people, whether physical, verbal or cyber, it’s a total DICK move), angst, father-daughter fights, but some fluff in the end? 

Anyways my lovelies until the next update :)

Taglist:

@psychosupernatural​

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@ixchel-9275​

@platawnic​

_______________________________________________________________

I just don’t see it. Why would he go pick someone else? Ever since the fight with uncle Steve, my dad’s always been on the fence when it comes to either him or the accords.  But when the fight in Germany happened, he went ahead and picked some random kid off the streets of Queens to fight alongside him and the rest of ‘Team Ironman’.

Now he barely acknowledges me anymore.  Hell it’s like I’m invisible girl now or something. Either way I hate it, all of it. And I hate, hate, hate, hate, hate Peter Parker for ruining my life.  It’s like he’s trying to take my dad away just when I need him the most.

Like today for example when I was targeted by the most obnoxious asshole in all of Midtown School (yeah I go to the same school that Parker goes to all thanks to my dad) Flash Thompson.  God he was such an asshole and a jerk I don’t even know why he’s the popular guy, just because his daddy’s got some money doesn’t mean he can act like an asshole.  

Hell my dad’s three times richer than his pops is, and he’d have to work for another 50 years just to get to where my dad’s wealth is.

So anyways today Flash thought it was a good idea to announce to the whole entire school during gym that while Parker had claimed a ‘Stark Internship’ with my dad, that meant that I was getting kicked out of the family and being replaced.

The entire school mocked me for it started calling me ‘the bastard child’ as a Jon Snow reference (even though I am a Stark by blood) and I tried to compose myself and not cry in front of the whole school for the entire day.

When the hellish day finally ended, I was quiet in the car as Happy drove me back towards the newly remodeled Avenger’s facility where my dad had us living from now on since he sold Stark Towers.

“You okay back there (y/n)?” asked Happy.

“I’m fine Happy just drive. No more questions either.” I didn’t mean to snap at him, really I didn’t but I was just so angry right now that I just wanted today to be over with.  Maybe I can blow off some steam in the gym.  Training always seems to calm my anger down.

When we finally arrived at the newly remodeled Avengers facility, the second Happy stopped the car, I jumped right out and raced straight towards the gym.  I threw my backpack to the wall of the gym and got on my boxing gloves and went up to the closest punching bag.

Immediately I began to take off all my anger out on the bag, all the while hearing the taunts of my peers.  Flash’s voice making the announcement, the laughing, the teasing and the Jon Snow comparisons.  Each punch was harder than the last as I now began to picture Parker’s ugly face in the punching bag.  God he infuriated me so much I just wanna……it was then I had actually punch the punching bag so hard that it ended up being blasted away.

I took off my glove and saw that my emergency Iron angel glove had materialized and shot out the automatic repulsor blast. With sweat dripping down my forehead and my heavy breathing I deactivated the glove when a voice said.

“The only other person to destroy a punching bag was Steve, should I be worried?”

“No Uncle Rhodey, there’s no need to call an emergency lockdown.”

“Good. Everything okay?” he asked me.  I turned towards him to see him walking towards me.

“Everything’s fine.”

“Uh-huh because that punching bag ends up like that on a good day with you.” he answered sarcastically.

“Gee anymore smartass comments you got left?”

“Hey you better watch your mouth little missy less you want you dad to get involved in this.” I scoffed.

“Go ahead, tell him. He doesn’t care about me anymore anyways.”

“What was that?”

“Oh you didn’t hear? Apparently dad’s replacing me with a male version of me.”

“Now wait hold on a second (y/n),” uncle Rhodey started off as he placed a comforting hand to my shoulder. “Your dad loves you beyond anything else.”

“Yeah, used to love me. Now ever since Germany he’s always around Parker. He hardly notices me anymore. And do you know the hell I’ve had to endure because of that?”

“Bullies?” I turned away from him and shut my eyes as tight as I could to hold back the tears. “Who all has bullied you at the school?”

“What can you do about it?”

“I’ll call the school and tell them to get the kids responsible for this to be punished.”

“Like that ever really works. They’re just gonna get warnings and tell us to work it out.”

“Not if they hear it from me.”

“You know what forget I said anything. I appreciate the help uncle Rhodey but there’s nothing that not even you can do. I’ve got homework that needs to be done.” I tossed my other boxing glove away and grabbed my backpack and left the gym and locked myself up in my bedroom for the rest of the day.

The next day it was my lunch period.  I was currently eating the ham and cheese sandwich I had picked out when I heard Flash’s obnoxious voice exclaimed.

“And lookie what we got here! The female Jon Snow. How’s it hanging out in the house of Stark?”

“I’m not in the mood Flash.”

“Oh c’mon Snow. Can’t take the newbie Penis Parker moving on in and kicking you to the curb?”

“Flash I’m serious stop it.”

“Nah I don’t think I will. It’s sad that Penis Parker found your dad, seems like the great Tony Stark wanted a son more than a daughter.” Okay that’s where I drew the line.  Something snapped inside me as my glove materialized around my right hand and I fired a shot right at Flash’s chest sending him flying across the cafeteria.

All the kids who had the same lunch period I did were all in shock at what I had just done.  After realizing what I had just done, I immediately knew that I was screwed.

I was sitting outside of the principal’s office and I could hear the principal talking with my dad about my punishment and how the school doesn’t accept this type of bullying (he’s the one to talk, Flash started it).  I didn’t hear a word out of my dad other than some yeah’s or uh-huh, before finally ending with a ‘okay she’ll be dealt with.’  The door opened and I just looked up at him through my lashes.

“Care to explain?” I remained silent. “You know what, I don’t even have time for this. Get in the car.”

“So you’re really not gonna even try to hear me out?”

“Not here, just go to the car.” He demanded as he forced me onto my feet and shoved me towards the exit.  We got into the car and it was just dead silent.  Happy tried to relieve the tension by asking us random things like the weather or just what the principal wanted to talk about.

Of course my dad told him to drop it and just keep driving.  Finally after what felt like hours we arrived at the facility and just like the other day, I stormed into the facility.

“Hold it right there young lady we’re not done talking about this!”

“Well I am!”

“Friday initiate protocol Birdcage.”

‘Yes boss.’ It was then the living room was now sealed up and I couldn’t enter anywhere else.  I was now trapped like a bird in a cage.

“Friday deactivate protocol Birdcage.” I demanded. But nothing happened. “Friday I said deactivate dad’s protocol.”

“No can do kiddo, see I had Friday deny any further action unless given from me when it comes to protocol Birdcage.” I groaned and sat down on the couch. “Now you are gonna explain to me just why you used your Iron angel glove against an innocent civilian?”

“I would hardly call Flash innocent.”

“No this is where you zip it! Okay the adult is talking? What if he had died from that blast? Okay cause that falls on you. And if you get accused for—heroine misdeeds on a civilian. The accords will be affected and—I already lost half of my family. I can’t afford to lose my flesh and blood.”

“That’s the first time you’ve even acknowledged me in the past three months.”

“What?”

“Oh c’mon! You’re Tony freakin Stark! Genius, playboy, philanthropist, billionaire you of all people can’t be that stupid. You’ve never been there for me!”

“What are you—”

“No! Not this time! This time you’re gonna listen to me! Ever since Peter came into the picture it seems like I didn’t matter! I didn’t matter to you anymore!” All the rage, the sorrow, the pain that I have been feeling for months were finally being released.  

Tears pricked the corner of my eyes but I refused to let them fall.  

“And with Peter blabbing on about the superhero business but disguising it to your little secret ‘internship’. The other kids at my school call me the female Jon Snow cause now I’m the bastard’s child. Flash has made me a fucking living meme and I hate it! It’s your fault. It’s both your faults. I should’ve sided with Steve when I had the chance.”

Silence rang out from the room as I collapsed onto the leather seat beside me and turned my back on my dad.  Shoulder’s shaking and heel tapping aggressively with anxiety on the floor.  I felt a hand gently take my mine and I looked up to see my father, his eyes showing for the first time since the Avenger’s breakup, sorrow and regret.

“(Y/n).” he started off. “Baby girl I—I had no idea.”

“Of course you didn’t. You love Parker more than me.”

“Now that is not true.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” I snarked sarcastically.

“(N/n). I—things haven’t been easy since…..the Avengers splitting. And pushing you away was—the last thing I wanted to do.” I gave him my best glare. “I’m not doing so great right now am I?”

“Not even close.”

“I know. I’ve never been so good at these types of talks. But I need you to know something sweetheart. Just because the kid is looking at to be the next Avenger, that doesn’t mean he’s replacing you. Because he’s gonna need someone who knows the game inside and out and that’s you. My Iron Angel. One day I’m not gonna be here, and I need to make sure I can count on you to be the leader the next Avengers need, should the time come.” My glare softened and I looked down at my feet.

“Then why did you have to make it seem that Parker was your long lost son that you never had?”

“I should never have let that on. And that boy uhh—Flash is it? I’m gonna deal with that shitshow as well as anyone else that has bullied you.”

“With what? Bribes? A chance to work at Stark Industries? Blackmail? No offense dad but they don’t care. All they care about is making hell for me. So don’t even bother cause nothing will work. Not even the faculty is good enough to see someone being bullied and harassed and they don’t do a damn thing about it!” I breathed sharply before finally finishing out in a choked tone, “Now tell Friday to cancel Birdcage protocol. I’m done with this.”

“Friday, do as she says.”

‘Yes boss.’ Soon the living room opened and I immediately ran up the stairs for my room and slammed my door shut before locking it.  Immediately I went into my bed and just buried myself under the covers and allowed the tears to fall down my face, until I had cried myself to sleep.

A weeks passed after that whole Flash incident and I was finally relieved of my suspension.  But unlike any other day, the entire school was called in for an assembly.  Which was weird cause we only have assemblies when it comes to new students coming in, graduations, or special guests coming in to do a seminar.

I was sitting on my own but for some reason Parker and his friend were sitting just several seats away from me.  It was then the principal came up and he said into the microphone on the stand.

“Good morning students. I know this assembly was short notice but this will be worth it. Now I would like to bring to the stage our honorary guest who would like to say a few words in regard to something very important. Please give a warm Midtown High welcome to Mr. Tony Stark.” What the f—the students soon went crazy as my dad soon came up onto the stage.

“I LOVE YOU TONY STARK!!” I heard Flash proclaim out just a few rows in front of me.

“Thank you Midtown High. Now I’m assuming you all are thinking I’ve come here to shine a light on a new opportunity for an internship or chance to let Stark Industry do a funding on your latest project. Sadly, you’d be wrong.” At that moment the students were all murmured amongst each other. “Instead I wanna bring up a serious matter. And that’s bullying. When I was a kid—I was picked on as a child. People always compared me to my dad and—it hurt me. As I got older and threw my life away through parties and drugs. Word of the wise don’t ever do them, this was back in the 70’s when they were new and fresh, we were stupid back then our fault.”

“Oh god dad why?” I muttered to myself as I rubbed my hand against my face in annoyance.

“Anyways back on track. Bullying is not cool. Now I know nowadays that physical bullying isn’t all the rage like it was, now it’s through the internet. Or Verbally calling someone out, spreading rumors about them. See I’ve fought against people I’ve trusted, psychotic gods with daddy issues, mad aliens, and sociopathic robots, but the one true villain is right in front of you when you look into a mirror. Any one of you that has taken part even just for a fraction of a second of spreading a rumor, if you know your friend’s in on the bullying that makes you an accomplice because you didn’t speak up. And bullies—they’re just about the worst super villain anyone could ever face. Thank you.” the auditorium was dead silent.

So quiet in fact I think I could hear water leaking from the faucet outside.

“Well, thank you Mr. Stark for raising such an awareness to an issue that we here at Midtown High take very seriously.” Yeah right. As I watched my dad go backstage, I got out of my seat and slipped out the nearest exit and ran down the hall to catch him leaving for the backdoors.

“So that was it?” he stopped and turned towards me.

“Well I figured that I’d pull a little guilt trip on them. It worked all the time with you when you were little and make them feel bad about what they had done without naming any names. If you’d like I could’ve just full out embarrassed you, had you come up on stage and tell them all how much I love and adore you and—”

“Alright, alright I get it! Thank god you didn’t.” I lightly scoffed. “I still can’t believe you willingly did that.”

“You know I would do anything for you. You’re my little girl (n/n). And I am always, always, always gonna love you. No matter what. And just to prove it to you, next time I go out of line like that, you have my full permission to blast me with that glove of yours.” He said as he came up to me and placed his hands on my shoulders, gently rubbing them.

“Can’t I just do it now and cash it in?”

“Nice try.”

“Worth a shot.” He softly chuckled and brought me into a tight bear hug.

“I love you (y/n). I hope you know that.”

“I do now, thanks dad.”

[bluecrusadearcade]

Harrison Osterfield is not your regular irregular

By Baker Street, Gentleman’s Journal quizzes the star of Netflix’s new drama on world records, Sherlock Holmes and his golf swing…

Draped in a silk shirt and paisley scarf, Harrison Osterfield is shivering his way across a brisk Regent’s Park. But he’s not complaining. Why would he? After all, the 24-year-old has dealt with worse. In his latest television series alone — Netflix’s The Irregulars — he’s tussled with demonic crows, paranormal serial killers and even the occult. So a little nip in the air? Nothing to worry about.

“I do have my eye on that jumper, though,” beams Osterfield from behind a bold pair of sunglasses. I don’t blame him. It’s a chunky-knit, funnel-neck number from Connolly, and the next piece of clothing lined up for this al fresco photoshoot. But, for now, the young actor must grit his chattering teeth — and continue striking willowy poses in that billowy shirt.

And those poses are turning heads. Dog-walkers, taxi drivers and tourists are all picking up on Osterfield’s energy; a coolly British blend of big grins and bouncy enthusiasm. He swings from a lamppost! He dances through daffodils! He feeds the pigeons! NW1 hasn’t seen this much action in months…

And we’ve come to Regent’s Park for obvious reasons; Baker Street snakes down from its south-west corner. And, on that famous thoroughfare, sits the fictional digs of Sherlock Holmes. But The Irregulars, a supernatural-tinged drama named for Holmes’ gang of trusty street informants, wasn’t shot in London. Rather, it was filmed on the authentically old streets of Sheffield and Liverpool — the same cobbles walked by the Peaky Blinder boys. So this, Osterfield grins, is a fun opportunity to see the real thing.

“All of the rest of the cast,” he admits, “are really big Sherlock fans. I’ve never really read any of the Sherlock books. I’ve seen maybe one Robert Downey Jr. film? So I was very new going into it.”

Today, then, will be a crash course. Because, after we get Osterfield out of the park (and into that jumper), we’re heading to the Holmes Hotel for a coffee and a catch-up. It’s a relatively new hotel just off Baker Street, decked out with knowing nods to the world’s greatest detective. There’s a bronze bulldog guarding the door, pipe-patterned wallpaper and signature cocktails at the sadly-closed bar (anyone for a ‘Case Closed’?).

But, though there are only suggestions of Sherlock in the Holmes Hotel, Osterfield explains that they’re even subtler in the show. Because The Irregulars, in a nutshell (wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma), sidelines the sleuth, and shifts the focus onto Osterfield and his fellow gang members. The actor plays one of the show’s leads; frail runaway nobleman Prince Leopold. All sullen glances and broken bones, his story is the heart of this first season.

“And it’s been a long project in the making,” says Osterfield, noting that filming on The Irregulars began almost two years ago. “That’s quite daunting. When you’ve spent that much time on something and you’ve got no idea how it’s going to turn out?

“It means that, now, it’s crunch time,” he continues, face creasing with mock-worry, “and I have no idea how people are going to react. But I’m really proud of the work, and that’s what I’m taking away from it.”

The Irregulars may be Osterfield’s first lead role — but he’s been acting for years, popping up in several short films and the George Clooney-directed adaptation of Catch-22 before Netflix took notice. His first role came at 11-years-old, when he was cast as Tiny Tim in his school’s stage production of A Christmas Carol. “It’s funny, actually,” says Osterfield, “because it’s quite a similar physicality to my role in The Irregulars”.

“But that’s where it started,” he continues. “And the real reason I got into acting was because there was this girl in the drama class who I really liked. I thought, if I joined up and impressed her, I could take her out on a date. That didn’t happen. But, although she wasn’t interested at all — the acting seems to be going okay!”

It certainly does. But, like actors all over the world, it’s been a very slow year for Osterfield. He returned to set in September to finish filming the Netflix show — but the rest of his lockdown was eerily, cannily familiar to everyone else’s.

“I went back to my home in Kingston,” he nods, “where I was living with three of my best mates who are also actors. Quite a few of my friends are in theatre, and they had a really tough time of it — not knowing what was going to happen next. I was very lucky, knowing that I was going back to finish something”.

The actor says it was strange being locked-down with fellow performers. With sets closed around the country and curtains falling on theatres, it was one of the first times they had all been at home together. But, even with the additional pressure, he says there were no problems. And there never have been, according to Osterfield — as it’s rare that he and his friends ever compete for the same role.

“We’re all very different castings!” he laughs. “Which is good. It’s a mixed bag, really. But it’s very useful when you’ve got to self-tape an audition and there’s another actor literally upstairs. Also, we’ve all known each other for ten years, so we’ve grown up together and, luckily, know when not to push each other’s buttons.”

With no work, Osterfield spent most of his 2020 getting stuck into lockdown. And he shamelessly tried every self-isolated stereotype. He binge-watched every sports documentary from Drive to Survive to Last Chance U. He upped the frequency and intensity of his workouts. He even tried his hand at cooking. He tried everything.

“I did try everything!” the actor laughs, fizzing once more with that lamppost-swinging, daffodil-dancing energy. “Really! I think I went though every lockdown activity there is. I gave baking a go for two weeks — that didn’t work out. I made a banana bread and that was it. I’m not going to be delving into that any more…

“We were quite lucky, though,” he adds, “because we had an outdoor space. We built a homemade golf net in our garden, by putting up two wooden poles and hanging a blue screen we had left over from filming. That kept us entertained most days”.

But, despite the failed banana breads, closed-off golf courses and Irregulars anxiety, Osterfield says that the worst thing about lockdown was missing his family.

“Because we’re a very close family”, he explains. “Massively so. And, usually, we’d have family gatherings every other weekend – my whole family are in East Grinstead and closer to Brighton, so real countryside. I’m honestly just looking forward to the day, with summer on the horizon, that we can do some good barbecues outside.

“We even tried family Zoom quizzes over lockdown,” he adds, “and they all figured out that I’m not that clever. The rest of my family all seem really, really intelligent. I don’t know if they were just revising beforehand, but I was definitely last a couple of times…”

And Osterfield’s most inspiring family member — not to mention the most irregular — is his 89-year-old grandfather. Despite the young actor upping his own fitness levels during lockdown (“I started doing handstand push-ups. That’s my new skill!”) Osterfield’s grandfather put those athletic achievements to shame.

“He’s fitter than me!” laughs Osterfield. “He’s been kept at home for most of the time and, as a family, we’ve been quite worried about him. But I struggle to keep up with him. I’ll ring him up and ask how his day’s going and he’ll say ‘Oh, hi Harry. Can I call you back later on? I’m just doing some exercise’. So he’s doing better than okay!”

But the exercising, Osterfield says seriously, has been a real lifeline. It’s kept both him and his mind busy during lockdown — and has motivated the actor to pursue more physical, active roles in the future. If he can look back at a body of versatile work, measured out in marked body transformations, he says he’ll be happy.

“I’ve been doing a lot of bodyweight exercise over the last year,” he nods. “I thought it would be quite cool, while in lockdown, to break a world record for something — so I’ve been trying lots of fitness challenges. I’m very close to getting the most burpee chin-ups in under a minute. I’ve got to knuckle down on that.

“I also tried to eat an apple in under 38 seconds,” he laughs. “Which sounds like a long time, but it’s actually quite difficult. And, with apples, I eat everything. Even the middle bit. Even the stem. I just chuck it down. I’m a big fruit bat, so I eat everything apart from the seeds.”

