#one pact holiday card coming up

[blogishdaj]

thesis proposal finished and scheduled for sending. i have free time to make art again 😤

[charliemwrites]

Hiiiii! So I’m not super thrilled with this but I’ve been having a time of it at work so I worked on this when I could 🙃

Not sure if there will be a second part yet tbh we’ll see!

Edit: almost forgot to add that the gorgeous divider below is by @gildui they have some absolutely beautiful cod themed dividers.

Carrion

Reader comes back Wrong

Content: implied/referenced torture, injury, suicide reference/implicated “pact” (by background character), lack of wound care

The breakup was bad.

Not in the top 3 of Simon’s worst nightmare-inducing memories - but likely top 5. He certainly wakes up chest aching and eyes burning often enough for it to be a solid contender. He’s haunted by tears that dripped like acid and the cracks in your voice deafening him.

On bad days, he thinks he can still see you shuffling down the halls, eyes sunken and red-rimmed, dark circles and chapped lips. Anger giving way to resignation giving way to pain and sadness. The rest of the team tight-lipped and wincing, no sides taken, shoulders and ears offered equally in commiseration.

Your misery wanted no company, though.

You didn’t tell Simon that you were leaving. Gaz let slip over a subdued but obligatory game of cards, you’d be gone for a long time - loaned out to Laswell.

Simon didn’t go to see you off. Didn’t ask why you were leaving or accuse you of being too immature to be on a team with him. He didn’t wish you good luck, stay safe with the rest of the team on the tarmac at 0-dark when you took off.

He should have.

Price says you’ll be gone for six months. Just six. It’s better this way, he reminds them when Johnny balks. His eyes are on Simon, though, when he adds that you need to get your head on straight, and you weren’t able to do it with them.

So. Six months.

Simon stops expecting you on his left. Stops smelling your shampoo lingering on bits of clothes he pretended not to notice you steal. He still dreams about you begging him not to push you away.

183 days come and go.

On day 184, Laswell sends word - your temporary team likes you quite a bit. They want you to stay on for one more month… one more mission… one more…

Six months turns to ten.

312 days since you left; since you were home.

The team hasn’t stopped leaving a space for you at their tables, right between Gaz and Price. You miss your own birthday. Laswell says she’ll pass along well wishes.

The situation changes. A target resurfaces. All hands on deck, including yours.

374 days. Twelve months and some change.

They don’t spend the holidays with you, but there’s a stack of presents waiting in Price’s office. Your mugs have collected dust in the back of the rec room cabinet.

Laswell says you’re still deployed on one last mission, return TBD. Soon, though.

487 days. Still TBD. Soon. Really. Just some loose ends to tie up.

561 days. There was some trouble during exfil but you’re alright. Just a bit of recovery.

You’re coming home.

590 days. You’ll land at 0700 tomorrow.

It’s been 591 days since Simon last saw you. Since any of them last saw you.

Laswell has come to deliver you personally, a kind of apology for keeping you away so long. She’s the first off the transport and you’re right behind her.

Your hair is shorter. Much, much shorter. There’s a new patch on your jacket - memento from your temporary team, Simon figures.

Apart from that, you look… almost exactly how you did when you left. Dark circles under your eyes, mouth drawn and tight. There’s invisible weight compressing your shoulders, urging them in and down. But you’re there again. Just the way he remembers.

(Why are you the way he remembers?)

“Long time, no see,” Gaz calls, reaching for you.

There’s half a beat, you blink. Hesitate.

Then you grin and reach back.

“Missed my pretty face, did you?” you reply.

Johnny laughs and brings you in for a hug. You twitch hug him back, patting his shoulder as you pull away.

“Good to have you back, Sergeant,” Price says, shaking your hand.

You turn to Simon, nod in greeting, expression pleasant. “Ghost.”

So that’s how it’ll be? Alright.

“Sergeant.”

That night, you go out for drinks with the team and Laswell. Simon goes along to show there are no hard feelings.

(Not that you seem to need reassurance. It’s not even that you’re not looking at him. You are. Whenever he speaks, the rare times he does, or if he shifts in his seat. Your gaze doesn’t linger or jerk away, you treat him like you do Johnny and Gaz and Price.)

When Johnny mixes up your usual for Price’s, you don’t even seem to notice. But Simon does.

“When did you start drinking whiskey?” he wonders.

You used to swear you’d never like it, claiming it tasted like boot polish and the “Boys Club” wasn’t worth the indigestion it gave you.

“Someone from my other team,” you say by way of explanation.

You don’t ask for another whiskey. Laswell gets the rest of your drinks for that night.

Simon turns into the rec room two days later and finds you already there. There’s only the light above the sink on, and you’re staring at the steady drip, drip, drip from the faucet. A cup of black coffee cools in your hand. You’re already wearing gloves.

“Sugar’s in the left now,” he calls.

Your head twitches, something pops in your neck.

“Oh, thanks,” you chirp, turning for the cabinet. “Sleep okay, LT?”

“‘Bout as well as I ever do,” he replies gruffly, sidling up next to you for the kettle.

You hum. There’s a yellow packet in your hand. (Didn’t you used to like the blue one?)

“I get that,” you sympathize.

He snorts. Since when?

“Do you?”

When he glances down, you’re not looking at him. Instead, you’re trying (and failing) to get the sink to stop dripping.

“You know that’s been broken for ages,” he says.

At least as long as the 141 has been around. You tried to fix it once when you first joined up, too, with no luck.

“Right,” you say. A little too quickly, a little too agreeably. “Well, anyway, enjoy your tea, Lieutenant.”

You leave the packet of sugar behind. Unopened.

You’re back and it’s like it used to be - not just before you left, but before the breakup. Before there was ever anything to break up.

Your time away seems to have given you whatever space from Simon you were hoping for, because you act like there was never anything at all.

He’s half expecting, dreading, that you’ll pull him aside at some point. Ask for a word after dinner, or swing by his room before bed. Talk about the break up now that cooler heads prevail and 19 months have sanded down the rough feelings. Seek closure, maybe.

But you don’t. The weeks pass until a month has gone and you never exchange more than easy pleasantries with Simon. You give him space, give him privacy. Things you never used to give him much of before, for better or worse.

You fool around with Gaz and Johnny, trade quips with Price, and follow Simon’s orders. Train recruits. Write reports.

You’re back, better than ever.

So why does it feel like Simon’s still waiting for you to return?

You’re always dressed now, head to toe. Day or night, rain or shine. From the neck down you’re in full sleeves, long pants, boots and gloves.

It doesn’t occur to anyone until you’re sweating through your compression shirt in the gym. Wipe your shiny forehead for the dozenth time before Johnny says, “why not just take it off?”

“It’s not that bad,” you laugh, waving him off.

When you lie down to bench press, Simon notes the bottom of your shirt tucked tight into your waistband. He exchanges a glance with Johnny - he’s seen it too.

You used to dress in shorts and sports bras during exercise, a towel over your shoulder. In the common room, you’d mill in tank-tops and boxers. Even used to trot down the hall swaddled in a towel or robe, mumbling that you forgot a razor or some other toiletry before showering.

“What, did ye get an embarrassing tattoo or somethin’?” Johnny asks finally.

You blink at him, expression bemused. “A tattoo? Why do you think I have a tattoo?”

“Yer covered up like a nun on Sunday. It cannae be comfortable.”

You snort. “Just because you’re allergic to clothes, MacTavish…”

“Allergic?! Wha’s tha’ s’posed t’mean?!”

Gaz barks a laugh. You grin and continue your workout.

Simon tries not to be disturbed by the name “MacTavish” coming off your tongue for the first time since you met.

It’s your first mission since you’ve been back. You have new gear, a new handgun. Something’s been carved into the side of the barrel in Cyrillic, Simon can’t read it. A new callsign.

(“What kind of a name is Carry-on?” Johnny teases, but he doesn’t quite hide the unease in his eyes.

You snort and lace your boots tighter. The edge of you sleeve inches up, revealing the curve of a glossy scar that wasn’t there before.

“You’re one to talk Mister Maybelline.”)

Someone painted an upside down cross on the temple of your helmet with their finger. You thumb it before stuffing it over your head.

“You ready for this?” Gaz asks, knocking his knee into yours. The two of you have been paired together for this mission. (Was it Simon’s imagination, or did you look annoyed that you would have a partner?)

“Always,” you reply.

Simon doesn’t hear what happens, but Gaz looks shellshocked when you haul him into the helicopter during exfil. You shake him a bit once everything is secure and the bird’s in the air.

“Garrick,” you shout, “c’mon, where did he get you?”

It takes him a second but he blinks, offers his arm for your inspection. You move with a speed even Simon is impressed by, tearing into the nearby med kit almost viciously. Gaz is patched up in record time and you sit back with blood on your hands, barely even seem to notice as you wipe them carelessly on your pants.

(You used to be more squeamish, weren’t you? You used to be the last one they asked for medical care because seeing your teammates in pain made you nauseous.)

“What about you?” Gaz asks after a small eternity.

You yawn. “What about me?”

“You got nicked too, didn’t you?”

Simon takes a second look at you and now that Gaz mentions it, you’re soaked in blood. Wet patches on your vest, your pants, dripping down your boots. It takes him a moment to notice the tear in your thigh, shredded flesh visible when you rock with the wind turbulence.

“Did I?” you wonder, glancing down like you only just noticed it.

Johnny curses, reaches for you - but you wave him off.

“It’s just a scratch,” you reply. “Barely even feel it, no worries.”

Then why is it still bleeding?

When the team lands, you hop off the heli without so much as a wince. Droplets of blood lead all the way back to your room.

(When Simon asks Nikolai about the hand-etching on your gun, he says the word means “promise.”)

In the after-action report, your callsign isn’t “Carry-On.” It’s Carrion.

Laswell takes you off the mission two months later, a joint assignment with KorTac. They send three operators to work with TF141 - Stiletto, Konig, and Nikto.

On the transport to infil, Simon notices the Russian inspecting his handgun in a seat separated from the rest of the squad. He recognizes the Cyrillic carved into the barrel this time: Promise.

It’s an eerie, creeping suspicion. An anxious fog rolling in.

It’s not one single thing that trips an alarm in Simon’s head, but a steady collation of oddities over months. A single arhythmic beat, a note off key. Just once or twice, but over and over until he can’t notice anything else.

You act just like yourself except for all the minute ways you don’t.

You smile big and wide, sunshine bright, when they make a good joke. Your laugh is still the same, bubbling up in your throat, head thrown back. You smell the same when you pass Simon in the hall, shampoo and soap that’s haunted him for a year and a half.

It’s insidiously subtle; he can’t pinpoint what it is for the longest time. Your mannerisms are almost too practiced, the cadence of your voice too measured. A missing turn of phrase you often used, replaced by something unfamiliar.

Simon dismisses it as guilt-laden paranoia. The two of you ended on bad terms with a year and half worth of space between. He’s hardly one to gauge what’s normal for you anymore.

And besides, the few times someone else has noticed at those tiny yet all-too-obvious inconsistencies, you shrug it off as something you picked up while away.

But he catches Johnny’s brows furrow one afternoon as you light up a cig (after swearing for years that you’d never pick up the habit) and Simon knows he’s beginning to see it too.

“You ever notice,” Gaz begins slowly. You’re the only one missing from the rec room this evening, retired with a drawn-out yawn. “That Carrion always mentions being away, but never talks about it?”

Simon stills. Johnny’s eyes fly to Price, who’s grimly tapping at his crossword puzzle.

“The file’s redacted,” he says. He’s seen it too then, tried to investigate for himself.

“That’s normal for a mission like that,” Simon reasons carefully.

“I don’t mean the mission,” Price says. “I mean Carrion’s file.”

“This is a good movie,” you mumble from the armchair you’ve stolen from Price. “What’s it called?”

Simon exchanges glances with the rest of the team. No one points out that this is (used to be?) your favorite.

Price looks into the team you were loaned out to. All were KIA or remain MIA. All but one. His file has been scrubbed too, the only documents readable are discharge orders and a PMC contract, both associated with the callsign “Nikto.”

They’re running out of time.

Less than 36 hours on the clock with only one lead, and it’s a zealot with a suicide pact. Price and Laswell both took a crack at him with nothing to show for it. Even Ghost has gotten hardly anything and he’s running out of nails. With time, he might get something useful, but they don’t have much of that left.

In the anteroom looking into interrogation, you’ve been observing through the one-way glass with your hands in your pockets, head tilted, expression serene.

Price and Laswell are discussing strategy, contingencies. Gaz and Johnny are throwing in their two cents, but Simon… Simon is watching you.

Like medical, torture used to be your Achilles. You were trained like the rest of the team, but there was never any need for you to step into the room yourself. Hell, you were a last resort even for observation or emergency resuscitation. No one blamed you for having a weak stomach for information extraction.

But today, you glance over your shoulder and make eye contact with Laswell.

“I’ll handle it,” you say with an air of finality.

The room goes silent. Price opens his mouth, but it’s Laswell that speaks, voice hard with resignation.

“Do it.”

You don’t blink. “Yes, ma’am.”

You walk out the door without a backwards glance, shoulders loose but each step steady and purposeful.

“What the hell is going on, Kate?” Price demands.

Kate sighs, looks away as you enter the interrogation room.

“Let’s do this outside. It won’t take long to get that intel.”

The only thing she’s able to share is that you and your team were captured. For a long time. And then you’re already stepping out of the interrogation room, wiping your bloodied hands off on an old rag.

There’s an unusual glint in your eye, an unnatural stillness in your expression.

“Got what we need,” you announce cheerfully.