There’s that bouncy energy again; that fun-but-utterly-sincere enthusiasm. It’s an odd thing for an actor, to be so happily unabashed by everything — but the 24-year-old is as animated when talking about his acting as he is about his apples. And that’s nice to see. He’s clearly relishing every opportunity to better himself, and just getting started with what promises to be a very exciting career. Harrison Osterfield, it seems, takes every bite of the apple — literally. Talk about irregular.

[otomaticallyobsessed]

Quarantine Blues

Ok y’all so this is my first fic I’ve ever written... If anyone even reads this, feel free to give some feedback. I have some other fic ideas, and depending on how this goes I may or may not write those too. I think it’ll become obvious this is based off my real life circumstances - and I figured if the fic you need doesn’t exist, make it yourself right?

Karno x Reader, hurt/comfort

cw: depression, quarantine, some swearing

It was a dark, lonely night. I had been trying and failing to concentrate on my homework for hours, but to no avail. This quarantine was getting to me, seeping into my spirit and stealing away any amount of positivity and productivity I might have felt.

I am in my last semester of university. Actually, at this point I am only two weeks away from everything being finally over. But the pressure of finals, quarantine, and the reemergence of my depression is getting to me, and I am breaking down.

I sigh for probably the hundredth time in the last hour. I was getting nowhere, and the longer I sat here the more I wanted to just throw my laptop across the room, pack a bag, and go find some cabin in a woods somewhere and make my fate secluded from society.

I cast my gaze up to the night sky, trying to find some source of comfort. Immediately, my eyes are drawn to the familiar stars of the Cancer constellation. I sigh again, but this time not because of the homework.

Karno… I miss you.

I’m sure he is working harder than anyone in the heavens at the moment. I haven’t seen any of the Zodiac gods since this pandemic started, and I doubted I would anytime soon. I smile to picture Karno attempting to talk down Leon as he ripped into Zyglavis. Karno waking up Aigo for the thirteenth time that day. Karno staying up all hours of the day to make sure the department ran smoothly.

I couldn’t help but long to see him. He was always so calm, so reassuring. I could use one of his amazing hugs right now.

Ugh! Karno is working hard right now, so you should be too!

I shake my head to rid myself of thoughts of him. I didn’t want any of my wishes accidentally making its way into the department – Leon and Teo would never let me hear the end of it. And besides, I didn’t want to distract him.

I reopen my notebook, and glance back at my laptop. I really am trying to get something done, but I end up just staring at the computer screen for who knows how long. Eventually I groan and lay my head down on the desk. It was pointless.

“Well now, that’s not a sound I like hearing from you.”

I jerk up in surprise. “Karno?!” I frantically look around my room but no one is there. “Good gods I’m going insane.”

Two warm hands cover my eyes. “Well, I certainly hope not!”

I grab his hands from over my eyes, rise from my chair, and throw myself at him. “Karno!! Why did you hide?”

“I’ll admit, I thought it might be fun to play a joke. Maybe I’ve been seeing Ichthys too much. We’re all working together right now and its a little much.” He wraps his arms around me and holds me close to his chest. I missed his hands on my waist, and felt immeasurably more complete having him in my arms.

“Now, what has gotten my darling so upset I could hear her from the heavens?” I’m quiet for a second. Now that he’s here, I feel really silly thinking about telling him anything. I mean, he’s a literal god helping keep the world in balance, and I’m freaking out over a college final? “I tried to not call to you. I’m sorry if I pulled you away from something important.”

“Nothing is as important to me as you.” He whispers, making direct eye contact with me. He pulls away slightly, but only to guide me to my bed. He pulls me back close to him as we settle down. “Tell me what is wrong?”

“It’s silly.” “It’s not silly if it’s bothering you.”

“I guess its just… I can’t concentrate on anything. I can’t do anything right now either. I’ve been writing the same report for the last week. Usually something like this would take me three hours, not three days!”

“Why can you not concentrate?”

“The… uncertainty of the whole situation! This is an important coming of age time for me. Graduating college is huge for humans! And now everything is on lockdown, nobody is hiring, classes suddenly moved online, my work shut down… All within a week! And now its been six weeks, I’m still not recovered from the whiplash, and this room of mine has become a damn prison.”

He tugs me closer. “I’m so sorry, beloved. If you don’t want to worry about school anymore, you just have to wish it.” “You’re sweet… but I can’t do that. I have to do this work myself – otherwise I may have the degree but I won’t have earned it.”

“And that is why I adore you so much.” He pauses thoughtfully, then asks “Is this all that’s truly bothering you? Its certainly enough to have anyone rattled, but I feel like there may be more.”

I give off a mirthless laugh. I should have known he would notice something. He was too damn perceptive. “Maybe you’re right about that.”

“Mmm.” He acknowledges me, looking at me expectantly. His warm brown eyes show nothing but love and patience.

“Well… I don’t think gods deal with this sort of thing really but… Are you familiar with illnesses of the mind?”

“Well, I have heard of punishment cases of humans who have lost their grip on reality and hurt other because of it. Hue has mentioned though that are lots of different ways humans can be sick, physically and mentally, and that not all of them are so violent as those instances.”

I focus my gaze on the ceiling above me and take a deep breath. He waits patiently for me to say something. When I don’t, he prompts me, “I’m going to assume you suffer from an ailment of the mind as well?”

“It’s… humans call it depression.” “And what is it like?” “It can be different for anyone… But for me I can’t concentrate, and I just want to sleep all day. And all night. And just always. Always sleep. Because everything hurts, and I don’t want it to. I can’t even do the easiest assignment in the world! I can’t concentrate, and it hurts. I’m going to fail my classes and it hurts. I can’t see my family and it hurts. I can’t even take a fucking shower most days. And it hurts. Everything hurts. And it won’t stop. I can’t make it stop. I can’t make my brain shut up, and it just keeps telling me how shitty I am and-“

“Darling.” Karno calmly cuts me off. He’s taken my hand, and is slowly uncurling my fingers from my palms. I hadn’t noticed it, but I was clenching my fists so tightly that my nails had drawn blood in small crescent moons all over my palms. He rubs my back soothingly as he kisses away the tears marking my face. “How long has this been going on for?”

“All my life it comes and goes. Its… its been over a year since it’s been bad though. I was starting to think that maybe it was gone for good – it’s the longest I’ve been okay! I’ve been… good actually. I met you, I’ve made friends for the first time in my life, I’ve actually enjoyed school… But since this quarantine happened, its back. Its soul crushing, because now I know. I was naïve. It’s never going to go. It’s going to be with me forever.”

“Well. It’s a good thing I’m going to be with you forever too.”

I look up at him in shock. “Really? You don’t think I’m some kind of weirdo?” “You are a weirdo dear, but that’s because you don’t like spicy food. If we can get past that, we can get past anything.” I giggle a bit before he continues. “It breaks my heart to hear you’ve been dealing with this alone. But you don’t have to anymore, okay? Anytime you are sad, or lonely, I’m only a wish away.”

“But your work-“

“Let me worry about my work. As I said before, you are the most important thing to me.” As his words sink in, they fill me up to the brim and spill out as tears. “Please don’t cry anymore, my love. I’m here.”

“Can you just hold me?”

“Of course.”

I stay in his warm embrace, and close my eyes to inhale his scent. I could never quite place what he smelled like – probably something too divine for the likes of earth. It smells like citrus and… cinnamon, maybe. He runs his hands through my hair as I cry, and he murmurs soft words of comfort and love until I fall asleep there in his arms.

In the morning, my eyes are sore and puffy from the night before. I wake up warm and comfortable, and I realize Karno is still wrapped around me. Noticing I’m awake, he smiles gently “Good morning.” “You’re still here? I thought you would have left after I fell asleep?” He raises a questioning eyebrow. “Did you want me to?” “No!” I protest, probably a bit too quickly.

He smiles and gives me a soft, slow kiss.

“I do have to be going, my love. But I have a parting gift for you.”

“You do?” I look up at him curiously.

“Indeed. Do you remember my special power?” I nod my head, of course I do. “Well, I figured the least I can do is magnify your happiness, and productivity.” “But I thought that you could only magnify exiting properties… I don’t have either of those right now.” “Oh?” Karno smirked. “Then are you unhappy right now to see me?”

“No!”

“I know you, dearest. I know you are positive, and you are one of the most self-motivated people I know. They’re in there.” He leans over ad gives me a kiss on the forehead. Immediately, I feel a lightness and a warmth suffuse my body. “Remember my love, I am but a wish away.” He gently caresses my cheek, and I close my eyes to his touch. When I open them again, he’s gone.

I was sad to see him go, but no longer lonely. In fact, I felt better than I had in weeks. My love for him filled my chest until I felt like bursting.

Well then. Best not to waste a divine gift.

Time to kick an essays ass.

[randomoranges]

hello, do you like long fics? do you like soft? here is a long soft fic.

so this started off - really, back in february when i was visiting my friends [when that was still allowed - lol] and we were discussing our ocs as we sometimes happen to do. that and how with time they get more ok with more “feminine things” and such.

i made a doodle inspired by that conversation.

then lockdown happened. and with my tablet i decided to digitally colour that doodle. i thought it looked pretty neat. as i looked at it i started to wonder what the “fem versions” of ed and ét would be like and look like and came to the realisation that NO ONE had ever thought of that.

then an entire fucking au was born from that because that’s the way i function, apparently.

i made a few art pieces and started writing this behemoth on april 12th 2020.

i got like 70% done and then stopped. got blocked or just didn’t have the motivation for it.

seeing as i go back to work tomorrow [god dont make me go] and this fic wasn’t done yet, i told myself that this quarantine fic would END NOW.

so i spent the last 3 nights hacking at the remaining 30%.

i could have split it up in parts, i know, but seeing as i suffered through the whole thing in one part so do you :) 

here we go for the genderbend au no one ever even asked for like literally.

evelyn = edward

éliane = étienne

also, how many song lyrics can i fit in one title lamao.

in total this one has more pages than keesha kee taen, but like 1000 less words.

Girl, You Really Got me Now [It’s a Love Story] [[The Ballad of Éliane and Evelyn]]

 Éliane Maisonneuve remembered the exact and precise moment that Evelyn Murphy waltzed into her life. She remembered the exact moment it happened for the simple reason that it changed her life. For the better.

 It happened one glorious day in September, about a week or so after school started, sometime after Labour Day. It was her senior year of high school, the world was sitting in the palm of her hand, and she had been busy recounting her rather exciting weekend to her friends, when their homeroom teacher had walked in, followed by a student. Éliane prided herself with knowing everyone and anyone in the school. Mostly, because she was a social butterfly, also because it helped when one was the vice-president of the student body (president had too many responsibilities, not enough fun). Therefore, she automatically knew that this was a new student.

 It was about as far as her analysis went for her brain stuttered when she got a good look at the new girl, while her teacher introduced her. God, but she was absolutely gorgeous. She had pretty, dark, brown hair cut slightly above her shoulders, a cute little barrette in her hair, the prettiest hazel eyes this side of the world, for sure, and the softest looking skin Éliane had ever seen. Her darker complexion went rather nicely with the colours of the school uniform and there was just something about the way she played with the hem of her sweater that tugged at Éliane’s heart.

 Before her homeroom teacher could even get to the part of asking for a benevolent soul to show her (her name was Evelyn Murphy – her brain had registered that much) around, Éliane had bolted out of her seat, only near tripping on herself to volunteer for the honour. She absolutely needed to become friends with Evelyn. It was a matter of life or death. She knew. Evelyn had offered her the actual cutest little shy smile Éliane had ever seen in her life and she had eagerly told her friend to change seats so that Evelyn could sit next to her.

 Even then, without fully knowing, she was already infatuated.

 Evelyn turned out to be a rather quiet girl. Éliane chalked it up to being new to the school and a little intimidated by it, but she vowed to herself that she would make sure everyone treated Evelyn right. She introduced her to all her friends, made sure she knew where all her classes were and gave Evelyn her phone number and e-mail address in case she had any questions. Éliane declared them friends by the end of lunch and the pretty little blush on Evelyn’s cheeks was a thing of beauty.

 Éliane even went as far as walk Evelyn home, despite her telling her that it was alright and that she knew how to get back, but Éliane wanted to spend more time with her and insisted, figuring she could tell her new friend about the cool hangouts around school (there were three – the dep’, the hamburger shack down the street and the alcove by the river (which was a good place to go make-out, but that was a detail – the rocks there were really cool, it was just a question of no one ratting you out.))

 Éliane, surprisingly, for once, managed not to spend the entire walk to Evelyn’s gabbing away about one thousand different trivialities and instead bombarded the new girl with ten thousand different questions. Luckily, Evelyn took it all in stride and patiently answered her questions. It was how Éliane found out that Evelyn’s father had been transferred and had started a new job here over the summer and how his position had been extended. The rest of her family had then moved over and by the time they were settled and her school papers were in order, school had already started, but here she was now.

 And goodness, here she was now indeed, Éliane thought.

 They became inseparable, fast, mostly due to Éliane doing her utmost best to include Evelyn in absolutely everything she did. Evelyn fit in nicely with Éliane’s group of friends, which was a good thing, otherwise she would have dumped their sorry asses and started a new, better group. But, the others took Evelyn in and Éliane called it a success.

 Éliane was head strong, brash, and impulsive and liked to stick her fingers in as many pies as she could. She liked to keep busy with projects that interested her and she was always ready to try something new. Therefore, even though term had already started, she decided, quite on an impulse, one day, to switch out one of her courses for home-economics, just because Evelyn was in it and had said nice things about it. It was a good thing Éliane was a well liked student by the faculty members and that this change actually made her advanced art program fit better in her schedule , but the secretary still gently scolded her and told her that she would have a lot of catching up to do.

 Luckily, Éliane had a plan.

 Her plan consisted on being her disastrous self in a kitchen and hope that Evelyn would take pity on her and help her out.

 Luckily, Éliane didn’t have to try very hard for her plan to work. During her first assignment, she managed to set the smoke detector off, twice. For the second assignment, she had to be rushed to the nurse’s office after she accidentally sliced her finger open. After the third assignment, she needed ointment for a rather nasty burn. Once the mid-term report cards came out and Evelyn found out Éliane was failing home-economics spectacularly, she took pity on her friend and teamed up with her for the following projects.

 It was a win-win, in Éliane’s opinion, even if she barely scrapped by and the class brought down her overall average, (but she was getting better – it had to count for something, right?)

 Éliane ended up spending a lot of time with Evelyn what with classes, hanging out together and after school extracurricular.  Evelyn ended up joining the theatre club and Éliane nearly lost her mind when she found out her quiet, mostly shy friend could act it out on stage like the best of them. It was a whole new side of her that she had only ever glimpsed and Éliane loved it. The girl had spunk. She was feisty. And slowly, slowly, Evelyn emerged from her shell as she got used to her new school and new surroundings. With time, Éliane got to get to know her better and discovered a treasure trove of other interesting things about her – like her sense of humour, which was dry and cutting and an absolute gift.

 Éliane wondered where Evelyn had been all her life.

 Once Christmas break rolled around, Evelyn’s mood took a dip, since for the first time ever, she would be away from her friends and family. Éliane took it upon herself to make sure her friend wouldn’t feel left out during the holidays and so she organised outings and parties with her and her friends to make sure Evelyn had a good time. The Murphy’s were even invited over for Christmas Eve and Éliane thought it was her greatest accomplishment yet. Throughout the rest of the holiday break, there were many outings to get hot chocolate, tobogganing, but by far, the best surprise came when Éliane suggested they go ice-skating, since the rinks were finally open and she found out that Evelyn could skate really well. Not only that, but the girl had a competitive streak to her as well and it was so very easy to get  her riled up if any type of friendly competition was presented to her. Evelyn had depth and personality and there were so many different sides to her that Éliane loved so much. It seemed that the more she got to know her friend, the more she found out about her and it was great.

 Winter break went by quickly, what with the myriad of activities Éliane orchestrated and it ended with by far, the greatest event to the start off the new year – Evelyn’s birthday.

 Towards the start of the break, Evelyn had quietly invited the inner circle of the friend group for a sleepover on the last Saturday of break, since her birthday fell on a Wednesday. They would be four in total and Éliane spent the better part of her days leading up to her friend’s birthday trying to come up with the Best Gift Ever, when she wasn’t busy spending time with her friends or stuffing her face with her grandmother’s baked goods. She was looking forward to the party and Evelyn kept reminding her that it would be a simple, quiet affair. They would get takeout, there would be cake, they would watch movies, they would eat too much candy and chips and chocolate – and eventually, they would all crash at some ungodly hour of the morning.

 Éliane still thought it sounded like the greatest thing ever.

 The party in itself turned out to be lovely and loud and boisterous. Mr. And Mrs Murphy put on brave faces and stuck around making sure everything was okay and to wish their daughter a happy birthday, while Evelyn’s younger sister had found herself a better place to be. They played games, spent the better part of the evening gossiping about school – their teachers, their classmates, another part worrying about which Cégep to apply to and what program, until Éliane declared that all “no-fun” school talk was banned. So, they watched a stream of movies, one of the other girls gave Evelyn a manicure and they ate too much candy and chips and chocolate.

 Somewhere around midnight, before it got to be too late, they took a break to change into their pyjamas. They were waiting for Evelyn to return and Éliane was waiting on the couch, wearing her own set of teddy bear patterned pyjama pants and long sleeved sweatshirt she had pilfered from one of her brothers (it was large, it was comfortable and it was warm), when Evelyn came to join them.

 Éliane cared very little about what others wore to bed. Normally, she wore boxer shorts and nothing else – unless it was cold outside, which it currently was. The thing was, she would have never associated Evelyn with the pyjama set that she was wearing. Evelyn rejoined their little group as if nothing was wrong with the world and went and plopped herself right next to Éliane wearing by far the most ridiculous (gorgeous), frilly (utterly inappropriate), matching set of what seemed to be lilac silk pyjamas. There was lace. There were motifs. It had little tiny straps that covered her shoulders (Éliane’s brain reminded her that this was the most skin she had seen on her friend and that she could see her clavicle and shoulder blades and the dip of her neck and – and then there were the shorts! The equally silk shorts that hugged her thighs just so and – maybe, maybe it was always really hot at the Murphy’s, which was why Evelyn slept in such a getup, because suddenly, Éliane found herself overheating. And then she had to give her friend one more (discreet – hopefully) one over and of course she had to notice the way the fabric hugged her chest, the shape she could guess underneath and – this really wasn’t fair.

 The thing was – the real issue here was – that Éliane M. Maisonneuve had accidentally gone and developed the stupidest of crushes on Evelyn A. Murphy and she was a complete goner.

 And now her friend was sitting beside her in her silk pyjamas looking like a goddamned gift and Éliane wanted to hold her close, furrow her face in the crook of her neck and ghost her hands over the fabric of her pajamas – and more. She was doomed. This was neither the place nor the time and she did her utmost best to keep her thoughts pure and innocent, but apparently, the universe hated her, because Evelyn slid extremely close to her, until she was half pressed on Éliane’s side and took a hold of her hand.

 “I get really afraid during scary movies,” She whispered in her ear and Éliane tried to suppress the shivers that ran down her spine and the sudden urge she had to turn around and kiss Evelyn’s stupid (beautiful, glorious) face senseless. Instead, she clutched at her friend’s hand in return, didn’t let go for the duration of the movie – and tried her best not to feel anything every time Evelyn gasped and clutched at her a little harder when she got scared. (And she tried really hard not to think of the way Evelyn’s body felt pressed up against her side.)

 Éliane knew what she liked – couldn’t care less about the gender of people. She had dated a little, had stolen kisses from girls behind cafés and had gone out on dates with boys. So long as she was interested, it didn’t matter and, apparently, her mind had decided that it was very interested in Evelyn. (And really, could she be blamed? Evelyn was mighty fine, thank you very much.)

 She was so screwed.

 Éliane swore to herself that she would keep her stupid crush to herself and bury her feelings so far deep inside of her that she would be long dead before they could ever resurface properly.

 Therefore, by Tuesday, over lunch, Éliane took her other best friend, Emma, aside, to spill absolutely everything to her.

 Now, Éliane and Emma had met on the very first day of kindergarten and had been placed in the same class. They had been sat next to each other and Éliane had declared her her best friend by the time lunch had rolled in. Emma had no idea how it was that they had remained friends for so long, but Éliane was her best friend and so, despite being quite exhausted by her friend’s daily ongoing complaint about whatever it was that was personally vexing her, she half listened to her friend.