[operationandre]

Can you do winter headcanons of Andre and Cal?😿😿

Winter Cal and Andre Headcanons

- Cal gets cold easily. He always has HotHands, gloves, a thick jacket, and a scarf on. Andre, on the other hand, has always been hot natured. He can go out in cold weather, even snow, with short sleeves on and be relatively fine.

- Andre constantly has cracked lips. His mom buys him chapstick as a gift every Christmas, but it always gets lost between the seats of his car. He ends up just licking his lips which makes everything worse.

- Cal’s face is always red. It’s not just the cold that makes the color pop out; it’s the wind as well. He’ll be sitting inside in the heat and have painful wind-burnt skin.

- The Gabriel family has annual snowman building competitions. The teams are always Cal’s dad and siblings vs Cal and his mom. (Cal and his mom always lose, but they’ll never admit that.)

- The Kriegmans and the Gabriels have meals together a lot around the holidays. They don’t really celebrate together due to one family celebrating Hanukkah and the other celebrating Christmas. They still want to spend time together though.

- Andre buys gifts for Cal’s siblings. The two kids normally make him a card in return. The card is always sticky and sparkly and covered in the messiest handwriting, but Andre keeps them in the top drawer of his dresser forever.

- Cal and Andre spend the night together even more than normal when winter break rolls around. They make hot chocolate, curl up in blankets together, and watch holiday and horror movies. They always find some random horror movie set during Christmas and laugh at how shitty it is.

- The boys make a pact to not buy each other expensive gifts, but Andre never abides by it. He buys Cal whatever he’s been wanting recently and throws away the receipt so Cal can’t try to return it. Cal normally makes him mixtapes, writes him a letter, buys Andre’s favorite candy, and decorates a box to put all of it in.

- Andre works out during the winter, running and lifting. He goes on runs around the neighborhood in thin sweatshirts, which his mom hates because she’s worried he’ll slip on ice or get frostbite. He lifts in the basement with some old dumbbells his brother used to have from when he wrestled.

- Andre’s brother comes home for the holidays, making the Kriegman house quite awkward. Andre spends a lot of time in his room and with Cal. He filmed a lot of solo Zero Day tapes on cold days that he spent locked up in his room.

- Cal and Andre are very touchy in the winter, even in front of other people. They have the excuse of it being cold outside to hide their soft touches and quick glances.

- They go around in Andre’s car and throw snowballs at people’s houses. When the people begin to walk outside or lights turn on, they hop in Andre’s old car that they left running and speed away.

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

Friends to Lovers Fics Masterlist (13)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / 

Created: June 6th, 2024

Checked:---

That Time We Took Over the World-Gamemakers (ao3) Summary: Being a session guitarist pays well, but Katniss Everdeen’s always wanted a taste of the spotlight. Enter Peeta Mellark, whose boyband fame faded twenty years ago, and a not-quite-dying wish from an old friend, and she’s in for way more than she bargained for. The Dance of the Color Guard, Op. 64-populardarling (ao3) Summary: Katniss and Peeta used to be best friends when they were kids, but now in high school, they're barely on speaking terms. It isn't until they are forced together as the titular star-crossed lovers for their marching band's field show that they will have to face their past mistakes and try to get along if they ever hope of defeating the notorious Capitol Height's Imperial Marching Crusaders in competition. It's all about winning and if that means pretending to be in love with Peeta Mellark, so be it. But a lot can happen in six months. The Ghost of You-JLaLa (ao3) Summary: Katniss Everdeen thought they were just her imaginary friends. Turns out, they were very real—and dead. An Everlark take on the movie “Heart and Souls.” The Great Panem Christmas Bake-Off-JLaLa (ao3) Summary: Aspiring baker Katniss Everdeen finally gets her chance when she's chosen for The Great Panem Christmas Bake Off. Too bad, she's already managed to piss off famous baker and Bake-Off judge, Peeta Mellark. The Holiday Stand In-LemonLuvGirl (ao3) Summary: Katniss Everdeen needs a guy to pretend to be her boyfriend for the holidays, and when she meets Peeta Mellark she thinks he's the answer to her Christmas prayers. Peeta also happens to need a significant other to take home to show off to his folks. So Katniss proposes that they pose as each other's dates for the holiday season. Just to get their families off their backs. But pretending to be in love is a dangerous game, one that Katniss might not end up winning unless she plays her cards right. The Hoodie-LemonLuvGirl (ao3) Summary: Based off the prompt: I’ve been wearing my boyfriend’s hoodie around the house for the last week. I tried to give it back last night. “That’s not my hoodie.” He said. I then realized with horror I’ve been wearing our builder’s hoodie. In front of our builder. The Long Weekend-JLaLa (ao3) Summary: Two assistants who barely tolerate each other. One snowy cabin. One very long weekend. Oh, and one bed. The Marrow of the Story-hutchabelle (ao3) Summary: Written for the Everlark Fic Exchange Springtime 2020 Edition Prompt 17: Everlark enemies to lovers, a long-standing grudge (could be anything, even simple) but somehow it is discovered that Katniss is a bone marrow match for Peeta. If she doesn’t donate he will die. The One She Left Behind-Xerxia (ao3) Summary: Everlark modern AU Weeks after moving to New York, Peeta Mellark encounters a woman he thought he'd never see again. The Pact-endlessnightlock (ao3) Summary: prompt: best friends everlark!pact on marrying each other when they turn 30 and are still single. now both are 30 and very much married. what comes after? (surprisingly good sex, awkward kids talk, explaining to families and friends) its up to you☺

[thiccpersonality]

B My Valentine: (aka) A brief love holiday interlude to Damian (Gremlin) Wayne and his even more gremlin-esque family

It was Valentine's Day at Wayne Manor. A usually peaceful and non destructive holiday. Usually you'd expect for a love filled holiday event to be filled with...well, love and affection for each other and remembering what makes you love each other.

But in Wayne Manor, Valentine's Day means more competition, for what you ask? Well, for more of Bruce's approval of course! Every night (actually weeks) before the big day Bruce's family spends the night(s) toiling away at handmade cards and ideas, each trying to outdo the other on their gifts and carefully crafted surprises for their dear dad.

But...they (Richard, Jason and Tim) have an issue. There's extra competition today, not only is that brat Damian (reluctantly admitted by the older boys to be) super talented, but those wenches Bruce (for some reason) adopted into the family suddenly flocked towards Wayne Manor with a competitive gleam in their eyes. The three eldest could practically smell the determination from Barbara, Stephanie and Cassandra.

Bruce's cousin Kate even came, but she said it was for the seasonal goodies and to watch the chaos unfold. Although, the boys and girls are weary about her...the woman can be surprisingly great at hiding her emotions, even to the point of confusing Cass sometimes.

Of course no one lets Bruce in on the fact his family are being competitive on such a loving day, they just are content on letting the man bask in the loudness of his large home. The man always brightens up in his own way when everyone (or almost everyone. Duke couldn't make it) manages to visit, the corners of his lips turn up slightly and everyone has come to notice a happy blush overtakes his usually pale cheeks.

Which brings everyone to now. January 14th: Valentine's Day on a Wednesday at 7am. Richard waking up at a horrid smell coming from what he assumes to be the kitchen, his jaw clenching when he goes to check his hidden camera in the kitchen only to find the device not working and showing a glitchy and static screen.

The acrobat creeps out of his bed and down the hallway and stairs towards his target, his ears honing in on the quiet curses from a woman. Richard slips into the kitchen to watch Stephanie freaking Brown trying to cook...whatever it is? The older can't actually tell with how charred the...pancake? Or some batter like texture is burned and others a mixture of charred and undercooked.

Stephanie gasps at a tall shadow being cast behind her the girl preparing to turn around only to be pressed into the counter as an all too familiar voice whispers softly and all too sweetly in her ear, "Do you need my help, traitor?"

Richard allows the blonde to turn around and smiles down at the flustered girl, "Traitor!? How am I a traitor? We never agreed to work together." Stephanie sputters and blows a strand of hair out of her face.

Richard narrows his eyes at the younger girl and pulls away, "I suppose so. But your actions these past few days were letting me know we had some sort of pact. How could you shut off my cameras like that?" Stephanie look at the taller confused, "You...put cameras up to watch us? What is wrong with this family!?"

From the doorway comes a deeper voice, Jason holding out his hands to show the covert listening devices-aka: bugs/wires that were put in his and everyone else's rooms-when the two turn to look at him.

"Then how do you explain THESE, Stephanie? I know you and Timbo were helping each other bug everyone's rooms. You two thought you could be sooo sneaky."

Stephanie opens her mouth to defend herself, but Tim suddenly appears from a cabinet, stepping in front of the now baffled girl. "Not another word Stephanie, he has no proof. As far as we know he could be accusing us of his own crimes."

A burst of laughter escapes Jason and he pulls out his phone to wave it around, "Are you sure about that? I wouldn't sound so confident talking like that to the person who has video evidence from A CERTAIN SOMEONE'S hidden cameras." Tim gasps and Stephanie curses, the two looking to a betrayed looking Richard who points at the skunk haired teen.

"I-It was you who shut off my cameras! You knew about them and were using them to get blackmail material!"

Tim crosses his arms and huffs, "Kind of sus that he knew about my bugs as well! Almost like he was spying on us the whole time!"

Richard gasps again and turns to Stephanie, "Or almost like he had help shutting things down and figuring things out so a CERTAIN GIRL could sneak her ass downstairs to make Bruce handmade food." Stephanie's eyes widen and she shakes her head, "I demand a lawyer. You can't pin all of this on me! We were helped by Barbara!"

At the confession a curse is heard from what sounds like a speaker, when Jason gets to searching he finds one behind the fridge, Barbara's voice bitter as it speaks. "I'll get you for this, Steph. So what if I helped them both? You both asked help from Cass to take those cameras down as well."

Jason and Steph curse while Tim sips at his suddenly materialized coffee, shaking his head disappointedly. "There's no loyalty in family anymore. Where did the trust go?"

Cassandra jump scares everyone by suddenly appearing on top of the fridge, her brown eyes staring down on them like a judgmental god, "No trust. Only war. You three let downs. Quiet agreement. You break truce-" brown eyes narrow accusingly at Jason and Stephanie-"Now my enemies. Free game."

Barbara suddenly appears from the doorway and immediately starts to pin blame on the two teens.

Chaos soon erupts and everyone is pinning blame on one another. The arguing group not noticing Damian listening from above the steps and smiling to himself at how everything worked out beautifully. He still finds it odd how a mysterious source left a note in his room about all the going ons of his enemies siblings...but he'll count his blessings one by one he supposes.

Damian excitedly rushes to Bruce's room and opens the door quietly, stilling at seeing his father up in bed with Alfred by his side. The two men holding bugging devices and watching videos of everything that happened the past few weeks, Bruce looks up in surprise at Damian before his brows furrow.

"What is all this?"

Damian opens and closes his mouth, too flustered at being caught to respond. At the silence Bruce just sighs and stands up, grabbing Damian's small hand in his and leading him back out of the room. "I assume your siblings are up as well? We need to have a talk about this right now."

Damian bows his head as he's led into the kitchen by Bruce, everyone quieting down at realizing they've been caught red-handed.

--A few minutes later--

"It's touching that you all want my affection...but if this is the only reason you celebrate Valentine's Day is to squabble and one up each other...then maybe don't. A-Am I really that bad at letting you guys know I love and appreciate you that you have to fight for me to notice you?"

Jason frowns at that and shakes his head, "You can be a bit emotionally constipated-" he grunts at the elbow in his side-"But we know you love us! It's more of like...your love is such a treasure we get greedy and want to eliminate any and all competition!"

Bruce looks up at the genuine smiles and nods of agreement from his children, the man sighing and shoulders slumping more. "But I want to love all of you-" Ice blue eyes turn to look at the mess in the kitchen curiously and hopefully-"Oh? W-Were you all trying to make me breakfast? Did you all come together to try and make me food?"

Everyone freezes and looks at each other before coming to a silent agreement, all the Wayne children smiling and nodding quickly, their voices meshing together to sound like a happy symphony.

"Of course! We only wanted you to be happy!"

Bruce's eyes widen in shock and awe, his cheeks flushing happily as he stands and starts directing his kids to do different tasks. "I used to cook with Alfred a lot as a kid! We can cook breakfast together!"

The family get so distracted cleaning up Stephanie's mess that they don't notice Kate and Alfred at the kitchen entrance. The former huffing a laugh and looking at the butler suspiciously, "So how did you do this?"

Alfred keeps his gaze forward and smirks the tiniest bit before patting the red head's arm and turning away. "I had no involvement my dear child, it must be cupid working their magic. You go join them and I'll be right back."

Kate tilts her head but quickly rushes into the chaos to join her cousin and his crazy kids.

Alfred smiles at hearing the laughter and noise coming from the kitchen as he heads up the stairs again. Damian's complaints being heard on Stephanie and Tim's mixing patterns, Richard fighting with Jason on who's going to lick the spoon and Cass and Barbara murmuring quietly on how they'll decorate Bruce's plate to look pretty.

After arriving to Bruce's bedroom again Alfred steps onto the balcony, clears his throat and looks towards the sky, "Master Kent." Only a millisecond passes before Clark-or he should say Superman-is hovering in front of him, deep blue eyes curious on the outcome of his mission.

"So how did everything go? Did you really need to do all this just for them to calm down enough to act...civilized?"

Alfred smiles and nods, "Of course! The one thing we all can agree on is Bruce's happiness, as soon as master Bruce was disheartened by their behaviors they immediately pulled their acts together and are now making breakfast with hi-"

"Alfred? Is everything alright up here? I just thought you'd be quick to come take pi-" Bruce pauses at seeing Clark hovering outside and makes his way over to the two men-"Clark? Is everything okay? You didn't get hit with Kryptonite did you!?" Alfred smirks softly as the final part of his plan is in motion, the older gentleman eyeing the Valentine's card poking out from Superman's red shorts, the butler whispering so only Clark can hear him as he excuses himself.