 Normally, Emma would have been sympathetic and offered Éliane some advice, but Éliane was the absolute worst when it came to taking advice and instead preferred moping around and taking everything way too dramatically as if the world was against her.

 So she did just that and Emma couldn’t wait for Éliane to move on to a new hyper-fixation.

 Unfortunately, that never happened.

 “Why don’t you – and I’m just ball-parking it here – actually tell Ev’ how you feel and y’know, maybe she’ll feel the same way?” Emma reiterated for what felt like the millionth time. By February, Emma had heard her friend lament her unrequited crush so often that she could predict what Éliane would tell her almost verbatim.

 “But Ems, what if she doesn’t? What if she thinks I’m gross and then never wants to speak to me again? Emma, I can’t risk that!” She bemoaned, burying her face in her pillow. It was a quiet Friday night and Emma had done the mistake of throwing an impromptu sleepover between her and Éliane. She had hoped it would be a fun sleepover; instead, she was being privy to another round of Éliane’s love tribulations.

 “If she thinks you’re gross she’s dead to all of us.” Emma stated in her no-nonsense tone. The rest of their friend group knew of Éliane’s preferences and could care less about who she dated. If Evelyn had a problem with it, she would be more than happy to kick her out of the circle, “She’s not worth your time if she can’t accept you the way you are.” This was why Éliane liked Emma. She was straight to the point and wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, even over controversial matters.

 “I knoooooow, but I like her sooooo much. Emmmmaaaaaaaaaaa, she’s sooooo pretty, it’s not faaaaaair,” She whined and put on her best kicked puppy expression. Emma rolled her eyes and threw a pillow at her. She was immune to that look by now. Mostly.

 “I mean, have we even ever heard Evelyn express an interest in anyone at school?”

 “Noooo, but what if – what if she has a boyfriend back home and she promised to be true to him? Or like what if she’s super conservative or something? Aren’t they conservative back in Alberta?”

 “Don’t you think she would have mentioned having a boyfriend – or someone special – back home after all this time? And even if there are people who are conservative back in Alberta, who’s to say that she is? God knows she follows you around on half your crazy schemed ideas. Maybe she likes you and she’s shy. Maybe she’s just a friend. Maybe you should just fucking talk to her and leave me out of your love life, please, Éliane, I’m not even your therapist.”

 Éliane pouted and threw the pillow back at her.

 “Big baby. Just write her a Valentine’s and play it off as a joke if she rejects you.”

 “That is the worst idea ever. My heart would be shattered and I’d never be able to face her ever again.” Emma sighed as Éliane went off another tangent. Sometimes, she wondered why she bothered.

 Éliane did not take up Emma on her advice and so, come Valentine’s Day, she did absolutely nothing and played it cool, by her standards. This meant that she kept a close eye on anyone who approached Evelyn with Valentine’s and she was only too pleased (relieved) when no one had made any outlandish love declarations to her. (Not that Evelyn didn’t deserve outlandish love declarations, but Éliane wanted to be the one to do them, not some other person.)

 It also meant that her heart sank when Evelyn didn’t get her any particular Valentine and that she only gave her a small chocolate, like she did with all of their other friends. It wasn’t that she expected anything, but if Evelyn had made a move on her, it would have helped ease her mind and given her some sense of direction. Still, Éliane had to consol herself; at least Evelyn was her friend. It could be so much worse.

 Her crush only kept growing as the days went by and even when she tried looking elsewhere, hoping that a distraction from Evelyn would help, it seemed her heart and mind were set on Evelyn no matter what. It was utterly annoying and Emma was ready to murder her if she kept this on.

 Therefore, Éliane came up with another of her Brilliant Plans, which Emma agreed was absolutely stupid. With prom coming up at the end of the year, Éliane decided to put her big move there and ask Evelyn to go as her date. Emma politely reminded her that prom was in literal months and that a million different things could happen between now and then. Plus, there was also the fact that Éliane would be even more insufferable until then.

 Éliane was pretty confident that it would give her enough time to gather more intel on whether or not Evelyn liked her That Way and hence, would only help her out in the long run. If anything, if Evelyn was dateless by then, they could just go as friends and Éliane could save face.

 In the meantime, however, there was One particular incident that left Éliane even more confused than ever before.

 It was a known fact that Éliane Maisonneuve liked to sprawl out when she sat down. Be it chair, sofa, couch or stool, Éliane took up as much space as possible. The other known fact was that Éliane Maisonneuve was a very tactile person. She had never heard of personal space when it came to her friends and if she was sitting with her friends, it wasn’t an uncommon sight to see her using her friends’ laps as extensions of the surfaces she was sitting on. She was known to sit on their laps, drape herself over them, lay her head on their shoulders or laps, and so on. No one was safe from her sprawling, not even Evelyn.

 During the winter months, Éliane opted for the school pants as opposed to the skirt, since it was too bloody cold outside and even with stockings, she froze. However, with spring back on the menu, she was quick to ditch the pants and go back to the skirt.

 It happened to be a skirt-wearing day, when, during lunch, Éliane had elected Evelyn’s lap to sit on, since she was the first to have finished eating lunch. Now, normally, when Éliane sat on Evelyn’s lap, Evelyn would put one arm over Éliane’s own lap, to keep her from falling off, and her other arm would either wrap itself around her waist, or rest against the back of the sofa they claimed for themselves for lunch, when they ate inside, in one of the school’s hangout spots.

 However, this time – this time something monumental happened.

 Éliane sat on Evelyn’s lap like always, and at first Evelyn held on to her as she normally did, but then, a few minutes later, Evelyn’s hand that was around her waist shifted ever so. At first, Éliane thought little of it, but then Evelyn placed her hand to rest on the side of her leg, underneath her skirt, right on her skin. Éliane stilled and tried to think little of it. Evelyn had just found a better way to place her hands, there was nothing to it – that had to be it. This wasn’t planned. This had been accidental, clearly. But then – then her friend went ahead and started – rubbing her skin? With her thumb? In a small, circular way? Or something. Because, Éliane felt Evelyn’s thumb rub her skin in a circular motion, but there was no way for her to see and she wasn’t about to ask (because it felt really good and she didn’t want Evelyn to stop and if she was hallucinating then she would look like a fool.) Plus, Éliane did try to get a read off Evelyn’s face, but when she looked, Evelyn wasn’t even looking her way, instead focused on whatever else it was their friends were saying, a small, gentle smile on her face.

 What. The ever loving fuck. Did this actually mean?

 Éliane tried to remain still, tried to brush it off as nothing and tried to play it cool, but for the rest of the day, she was a right hot mess and she spent the better part of the rest of the week (and month) replaying the feel of Evelyn’s hand on her bare thigh and it did not help any of her little fantasies one bit. (Because good Lord, someone help her, how she had wanted Evelyn’s hand to creep up her thigh, touch her elsewhere, make her feel good – how she had wanted to wrap her legs around her friend, grind against her, get her hands underneath Evelyn’s silly school blouse, feel her up – hear her moan –)

 This was really getting out of hand.

 Éliane kept pinning from afar, much to Emma’s annoyance, especially since she was the only one in their friend circle to know about her crush and no other major incidents of the sort came to throw Éliane for a loop. She still convinced herself that she would do something about it for prom, but Emma wasn’t convinced, and quite frankly, neither was Éliane.

 And then it was Éliane’s birthday.

 Éliane had a rather busy birthday schedule, what with celebrating with her family and twin sister, wanting to do something fun with her friends and also doing something lowkey on the actual day of. As was the standard amongst their friend group, one of them made a birthday cake to be had at lunch, there were presents and it was a lovely day overall.

 On top of that, she had all her favourite classes today and it was honestly looking up to be the best birthday ever. She was looking forward to the weekend and her mind was focused on the end of the day, when she got a note from Evelyn during class.

 “Meet me in the park by the swing set after class,” The note said and Éliane tried to get her friend’s attention, wondering what this could mean and what game her friend was playing at, but Evelyn never looked her way and so Éliane was left guessing. She even tried to ask her after class, but Evelyn went ahead of her, while the teacher asked Éliane to stay behind for a bit, since she wanted to go over some of the texts for the upcoming school play.

 Therefore, once she could leave, she ran to her locker to drop off her books, changed out of her school shoes, grabbed her sweater and backpack, and then ran off to the park next to the school. She hoped Evelyn hadn’t been waiting long and that she wouldn’t think she had stood her up, even though she had seen Éliane with their teacher. Still.

 Éliane nearly tripped down the stairs to the park and was ever so relieved to see that Evelyn was still there waiting for her.

 “What’s up?” She asked, slightly out of breath.

 “I wanted to give you your birthday gift.” She said, smiling at her and Éliane’s stomach did a funny thing at the sight. It always did a funny thing at the sight. It was such a pretty smile.

 “But, you gave me your gift earlier with the others,” She said, giving her friend a quizzical look. Not that she minded more gifts, but she didn’t expect her friend to get her multiple gifts.

 “I know – but this one is special. Close your eyes?”

 Éliane did as she was told even though her curiosity was eating her alive.

 “No peeking!” Evelyn cautioned and it was very tempting to, but Éliane remained still, with her eyes closed, heart beating wildly as she waited.

 Evelyn took her hands and Éliane figured she would place something in them, but instead her friend held on. Éliane was about to ask what this was all about, but the following moment, she felt the softest of presses against her lips. She gasped and her eyes opened on their own just in time to see Evelyn lean away from her, a lovely blush spreading across her cheeks.

 “Did you just – was that just –”There was no way Evelyn had kissed her. She must have dreamt the entire thing up and blacked out, or something. Maybe she had really slipped down the stairs, fallen and hit her head. It may have been her birthday and all, but these types of things only happened in trashy romance novels she liked to splurge on.

 “Look ,” Evelyn started, blush deepening across her face and Éliane stopped talking all together, while her brain tried to reboot itself, “I like you. A lot. And I have, for a while now... and well, I wanted to take a chance. Since it’s your birthday and all. And, yeah – I – don’t hate me?” She stammered and Éliane could only stare at her.

 Evelyn Murphy liked her.

 The absolutely wonderful person that was Evelyn Murphy liked her and had kissed her on her birthday. Éliane might actually faint and go into shock.

 Instead, she launched herself at Evelyn and kissed her hard. Evelyn stumbled back in surprise, trying not to fall over, and wrapped her arms around Éliane out of reflex.

 “I like you too, you silly goose, and I could never hate you,” Éliane blurted out when she pulled away, before cupping Evelyn’s face with her hands and kissing her again, this time much slower and softer. She let out a breathy little gasp when Evelyn held her, their bodies pressed close. It was everything she’d been hoping for months and everything she’d never, in her wildest dreams, think she’d get. She chased after as many kisses as Evelyn allowed her and silently swooned at the softness of her lips against her own. She knew, already, that she could never tire of this.

 “Go to prom with me?” She added, catching her breath, riding a high she never wanted to come down from. Evelyn’s eyes widened and then she smiled and it caught Éliane’s breath. It was such a lovely sight, so beautiful and pure, and she wanted to be the cause of those smiles for a very, very long time.

 “I’d love to,” Evelyn told her, before kissing her again. And again. And again and again.

 --

 It was nice, finally being able to hold Evelyn’s hand whenever she felt like it. Éliane made it her personal mission to walk to every class she had with Evelyn by holding her hand and sometimes, if Evelyn let her, she carried her books as well. She was stupid in love with her and she couldn’t believe how lucky she was that Evelyn liked her – that they could hold hands and kiss and spend a stupid amount of time texting each other strings of heart emojis late into the night. Éliane never wanted the feeling to end.

 It turned out that Evelyn wasn’t out to her parents and she had no idea how they would take to her being attracted to girls, so they agreed to keep things under wrap around them when Éliane went over. Éliane had already done her own coming out to her parents, almost two years ago, but she supposed she had an easier ride, considering her eldest brother was gay and very much cohabiting with his boyfriend for the past several years now. She was thankful that her parents were okay with it and could only hope that Evelyn’s parents would be as well, whenever it was she decided to tell them.

 For now, it just meant that Éliane had to keep her hands to herself when she was over at the Murphys’, but she could make-out with Evelyn at her place all she wanted, (or until her sister told her to stop being so gross.)

 May also meant receiving Cégep admission letters and a whole flock of stress, anxiety, and high emotions. Evelyn found the idea a little dumb, but since her family was still in Montréal and she would have to do an extra year of high school if she went back home, she had found herself obliged to apply as well. She ended up applying to most of the Cégeps her friends wanted to go to, so that she could at least be with them and she surprised herself when their excitement turned contagious when her own acceptance letters started trickling in.

 The only problem was that she had no idea where it was she wanted to go.

 She was pretty convinced she wanted to be an engineer – maybe a civil engineer later on, but so long as she did something science and math related in Cégep, she would be fine. Where she did it didn’t matter. She kept her options open and waited to see where the others would go. Therefore, when Éliane got accepted into the program of her choice in visual arts at the Cégep she really wanted to, Evelyn quietly accepted her own offer at the same school. (And when Éliane found out, nearly two weeks later, she had been extremely happy and there may or may not have been many tears.)

 She knew that realistically her chances of having any classes with Éliane were slim, that their schedules might not even match up, but maybe they could share a locker and maybe they could take one of the mandatory gym ,or French, or English, or humanities classes together.

 They could make it work. (She really hoped they could.)

 Bu those were problems and thoughts for later and so Evelyn buried them deep in her mind and instead focused on the upcoming ministry exams, the end of the school year, finding a dress for prom, memorising her lines for the end of year school play, finding time for her girlfriend and her friends, and everything else that came with being a senior in high school.

 --

 Emma decided to invite everyone over to her place, before they went to prom, to take photos and have cocktails, since she had the biggest yard between them. They agreed to meet up there and then make their way to the hall where the reception would take place.

 Despite Éliane asking, Evelyn had refused to show her any photos of her dress. Éliane had begged for hints, a description, anything, but Evelyn had remained tight-lipped, preferring to surprise her girlfriend at prom. Éliane had done her best pouting and pleading, but Evelyn was apparently immune to it all. Therefore, Éliane was an impatient mess when she got to Emma’s, eagerly anticipating the moment Evelyn would arrive.

 As per their plan, Evelyn had told her parents that she was going to prom with her friends, since “no boys had asked her” and her parents thought it was cute how the girls were sticking together. It was a perfect decoy and it meant that she could have all the photos she wanted with Éliane and her parents would never think twice about it.

 Éliane was about ready to text Evelyn, to ask her where she was and whether or not she had forgotten that they were supposed to meet up at Emma’s before heading to the reception hall, but then the doorbell rang and Éliane swore the entire planet froze in time when Evelyn walked in.

 Evelyn was wearing a midnight blue, long dress with cap sleeves that fell off her shoulders. It had a sweetheart bodice and a ruched waistline that did wonders for her figure and her complexion. The material of the dress was elegant and airy and it gave Evelyn a regal appearance.

 Her girlfriend was absolutely, drop-dead gorgeous.

 Her heart was going to explode from how full of love it was for Evelyn.

 Éliane did her very best to contain herself and not launch herself at Evelyn, but she did walk up to her and envelop her in the tightest of hugs she could manage, trying to convey everything it was she felt inside.

 “You are so breathtakingly beautiful,” She whispered in her ear as she pulled away. She grinned when Evelyn turned a lovely shade of pink and Éliane was far too pleased with herself.

 “And you’re absolutely stunning,” Evelyn murmured back, leaving a lingering touch to Éliane’s wrist, which left her skin tingling.

 Éliane had opted for something a little more party like. It was a champagne coloured, short dress with an asymmetrical bodice. It had one sleeve and bold folds that looked absolutely stunning on her. It was, after all, their prom, and she intended to party, dance and have the absolute greatest of times.

 Prom, delivered.

 The prom committee really outdid themselves, if Éliane did say so herself and it turned out to be a great evening. She got to sit with her best friends, got to dance with her girlfriend, took a stupid amount of photos with absolutely everyone she had ever spoken to during her five years in high school and only cried once – maybe twice, when she realised for good that this was her last few moments with these people – that one chapter of her life was closing and that a new adventure was right around the corner.

 But, before she got too lost in her own thoughts, there was still an after-prom, a million pool parties to attend and the greatest summer of her life to live.

 Most of the graduating class had decided to go camping for their after-prom, on some semi-remote campground a few hours away. The grounds promised privacy, no curfew, and a lax attitude towards underage drinking. Éliane had considered going, but then Emma had decided to do something a little simpler and had invited their group over to her place. Her parents would be out, they could pile up and sleep in the camper van in the backyard, eat all the junk food they could handle, talk late into the night, watch the stars and go swimming in the morning. The best part was that Mr. And Mrs. Dubois would even leave them alone, as they had decided to visit Mrs. Dubois’ sister back in Ottawa, which meant they had the whole place to themselves.

 They arrived at Emma’s place well past one in the morning and the girls were a flurry of activity as they changed into pyjamas and their graduating sweatshirts. High-heeled shoes, dresses and make-up were removed in favour of comfort as they crowded around each other to settle and keep the night going. Chips, cookies, candies, and soda were placed nearby as they munched on the snacks and laughed their worries away.

 It was nice, Éliane thought, and she secretly hoped that twenty years from now she would still be doing this with this same group of friends. Éliane tucked herself between Emma and Evelyn and found herself perfectly at ease. If time needed to freeze and stop and chose this particular moment to do so, she would be content.

 It didn’t, naturally, but Éliane found she didn’t really mind and was happy to snuggle up next to Evelyn when the sun started to rise and they could no longer keep their eyes open.

 “Love you,” She murmured into the folds of Evelyn’s arms and only registered what she’d said a moment or so later, when she felt Evelyn still beside her.

 She feared she’d let her mouth run wild once more and had an apology ready at her lips, but then she felt Evelyn hold her close and press a gentle kiss to the top of her head, “D’you really mean it?” She whispered for her ears only and Éliane nodded.

 “Yeah, I really do.”

 Evelyn smiled and it was a real thing of beauty that warmed her insides and made her heart soar. She levelled with her and sought her lips, before kissing her fully, “Love you, Evelyn,” She murmured, unable to stop herself from grinning.

 “I love you too, Éliane.” Evelyn whispered back, as if it was their secret alone.

 --

 Seeing as this was their last summer all together, Éliane made her mission to make sure they would see each other as often as possible and create the best summer memories. Therefore, there were many pool parties (and nothing had ever prepared her for the sight of her girlfriend – her Evelyn in the actual prettiest bikini ever made on God’s green earth.), a handful of parties and even though most of them had part time summer jobs, they made it work and by the time summer came to an end, Éliane was ready for the next chapter of her life.

 Cégep turned out to be an interesting and roller coaster of a venture. For as much as Éliane pretty much enjoyed it – liked the freedom it brought her, the expanded horizons of possibilities and being able to have classes that she genuinely enjoyed, Evelyn found it pointless and useless. It was a means to an end – something she had no choice in doing and the only thing that made it tolerable was the fact that Éliane was in many of her classes, they rode in or out together when their schedules matched and some of their friends from high school were also at the same school.

 Other than that, she absolutely abhorred the time she spent there and kept reminding herself that in two years time, it would be over. It seemed that just as she’d settled in to the rhythm of her new high school, she had been yanked out and forced to adapt to what she considered a waste of education.  Éliane made the mistake of pointing out once that maybe it had to do with her disengagement with her own program, but Evelyn shut down that theory rather quickly.

 Still, despite her foul mood and deep hatred for Cégep, Éliane did her best to cheer up her girlfriend, left little notes of encouragement in their shared locker almost every second day and thankfully, with Éliane and some of her friends by her side, she was able to coast through her first semester without burning the building down to ash.

 However, for as much as Evelyn had nothing positive to say about Cégep, she had to agree that the winter break between the first and second semester was delightful. There was a little over a month and a half of time off and even though she had a few exams during the exam period, she still had a good month of vacation. When she found out, sometime after midterms, a great plan hatched in her mind.

 The truth of the matter was that Evelyn missed Edmonton something fierce. She hadn’t been back since her family had relocated to Montreal and even though she liked her new life – it didn’t always feel like home. She missed her grandparents, missed her friends, and missed her favourite hangout spots.