"I do believe you have something to give master Bruce?"

Clark looks down nervously as the door clicks shut and he hovers closer to the concerned man, taking a deep breath in and shoving the handmade card he crafted for Bruce into his chest. "Happy Valentine's Day!"

Bruce stumbles back just a little and looks at the card, smiling at the words 'B Mine' written on the admittedly gorgeously crafted card and blushing in a mixture of shyness and happiness. "A pun on my nickname? You even drew little bats."

Clark scratches his head and chuckles nervously, "I-I know it's cheesy bu-"

"I'll be your Valentine!"

Clark gasps softly and finally makes eye contact with Bruce, delighting in the pink blush spreading across his face and down to the elegant neck, the blush intensifying at Clark's intense stare. It's at the other man's silence that Bruce repeats himself.

"I-I said I'll be your Valentine...so come and make breakfast with us?"

Deep blue eyes adoringly stare at the endearing human being before him. Clark realizing that Alfred's right as he concedes under the hypnotizing ice blue eyes and the small tug on his cape, the man super speeding into his regular everyday clothes and coming back with a wide smile as he prepares himself for a breakfast with the Wayne's.

They all really would do anything for Bruce's happiness...even if that means sacrificing your safety for a day with your Valentine and his gremlin family.

(I don't know how or why I basically wrote a whole fanfiction for you all? It was supposed to be something shorter...but I obviously got carried away XD. Happy Valentine's Day everyone and I hope whoever reads this enjoys it and has a lovely day, week, month and year.

Please remember to stay safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. 💛)

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Cards & Conversations (Werewolf!Alfie Solomons x Reader)

Genre: Romance, Angst, Drama

Pairing: Werewolf!Alfie Solomons x Shelby!Reader

Word count: 3.8K

Warnings: Mild swearing, difficult father-daughter relationship, emotional abuse, melancholy thoughts, allusion to past violence and death, scars

Summary: We lose things over the years. Family members, innocence, the perfect world you held for a single summer.

Your heart.

But sometimes the gods are gracious and re-entwine your fate with the person you thought you lost forever, vanished after a heated conversation you were shut out of. Carefully shut away in a gilded cage again with only a blank page and his old typewriter for company. However, the tarot cards your brother gave you know what happened ten years ago.

They know why the King has returned to Camden.

Author’s note: This wee piece has turned out heavier in plot than I thought, enough so for me to want to work this out into a proper multi-part story in the future because there is a lot to dissect here and it feels kinda rushed. To me, that is, maybe not to you. Ah dinnae ken.

Anyways, I kept the tarot reading a bit shallow if only because I am still a beginner/someone who does it as a hobby. 

TH Masterlist

Tag list: @potter-solomons​ @vir-tual​ @zablife​ @buttercup32sstuff​ @ilovemanypeople​ @hecatemoon87​ @dreamlandcreations​ @elijahssuit​ @liliac-dreamer​ @alikaheroes​​

Support can come from the most unexpected corner, yet exceed your expectations in tenderness. 

A condolence card.

Flowers for your mother’s grave.

An arm around your shoulders throughout the funeral.

A hand to hold yours while navigating the chaotic and dangerous streets of London when finally having a chance to escape the mansion on the hill.

Fingers to keep yours, comically small compared to his, warm outside. 

In bookshops, only let go of during a cup of coffee or tea should it have a café.

An unnaturally warm body to snuggle up to whenever you feel cold.

Shoulders to be carried on during the odd trip down to Margate.

But those holidays during which my brother, Charlie, and I were kept out of business and separated from the rest of our family came to an end. About ten years ago, a long-standing peace pact was broken.

I can still recall the argument resounding from the drawing room. It’s funny how I thought shielding my ears would not have it touch me. Naive, really, innit?

“You crossed the line, Alfie.”

“You fuckin’ what?”

“You crossed the line.”

“The line?”

“She’s my daughter!”

But that wasn’t the real issue. No, there were two actual problems.

One, I’m Thomas Shelby’s and Grace Burgess’s daughter.

Two, according to my father, despite the similarities in hair and eye colour between us, I am the living embodiment of the only woman he’s ever loved. Don’t get me wrong, Lizzie is great and we get along well. Ruby, bless her spirited little heart, is as much of a sibling to me as Charlie is. 

But she isn’t Mum.

And Thomas wouldn’t let her memory be tainted by a connection to his greatest rival and ally, Alfie Solomons.

The King of Camden.

The alpha of the Camden Town Pack. 

The man who stole my heart ten years ago. 

That brings me to problem number three, hidden in the shadows and all too gladly forgotten. 

I was sixteen. He was thirty-six. 

At the time I didn’t know he had imprinted on me. Neither could I have guessed that there were such a thing as werewolves. The supernatural, in general. It was only when I started working in an odd little bakery run by an elderly woman I discovered how thin the veil between the realms are and what it means to have a certain heritage.

Aunt Polly is right.

We shake hands with devils and we walk past them. 

It’s a blessing to be a witch. But also to be a woman locked in a gilded cage, albeit, paradoxically, with a chance to have a life outside the family business. To have a talent for writing and being able to make a living out of it. To have fans curious about my stories, eager to read them and rejoice whenever they see me at signings and book events.

While I’m glad for what the gods have gifted me, to be a modern filid and possess a sixth sense, I might owe them for the rest of my life.

Because only last month they gave me back my heart.

Drunk, his hair and beard out of control, an ugly deep scar over his left eye leaving it blind, and soaked by the rain, he was there.

Alfie.

On my doorstep.

“So you’re the new witch in town, eh? Set up shop in me borough. Me kingdom,” he drawled. However, the way he leant in the doorway with haunted blue eyes ruined the mock indignation at once. A careful though gentle smile spread on his lips as he took me in. “Fuckin’ ‘ell, you’re even prettier than I remember.”

He leaned in, almost toppling over with unsteady feet. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t save us.” I am still uncertain whether he was heavily sniffling or it was a sob he tried to conceal. ‘‘This godforsaken soul couldn’t save you.’’

Thomas walked in at that moment, acknowledging our surprise guest in a cool voice. “Alfie.”

The prodigal alpha of Camden clumsily righted himself, glaring at the tyrant of the Westminster townhouse. “Tommy, good to see you. ‘Ow’s business?”

“Never been better.” Thomas shifted his attention to me. “Y/N, go upstairs. Mister Solomons and I have to talk.”

“I’m not-’’ I began, looking over my shoulder.

“Go upstairs!”

“Don’t yell at her!” Alfie roared before turning to me with a softer voice. “Go upstairs, right? It’s okay. We’ll talk tomorrow… if me head can remember.”