 Therefore, Evelyn did her research, contacted the appropriate people, and once she had everything in order, she brought up the idea to her parents of flying to Edmonton after the holidays for three weeks. She would be staying with her grandparents, who were more than thrilled at the idea of having her over, she had enough money for her plane ticket from her summer job and she would be able to do all the things she missed and loved. Her parents weren’t exactly thrilled with the plan, but eventually they agreed.

 It was then that Evelyn launched part two of her plan, which was to ask Éliane to come over with her. (She had asked her grandparents as well, had explained that Éliane wasn’t just her friend – that they were a couple and thank goodness, they had been very accepting of that and thrilled at the idea of potentially meeting their granddaughter’s girlfriend.)

 Of course, Evelyn was very much aware of the fact that her girlfriend detested winter, would probably have preferred to go somewhere warm, if she could and Evelyn didn’t even know if Éliane would want to go to Edmonton with her, or if she had the means to do it, but when she told her of her plan, Éliane had been one hundred percent onboard.

 They bought their tickets together, the moment Éliane had the okay from her parents and then, at least, Evelyn could keep a countdown to not only the end of her first semester of hell-school, but also to the day she would be going back home to Edmonton – even if it was for a short while.

 The moment they arrived in Edmonton, Evelyn was ready to show her girlfriend all the sights. She had made an elaborate schedule, had contacted all her friends and she only hoped that Éliane would like it.

Of course, Éliane loved it all, even if she did complain about the cold at every chance she got, but Evelyn was always there to lend her a sweater, tie a scarf around her neck or let Éliane snuggle up to her at night.

 Éliane enjoyed the city and loved meeting Evelyn’s friends. It was nice to see her girlfriend’s old stomping grounds and Evelyn’s grandparents took to her right away, which they were both thankful for. It was nice being here and it amused Éliane to no end that their first trip as a “couple” was to Edmonton, something Evelyn thought wasn’t quite as exotic or romantic as it should be. Éliane told her they could make up for it at a later time – for their next vacation and the thought of that – of something that would happen in the future sent butterflies to Evelyn’s stomach.

 Overall, despite her lack of interest in Cégep, two years ended up going by quickly, somehow. Éliane liked to refer to those two years as Evelyn’s rebel phase, for it was during that time that Evelyn decided to learn how to ride a motorcycle (something Éliane absolutely loved very, very much – there was just something so incredibly hot about her girlfriend dressed in nice, tight leather pants with nice leather boots and an even nicer leather jacket mounting a motorcycle. Éliane called it sex on wheels. Evelyn always turned the loveliest shade of pink at the comment.)

 It was also during their stint in Cégep that Evelyn decided, one afternoon, while bored between classes, to get the upper part of her ear pierced. One of her classes had been cancelled, and she couldn’t go home, since she had another class after that. Since Éliane and her other friends were all unavailable, Evelyn had gone out for a walk, had passed by a tattoo and body piercing parlour and had decided to get it done, on a whim and out of boredom.

 Éliane had a lot to say about the piercing. Notably, that it was very sexy and added an extra layer of badass to Evelyn. Evelyn thought her girlfriend was being ridiculous – Éliane had shut her up with a kiss.

 And perhaps, the other thing that happened over the summer between their first and thankfully last year of Cégep was that their relationship reached a highly more physical level.

 They had – fooled around some ever since that memorable time towards the end of high school, but, nothing beyond wandering hands and heavy make-out sessions. Evelyn hadn’t been fully ready and Éliane had given her all the time she needed. There’d been some touching, a very few topless make-out sessions which had left Evelyn yearning for more, but something had always held her back. Maybe the fact that her parents and sister had been home, or that Éliane’s own family could walk in at any time.

 But there came a weekend over summer after their first year of Cégep, when Éliane had the whole house to herself. Her brothers were officially moved out, her sister had gone camping with her friends, and her parents had gone over to her mother’s friend’s cottage for the weekend. Éliane had invited Evelyn over to use the pool and there hadn’t really been any thought that this would happen over the weekend.

 Éliane had been sunbathing on one of the lawn chairs, when Evelyn had gotten out of the pool and walked towards her girlfriend, with the intention of flicking water in her face. Éliane had (over) reacted just the way Evelyn had hoped – shrieking and protesting that the water was so very cold, which had prompted Evelyn to drape herself over her girlfriend to flick even more water all over her.

 Éliane had tried to push her off and get away from her, but she had been trapped. Finally, Éliane gave up and Evelyn settled against her, content, with the sun warming her up and her girlfriend running a hand up and down her back. They’d stayed that way for a while, peaceful and quiet, until Evelyn had nuzzled her way to her girlfriend’s neck and had started leaving feather light kisses on Éliane’s neck.

 The feather light kisses turned languid and hot when Éliane let out breathy little moans and wrapped her legs around Evelyn’s body. Evelyn left Éliane’s neck in favour of her lips when her girlfriend started grinding against her and her hands left her back to slide underneath the straps of her bikini.

 Evelyn had never gone all the way with anyone – had never lain naked beside someone else, even though she had had her fair share of fantasies and had done a bit of self-exploration over the past few months. They’d talked it over, a few times, about their experiences and lack thereof and Evelyn had known, all along, that she could trust Éliane – that her girlfriend would respect her, no matter what it was that they did or didn’t do.

 And so, when they parted for air and Evelyn took in the sight of Éliane’s kiss swollen lips and mussed up hair, she felt a deep hunger for her that swooped at her belly and made her want to touch and lick and taste and kiss and feel.

 “Should we go to my room?” Éliane asked, her hand kneading the skin of Evelyn’s thigh, her fingers hitching ever higher, playing with the strings of the straps of her bikini. Evelyn nodded at that, disentangled herself from her, and then helped her up.

 They’d made their way to Éliane’s room and once Éliane had closed the door behind them – in case – she had pushed Evelyn to her bed and they’d resumed from where they’d left off before. Evelyn let her girlfriend guide them both and let go of her millions of thoughts running through her head. She followed her gut, paid close attention to Éliane’s reactions, and let her hands touch and feel, let her mouth kiss and taste.

 Evelyn marvelled at the goose bumps over Éliane’s breasts, over the texture of her nipple on her tongue and over every little sound and noise Éliane made, which Evelyn meticulously catalogued and memorised to later replay in her mind like a favourite song.

 This was an experience she had never felt before and one that she would love repeating over the many years to come - hopefully.

 And later, afterwards, as Evelyn lay with Éliane running her fingers through her hair, Evelyn couldn’t help but be thankful that somehow or other, despite not being keen over the move away from her beloved Edmonton, she had managed to find Éliane along the way. She hoped, as she shared a tender kiss with her girlfriend, that theirs would be a relationship that would last, and that if it didn’t, they could always remain friends.

 --

 The only thing that motivated Evelyn throughout their second – and luckily – last year of Cégep was the fact that she would be making university applications by the start of March. The drawback to that was picking which universities to apply. Éliane, once more, had her whole plan set out and her preferred university in mind. She was applying to one school and one school only, and if they didn’t accept her, then – well, her plan didn’t have a section for that, because she would get accepted. Evelyn envied her for that – was slightly jealous of the certainty and faith she had in her plan, even if she feared it would backfire on her. Not that Éliane didn’t have the grades or the talent for it, but there would be others who would be applying as well. Still, Éliane was convinced and Evelyn could only marvel at her.

 On the one hand, she could apply to the same place as Éliane again and go where she went, but Evelyn also wanted to go somewhere that would actually set her up on her desired career path. If she wanted to become an engineer, it would obviously help if she went to a university that was known for their engineering programs. The other problem was that after nearly three years, Evelyn was incredibly homesick.

 She liked Montreal just fine – was getting the hang of the city and its peculiarities, but – it wasn’t home. She missed her friends and family that were still in Edmonton, missed biking through the River Valley, and missed weather that actually made sense (to her). Therefore, on a whim, she decided to apply to the University of Alberta and figured that – if she got in – she could make her decision then and have that conversation with Éliane at that point. There was no need to cause alarm just yet.

 Evelyn kept telling herself that if she didn’t get accepted at the University of Alberta, then it would be a clear sign that she wasn’t meant to go back – not now anyways, and that would be that. It would make her life easier, Éliane would never need to know, and life would move on. However, every time she started thinking that way, part of her really hoped she would be accepted there.

 In the end, obviously, because life never played out the way she wanted it to, she was accepted at two of the three schools she had applied to – one in Montreal and the other one in Edmonton.

 Before she broke the news to Éliane, she sat herself down and made a rather long and elaborate list of all the pros and cons she could think of about attending both schools. The problem was that her number one con about going back to Edmonton was that Éliane would be in Montreal and her biggest con about staying in Montreal was that she really missed home and wouldn’t get to see it for god only knew how much longer.

 When she finally brought the list to Éliane – when she finally gathered up her courage for this conversation, her girlfriend was a little put off about having been left in the dark, if only because she didn’t like the idea of Evelyn going through this burden alone, but she was ready to find solutions.

 “I could get transferred to UofA; I’m sure they have an art program,” She said as she started tapping away at her phone, looking up the offered programs as though this was the easiest and most logical of solutions.

 “El, don’t – I mean, it’s not that I don’t want you to come with, but – you had a whole plan and you were super psyched about getting into UQAM. Plus, you even said, they only take a few people per year, so that means your portfolio was really good.”

 “Exactly. So if UQAM took me then it shouldn’t be a problem for UofA. I can apply to get transferred for winter term and then we can be together again.” She smiled brightly at that, closed off her phone as if the case was solved and shelved, but it didn’t sit well with Evelyn.

 Evelyn loved that Éliane was ready to drop everything to follow her, but at the same time, she knew her girlfriend was impulsive – that she came up with plans in a blink of an eye and didn’t always think the consequences through. She knew, deep down, that eventually, for as much as Éliane would be charmed by the city and enjoy it, she would feel like a fish out of the water. She wouldn’t have her friends, she wouldn’t have her sister and she wouldn’t have her bearings with the city.

 She knew that, for as much as Éliane liked to play the tough act, for as much as she was the life of a party, that deep down, she was very sensitive; that even if she made new friends (which she would) and even if she ended up loving her program, the pillars of her own life would be missing and it would slowly, but surely, eat at her. The last thing Evelyn wanted to do was make Éliane miserable and she didn’t Éliane to resent her for it, in the long run, either.

 She brought up these points to Éliane, but just as she feared, Éliane rebuked every one of her arguments, because on top of everything else, her girlfriend was absolutely stubborn.

 “But, if you’re all the way in Edmonton, that means a different time zone, I don’t get to see you as often and – you might never come back,” Éliane finally admitted, hours later, when it felt as though they were going around in circles with this discussion. She sounded small and – insecure and it was then that Evelyn realised that the real root of the problem wasn’t that Evelyn wanted to study outside of the city, it was that Éliane knew how much she missed Edmonton and Éliane feared she would never return once she went back.

 The real problem was that Evelyn, for as much as she wanted to reassure her that she would – that she’d go there for the length of the degree and then come back – wasn’t sure she could say so convincingly. Who was to say what would happen when she got there? Who was to say that she would find a job in Montreal post-graduation? Who was to say that she and Éliane would still be together that many years ahead?

 “Look, I don’t know what’s going to happen between now and then – but I want this to work, between us. I’m not running away to Edmonton to find some other girl or to replace you and I promise I’m going to do my best to make this long distance whatever work between us.” She started and gathered Éliane in her arms. Her girlfriend made herself small and buried her face in the folds of her sweater, taking in a deep breath, committing the scent of Evelyn to her mind, already knowing she would be gone within a few months.

 “I promise too,” Éliane added softly, not meeting Evelyn’s eyes, already fighting to keep the tears at bay, “I mean – I want this to work too and I want you to be happy, so do what you feel will make you happiest.”

 “But you make me happy, El,” Evelyn pressed a kiss to the top of Éliane’s head and that at least got a smile out of her, “I like having you around.”

 “And I’ll still be here – after you’re done, but I don’t want you to miss out on this opportunity. I don’t want you to have regrets, twenty years from now or resent me because in a way I kept you here – that you stayed back because of me.”

 “Are you sure?”

 Éliane nodded, “I’ll miss you. I already miss you. But we can still talk and text, yeah?” She asked as if it was a question – as if Evelyn wasn’t already thinking of having weekly video call dates, or something of the likes. She would be going from having Éliane around her nearly every day to being miles and miles apart. It would be a big adaptation – for both of them, but with Éliane’s blessing, Evelyn felt a little more confident that it would work out in the end.

 --

 Their last summer together was – different, if they were to compare them to the previous ones. Knowing that Evelyn would be gone by the end of it, Éliane made it a point to spend as much time with her as possible and to create as many memories – good memories, so that Evelyn would want to come back.

 No matter how many times Evelyn reassured her that she would return, Éliane was still a little worried that this was it – that Evelyn would move on, but she still put on a brave face and did her best to be supportive and happy for her. (Which she was – but, why did Edmonton have to be so far away?)

 On the day that she left, Éliane went to the airport with Mr and Mrs Murphy and did her utmost best not to cry in front of them. (There would be time later – when she was home and alone in her bedroom. She didn’t want to cause a scene at the airport. She didn’t want to be that person.)

 “I’ll be back before you know it.” Evelyn told her when they shared one last tight hug. Her voice cracked a little and she did her best to swallow her own tears that threatened to spill forth.

 “I promise I’ll try to come over reading week.” They’d talked of the possibility and Éliane had been firm when she’d said she’d come to Edmonton at any chance she had – anytime they had time off. Evelyn admired her determination, but felt her girlfriend had forgotten how expensive the plane tickets could get.

 “Love you,” Evelyn chose to say instead.

 “Love you more.” Éliane stepped back and let Evelyn go. She watched as her girlfriend exchanged one more hug with her family and then went to queue up with the other travellers. She waved and waved again and tried not to think about the gap she suddenly felt in her chest.

 University turned out to be much harder than Cégep, but Evelyn enjoyed it a lot more. It wasn’t always easy, but the work was much more challenging and she felt like she was actually advancing with life. She got to reconnect with her old friends, made new ones and the only thing missing – the only person missing to make it all the more perfect was Éliane.

 They made it a point to have weekly video calls, just like Evelyn had thought of before she left, but it wasn’t always easy to keep with their schedule, what with different time zones, part time jobs, school work and the myriad of other obligations that got in the way. Still, every time they did talk, Evelyn felt as though the missing puzzle piece to her life was slotted into place.

 And, for as much as they settled into their new routine, slowly got used to not being around each other (Evelyn liked to say that absence made the heart grow fonder), there came a time when Éliane started to really think that Evelyn had moved on. When she would stay up far too late and see her girlfriend post photos on social media, out with her new friends, having a jolly good time, and some ugly thing inside of her whispered that Evelyn was replacing her – that this relationship would fizzle out. It also didn’t help that with time zones and busy schedules, midterms and projects, their weekly video calls became shorter and were sometimes postponed or cancelled.

 Éliane tried to tell herself that it was normal, that Evelyn had a life out there, that she was busy herself, but the fear kept gnawing at her and she hated that she thought this way. Deep down she knew it wasn’t true, but no matter how hard she tried to convince herself, there was still always an ounce of doubt that stayed.

 Eventually, it crept up in a conversation, just before winter break and Evelyn hated that her girlfriend thought she wasn’t as interested anymore.

 “Sweetheart, no – look, I know it’s hard, I miss you – a lot, but I promise I really want this to work between us and if ever, for some really absurd reason, I wasn’t interested anymore, I would let you know. I would never string you along, okay? And even if I’m in class, or asleep, you can still message me – I’ll answer you later, just like we’ve been doing, alright?”

 Éliane nodded and wiped the tears away from her eyes. She hated that she couldn’t be strong – that something so trivial had gotten to her, but at the same time, hearing Evelyn say those words comforted her a bit, “I love you,” She said instead, because it was true and because sometimes it felt like her heart was too small to contain all the love she felt for Evelyn.

 “Love you more, you silly goose. And I miss you. And I’m looking forward to seeing you this summer.”

 Éliane smiled a little at that – at the promise of two weeks with Evelyn mostly all to herself. It wouldn’t be the same as the other summers, but she supposed they had to make do with what they got.

 “Thanks for listening,” She said.

 Evelyn smiled softly and touched the screen for a moment, “Of course – I’m always here for you, just like you’re always there for me.”

 It didn’t suddenly get better or easier after that call, but Éliane felt just a little less alone. She stopped worrying that she was being extra clingy and reached out to Evelyn whenever she felt she needed it. She didn’t hold back when she wanted to send her a message, even if it was a simple heart emoji and the wonderful thing was that Evelyn replied to every single one and would send them back as well.

 For the first time since Evelyn had left for Edmonton, Éliane felt a little lighter and started to believe that they would grow stronger from this and that they’d find a way to make it work. It was hard work, sure, she didn’t always like the distance, but it made her appreciate the time they had even more and because it was worth it to her – to the both of them, it pushed them both to keep working towards it.

 If Evelyn sent her a sweater of hers for Christmas, well, maybe, just maybe it became Éliane’s favourite and she compulsively wore it all the time over the following four years, even after it stopped smelling of her girlfriend.

 Éliane still considered transferring to UofA, or at the very least, doing an exchange for one semester, just to be with Evelyn for a few months. When she told Evelyn about it, she suggested to go somewhere different – not to hold back just because of her. She didn’t want her to miss out on some great experience or opportunity and settle for this out of some skewed sense of obligation. She could always visit her in Edmonton, but how many chances would she have to go literally anywhere else in the world? Evelyn threw back at her the same words and wisdom she had given her a year before and, with Evelyn’s blessing, Éliane applied elsewhere.

 In the end, she went to study art in Italy, for the length of her second semester. She loved every moment of it, fell in love with the people, the food, and the culture, and sent too many postcards to Evelyn, until her entire wall was full of them.

 To top it all off, since the school schedule in Italy was a little different, Evelyn even managed to surprise Éliane at the end of the term, when she flew in to spend some time with her, and they got to spend two weeks together in Italy.

 And, somehow or other, they made it through undergrad together, even if they weren’t always in the same city.

 --

 When Evelyn had to apply for her Master’s degree, she once more decided to apply to schools both in Edmonton and back in Montreal. After four years back home, she felt that she had found the catharsis and closure she had been looking for all those years, after her father had sprung the move on her back when she was in high school. On top of that, she had really missed Éliane and – to her biggest surprise, she had also missed her life in Montreal.

 She still wasn’t sure where she would eventually settle, how that would play with Éliane, but she figured, if she studied in Montreal, it would buy them both another two years before they had to figure it out.

 This time around, she was accepted to the better of the engineering schools in Montreal and so, she took that as a sign that moving back was the right course of action – at least for now.

 To absolutely no one’s surprise, Éliane was very excited when Evelyn broke the news of her decision to her, a few days later, once she had accepted the offer and weighed in all the pros and cons, and Evelyn had to admit that she was looking forward to going back – to picking up where things had left off and moving forward.

 She was still a little sad that she was leaving Edmonton behind yet again, but this time, it was on her own terms and she knew that she could always come back and that no matter where she lived or where she went, the city would always be part of her.

 Her first year back was – interesting, to say the least. For starters, she had to get used to living with her parents again, which seemed like a strange thing to say, but she had gotten used to staying with her grandparents during her undergrad degree. On top of that, the commute was different from what she’d known beforehand and sometimes, she cursed the suburbs. It was so very far away and there was so much wasted time.

 Another thing she had to get used to again, which was also a strange thing to say, was being around Éliane again – or at the very least, the possibility of being around her again more often. It took them a while to fall back into their regular old patterns, even if they were happy to be able to be together again. At first, Evelyn had worried that maybe being away for so long had changed her feelings for Éliane, but once they talked it over and figured things out, she settled in her new routine and got the hang of it.

 During that first year, Éliane moved out of her parents’ place and got one of her own, which Evelyn started spending more and more time at, since it was much closer to school and it also gave them more privacy than in their former bedrooms. She was there so often, in fact, that by the end of the first semester, she had her own spare key to the place, in case Éliane wasn’t around and she wanted to crash, and by the end of the second semester, Éliane casually asked her if she wanted to permanently move in with her.

 Evelyn had been surprised and shocked by the offer. She had thought about it, they had talked about it, but she hadn’t thought Éliane would ask her so soon. Then again, she supposed she hadn’t taken into account her girlfriend’s impulsiveness. Therefore, over summer break, Evelyn moved her stuff halfway across town and finally, she was settled in with Éliane.

 Her second and last year of her Master’s was just as interesting as her first and came with its own challenges and adaptations. For starters, there was the fact that she was now living with her girlfriend. For as much as it was great, for as much as she loved the idea of having a place that was her own and that she and Éliane could build together, there were also times when they’d find themselves butting heads over the most inane of things. It was a test and exercise in compromise, patience, and communication and even though they didn’t always get it right on the first try, they kept at it and eventually found solutions to their problems.

 Finally, eventually, she finished her program, somehow or other, and on graduation day, her parents, her sister, and Éliane were there to see her receive her diploma. There was something – oddly soothing about having them all there, about knowing that she could have this – that her parents were accepting and welcoming, that she had the chance and privilege to have this, when so many others did not.

 To celebrate the occasion, Mr and Mrs Murphy took them all out to a nice dinner and Evelyn thought it was the perfect ending to her academic career.

 It was only later, when they were back at their own place and her parents and sister had left that Evelyn received the surprise of her life.

 “I have a gift for you,” Éliane said, which surprised Evelyn, since her girlfriend had already given her a gift earlier that moment. Then again, Éliane was notorious for such things, so really, it shouldn’t have come as a shock. However, what did come as a shock was when Éliane walked up to her, got down on one knee and then proposed to her – ring and all – speech and hopeful smile included.

 And – they had spoken about this, before – had brought it up a handful of times under different circumstances; sometimes as a joke, other times seriously, but – it still took her by surprise for the simple reason that she hadn’t thought Éliane would ask her on the day of her graduation – or that Éliane would be the one to ask. If anything, Evelyn was convinced that she would have beaten her to it.

 She said yes, obviously, and Evelyn wondered if it was possible to bottle up the giddy feeling she felt inside of her and drink from it for the rest of her life.

 --

 Éliane put the photo album she’d been perusing down when she heard the front door open followed by Evelyn’s usual “I’m home!” She craned her head back in time to see her wife remove her motorcycle helmet and put it down before she passed a hand through her hair. Éliane couldn’t help but smile, fond and still so very much in love after all these years, as she watched one of her favourite daily spectacles.

 She greeted her back and then watched as her wife then removed her leather jacket and put down her messenger bag before removing her boots and making her way towards her. “Hi,” She said, smiling wider as Evelyn bent down to kiss her properly in greeting. They went through their daily exchange of “how was your day” and “you’ll never believe what happened when,” as Evelyn settled beside Éliane and made herself comfortable, slowly unwinding from her day.

 “What have you been up to?” Evelyn asked as Éliane carded her fingers through her hair.

 “I was doing some cleaning and stumbled upon our old high school album! Ended up doing a lot of reminiscing and got a little distracted,” She admitted with a laugh. Evelyn chuckled and rolled her eyes, far too used to her wife’s antics, but was nonetheless fond. Éliane was notorious for this, but it was endearing in its own way.

 “Yeah?”

 Éliane nodded and retrieved the aforementioned album from the pile of what turned out to be other photo albums and opened it up to a random page, “Look! There you are!” She said pointing at a photo of the theatre troupe.

 Evelyn took the album out of her hands and brought it closer to her face to get a good look, she groaned when she saw the photo, “Ugh, what was up with my hair?”

 “Hush you; you had very nice hair – you still have very nice hair,” Éliane reproached, taking back the album as though afraid Evelyn would say more bad things about her past self and somehow or other insult the album in the process.

 “You were very biased,” Evelyn teased, grinning wolfishly at her.

 “No – I just have impeccable taste.”

 Evelyn laughed and pulled her wife closer, despite her protests at being manhandled in such a way (even though they both knew it was mostly for show), before she pressed noisy kisses to the side of her face, “Very, very biased – so biased. So biased that there’s a photo of you beside the definition of the word, in the dictionary.” She went on, grinning, inches away from her lips, “The most biased, actually,” She added before kissing her softly. She felt Éliane cup her face and kiss her back, soft and pliant, and so welcoming and loving – like always, like it had been those first careful times what felt like a thousand lifetimes ago.

 “Just for you, darling,” Éliane murmured, moments later, when they parted to catch their breaths, “Always just for you.”

 Evelyn laughed and the sound of it thrilled Éliane who held her wife close, loving her more with each passing moment – with each breath she took. She still thrilled and marvelled that even so many years later, they still kept choosing each other, every single day and she knew that for as long as she lived, Evelyn would always have her.

 FIN

[bentenharuki]

I generally don’t do these but...

I will do this because it’s a badge of honor and a thank you for @todayintokyo who gives me a daily vibe out of my second fav Country in the world (first one is my own, of course. My messy, chaotic, genius Italy).

So for everyone interested (I won’t tag people either... if you are among my 250+ readers, do it as freely as you like to share this unexpected hard time along others. Sharing makes us all feel less stranded I guess :)) 

1. Are you staying home from work/school? Yep. My University (Milano Bicocca) holds in-house lessons and curses and also exams and testing are/will be online. What I miss most are the lab works and the exchanges with foreign schools. I took one a few months ago in London and I was supposed to have another in May but... NOPE, of course.

2. If you’re staying home, who’s there with you? I am alone in my apartment. At first it was supposed to be shared rent with somebody else but then my parents just bought this out and lent it to me. I know. I am spoiled. But very grateful for what I have. I always try to give back the best I can because no one has merits in being born in a family instead of another. (pieces of second-rate philosophy in all my LONG answers courtesy of my mum and her influence on me. She’s a University Professor and her field is.. guess what.. ETHICS PHILOSOPHY)

3. Do you have pets to keep you company? Nope. Not allowed. But I like cats. Cats. CATS. They are elegant, refined, very clean, and they give you consideration and affection ONLY if they like you. I prefer to conquer somebody’s love instead than to have it by default. Then I am naturally a cat person instead of a dog’s. But I like all animals (I like snakes as well, so my range is pretty wide ;)), even though I don’t feel missing any in  house. Generally I would be out of home most of the day and no pet would be happy in staying that much alone. I miss my grandparents’ kitty tho :)

4. Who do you miss the most? Family. Friends. Meeting new people when out. And... (is it fine to say it?) Well... in these lockdown times I miss... human touch. (You get what kind). I was seeing a guy when this all started and my old boyf also came back into the picture somehow. All on hold. And I avoid to think how that makes me feel because even in case I’d figure it out, what comes if one can’t act on the awareness? Exactly. So I put it all in a LONG pause. But yeah... I miss contacts. A LOT.

5. When was the last time you left your home? I go out every Thursday to buy all my grocery stuff. I am very methodic. My supermarket is pretty near and it’s BIG and I get there right before it opens (well... one hour almost before it opens, so I can be among the firsts in line). I look like a ninja: very sporty and technically dressed (like for a running competition!) with clothes and shoes which are easy washable, tech mask (it is for cycling competition, with filters specifically medical: the mask is washable as well after you’ve used it, while the filter is obviously not), cotton fit gloves and over them medical gloves (I can’t wear directly medical gloves because my skin is very sensitive and I suffer from nickel allergia, which makes latex gloves a NO NO directly on skin), teck googles which cover also the side of my face (those are from cycling items too) and of course PODS in my ear because I can’t live without music :)

6. What was the last thing you bought? I bought online a few garden tools for my biggest balcony. I have ZERO skill with plants (and I am supposed to become a biologist... the nerve! LOL) but I am keen at making grow at least rosemery for my recipes. I have a little peach tree and it is all fine so far. I have hope I can do better and anyway I have time now ;)

7. Is quarantine driving you insane or are you finally relaxed? I try to keep my routine as it was before. I wake up and perform all my tasks exactly as I was doing before this all started. I am VERY organized and to lax on that would ruin me, so I carefully focus on what I can control the best I can. It feels strange to say it maybe but... this way my mood isn’t particularly affected by this heavy revolution in my (and everyone elses’s) life.

8. Are you a homebody? NOPE. I love people, I love my Milan and its being always full of people everywhere. I love living in my town a TON, I love meeting friends anywhere, go dancing, I love to live my University life in this beautiful and renewed part of Milan; I like being surrounded by my people and meeting new ones. So being stuck at home would seem insufferable for me. But I learnt from this (there’s always something to learn in any experience) that I can be surprisingly ok with staying home too. I came to know better my neighbors. I feel a sense of community with everyone living nearby and I have come to love my domesticity too. It was a surprise for me first ^.^

9. What movies have you watched recently? In Italy, Italia 1 channel has had the WONDERFUL idea to rebroadcast all Harry Potter saga every Monday and Thursday. Today and tomorrow there are the last two installments, so I can say that is what I looked out the most for as in movie things these past weeks (funny how I never particularly adored the books of HP, I mean, I liked them but... being a Tolkien’s devotee Rowlings’ literary efforts always seemed lackluster to me.. and still I have always liked the movies. It’s incoherent I know ;)). But I have Sky at home so I can watch whatever movie I like to whenever I want to. And that leads to VERY little watch actually. I am reading a ton though. I watch what passes on in the National channels actually, out of digital and cable and decide to watch it or not. For instance last Friday Rai 1 (main Italian Channel) broadcasted one of my fav movies from the past three years, GIFTED (with Chris Evans and Octavia Spencer) and I rewatched it with immense pleasure.

10. An event that you were looking forward to that got cancelled? OLYMPICS. I was supposed to be back in Japan with a a couple of friends and my bro for experience the Olympics (especially the volleyball tournaments) between July and August and that got (of course) cancelled. We plan to move it all to next year of course. But it hurts SO MUCH because it was easily what I was looking forward to BEST for all 2020. Hands down.

11. What’s the best and worst thing you’ve had to cancel? Look up. For the other question, I never plan things I don’t like (or at least I try my best not to) and I almost never find myself in the position of being happy for something I had going on which I had to pass due to circumstances. I am a very honest (sometimes to the point of bluntness, though with age I got trained in the fine art of diplomacy, which for me is declined especially in the “IGNORE WHAT IS NOT WORTHY degree) person and if there is something I don’t like I tend to not get involved with it in the first place.

12. Do you have any new hobbies? Eh... the longest list... I love so many things. Sport don’t count as hobbies to me because I treat them as part of my daily life constantly. So take them off. I like to write, to draw, to paint... I like reading, I like learning... I am a tech geek; I like gaming (but that I have to cut it or it would absorb me too much)... I like TRAVELING (that is cut off too of course nowadays), and many other things so I guess I don’t literally have SPACE for new hobbies. My many ones makes it impossible to fall for new things though lately I am becoming a better cook out of needs ;)

13. What are you out of? My lists are made as soon my things become “two items in from having 0″. This way I can’t run out of anything. Did I say already I am a HUGE control freak? THAT ;)

14. What music are you listening to? My itunes collections lists so far 12376 ALBUMS. Then I have the random songs. Latest one I bought (because I buy them all) is Achille Lauro’s latest 16 Marzo 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yb-9RESbeWA

I am also listening a lot to one of my bro’s fav bands Radiohead and as usual a lot to my beloved Imagine Dragons. My mum and dad are also telling me to listen to Bill Withers (who recently passed away) whole discography because he was amazing. I love many music genres. I love ALL which makes the spirit soar and rage and evolve and love and cry and hope.

15. What are you reading? So far in quarantine I read 5 books. I have now to start ORIGINS by Dan Brown. I pick the books I have left unread randomly and that was the pick this time (people gift me with books constantly because they know I am a bookworm when I have spare time).

16. What are you doing for self-care? Keep loving myself and life and the world exactly the way I used to before this all started.

17. Are you exercising? Yup. Tapis roulant, golf training, stepper (all in my house lucky me) and mat and weight training. I have a routine for which I have to train at least one hour a day. NO EXCEPTION. I miss swimming but I will do. I am also in recovery after January’s knee meniscus intervention so my schedules are also taking that into consideration.

18. How’s your toilet paper supply? I'm OK. :)

19. Have you made any changes to your hair during quarantine? Nope. I love to stylize my hair but I don’t have specific cuts. It grows long and then I play with them hairstyles: braids, buns, ponytails, partitions and the likes.. But I have bleached hair and I had to follow my hairdresser advice because I can’t allow ugly roots to take dominance of me ^.^ So I bought the necessary to self bleach them. No need to say as soon as I will be able to, Hairdressers and Massages and SPA will be my first destination ^.^ (beside visiting family and friends of course).

I am fairly sure I put lots of typos and mistakes in this but I have my online lesson just starting in 8 minutes and I can’t review this (I generally never do it anyway). So forgive me and have a beautiful day ;)

STAY SAFE OUT THERE!!! Hugs K.

[starspatter]

Heroes and Thieves, Ch. 11

Title: Heroes and Thieves Fandom/Universe: BTAS, pre/post-RotJ flashback

Summary: A story about second chances, healing, and having hope.

Rating: PG-13, for references to character death, child psychological torture and trauma.

Genre: Romance/Family/Friendship/Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 4,380 Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

Also on ff.net and AO3.

There was a time when I was alone Nowhere to go and no place to call home My only friend was the man in the moon And even sometimes he would go away, too

-Ruth B, "Lost Boy"

————————–

Before.

“Batman, wait!”

Robin was too late; Batman had already charged ahead by ruthlessly breaking down the door to the house with the sole of his boot.  A low-key villain calling himself “Cluemaster” (whom Robin had incidentally never heard much of until now compared to the likes of Riddler or Joker, having supposedly gone “straight” for a couple years – at least according to Batman) had led them on a lengthy chase, and they ended up pursuing him all the way out to a small neighborhood in the suburbs.  As they infiltrated the dwelling, Robin hastily checked around to make sure no homeowners were present who could be caught in the fray – or worse, taken as collateral.

Fortunately the room was empty, aside from their glaringly orange-clad target in the middle of it, reaching for one of the plasti-glass pellets attached to the front of his costume. Batman had already anticipated the move though and launched forward faster than the other, lurching a blurred glove into his opponent’s throat, which caused him to drop the canister as his body was slammed hard against the wall.

“You’re under arrest for multiple counts of grand larceny, Cluemaster.  Or should I say, Arthur Brown?”

With his other hand, he grasped at the bandana covering the lower half of the man’s face, which had already come loose from the force of impact.  He jerked the rest of the kerchief off to expose a snarl under the guise, the owner evidently infuriated by the idea his identity had been so easily discovered.

“Now, where’s the money you stole?”

Arthur sneered.

“Why don’t I give you a clue to its whereabouts, and you can figure it out yourself, since you’re so smart?”

Batman growled as he grabbed his foe’s collar, lifting high into the air, letting free-dangling feet flail frantically.

“I don’t have time for these games.  Either you tell me voluntarily, or I’ll make you confess.”

Robin was getting anxious by the aggressiveness in Batman’s tone; making threats of violence wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but he’d been out of sorts all night, acting excessively and extremely hostile, leaping into enemy territory with heedless disregard to danger – to himself or those around him.  Sans his usual sangfroid.  He was starting to sound like that time Scarecrow dosed him with a gas that took away all his fear, resulting in Batman almost taking a henchman’s life.  It had taken all of Robin’s strength to haul him back up after Batman cut the line…

The current captive seemed to be getting panicky too, as he quickly changed his attitude, appealing to sympathy instead.

“Listen, I’ve got a wife and kid.  They’re asleep upstairs.  I just needed the cash to help support them.  We’re in a bit of a financial jam, y’see…”

Robin’s conscience wavered, recalling the time they had to prevent a penniless man from holding up a drugstore in order to obtain medicine for his daughter, who was simply sick with a high fever.  Of course this was theft on a much greater scale, but he still couldn’t help having some lingering empathy – especially based on his own past experiences dealing with poverty.

“That's one of the hardest things about this job, Robin.  Sometimes we have to stop someone from doing the wrong thing for the right reason.”

“…Daddy?”

As if on cue, all three revolved towards the top of the staircase, where a young girl with golden curls – probably about his age – was standing in bare feet and violet nightgown, beholding the scene before her with baffled eyes, big and blue and broad.

“Darling, why don’t you go back to bed?”  Arthur choked out, his own eyes bulging as cheeks turned indigo as well.  “You’re just having a bad dream.”

“Arthur?  What’s going on here?  I heard a loud noise…”

Robin swallowed as a woman emerged from behind the adolescent, gripping the girl’s shoulders as she drew her daughter in protectively, eyeing the pair of home intruders with fear and suspicion.  The situation was steadily turning from bad to worse.  He hurriedly bounded up the steps, trying to block at least the shorter one’s view with his arms and cape, acting as both shield and shroud.

“Both of you should stay back…”

Batman’s prey put on a pleading, pathetic look.

“Now now, you wouldn’t hit a guy in front of his family, would you?”

While his quivering lips pouted, his pupils seemed to flash triumphant.  Robin felt a sick chill in his stomach.  Had he set this up just to take advantage of innocent citizens – and his provider status for them – as an alibi?

Whatever the reason, Batman wasn’t falling for it.  While he slowly lowered his fist, he continued to glower viciously at his victim.

“I’m still taking you in. The police will be here soon, they can interrogate you.  And if you don’t admit to them, well…”  He leaned in close, crescent slivers narrowing.  Intimidating.  “They’ll just have to call me.”

With that, he twisted his prisoner around, pressing head harshly against partition again as he slapped a pair of handcuffs on.  Robin sensed the two frightened females peering over his shoulders, crying and clinging to each other as sirens started to wail outside, and the junior one almost looked like she was about to join them.   He thought about reaching out to try and comfort her, but a cold bark from Batman halted him.

“Let’s go, Robin.”

“But Batman-”

“Now.”

He was already halfway out the side exit when he said this, and, after a moment’s hesitation, Robin bit his lip and vaulted over the railing to race after him, cloak whisking out of sight just as officers began filing in.  As they headed back towards the Batmobile parked in the shadows close by, Robin hissed his irritation.

“You know, there were a million other ways you could’ve handled that.”

“I did what was necessary in order to get him to talk.  The police should have an easier time of it now.”

“Yeah, but did you have to do it while his wife and child were watching?  This is exactly the reason Nightwing left you, remember?”

Batman blatantly ignored the bold declaration of disapproval as his pager began to beep: a message from Batgirl, requesting backup.

“Armed robbery in progress, escalated to a hostage situation over on the north side.  We’re needed.”

“Did you even hear what I just said?”

Batman brusquely cut him off.

“We’ll discuss this later, at home.  Now get in the car.”

Robin grumbled, but grudgingly obeyed.

They never did discuss it though.  Concurring collectively, both Batman and Batgirl determined there were too many hired guns in the building, deeming it far too “risky” to bring Robin – the “kid” – along. …Plus it was a school night.  So Batman swung swiftly by the manor on the way, dropping Robin – Tim – off unceremoniously at the front gate despite loud and adamant protests, where Alfred was waiting to pick him up and march him straight on inside to get changed and ready for dinner.

“And ‘don’t forget to do your homework’,’” Tim mimicked Bruce’s reprimanding voice with a querulous whine as the vehicle sped off, leaving him in the dust.  “God, he still treats me like such a child.”

The butler patted his charge’s back consolingly, ushering within.

“Come along, Master Timothy. There are cookies and cocoa waiting for you inside – after you finish with your studies, that is.  We wouldn’t want to spoil your appetite, now would we?”

Tim shot an exasperated expression at the patronizing statement, but acquiesced.  Upon entering, he immediately tore off the mask and tossed it on the table in frustrated anger, flopping sullenly onto the couch without even bothering to remove the rest of the suit.  Alfred tutted, but made no remark as he disappeared into the kitchen, promising food would be served shortly.

As Tim gazed at the fireplace, he stewed over Batman’s earlier reckless – not to mention downright rude – behavior.  How could he even be so cruel and insensitive?  It wasn’t just the bossing around that bugged him, but he was genuinely rather troubled by Bruce’s mental state.  …Truth be told, he had a guess as to the cause for callousness.  He’d noticed a common trend in increasing indiscretion (and intractability) after their latest visit to Arkham, when they stopped by Two-Face’s cell following another escape – and subsequent suicide attempt.  Ever since he’d developed a third personality who judged himself guilty and sentenced to death for his sins, his condition had been gradually worsening.  It was to the point he – and his coin – had to be kept under constant watch and isolated lockdown.