I clenched my fists, trying to keep my breathing even. As per usual, I managed. Still, I could feel myself hanging on by a thread, ragged around my throat.

Always pushed into the corner one way or the other.

Always me.

Why does it always have to be me?

Locked away in loneliness.

Shut away in a prison more cruel than The Tower. Left to my own devices and thoughts dedicated to the shadows, the dark corners of my mind.

Upstairs, Charlie walked out of his room, pale and concern etched on his face. He’s only too aware of how Thomas regards me and to this day makes sure I get treated as fairly as possible. “What’s happening? Why was he yelling at you?”

“The King has returned,” I mumbled, quickly brushing past him since I my pride refused me to let him see the tears brimming on my lashes. Footsteps as loud as a ghost’s, I slipped into my room and closed the door as softly as I could behind me.

The war inside was no one’s business, only for me to fight.

Another night of spilling the blood of its casualties on the page, somewhere between the lines a remembrance for the girl who hoped to rise like a phoenix. Another silent funeral for my soul.

An author is, essentially, all the characters she has created and is yet to create. My stories are told by people that carry little bits of myself, carefully concealed behind a fictional mask. But that’s what gets us through the day, innit, the stories we tell ourselves.

I was already broken up into so many fragments that night that I don’t even know who it is staring back at me in the mirror. Who is the woman people cheer for at signings in bookshops? Who is the lonely girl wandering in every Waterstones in Birmingham and London, a family member always nearby? Who was the young heart that was shredded to pieces and only recently glued together by rum rather than whiskey?

It’s a question I ask myself again now, looking down with a wistful smile. 

A blank page. Empty. Adjustable. Without personality. Whatever you want it to be and can give life to from your inner world.

Outside, the sound of shuffling feet goes accompanied by groaning, curses, low grumbles, and the creaking of wood. Somewhere in the distance a fight breaks out between two men, their voices too dim to make out the topic nor arguments of their heated debate. 

Although it isn’t my writing room with a desk by the window, this London hideout has become my personal bubble too. Alfie offered me to use his office whenever I want to, regardless of him being at work or not. Nonetheless, as during those holidays in Margate, he still prefers me to work on my books in his company on his rare day off. After all, despite the fact I’m, in his words, “off the fucking menu”, he trusts no one in his pack to not try their luck with me.

What a story that would be. A werewolf lower in rank trying to shack a Shelby witch, breaking the alpha’s rule. The alpha would go ballistic and a fight would break out.

Blood would flow.

The end is someone's death.

Fortunately, the rozzers in this part of town are in Alfie’s pocket because I don’t know how I’d save him from a charge for murder without my family’s help. Even then it’s highly unlikely he’d get away with it since no one wants him to live as desperately as I do.

“That ain’t writin’.” Alfie steps into the office, closing the door behind him. It falls into the lock with a soft click.

“No, indeed it isn’t.” I thumb the deck of cards in my hands. “Dad goes ballistic every time he catches me. If I don’t remind him of Mum, it’s this. Charlie’s different, though. He gave me these for my birthday and covers me as much as he can. He knows they’re important to me.”

“Funny, Tom going fucking angry at gyppo stuff.” He scoffs, sitting down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. “His anger is un-fucking-justified. Yes, you look like your mum, but that ain’t your fault. Besides, you’re… never mind. You don’t need to hear that.”

Maybe not right now, but still… one day I want you to say it again.

If only to hear I’m a beautiful person to someone.

To him.

I cock an eyebrow and scrunch my nose. For both our sakes, I ignore the unfinished remark. “Westminster changed him. We’re no longer gipsies. Looks like we’re fucking above that.”

“Not you, though,” Alfie says, a silent hint for me to continue in his soft-spoken voice.

I sigh. “Not me. I’d rather be a witch and honour my roots than become a toff settled in a mansion.”

“Got the itch to travel, eh?”

“Always. I remember what you promised me.” Throat constricted with solemn nostalgia, I swallow and fail to muster even a sliver of a smile. “But then again, I was just a girl back then. Stupid I believed you.”

Alfie opens and closes his mouth, but settles for a groan. He leans in and places a big warm palm over my fumbling fingers. A crown to protect the queen’s hand. “The road is open. I couldn’t take you then, right, I’m very well aware of that, but we can still go.”

“Despite who I am?”

“You’re not a fucking Shelby. Freedom is a ‘uman right, but not every ‘uman gets to enjoy it. I wanna open the cage, see where the little bird goes.”

And will the wolf follow? Or will he get someone else to free him from the Tower?

I bite my lip, gaze averted to our hands. 

Alfie clears his throat and leans back. The rings on his fingers shimmer in the artificial light when he lets his entwined fingers rest on his stomach. “Self-taught?”

“Polly taught me. Well, the basics. I developed my skills further myself.” I tilt my head, our eyes locked while an idea pops into my head. “I’m no expert, but… can I do a reading on you?”

He silently gestures at his desk, giving permission.

“I’ll do a simple spread. Three cards. Past. Present. Future.”

Hopefully, the cards will reveal what you and Thomas swept under the carpet.

I shuffle the deck, focusing on the question of what happened a decade ago. If there’s anything I want and need to know about the pack leader’s history, it’s this small piece we have in common. 

The crossroads between our stories.

I draw the first card, presenting the past. 

Ten of Swords.

The second card, the present. 

Six of Cups.

The third and final card, the future. 

The Chariot.

My stomach drops at the sight of the wolf pierced by swords. “Something failed, a defeat that led to some sort of collapse. But it wasn’t a part of your business that failed, was it?” 

I furrow my brow, pondering what could have happened. However, not a second has passed before I flinch and a vision flashes behind my eyes. 

Growling. Blood. Organs. Alfie clenching his fists and holding his head while his skin ripples. Empty and broken bottles of rum. The nauseating noise of bones cracking resonates in my ears while skin replaces fur and vice versa in quick succession. 

“It was a collapse of self. You took to the bottle, more and more, to drawn out the feeling of having failed. Changed more often until…” my breath hitches and I snap my head up to meet his gaze, still panting lightly. His expression is stoic, his sentiments concealed. “You went feral.”

So that’s why Camden was quiet, but Ollie was always tense. Poor sod, being left in command without warning.

I compose myself as best as possible and continue. “The present, Six of Cups. This world is still strange to you, but slowly you’re getting familiar with it again. How… how much do you remember?”

“Only you. Me fuckin’ noggin’ is a mess, one black hole.’’ Tenderness illuminates his eyes, warming the blue sea and icy lake in them. ‘‘But I, I swear, right, I’ve never forgotten you. You were there, even in the midst of the worst frenzy.”

I shake my head, desperate to stop him before we go down a familiar road. Before I start hoping for an ideal. “Don’t tell me you came back because of me.”

“You, yeah, you told me you wondered whether or not I’d come back. So,’’ he spreads his hands for a moment and then puts them down again, ‘‘ere I am.”

I mean, you’re not wrong. I did say that, but that was last month.