Tim was never really sure how to feel about Two-Face (in the same way his chest was always confused and ached a little whenever he faced Clayface).  The man murdered his father; Tim supposed he should hate him for that. In addition, he’d even once mercilessly electrocuted Nightwing with a wire taser, forcing the senior superhero’s heart to completely stop.  …Had he not promptly administered CPR and literally brought his brother back from the brink of death, he might have lost another family member that day.

But, according to Dick, Bruce and Harvey had been good friends once – which explained why his guardian always bore a grieved semblance whenever they went up against Dent.  …Tim tried to imagine what it must be like, to watch one’s once close companion fight a losing battle against himself.  Clearly it was taking a capricious toll on the old man’s emotional and psychological well-being as well, making him far more mercurial and volatile – prone to violent vagaries.

Yet, even Tim recognized that didn’t excuse him taking it out on others, especially when it interfered with their work.  (Frankly that didn’t seem to be the only thing distracting recently either, given Batman and Batgirl had been ditching him more and more often as of late, citing his “immaturity” as pretense.  …But he didn’t really want to think about that right now.)  He was concerned about that girl as well.  Screw Batman, he should’ve stayed to try and talk to her.  At least give her some reassurance after witnessing such a harrowing event.

Making up his mind, he snatched his domino from the counter and was out the door (cautiously evading the security cameras he knew were watching overhead) just as Alfred came to call him for dinner.  Upon finding the parlor empty, and after exhausting all other options of where the lad might have gone to within the mansion (including underground area), the caretaker finally murmured in alarm.

“…Oh dear.”

…

It took Robin longer to get back by grapple alone, but eventually he made it to his destination. Descending on the rooftop from a nearby tree, he tiptoed towards a single annexed dormer window which jutted prominently from the tiles.  Testing the lucarne’s latch, it luckily wasn’t locked and slid open with relative ease. Silently slipping in, he was greeted almost instantly by an unpredicted punch to the face.

As he was thrown flat onto the bed, survival instinct triggered to roll over and try to fight back, but his own fists arrested when he saw his assailant was the same girl from before, glaring at him with mistrust.

“Who are you?!  Some kind of creepazoid stalker?”

“Whoa, whoa!  It’s me, Robin.  You know, from before?”

She stared at him, realization dawning.

“Oh.  …Sorry.  I didn’t know it was you.”

The way she said it, she still didn’t seem very impressed.

“…I’d hate to be someone you were expecting,” Robin muttered, rubbing at his sore jaw.

She folded her arms firmly.

“So?  What the heck are you doing here?  Again?”

“I- I just wanted to check and see if you were okay, after… all that.”

An eyebrow raised.

“And you thought coming in through the window was the best way to go about it?”

“…In hindsight that might not have been the best plan,” he acknowledged, repentant.  “Sorry.  Being with him tends to rub off on you.  I apologize if he scared you earlier.  He’s really not a bad guy.”

She exhaled, letting her limbs down.

“No, my father is, right? …It’s okay.  I know who and what my dad is.  He deserves to go to jail.”

Robin cocked in confusion at this unanticipated acceptance.

“But… He’s still your dad.”

“Yeah, and I hate him.” Her knuckles clenched, tightening. “He just wanted to use Mom and me to get away with his crimes.  We’re basically just tools, a means to an end for him.  He’s a total class-A jerk.”

Robin blinked, unsure how to respond to that.  He certainly hadn’t been prepared for this outcome.  An uncomfortable hush filled the chamber, which he idly noted details of as he glanced around nervously.  He’d never actually been in a girl’s room before, so he wasn’t sure what to expect.  He supposed the piles of stuffed animals and boy band posters were probably typical, though he was surprised to see some large prints of Superman lining the walls, and a bulletin board covered with newspaper clippings of Batman and Robin – mostly his predecessor – busting the Cluemaster’s previous petty heists.  She apparently wasn’t kidding when she said she had it in for her father.  (…The image felt almost eerily familiar, reminding of the days when he kept a similar chronicle in a corner of his own pops’ apartment, much to the old man’s displeasure.)

“…You’ve got weird taste for a girl,” he mused aloud.

“And you’ve got weird fashion sense for a boy,” she retorted, nose wrinkling.

“Hey, I didn’t design the suit,” he huffed defensively.

“And who did?  Your mom?”

Robin winced a bit, but bit his tongue.  “…Would you believe me if I said Batman?”

She sniffed.  “I mean seriously, what’s with that getup anyway? It’s so bright, it makes you look like a clown.”

Fed up with her criticism, he started to skulk back towards the outlet again.

“Look, I didn’t come here just to be insulted.”

A hand reached out to clasp his wrist, and he rotated to see her regarding him sincerely.

“Sorry, I was just joking. …You don’t have to leave.”

He gulped, blushing a little at the light touch.  The last time a girl held his hand like this for so long, she’d followed with a…

“Um, okay.”  He rubbed the back of his neck uneasily, growing tense as she inclined forward and grinned – before passing him by to hop onto the sill instead, sticking out her tongue at him.

“Ladies first.”

He whirled around in shock as she stepped out over the ledge.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?  That’s dangerous, get back here.”

“Relax, I do this all the time.  Besides, you jump around rooftops every night, don’t you?”

He impulsively climbed after her, keeping a careful eye on her footing, hovering close behind in case she fell.  But, true to her word, she did seem to have practiced this pattern many times before, effortlessly picking her way over the slates to the top, where she plopped down and petted the spot next to her.  Indicating invitation.  Tentatively, he took it and traced her wondering sightline to the stars above.

“…You know, I used to dream I’d see the Batman someday.  Drifting across the moon, dark against the night sky…”  She hugged her knees to her breast.  “This is the first time I’ve actually seen him in person.  For a second, I almost thought he was a monster.”

Robin remained quiet as she continued.

“But, my dad’s the real monster.  I know he’s hurt a lot of people – myself and Mom included.  He doesn’t care about us at all.”

“How come she doesn’t just divorce him?”

“She can’t afford a lawyer to kick him out.  He still owns the mortgage on the house.”

She smiled bitterly, drawing circles on the shingles.

“As a kid, I used to think about running away.  Getting on a plane and going somewhere far, far away from here.  Someplace exotic, where no one knows who I am or where I come from – like Africa.  …But, I could never do that to my Mom.  She’d be lonely if I left.  Even though she has some… ‘difficulties’, I still love her.”

She looked at Robin, who was still listening attentively.  Patiently.

“Sorry,” she mumbled in a slightly sheepish manner.  “I’m just making you sit through my random rambling.  I don’t usually get a chance to talk to anyone about this, let alone someone my age.  Having a lame, insane supercriminal for a dad isn’t exactly something I can tell all my friends at school.”

“It’s all right.  I wish there was more I could do to help…”

He replied, feeling as utterly useless – hopeless – as when he came across a bunch of homeless youths in his hunt for Annie after they’d gotten separated, the ragtag group of street rats sleeping together on a filthy mattress in an abandoned shelter; huddled under each other for warmth, sharing but one thin, dingy blanket between them.  (…The kind of neglected kid he could’ve easily ended up as had he not happened to be so lucky, to be “chosen” – caught before he slipped through the cracks into faded obscurity and was overlooked – forgotten – by society.)  There were some things punches and kicks just couldn’t fix.

“You’ve already done more than enough, thanks.  I’m grateful to you both for putting a stop to him.  …Even if it’s probably only temporary.”

“There has to be something that can be done though.”

“Really, you don’t have to go out of your way or anything.  Besides, why do you care so much anyway?”

He shrugged, surveying the distance.  “Maybe it’s because you kinda remind me of someone.”

She scanned his wistful countenance, scrutinizing closely.

“…Was she cute?”

“What- no.  I mean yes.  I mean, uh-” Robin stammered, flushing red as he was abruptly taken aback by the unexpected inquiry.  She giggled in snorting amusement at his oh-so-obvious reaction.

“Relax, Boy Wonder, I’m just teasing you.”

He coughed, regaining composure.

“To be honest, that’s not the only reason.  My dad wasn’t much of a prize either.  …Although he can’t compete with yours.”

“Ehhh?”  She gaped at him in astonished awe.  “But he’s so cool!”

“Huh?”  He puzzled for a beat, then it clicked what she was talking about.  “Oh, you think that Batman’s- no, he’s not my real dad.  I’m not even sure I would even go so far as to call him much of a ‘father figure’ actually.  He’s more like a… mentor?”

It was her turn to listen as he ruminated, reflecting.

“He saved me though. Took me in when I had no place else to go.  Gave me a second chance.  I’ve… done things I’m not exactly proud of either.  If he hadn’t found me, I’d likely be dead or in jail myself right now.”

Sensing a buzzing interruption from his waist – a warning summons from the butler no doubt – he consulted the timestamp in the corner of the display, and cringed upon calculating how much interval had elapsed in his absence.

“…Speaking of which, I should probably get back soon.  Batman’s gonna kill me once he finds out I’m gone without letting anyone know.”

Her forehead creased with contriteness.

“You didn’t have to go that far for me…”

“Hey, don’t sweat it. It’s the least I could do.”

She looked reluctant to end the conversation though.  He wondered if he was the first person she’d ever been this open to about her feelings. …After some thought, he fished around in a pocket and pulled out another spare backup communicator.

“Listen, don’t tell anyone about this; Batman doesn’t like me lending out tech.  But if you ever need anything, you can get in touch with me on this.  I’ll come as soon as I can.  …Only if it’s an emergency though.  He’ll really give me an earful if he finds out I’m using our gadgets for personal stuff.”

She looked down at the device in trepidation.

“Is it really okay for me to have this?”

“Yeah.  It’s no problem, don’t worry.  I know how to keep a secret.  And I’ll definitely stop by again sometime, so we can hang out some more if you want.  Whaddya say?”

Her eyes lit up, and- without warning, she flung her arms around him in an appreciative hug (that very nearly knocked him off balance).

“…Thanks, Robin.”

His hue embarrassed again, but he gently reciprocated the gesture.

“Hey, what are heroes for?”

After an awkwardly long minute, she propelled back from the embrace with a self-conscious laugh.  Once the rapid beating in both their ribs had calmed down (and she’d surreptitiously wiped some tears from her face), she afforded him a somewhat odd look.

“…What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s just… Calling you ‘Robin’ feels kinda weird.  It’s like a girl’s name.”

“Hey, it can be a boy’s name too,” he sulked in indignation.  “Besides, at least it is a name.”

She shook her head, concentrating intently on him as she contemplated.  After a bit, she brightened with sudden brilliance.

“I know!  I’ll call you ‘Peter’ – since you came in through the window.  …And ‘cuz of the tights.”

Robin blanched as she pointed playfully at his leggings.

“…I think I’d rather be called ‘Robin’.”

“Nope,” she cheerfully announced.  “You’re ‘Peter’ to me now.”

Robin sighed, but didn’t object further to the nickname.  It wasn’t like he could tell her his real title.

“Fine.  ‘Peter’ it is then.  …Does that make you ‘Wendy’?”

She smirked with a wink.

“If you want me to be.”

He blinked, clearing his throat as he stood up, almost stumbling over his heels as he backed up in haste.

“Right.  Well then.  Wendy.  …Guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah.  See ya.”

“…’Kay, bye.”

“’Kay, bye.”

He waved as he fired his grapple into the branches and swung away, and she merrily returned the motion. Elated, Robin’s spirit soared over heightening city structures back to the estate, performing as many flips and tricks as he could on the way.  …Although come to think of it, he had failed to ask for her actual name.  …Oh, well. There was always next time.

Rather than directly approach the porch or cave entrance, Robin thought about endeavoring to sneak back in through the second-story opening to his own bedroom, so he could pretend he���d been there all along.  …Unfortunately, as soon as he’d made it inside and detached his façade, he bumped straight into a severely stern-looking Bruce towering over him.

“Where the devil have you been?  We’ve been trying to contact you for the past hour.  Barbara’s out there searching all over for you right now.  Meanwhile I’ve had to help Alfred double-check every secret room and passage in the manor.  Do you know how long that takes?”

Tim merely shrugged.

“I went out for a stroll. Is that a crime?”

“In this house, it is. Do I need to start putting a tracer on your utility belt again?”

“No, sir,” he squeaked meekly.

Bruce heaved a grunt.

“Just hurry up and go get changed, young man.  Your dinner’s cold already.  Alfred made soup.  Make sure you apologize to him too, he’s been worried sick.”

“Yeah yeah, I hear ya, old man.”

“And did you finish your homework?”

Tim flinched.  He knew there was something else he’d forgotten.

“You had better get to it if you want to come patrolling with us tomorrow night.”

“I will.”

Before he vanished into the privacy of his enormous closet (which, in his own private opinion, was way too overly spacious – though no one would certainly hear him complain), Tim paused, calling softly back over his shoulder.

“Bruce.”

“What?”

“Thanks… for caring.”

…

About a month later, a couple men dressed in black arrived at the Brown residence, carrying grim, serious auras and stiff briefcases containing various important-looking official documents.  An obstinate Stephanie insisted on sitting down alongside her mother on the sofa as they discreetly disclosed the news she never once conceived she’d get to hear like this:

Her dad was dead.

Apparently he’d cut a deal while in prison, and became a part of something clandestinely known by a select few outside those in power as a “Suicide Squad”.  He’d perished while on a covert mission for the government, and – according to these strange men’s confidential report – he’d died a “heroic sacrifice”.

Stephanie didn’t know how to react.  What to feel. …How she was supposed to feel.

As she sat in her room, trying to write in her diary but coming up blank, her observation shifted to the window still left ajar each evening, through which a mild breeze blew. Opening her desk drawer, she retrieved the hidden miniature handset from the far back, tucked neatly behind all sorts of stationery.  She had avoided using it up to now, afraid of coming off as an annoyance.  …But she hadn’t seen Robin at all since then.  No one had.  Based on what she’d gathered from growing gossip, he’d been fully MIA over the course of the past few weeks, and rumors were starting to spread.  It was like his existence had been entirely erased, simply evaporated off the surface of the earth.  …She was worried about him too.

She pushed the button, hands shaking in mounting apprehension as she elevated to her ear.

There was a long, low hum of crackling static, before someone (presumably) picked up at last.

“…”

“Hello?”

“…Who is this?  How did you get access to this comm line?”

“I’m… a friend of Pet- Robin’s.  Is… he there?”

An extensive gap stretched.

“There is no more Robin.”

The pronouncement was deep. Disturbing.  Definite.

“Do not contact here again.”

With a final click, the other end hung up.

She tried, repeatedly – desperately – to dial back – but the machine seemed to have been remotely disconnected.  Slumping forward in defeat as she let go the last potential link – lifeline – she buried her face in her sleeves, and burst into sobs.

At length, she dried her sniffles and rose, dragging her feet to the wide frame.  Casting one last look of longing out at the pitch gloom, she shut the pane.  …Shutting out pain, and all the brief memories associated with it.

…

She never saw Robin again.

————————–

He sprinkled me in pixie dust and told me to believe Believe in him and believe in me Together we will fly away in a cloud of green To your beautiful destiny As we soared above the town that never loved me I realized I finally had a family

[mr-hawkmoth]

Cursed 8: Dear Chat

The long awaited chapter- in celebration of the end of the ML blackout enjoy!

AO3 

The inferno that killed the love of Marinette’s life had occurred over a week ago. There were warrants for Marinette’s arrest in just about every province in existence. Marinette’s cottage was destroyed and there was no possible way she could go home to her parent’ place. With pictures of her face posted on just about every tree and building Marinette could hardly show her face. As an alternative Marinette found a charm to cast on herself to disguise her identity. She had found it in a spell book filled with good luck charms- they reminded her of Tikki, her personal good luck charm who unfortunately had not made it out of the fire. As a testament to her long lost friend her disguise had a red and black polk a dotted theme. Once the charm took effect she stole off into the night on a broomstick she had re-appropriated from the school.

Since becoming the masked Ladybug Marinette had gone into hiding. In her free time she practiced her magic. Now and again when she was low on supplies she would sneak back on campus to ‘borrow’ food or bottles, or books. She slept in the trees, her stuff tied above the ground and hidden amongst the leaves. It made her difficult to find as well as improved her levitation and broom skills.

“Dear Chat, today wasn’t so bad. Well I shouldn’t say that, every day without you is bad but at least today I wasn’t chased by anything. My broom skills have gotten better, today I did a black flip of my broom and it came back around to catch me. I wish you had been there to see it. You probably would have laughed. I miss your laugh,” Ladybug sighed as she rolled over on the little mattress she had perched onto two thick branches. She looked towards the levitating pen and leather bound notebook she had ‘borrowed’ from the school. She wrote to Chat every day. It was her way of coping.

“I’ve gotten better at recreating things, food can be tricky sometimes. I can barely remember the last time I actually spoke to another person. It’s been so long…. I can’t risk going to town I mean I know I have a disguise on and everything but it’s kind of like when you were Chat, people would definitely give me odd looks if I wandered into town with a red and black polk a dot mask you know. Not that I have any right to complain, your curse was finally broken when I- I-,” Marinette choked up tears bubbling in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry for what I’ve done. I never meant to start that fire I just got so scared and I couldn’t control it- but that’s no excuse….I promise I’m going to fix this one day! I swear to you Chat I’m getting stronger every day. I almost brought myself back in time a full minute today! One day I’m going to be able to go back and save you, I promise,” Marinette whispered as she pulled her cloak tighter around her. She could already feel her eyelids drooping. She sent her book and pen off to it’s rightful tree as she drifted into sleep.

Two weeks. Two weeks and still Adrien prayed with every ring of his father’s wand that someone had seen Marinette. His father’s dungeon was so much better than her being dead. Since his father’s guards found no remains in the wreckage at her cottage Adrien had held on to the hope that Marinette by some miracle had made it out of the fire. Of course he would prefer to find her before his father did but unfortunately since his alleged kidnapping Gabriel was reluctant to let Adrien out of his sight. Adrien’s only saving grace was the ring Marinette had been able to bring the curse into. The cursed ring when called upon was able to turn him into Chat Noir and every night Adrien used this power to sneak out of his home in search of Marinette. Each night was more discouraging than the last but Adrien continued searching. He looked through the woods knowing Marinette wouldn’t be dumb enough to hide in the cities where there was a literal witch hunt for her head. Of course he never found her in the woods. When he was starting to lose hope, however, there was a sighting of a girl with pigtails breaking into the school and stealing several spell books.

Adrien knew it was a long shot, there were no pictures or video of the girl just an eyewitness account describing a girl with pigtails taking some spell books and flying out the window. Sure a lot of girls wore their hair in pigtails but Adrien couldn’t help but think ‘what if’. It took another week and a half to beg his father to let him enroll in the school and another two weeks after that to convince him that living on campus rather than commuting was more practical. He wondered the halls at night freely hoping that he would see her. He just needed to know that she was alive.

“Dear Chat,” Marinette yawned, “I’m having to multi-task now in order to write to you. I haven’t slept much lately. I’m desperate to get this time spell right. I have to see you again Adrien I-“ Marinette took a deep breath pausing her rummaging to compose herself. She had broken into the school for more supplies. She had been putting all her time and resources towards learning how to bend time and she wasn’t going to give up until she figured out how to go back and save Adrien. Of course she couldn’t stop writing him either- it was the only thing keeping her sane at the moment.

“I can go back four full minutes now. I know it’s not much but it took me weeks to to make it to thirty seconds and now I’m gaining a minute a week. I swear to you I’m going to figure this out. I had to ‘borrow’ more supplies from the school again. I forgot I was out of food and I ran out of decent beakers an hour before. I’ve been looking into potions too. They won’t take me back in time but I thought it might be a good idea to find a memory potion maybe if I could just watch everything in slow motion again I could figure out the best way to get you out before I go back,” Marinette explained as she rifled through a couple vile’s in the potion’s supply closet.