When I slipped out of my room just to get a glimpse of him before going to bed, feeling like a little kid again, rebellious enough to defy the rules. I ended up sitting at his bed for longer than I intended. To be honest, I had to kick myself out of the guestroom lest I ended up sleeping next to him, which would have worsened the already precarious situation with Thomas.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Drunk, yes. But not asleep. I forced myself to stay awake, to enjoy every second of your company.” He bites his lip, failing to sound any less direct. “Not a moment went by I didn’t want to go ‘ome. But I ‘ad no one to guide me there.”

“Your guide didn’t know where to look. Lost herself in a terrible dark forest,” I murmur. “Must be strange, though, being back after so many years. Camden has changed.”

“It ‘as, but I still remember the way around me kingdom. Seems even the new faces know who sits on the throne.” He looks down at his hands and rest of his body. “Odd, innit, clothes and what we use them for? Feels unnatural, not like what Yahweh had planned for us to be wearin’ when ‘e made us. Didn’t want to give you a fright, though. Lots of new scars that ‘aven’t ‘ealed yet or barely. Yeah… would only stress you out. I do apologise for me manners, though, the way I ate that sandwich. One eats differently... out there. Besides, being blind on one side ‘as its complications.”

“You were a messy eater even before you left.” I can’t suppress a smile at a particular memory. “I always had to help you wipe crumbs from your beard whenever we went out to lunch. D’you remember that?”

“Can’t say it sounds strange to me ears.” His brow furrows and he flinches, fingertips pressed to his temple. Between shallow breaths sounds a note of delighted relief. “I think such a memory just returned.”

“You’ll get there.”

It’s better to remember something rather than nothing at all.

“Doc told me the best way to sort out the fuckin’ mess up there is to visit the places I’ve been. Said it could form a trigger.”

I shift in my seat. Regardless of being an adult, Thomas still likes to keep a close eye on me. And if it isn’t him, he’ll send another watchdog. Knowing him, it’s highly likely he’ll send for Michael, who has pretty much figured me out over the years. That’s what you get when you spend too many Christmases at Polly’s. “I’ll have to find a way out of the cage to meet you.”

“I 'ave a key.”

“You do?”

Ignoring my question, Alfie nods at the three cards on the desk. “Last card. What does it mean?”

Blinking in surprise at the swift change in topic, I clear my throat and return my focus to the reading. “The Chariot. You’ll gain discipline and self control. You found a way to quell the rage inside or, rather, subdue the Wolf.”

“Guess the Brazilian Jiu Jitsu is paying off,” he chuckles.

“I thought you did boxing?”

“I did that before, you know, the whole leaving and feral thin’. Currently doin’ that.”

“It sounds less violent.”

“It is.”

“No cage fights?”

He shakes his head, a few strands of grey highlighted by the light. “No, love, no more cage fights. I can’t right remember, but I stopped participatin’ in those a long time ago. ‘Ell, I don’t even know anymore what they were like.”

“You were fearsome,” I say, hoping to spark a sliver of a memory which won’t contain the events that ended with fatal accidents. “Nothing could stop you in the ring.”

“What calmed me down?”

“A bath and a cup of tea.”

“Right after the fight, I mean.”

“They’d sent for me lest…”

“Lest what?” I avoid his gaze, which is clearly not appreciated. “Lest what, love?” he repeats, tone harsher and sharper.

I press my lips together, breathing in deeply. “Lest the wolf took completely over. The day it happened for the, fuck, I don’t even know how many times it had been. Four? Five? It might have been ten when I finally got through to you. And on that night, I made you promise to stop fighting.”

“Did I? Stop fightin’, I mean?”

I glance around the room, lost for how to answer. “I don’t know. You were proud of being a wolf, hell, the fucking alpha of Camden Town. It was the one thing you didn’t want to give up. Fighting was in your nature and I fear that it’s a part you wouldn’t give up. Not even for me.”

“I ‘ave now, yeah, I ‘ave now. No more fightin’, Y/N. I swear so on everything between this world and the next, every bloody grave I can think of.”

“Perhaps that abstinence from violence is where your success lies.”

Maybe temperance forms the key to self-control when it comes to us. Maybe we were poison to each other before, but what if we keep an eye on the dosage?

What if we can find our way back?

The door opens. Ollie remains in the doorway, expression pale. “Boss, Randy and Pete are nigh on having a shiv dance.”

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” Alfie grumbles as he rises to his feet. “I’ll be there in a minute. Go on, off you fuck.”

“Yes, boss.” The second-in-command curtly nods at me, smiling politely. “Y/N, sorry for the intrusion.”

“It’s alright, Ollie. Thank you.”

“‘Ow about you stay ‘ere, hm?” Alfie proposes after his subordinate has closed the door. 

“How’d you mean? I don’t want to inconvenience-’’

“You’re not. And I don’t mean ‘ere as in this shithole of a basement with all these numpties. What I mean, right, is ‘ow about you stay ‘ere, at my side? Plus, I’ll be ‘onest, and you know I only am with you, it’s part of me plan to prove you’re not nor ‘ave ever been a Shelby.”

“Enlighten me,” I say to humour him yet harbouring no expectations for this to be anything more than a joke. ‘‘Tell me about this big plan of yours.’’

“A change of name.” Lost in thought, he strokes his beard. “Yeah… that oughta do it. Y/N Solomons has a nice ring to it, don’t it?”

Jaw clenched, I put the cards down to cross my arms. “Alfie, this isn’t funny.”

“I’m not being funny, Mrs Solomons. C’mon, stand up.” He walks around the desk and pulls me to my feet, his calloused palms warm against my skin. A strong whiff of oud wood and vanilla hits my nose when he leans in to rest his forehead against mine. “This old selfish chap means it. Marry me, eh?”

I run my fingers through his bushy whiskers, an old habit I can’t seem to quit. Sooner or later, this will turn out to be him pulling my leg. The words leaving my mouth are sceptic too, slow and hesitant as they roll off my tongue. “Are you mental?” 

“Perhaps, but I want to set you free. Show Tom he has a wonderful woman of a daughter who deserves the world, right, a world I want to try and give ‘er.” He removes one of his rings and the silver chain around his neck, making a necklace out of the pieces of jewellery. Then he reaches back to put it on me. The silver is lukewarm against my chest, having retained some of his natural heat. “I don’t need an answer right now. You don’t even need to love me in return. I simply wish to keep you safe, that which I couldn’t do the first time. But this time, yeah, this time I will. Swear so on every holy book in this whole damned world. ‘Sides, I had to pop the question at least once while I’m still ‘ere. While I still remember.”

My breath tapers, the butterflies violently trying to break out yet all congesting in my throat. Stuck in a net of fear. “I want to find our way back, I do. But marriage seems too big of a step to take.”