“Marinette?” A voice from behind her asked causing Marinette to jump. The book fell from the air hitting the floor with an audible plop and a clack of the pen. Slowly Ladybug turned around. The world around her froze. Standing in the doorway was none other than Adrien Agreste- her Chat. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest and briefly she wondered if she had finally lost it. But there he was his blonde hair a beautiful mess, his emerald eyes ringed with dark circles. Before her eyes the hopeful smile on his face fell. Marinette’s erratic breathing hitched as she took a hesitant step towards him. He can’t be real, She thought.

“I’m sorry I thought- I thought you were someone else,” Adrien whispered, his face crestfallen. Marinette wanted nothing more than to make him smile again- to fix whatever was plaguing him. She could scarcely believe he was alive. Maybe she had gotten less sleep than she thought and this was all happening in her head. Or perhaps she was dreaming, fallen asleep while reading her spell books.

“Adrien?” She breathed reaching out towards him.

“M. Agreste what are you doing wandering the halls at this hour!” A stern voice asked jarring Adrien’s attention away from Ladybug clad girl with pigtails.

“I’m sorry Monsieur I just I um-“ Adrien fumbled for an excuse as he looked back towards the girl but she was already gone. In her hasty escape however she left a leather bound notebook abandoned on the floor. “I just um left my notebook in here and came back to get it!” Adrien lied.

“Very well.” His professor nodded as Adrien went and picked up the abandoned book. This girl may not be Marinette but maybe she knew something, maybe she even knew where Marinette was.

It wasn’t until the next day that Marinette realized her notebook was missing. The same notebook that had all her letters to Chat in it. Marinette panicked for several reasons: 1. she was fairly certain she had left the notebook at the school, 2. the method of coping she had used for so long was missing and 3. if anyone found the notebook the school would be on lockdown as a witch hunt scoured the woods in search of her. Marinette had to go back to the school to get it but she couldn’t go back until light’s out. Waiting was agonizing, however, during that time Marinette had a lot to think about like the fact that the love of her life whom she believed to be dead, was alive. Adrien was alive. Chat was alive! And he had no idea who she was.

Marinette yearned to see him. After all this time she needed to touch him, just to make herself believe that he was real. She had to find him, but how? He was obviously staying at the school but he could be anywhere- he could be in any cottage or any dorm and she had no way of knowing which. Come on Marinette think- you can figure this out. What is the most likely place he would be?! Marinette pushed herself to concentrate. His father believed him to have been kidnapped so cottages are out unless there are guards standing at the door. Dorms would be more likely- more on campus security (however poor it may be). He wouldn’t be a first year so that eliminates the west wing dorms, leaving the east wing as the most likely place for him to be living. But there were still dozens if not hundreds of rooms he could be in. Marinette groaned in frustration as she buried her face in her hands. She couldn’t very well go knocking on every door without causing problems. Her only hope would be to simply run into him again when she went to retrieve her book.

At least he’s alive, She told herself. She would figure this out. Maybe she could find a potion for X-ray vision or a more specified locator spell. Whatever she had to do to see Adrien again she would do it. She had already lost him once- she wasn’t going to lose him again.

Dear Chat,

My heart feels empty. I don’t know how to go on anymore. I’m so sorry for what I’ve done. I love you.

- Marinette

Dear Chat,

Police were searching for me today. I almost let them take me. I deserve to be in a dungeon. I don’t deserve to walk free in the world I took you from.

- Marinette

Dear Chat,

Today I cried a lot. I was loud enough to wake up a giant, had to run for my life. Reminded me of when we had to run from that troll. I never understood why you felt compelled to address him about his ‘hat’. I mean I know boots aren’t proper hats but the guy was three times your size! And he most definitely did not appreciate the joke you made about his face resembling a foot. I think that was about the time he started chasing us. Well in case you were wondering giants are a lot faster than trolls and sometimes they use entire trees as clubs! I could almost hear what you would have said if you were there. ‘Hey ugly  I could camp out in those caves you call nostrils’. ‘Do you play basketball?’ ‘Are you the Jolly Green Giant because I’ve got to say you’ve let yourself go.’  I swear those were funnier when I pictured you saying them in my head. I miss your puns- I never thought I would see the day where I said that but I do I miss all of it- the puns, the jokes, your smile, the way you would meow when you were a cat. I just miss you.

- Marinette

Dear Chat,

I don’t know how but I’m going to find a way to bring you back to me. I can’t live with myself knowing that your death was my fault. I’m going to fix this.

- Marinette

Dear Chat,

I ‘borrowed’ some spell books from the school. Maybe I will return them one day when I can walk through the doors rather than climb through the windows. I’m looking for something- anything that will bring you back.

- Marinette

Dear Chat,

Went into town for supplies today, in disguise of course, it did not go as planned. Apparently wearing a mask is just as bad as being a wanted criminal. I was chased out by a mob. Looks like I’m going to have to continue ‘borrowing’ from the school. At least I tried to be honest right? I’m sorry. Maybe I should just turn myself in but I just can’t do that if there is any chance that I could bring you back. Maybe it’s wishful thinking but I have to try. I can’t bear the thought of giving up on you… I love you Adrien.

- Marinette

Dear Chat,

I figured it out! Time! Time! I can go back in time and rescue you! It’s not easy to do and it’s going to take a while before I can travel back whole days and by then I will probably need to be traveling back in time weeks but I will get there. I’m going to fix all of this! I’m not going to let you down. I’ve already started practicing! I can do a couple seconds at a time- it isn’t much but it’s a start!

- Marinette

Dear Chat,

Today was  a bad bad day. I’m sorry I didn’t write yesterday I got thrown into a dungeon, not your fathers, but another local warlock of power. He caught me trespassing on his property and stealing herbs- which I don’t think it’s stealing if you didn’t plant it yourself and there is no fence protecting the plants. Really the area was almost miles from his actual home but I guess it was still his ‘property’. So anyways I spent the night in a dungeon. It was not fun. I still don’t have the hang of this magic thing when my emotions go hay wire. I panicked. A couple guards ended up unconscious. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone! I’m so sorry Chat. I didn’t mean to do this! I didn’t mean to hurt you either. Everything is so wrong. I checked up on the guards later, after I had escaped, they are going to be okay. I still feel awful. I need to learn how to control this Adrien. I don’t want to live like this. I don’t want to hurt people.

- Marinette

The notebook the girl had left behind was filled with letters from Marinette all addressed to him. there was an entry for almost every day they had been apart, a few had two entries a day. Some had ideas for spells and potions to help get him back to her. Some were just writings about memories of times shared together. Others were confessions of love and heartbreak over what she had done. From what Adrien gathered Marinette believed she had killed him in the cottage fire. He couldn’t imagine the guilt she must be feeling. With every entry he read he wanted nothing more than to wrap her up in his arms and promise to make everything okay again. He had to find her, to tell her he was alive, to hold her, to see her. She was alive and there was only one person who could help him find her before his father. Ladybug. She was the one with the notebook, she could lead him right to Marinette.

[viollettes]

“Two Weeks”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: A narrative that explores how Steve copes after your tragic death.

notes: implied character death (reader), a failed attempt at writing sad things

A/N: thank you to @buckyywiththegoodhair​ for beta-reading this mess. i adore you, and god rest this old bitch’s soul.

One week has passed since you left New York for a month-long guest curatorship in Germany. Before leaving, you kissed Steve goodbye and promised to return in one piece.

One week has passed since HYDRA agents infiltrated the museum. They put the entire museum on lockdown, claiming it had World War II documents that were essential to the HYDRA agenda. Even the Avengers wouldn't stop their mission to obtain these documents, they declared.

One week has passed since a certain HYDRA agent recognized your face from a tabloid, the headline screaming “Captain America Finally Finds Love!” He also deduced your title as one of the United States' leading experts on Nazi Germany. It was the perfect coincidence.

One week has passed since HYDRA attempted to use you as a bargaining tool. "Give up the documents, and we'll let you go back to your precious boyfriend," they said. Much to their surprise, behind your simple dress and ballet flats was a woman not afraid to kick men in the balls, both figuratively and literally. You proceeded to do the latter.

One week has passed since the Avengers compromised the guards and rescued most of the hostages at the museum. Only one remained, but when it became clear that they're wouldn’t gain access to any of the documents, HYDRA decided to inflict pain in the best way they knew how - by taking away the remaining innocent life.

One week has passed since your tragic death. One week has passed since Steve Rogers buried the love of his life.

Everyone is shocked at how well Steve is dealing with the tragedy. Though he's a bit quieter, he seems to be his usual, collected self. He insists that he's fine and carries on with his daily routine. It's odd, especially because the super soldier is well-known for wearing his heart on his sleeve. Even Bucky is confused by his best friend's calm demeanor.

"Should we force it out of him? Blast some Metallica and have him exert his true feelings onto a punching bag? Tony, you installed the new speakers in the gym, right?"

"I did, but that’s a bad idea. Cap's already ruined about ten punching bags, and I haven't upgraded the punching bag hook yet."

"But what he really is fine? What if he’s really okay?"

"The man just lost his girlfriend, the woman he was and probably still is infatuatedly in love with. There's no way he's fine. He's repressing his emotions," Sam theorizes.

Natasha tilts her wine glass in Sam's direction. "I agree. This whole," she pauses and gestures as she tries to come up with an accurate term, "charade is out of character for him."

Clint clears his throat. "No one really knows what's on Cap's mind so -"

"Actually -"

Firmly shaking her head, Wanda holds up her finger and silences Tony. "No, I said I'm not digging into people's minds unless it's for the greater good," the Sokovian says, a slight ice lacing her gentle tone. She proudly smiles while Tony holds up his hands in both understanding and mock surrender.

"Let's just be there for him. Tony, I know this is an impossible request, but please refrain from being an asshole," Clint warns.

Over the course of the week, the Avengers do exactly that. Even though both of them are clueless about art, Sam and Bucky buy year-long passes and offer to take him to the exhibits. Wanda fills the pantry with the tasteless, healthy snacks that no one but Steve likes while Vision has the blonde's coffee ready every morning. Bruce leaves vitamin supplements specially created for Steve's serum-enhanced body at his door. Nat and Clint offer to accompany Steve on his ridiculously early runs - something the two assassins refused to do in the past.  Even Tony is on his best behavior, biting down on the witty remarks that have potential to trigger.

But Steve continues to insist that he's fine. He claps a hand on the respective Avenger's shoulder and gives a gentle squeeze before returning to whatever he was doing.

Friday rolls by. Two weeks have passed since your death.

"Cap, um... I hate to be the bearer of bad news..."

Sam uncomfortably shifts his weight from one foot to the other, bearing the posture of someone who has to deactivate a ticking bomb. Steve looks up from the mission reports. "It's fine, Sam. Just say it," he encourages.

"Erm, (Y/N)'s former landlord called. She needs us to clean and sort out the apartment."

The light in Steve's eyes slightly dims as he takes in this information. This is the first time anyone's said your name out loud since the funeral, and it sounds a little foreign coming from Sam's mouth. But something pangs in Steve's heart, and all of a sudden his chest starts to hurt. He forces himself to smile and says, "I'll head over there later tonight. Thanks, Sam."

"Hey," Sam murmurs, waiting until Steve looks up from the mission report again. "If you want, a few of us could go with you and help."

Hesitation lines the super soldier's eyes, but he slowly nods. "Okay. I'd appreciate that."

The chest pains grow in intensity when Steve steps into the small one-bedroom apartment, and a shiver runs up his spine as he takes in the place you called a second home. Memories float around everywhere, haunting almost every piece furniture or decor.

The kitchen island rings of lazy Sunday mornings. You always hopped into the island while Steve made breakfast. Standing in between your legs, your arms winding around his neck, he could never resist planting sweet kisses all over your face. The pancake batter would be long forgotten as the kisses turned hot and frantic.

The baby succulents lined up on the window frame speaks of trips to the farmer's markets. Knowing you were notorious for being an unintentional plant killer, Steve made a point of gifting you with plants you couldn't kill.

The couch holds memories of embraces. Whether they were sinfully infused with desire or meant to seek comfort, Steve loved to hug you, claiming that your hugs had the power to placate him and bring peace like nothing else could.

Bucky taps Steve's shoulder, bringing the blonde back to reality. For the second time today, Steve forces a smile onto his face. "I'm going to clean her room. Do you guys mind doing the living room and kitchen for now?"

"Go, we got this."

Your room is a treasure cove filled with knick knacks and books, but the first thing that comes into Steve's line of sight is your beloved vintage film camera. You had a knack for film photography, and he was your favorite subject.

Steve walks over to your desk, two photos neatly placed on top of a thick textbook capturing his attention. He carefully holds up the photos by the edges - a habit you've instilled in him.

The first photo was taken the day the city flooded the streets to celebrate the victorious return of the Avengers. Still clad in his stealth suit, Steve is rushing towards the viewfinder, happiness etched on his face. A number of people are reaching out to congratulate him, but Steve only has eyes for the camera. Well, the person behind the camera, that is.

Steve flips the photo over, a soft snort of laughter huffing out of his nose. In addition to the date, you'd written out the second stanza of Walt Whitman's "O Captain! My Captain."

O Captain! My Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up -for you the flag is flung- for you the bugle trills; For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths -for you the shores a-crowding;

The second photo is less hectic. It's a candid of him leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed against his chest. He's looking off into space with remnants of laughter on his lips.

The blonde flips the second photo over to read what you've written as the description. It's one word, but it's powerful enough to make his heart crumble.

Home.

"This wasn't too bad... I guess it helped that she was a neat minimalist."

"True. Natasha, everything good with Stark?"

"Mmhmm. He's arranged for people to pick up the boxes and donate them to schools, women's shelters, the Salvation Army, the museum, library... A lot of people will benefit from her things."

"Classic (Y/N). Always helping others."

Scanning the rest of the now-empty living room and kitchen, Natasha lets out a satisfied nod. "Okay, we should check in on Steve and see how he's doing with the bedroom."

Bucky pushes himself off the ground and tosses Sam the roll of duct tape he was using. "I'll do it. Finish this box up for me?"

The brunette wanders down the short hallway of the apartment and gently knocks on the closed door, but Steve doesn't answer. Bucky pushes open the door and he opens his mouth to speak, but the view in front of him immediately halts his steps and words.

Steve sits on your bed, silently sobbing and clutching your favorite sweater to his chest. His chest heaves up and down, his silent sobs turning from violently loud. Inhuman wails come from deep within his soul. The dam inside him has finally burst open, and every emotion he swiftly blockaded in the back of his heart spills out with fury. Each gasp claws through his throat and sends him deeper into a storm of loss and grief.

Two weeks have passed since your death, and Steve Rogers is finally unleashing his pent-up emotions.

His heart and head kaleidoscopes with memories both good and bad. The time he returned his old Cap uniform, only to be stunned into awe while you berated him for stealing from the museum. Your smile that sang of sunshine and spice and easily became his favorite thing about the twenty-first century. How his blood ran cold at the sound of a gunshot, only growing colder when finding your lifeless body a few minutes later. The heavens mourning through rain on the day he put you to rest.

It hits him that you wouldn’t be able to fulfill your promise of returning to him. No more kisses on the kitchen island, no more trips to the farmer's market, no more warm cuddles on the couch. All remnants of you are being packed away in boxes and given to other people. All that will remain of you are intangible memories and the love he had for you in his heart.

Two weeks have passed since your death, and all Steve can do is cry his heart out for the one who was unjustly and tragically whisked away from him.

[trendingnewsb]

Dear America: Kids doing active-shooter drills is not normal.

Image by Tatiana Cardenas/Upworthy.

As thousands across the nation prepare to take to the streets on March 24, 2018, for The March for Our Lives, we’re taking a look at some of the root causes, long-lasting effects, and approaches to solving the gun violence epidemic in America. We’ll have a new installment every day this week.

I was teaching in a high school classroom when the Columbine shooting happened.

In between periods, a student rushed into my room and turned on the television. As other students shuffled in, they caught the scene on TV and stopped in their tracks.

Together we gaped silently at aerial footage of teens pouring out of their school, covered in their classmates’ blood. News reporters struggled to offer details about the shooter or shooters, still unclear if the carnage had ended. Still unsure of the body count.

I looked around at my 15- and 16-year-old students, their eyes wide with a mix of shock and fear. Even the goofy class clown stared somberly at the screen. I considered whether it was prudent to let them see all of this, but the only difference between that high school and ours was geography. Those bloodied students could have been my students. They knew it, and I knew it.

It seems commonplace now, but that was a feeling I’d never felt as a teacher before. And I’d only felt something similar once as a kid.

Tom Mauser walks along a wall at the Columbine High School Memorial; his son Daniel was one of students killed in the Columbine shooting. Photo by Don Emmert/Getty Images.

I remember when I was little, sitting huddled in a ball under my desk, imagining the classroom around me exploding.

It was the early 1980s. I must have been 6 or 7. My class was doing a nuclear-blast preparation drill, a hallmark of the Cold War era in which I was born. I remember staring at the thin metal legs of my desk, wondering how they were supposed to protect me from a bomb going off.

Nuclear annihilation — not being gunned down in school — was the big concern of my childhood. Such duck-and-cover drills disappeared by my middle elementary years, so the threat felt short-lived. Of course, a nuclear blast is always a terrifying thought, but somehow, I just knew it wasn’t likely to happen.

I imagined it, though. And the imagining alone shook me as a young child. Sometimes I look back and wonder how Americans lived like that for so long.

A kindergartener in Hawaii hides under a desk during a lockdown drill. Photo via Phil Mislinski/Getty Images.

Kids in high school now have been doing active-shooter lockdown drills their entire childhoods.

The year after Columbine, my husband and I started our family, and I left teaching. I chose to homeschool my kids, and though lockdowns weren’t part of that decision, the lack of active-shooter drills has been a significant perk of homeschooling.

Unlike nuclear preparation drills, active-shooter drills are meant to prepare kids for something they know has happened multiple times. They’ve heard the news stories. Some kids have been through the real thing themselves.

I try to imagine it — my sweet 9-year-old boy huddled in a closet with 20 of his classmates, forced into unnatural silence as they wait for the sound of a would-be shooter trying to enter their locked classroom. I can see his face, the very real fear in his eyes. I can honestly feel his racing heartbeat.

It guts me just to think about it.

An elementary school teacher (who requested anonymity because the internet is ridiculous and she’s received death threats) posted a description of a recent active-shooter drill in her classroom. The post has been shared close to 200,000 times and for good reason. It’s a simple description of an unfathomable reality.

“Today in school we practiced our active shooter lockdown. One of my first graders was scared and I had to hold him. Today is his birthday. He kept whispering ‘When will it be over?’ into my ear. I kept responding ‘Soon’ as I rocked him and tried to keep his birthday crown from stabbing me.

I had a mix of 1-5 graders in my classroom because we have a million tests that need to be taken. My fifth grader patted the back of the 2nd grader huddled next to him under a table. A 3rd grade girl cried silently and clutched the hand of her friend. The rest of the kids sat quietly (casket quiet) and stared aimlessly in the dark.

As the ‘intruder’ tried to break into our room twice, several of them jumped, but remained silently. The 1st grader in my lap began to pant and his heart was beating out of his chest, but he didn’t make a peep.”

Image via Facebook, used with permission.

Seriously. These are babies we are putting through this. (Well, not literal babies, but still.)

And these drills can be even more terrifying than you might imagine.

At a high school in Anchorage, Alaska, an officer used the sound of real gunfire — blanks shot from a real gun — during active-shooter drills. The idea was that kids would learn what actual gunfire sounds like so they can act quickly when they hear it.

“We don’t want to scare them,” the principal, Sam Spinella, told CNN affiliate KTVA. “We want this to become as close to reality as possible.”

I am dumbfounded. Those two sentences make zero sense together. We’re not talking about a police training academy here — we’re talking about an average day in high school. The reality they are trying to prepare them for is scary — how could a preparation “as close to reality as possible” not be?

A recent article in The Atlantic examined the psychological effects of active-shooter drills on kids. Surprisingly, not a lot of research has been done on the subject. All we really have are reports of young adults who grew up with them.

One interviewee described a memory of his classmate coughing during a lockdown drill when he was 12. Their teacher reacted by telling the class that in a real shooter situation, they’d all be dead now.

Yeah, probably not the best way to handle that.

But what is the best way to prepare children for the possibility of a gunman trying to kill their classmates, their favorite teacher, their best friend?

We want kids to feel safe and secure. We don’t want to scare kids as we prepare them for something that is undeniably scary. But is it smart to scare them a little bit in order for them to understand the seriousness of the drill? And if kids aren’t scared at all — if they are totally unfazed by active-shooter drills — how can we justify them being so desensitized?

Ugh. This is not normal. This should never feel normal.

And yet, this is normal. In fact, some people tell me they feel comforted by the preparation.

I talked to a handful of teens and young adults who grew up with lockdown drills. One described a series of bomb threats at her high school, which she said were scary at first, but eventually became a “boy who cried wolf” situation. Another described intruder drills as simply preparing for the unexpected, not much different than an earthquake or tornado drill.

One high schooler, Joe Burke of Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, told me about the first lockdown drill he remembers in the fifth grade. He and his classmates huddled under computer desks along the wall, knees hugged to their chests, with the lights off and door locked:

“When we were sitting under the desks, I had a slight bit of doubt in the idea. To my fifth-grade self, it didn’t seem like the best idea to just be hiding if someone were to come in and try and hurt us. It would only take a few seconds of searching to find 25-plus kids and a teacher all cramped under those tables. … At the time, I automatically assumed that the adults knew more than we did. I figured that we were much safer than I realize we actually were, in retrospect.”

Burke said the new ALICE training his high school has implemented has made him feel better prepared and is “a massive step in the right direction.” (ALICE is a for-profit training program that has been implemented in schools across the country. Here’s an interesting analysis of the praise and criticism of it.)

Joe Burke spoke at his high school’s walkout on March 14, 2018. Photo via Christine Burke, used with permission.

Joe’s mother, Christine Burke, said that she has made it a point to talk to her kids about active shooter situations in detail:

“After Parkland, I sat with my 15-year-old son and showed him the footage of the shooting inside the building. We talked about how the smoke from an AR-15 would disorient his way out, that the gun would be loud, that screaming classmates would make it hard to hear instructions. We talked about how his phone need not be a priority (no filming the scene, no taking pictures) but that he should use it as a means of communication only if he could. And we talked about how the ALICE training would feel in a real situation. That conversation with my son chilled me to my bones because I realized that this is the world we live in now. I have to talk to my son about his algebra grade and about how loud an AR-15 sounds when fired in a classroom.”

Christine, like many parents, finds herself navigating surreal waters. We have accepted the inevitability of school shootings to the point where we actively prepare our kids for them.

Generally speaking, preparedness is good. Preparedness is smart.

And yet, how can we accept that this is the reality for children in America? Parents across the country constantly say to themselves, “We shouldn’t have to do this. Our kids shouldn’t have to do this.” And yet, they do.

Christine Burke (left) and her friend Jen were the only two parents who joined her son’s school walkout for National School Walkout on March 14, 2018. Photo via Christine Burke, used with permission.

Is this really the price we have to pay for freedom?

We’re supposed to be a fantastic, developed country, aren’t we? We pride ourselves on being a “shining city on a hill” a leader among nations, a beacon of freedom to all people.

There is no official war happening on American soil. We are not a country experiencing armed conflict or revolution or insurrection. And yet we live as if we are.

People in other countries look at our mass shootings and what we’ve attempted to do about them and think we are out of our ever-loving minds. I’m right there with them. As a former teacher and current homeschool parent, I feel like I’m peering in from the outside with my jaw to the floor at what we’ve accepted as normal for our children.

I’m a fan of the U.S. Constitution and don’t take changes to it lightly, but maybe it’s time to accept that the Second Amendment has not actually protected our freedoms the way it was designed to. We are not a free people when our children have to hide in closets and listen for gunfire as they imagine themselves the next victims of a mass-murdering gunman during math class.

This is not normal. This should never feel normal.

Kids who have repeatedly and systematically prepared for carnage in their classrooms are taking to the streets, to the podium, to the media — and soon to the polls — in a way we haven’t seen in decades.

It’s easy to see why. These teens have spent their childhoods watching the adults in charge respond to the mass murder of children by simply preparing for more of it. And they’re done.

I’m unbelievably proud of the way these young people are organizing, saying #NeverAgain and pushing for effective gun legislation. Their efforts have convinced the governor of Florida to break with the National Rifle Association and sign a sweeping gun control bill. (Though not perfect, it’s a big step for the “Gunshine State.”) Companies feeling the pressure and momentum have broken ties with the NRA as well.

I can’t help but note how these kids’ successes highlight previous generations’ failure on this issue. The time for taking real action was long before Parkland, Sandy Hook, or even Columbine. But I feel the sea change coming.

These young activists give me hope that maybe future generations will look back in wonder at how we lived like this for so long.

For more of our look at America’s gun violence epidemic, check out other stories in this series:

How the U.S. put an end to plane hijacking and why gun reform advocates should take note.

The next time someone blames mass shootings on mental illness, send them this.

Parkland kids are changing America. Here are the black teens who helped pave their way.

Answer 3 questions to find out which gun violence action plan is right for you.

And see our coverage of to-the-heart speeches and outstanding protest signs from the March for Our Lives on March 24, 2018.

Read more: http://www.upworthy.com/dear-america-kids-doing-active-shooter-drills-is-not-normal

from Viral News HQ https://ift.tt/2rhkOaW via Viral News HQ

[yeehawkins]

ok holy shjt my dream last night

most likely very long so

me and two other people were whisked away to some magical over-the-top holy shit amazing resort that may have also been a school (think of the ss tipton from suite life on desk, but as a mega land resort), i think if you stayed there long enough you got uniforms? i wanna say they were vaguely ho.gwa.rts-esque but idk for sure

and we stay there a few days, but then shit gets weird

we went to some boutique in the resort, and one of the girls tried on an outfit and loved it, and wanted to walk down the street to show her family (i guess they lived close)

she screamed at us from the street saying “i can’t leave!”

we repeated it out loud and right as she confirms it, the place goes into lockdown

there’s safety rooms opening from the walls (they were like the width of an ironing board and were barely big enough for one person to fit in), that or that was the door sizes that just led to actual rooms where we huddled down

people began screaming (namely the workers), stuff about how “WHY CANT WE LEAVE” and/or “YOU CANT EVER LEAVE.” “WHY WOULD YOU LEAVE”

after a calm creepy lecture of why we shouldn’t think about leaving, we are taken off of lockdown and acted like nothing happened

but me and the girls knew

this place brainwashes you, and they also most likely kill people/make them into slaves to work there

so in response to this, i turn myself into rick (no i didn’t become an alcoholic, i literally just, shapeshift), only i guess my powers were weakened here because i never felt like him (still felt like i was in my body (aka short, i perceived myself as me, but others would see me as rick)), and for the first day i had to do an impression of him instead of just naturally sounding like him with the change (this hurt my throat very badly, but the voice came naturally the next day

i turned myself into him because i knew he wouldn’t get brainwashed, and he always had access to technology that could help us escape

i guess no one noticed that “i” was gone and this old dude is now there (maybe i wiped/changed their memory?) so it just went about normally then

my friends were struggling to not become brainwashed but i knew i still had time, so i did a few things

chatted up the 2nd owner who was named John Snow (he had no relation to the guy from the show (and his name was spelled like that)), asking a few things

if there was any kind of social media/internet allowed here. he said yes, he said a few, and then he mentioned this like snapchat that they made just for the place (and asked me to add him, i was not able to get the download code)

if i could send my grandson here. he says absolutely, just make this care package thing and it’ll bring him here (bc of course i need morty in on this)

tried to get on the good side of the owner(s), which involved a thing everyone eventually does there where they lock up everything (i think this is like, the final stage of brainwashing but i had a plan to escape)

locking up involved collecting an amount of keys that basically looked like weird giant bottle caps, and they all had words on them. and once you collect them all you bring them to john, tell him the theme connecting all the words, and then you get to follow him to the gate to lock up the front, and this had to be done before a certain time/curfew (which i believe was either 9:30, 10:00, or 10:30)

you seem extra good when you volunteer to do this, so i did, figuring morty would be there in time to help

john lets me take a picture of the words i need to collect (everyone else usually just gets a list but because i was being so cool to him he let me take a pic (also tried to take a picture of the not-snapchat code, couldnt for some reason bc dream logic does not like cameras. because of this logic my photo of the words was also a bit blurry, the further down the list the less you could see, the last few were covered by other papers))

i had 20 keys scattered through 20 rooms, and there happened to be 19 rooms in my section of the resort, and then the whole pool area

i had no clue what i was looking for or where, but the very first key was “TAN”, so i of course go into the pool area, and i spend like 10 minutes looking for just this key

so i then look in my room, and i find another, but it looks different from the TAN key (the tan one was more button shaped), but i continue to other rooms not knowing what to look for (until the next room has one that looks like the one from my room)

i just collect everything vaguely shaped like what im looking for that also had words on it

and one of the places i started picking up speed in finding keys was in joe bidens room. specifically his room and his kids room (in my dream he had 2 very young daughters), he was cool and was like “yeah rick you can do this” (i feel like he secretly knew what was going on and was cheering for me), and i had to say hi to his kids and ask if i could go in their room and get something and they agreed. i had to step over a lot of toys on the ground to get to it

so now i counted and saw i had 23 keys, and 2 of them repeated, but i didnt care because there was so little time left, so i ran to find john but ran into who i believe was justin roiland, the head owner of the place 

i ask where john is and he points me in the right direction, and i see john kinda worried

idk why he was but i ended up dropping all the keys, and i was like “hey i got more than 20 and some of them repeat are these all right?” he says yes, and asks me for the theme

i stutter not knowing, and i think he’s in such a hurry he gives me the answer (i think it was like, essentials at a resort or something)

we start walking quickly towards the gate, me mentally preparing myself for morty’s arrival/putting my plan into action (note: either i dont remember what my plan was, or i really had no idea what i was gonna do), it’s raining/lightning so it’s kinda cool

but i get stopped by a group in the entrance, they want me to help greet the new people just arriving + some of them were having a birthday (none of which were morty), and i couldn’t get away, and i had lost sight of john, i think he was waiting back for me but idk for sure

so i fake smile and hold up a big six, then the second it’s done i find john and we make our way to the gate

i woke up and have no idea what happened next, i think my plan involved knocking john out or something, and morty would arrive around then or soon after as i figured out how the gate/barrier worked

[trendingnewsb]

Dear America: Kids doing active-shooter drills is not normal.

Image by Tatiana Cardenas/Upworthy.

As thousands across the nation prepare to take to the streets on March 24, 2018, for The March for Our Lives, we’re taking a look at some of the root causes, long-lasting effects, and approaches to solving the gun violence epidemic in America. We’ll have a new installment every day this week.

I was teaching in a high school classroom when the Columbine shooting happened.

In between periods, a student rushed into my room and turned on the television. As other students shuffled in, they caught the scene on TV and stopped in their tracks.

Together we gaped silently at aerial footage of teens pouring out of their school, covered in their classmates’ blood. News reporters struggled to offer details about the shooter or shooters, still unclear if the carnage had ended. Still unsure of the body count.

I looked around at my 15- and 16-year-old students, their eyes wide with a mix of shock and fear. Even the goofy class clown stared somberly at the screen. I considered whether it was prudent to let them see all of this, but the only difference between that high school and ours was geography. Those bloodied students could have been my students. They knew it, and I knew it.

It seems commonplace now, but that was a feeling I’d never felt as a teacher before. And I’d only felt something similar once as a kid.

Tom Mauser walks along a wall at the Columbine High School Memorial; his son Daniel was one of students killed in the Columbine shooting. Photo by Don Emmert/Getty Images.

I remember when I was little, sitting huddled in a ball under my desk, imagining the classroom around me exploding.

It was the early 1980s. I must have been 6 or 7. My class was doing a nuclear-blast preparation drill, a hallmark of the Cold War era in which I was born. I remember staring at the thin metal legs of my desk, wondering how they were supposed to protect me from a bomb going off.

Nuclear annihilation — not being gunned down in school — was the big concern of my childhood. Such duck-and-cover drills disappeared by my middle elementary years, so the threat felt short-lived. Of course, a nuclear blast is always a terrifying thought, but somehow, I just knew it wasn’t likely to happen.

I imagined it, though. And the imagining alone shook me as a young child. Sometimes I look back and wonder how Americans lived like that for so long.

A kindergartener in Hawaii hides under a desk during a lockdown drill. Photo via Phil Mislinski/Getty Images.

Kids in high school now have been doing active-shooter lockdown drills their entire childhoods.

The year after Columbine, my husband and I started our family, and I left teaching. I chose to homeschool my kids, and though lockdowns weren’t part of that decision, the lack of active-shooter drills has been a significant perk of homeschooling.

Unlike nuclear preparation drills, active-shooter drills are meant to prepare kids for something they know has happened multiple times. They’ve heard the news stories. Some kids have been through the real thing themselves.

I try to imagine it — my sweet 9-year-old boy huddled in a closet with 20 of his classmates, forced into unnatural silence as they wait for the sound of a would-be shooter trying to enter their locked classroom. I can see his face, the very real fear in his eyes. I can honestly feel his racing heartbeat.

It guts me just to think about it.

An elementary school teacher (who requested anonymity because the internet is ridiculous and she’s received death threats) posted a description of a recent active-shooter drill in her classroom. The post has been shared close to 200,000 times and for good reason. It’s a simple description of an unfathomable reality.

“Today in school we practiced our active shooter lockdown. One of my first graders was scared and I had to hold him. Today is his birthday. He kept whispering ‘When will it be over?’ into my ear. I kept responding ‘Soon’ as I rocked him and tried to keep his birthday crown from stabbing me.

I had a mix of 1-5 graders in my classroom because we have a million tests that need to be taken. My fifth grader patted the back of the 2nd grader huddled next to him under a table. A 3rd grade girl cried silently and clutched the hand of her friend. The rest of the kids sat quietly (casket quiet) and stared aimlessly in the dark.

As the ‘intruder’ tried to break into our room twice, several of them jumped, but remained silently. The 1st grader in my lap began to pant and his heart was beating out of his chest, but he didn’t make a peep.”

Image via Facebook, used with permission.

Seriously. These are babies we are putting through this. (Well, not literal babies, but still.)

And these drills can be even more terrifying than you might imagine.

At a high school in Anchorage, Alaska, an officer used the sound of real gunfire — blanks shot from a real gun — during active-shooter drills. The idea was that kids would learn what actual gunfire sounds like so they can act quickly when they hear it.

“We don’t want to scare them,” the principal, Sam Spinella, told CNN affiliate KTVA. “We want this to become as close to reality as possible.”

I am dumbfounded. Those two sentences make zero sense together. We’re not talking about a police training academy here — we’re talking about an average day in high school. The reality they are trying to prepare them for is scary — how could a preparation “as close to reality as possible” not be?

A recent article in The Atlantic examined the psychological effects of active-shooter drills on kids. Surprisingly, not a lot of research has been done on the subject. All we really have are reports of young adults who grew up with them.

One interviewee described a memory of his classmate coughing during a lockdown drill when he was 12. Their teacher reacted by telling the class that in a real shooter situation, they’d all be dead now.

Yeah, probably not the best way to handle that.

But what is the best way to prepare children for the possibility of a gunman trying to kill their classmates, their favorite teacher, their best friend?

We want kids to feel safe and secure. We don’t want to scare kids as we prepare them for something that is undeniably scary. But is it smart to scare them a little bit in order for them to understand the seriousness of the drill? And if kids aren’t scared at all — if they are totally unfazed by active-shooter drills — how can we justify them being so desensitized?

Ugh. This is not normal. This should never feel normal.

And yet, this is normal. In fact, some people tell me they feel comforted by the preparation.

I talked to a handful of teens and young adults who grew up with lockdown drills. One described a series of bomb threats at her high school, which she said were scary at first, but eventually became a “boy who cried wolf” situation. Another described intruder drills as simply preparing for the unexpected, not much different than an earthquake or tornado drill.

One high schooler, Joe Burke of Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, told me about the first lockdown drill he remembers in the fifth grade. He and his classmates huddled under computer desks along the wall, knees hugged to their chests, with the lights off and door locked:

“When we were sitting under the desks, I had a slight bit of doubt in the idea. To my fifth-grade self, it didn’t seem like the best idea to just be hiding if someone were to come in and try and hurt us. It would only take a few seconds of searching to find 25-plus kids and a teacher all cramped under those tables. … At the time, I automatically assumed that the adults knew more than we did. I figured that we were much safer than I realize we actually were, in retrospect.”

Burke said the new ALICE training his high school has implemented has made him feel better prepared and is “a massive step in the right direction.” (ALICE is a for-profit training program that has been implemented in schools across the country. Here’s an interesting analysis of the praise and criticism of it.)

Joe Burke spoke at his high school’s walkout on March 14, 2018. Photo via Christine Burke, used with permission.

Joe’s mother, Christine Burke, said that she has made it a point to talk to her kids about active shooter situations in detail:

“After Parkland, I sat with my 15-year-old son and showed him the footage of the shooting inside the building. We talked about how the smoke from an AR-15 would disorient his way out, that the gun would be loud, that screaming classmates would make it hard to hear instructions. We talked about how his phone need not be a priority (no filming the scene, no taking pictures) but that he should use it as a means of communication only if he could. And we talked about how the ALICE training would feel in a real situation. That conversation with my son chilled me to my bones because I realized that this is the world we live in now. I have to talk to my son about his algebra grade and about how loud an AR-15 sounds when fired in a classroom.”

Christine, like many parents, finds herself navigating surreal waters. We have accepted the inevitability of school shootings to the point where we actively prepare our kids for them.

Generally speaking, preparedness is good. Preparedness is smart.

And yet, how can we accept that this is the reality for children in America? Parents across the country constantly say to themselves, “We shouldn’t have to do this. Our kids shouldn’t have to do this.” And yet, they do.

Christine Burke (left) and her friend Jen were the only two parents who joined her son’s school walkout for National School Walkout on March 14, 2018. Photo via Christine Burke, used with permission.

Is this really the price we have to pay for freedom?

We’re supposed to be a fantastic, developed country, aren’t we? We pride ourselves on being a “shining city on a hill” a leader among nations, a beacon of freedom to all people.

There is no official war happening on American soil. We are not a country experiencing armed conflict or revolution or insurrection. And yet we live as if we are.

People in other countries look at our mass shootings and what we’ve attempted to do about them and think we are out of our ever-loving minds. I’m right there with them. As a former teacher and current homeschool parent, I feel like I’m peering in from the outside with my jaw to the floor at what we’ve accepted as normal for our children.

I’m a fan of the U.S. Constitution and don’t take changes to it lightly, but maybe it’s time to accept that the Second Amendment has not actually protected our freedoms the way it was designed to. We are not a free people when our children have to hide in closets and listen for gunfire as they imagine themselves the next victims of a mass-murdering gunman during math class.

This is not normal. This should never feel normal.

Kids who have repeatedly and systematically prepared for carnage in their classrooms are taking to the streets, to the podium, to the media — and soon to the polls — in a way we haven’t seen in decades.

It’s easy to see why. These teens have spent their childhoods watching the adults in charge respond to the mass murder of children by simply preparing for more of it. And they’re done.

I’m unbelievably proud of the way these young people are organizing, saying #NeverAgain and pushing for effective gun legislation. Their efforts have convinced the governor of Florida to break with the National Rifle Association and sign a sweeping gun control bill. (Though not perfect, it’s a big step for the “Gunshine State.”) Companies feeling the pressure and momentum have broken ties with the NRA as well.

I can’t help but note how these kids’ successes highlight previous generations’ failure on this issue. The time for taking real action was long before Parkland, Sandy Hook, or even Columbine. But I feel the sea change coming.

These young activists give me hope that maybe future generations will look back in wonder at how we lived like this for so long.

For more of our look at America’s gun violence epidemic, check out other stories in this series:

How the U.S. put an end to plane hijacking and why gun reform advocates should take note.

The next time someone blames mass shootings on mental illness, send them this.

Parkland kids are changing America. Here are the black teens who helped pave their way.

Answer 3 questions to find out which gun violence action plan is right for you.

And see our coverage of to-the-heart speeches and outstanding protest signs from the March for Our Lives on March 24, 2018.

Read more: http://www.upworthy.com/dear-america-kids-doing-active-shooter-drills-is-not-normal

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