“You know me better than anyone else, love. Take your time to think about it, eh.’’ He lovingly strokes my cheek, softly purring. ‘‘I’ll wait. ‘Owever, if you reject my offer, at least use the name to be free. I’ll find you a place to stay either ‘ere in Camden or in Margate. A nice big apartment or an entire ‘ouse, whatever you fancy. Wherever you fancy, actually. So if you wanna go to, let’s say, France and mingle with fuckin’ baguettes, I’ll make it ‘appen.”

“Alfie…”

Before I can begin to protest, he shushes me by pressing his lips on mine. They’re still as soft and plush as I remember, tender yet full of restrained passion. Needing more of this, us, but sharing the hesitancy of chasing the ideal world we lived in for a single summer. 

After a moment he breaks away and kisses the tip of my nose. “I need to get back to work. Make sure these floors stay clean and those runts get a reminder of the bloody rules. Stay for as long as you like.”

I watch him leave the office, grown a little colder.

And aside from the dim shouting, growls, and Alfie putting the other wolves in place, there’s nothing.

Nothing except a racing, conflicted heart and an all too familiar companion.

Silence.

[nancypullen]

Checking In

It's been a wonderful few days here on the Pullen spread. Matt has been in town and he's always such good company. We've had a lot of laughs, eaten too much holiday food, and just enjoyed being together. The Edgewater gang went down to Tennessee for Turkey Day, but I've had two calls from our Little Miss and have seen loads of pictures - they're having a ball. They'll be home on Sunday, Matt will fly out this evening, and we'll all brace ourselves for Christmas. We're getting decorated, my cards have arrived, and I'm ready to start wrapping gifts. The mister and I may wander into D.C. and visit the Christmas market, or we may opt to go to Baltimore's Inner Harbor - they do a big German Christmas village with loads of vendors (and German food!). Chestertown, on our side of the bridge, will have their Dickens Christmas festival the first weekend of December. We'll definitely give that a go. Doesn't look like we'll lack for Christmas cheer. I've volunteered to work the Friends of the Library booth at the Ridgley Christmas shindig, we'll see if they plug me into the schedule. I think that's on the 9th. It's tiiiiime!

In other news....I GOT A JOB! The Caroline County Library looked past my pink fluff (and maybe my age) and offered me a position! Yippee! I'll start January 16th, so come on over and see the nice granny at the library, she'll help you with anything you need. I never thought I'd be starting a new job at age 60, but I truly think it's going to be good for me in many ways. I can't just rot in this house. When the offer was made and salary and start date settled, I was reminded that this was, of course, pending a clean background check. Why is it, that even when you know you haven't had so much as a speeding ticket in decades, you wonder if you'll pass the background check? No one has lived a more vanilla life than I have, but what if they uncover that I skipped school in 1980 and egged a rival high school? I'll bet the people doing my background check weren't even born in 1980. What's the statute of limitations of egging? I may also have knowledge of several toilet papering incidents. That's it, I'm sunk.

Moving right along. I've got several artsy projects going. It looks like a glitter factory exploded in my craft room and that makes me happy. Look at these little chests (don't look at my mess).

Those are going to be tooth fairy boxes! My grandgirl and my sister's grandson are about the same age, both in kindergarten and nearing the snaggletooth stage of life. I''ll touch up the paint on these, glue in a little cushion, and place a little scroll inside printed with a poem I wrote for them: The Tooth Fairy Riding a moonbeam, she enters our land With glittering wings and a pouch in her hand Searching for treasure, a fairy's delight, a child's lost tooth, shiny and white. Upon finding a tooth that pleases her eyes, she leaves that lucky child a surprise So take care of your teeth, do your best When one is lost, use this chest Close your eyes, drift and dream She'll soon arrive on a silver moonbeam When you wake, look inside And see what treats a fairy hides

Okay, it's rough, but it'll work for little kids. It's all about the magic, folks. Make as much magic as you can for as long as you can. If it includes glitter, even better. Okie dokie, time for me to get busy around here. There are decorations to hang, things to sparkle, and cookies to eat. I hope you're doing something fun today, too. Whether that means shopping with the crowds or watching Hallmark movies and drinking hot cocoa, do it! Let's make a pact to send 2023 on its way in a cloud of merriment and happiness. The world is insane, bad news blares at us all day, so do everything you can to make your little corner of the world sweet. Sending you love and lots of holiday cheer. Sprinkle it all over! Stay safe, stay well, stay jolly. XOXO, Nancy

[kiarcheo]

Sisters Are Doin’ It For Themselves    5/5

Should have known better than to plan something, especially for Christmas so....a month later, here it is, the last (and longest - almost 3000 words) chapter. Hope you enjoy it!

Can read on ao3 too

                            ——————————————–

Anna and Cathy had just been introduced to George and Jane, and exchanged Christmas wishes, when Jane – she told them they could call her Rocky or even Parker, since her full maiden name had been Jane Parker Rochford, if it was too confusing – looks around. ‘Where is my favourite sister?’

‘What? She is not even remotely related to you. Not by blood, not by marriage.’

‘And it took,’ Catalina makes a show of checking her watch, ‘3 minutes?’

‘She is not related to you either.’

Anna and Cathy gulp, frozen on the spot. They had figured out Anne was in all likelihood adopted. She has a different surname and doesn’t look anything like Kat, or Catalina, or Jane. But to bring it up seems like a low blow.

Anne however doesn’t seem bothered. Rather she looks rather smug. ‘Actually we made a blood pact in primary school.’

‘You did what?!?’

Anne is saved from having to answer Jane and Catalina’s outraged question by Kat bouncing down the stairs, garish Christmas jumper on. That’s a tradition, Anna and Cathy had been told, just before being advised that they could either bring their own, the worst the better, or borrow one. The ones they had were festive but relatively tame, appropriate to be worn in public...or even just at uni. So they decided to buy new ones...and they managed to score some truly dreadful ones that impressed the whole family.

‘Rocky!’ Kat hugs the woman tight.

A throat-clear. Another one. And another one.

Kat steps away, sharing a mirthful smile with Rocky. Anne will scrape her throat raw with her fake coughing until she gets them to stop hugging.

‘George.’ She nods at him.

‘Kat.’ He nods back.

Kat, Cathy has learned, is not any less jealous or overprotective....just less vocal about it than Anne.

‘Come on, people, get a shift on!’ Anne claps her hands.

‘Don’t think you’re going to get away that easily.’

‘Food to eat, games to win,’ Anne continues louder.

‘With what?’ Kat asks, before her wrist is grabbed and she is dragged away, quickly followed by Anna and Cathy.

‘We’re going to talk about that!’ Catalina calls after the four girls.

‘Never a dull moment with those two, uh,’ Rocky comments, sparing a sympathising and amused glance at the parents. ‘I bet you missed that.’

.

‘No cheating!’

‘It's just to give them an idea,’ Jane rolls her eyes at Anne, ‘it’s their first time.’

Anne points at her eyes and then at Anna and Cathy in a “I’m watching you” gesture.

‘You can shuffle them after,’ Kat appeases Anne while the other two girls are looking through the deck of cards.

‘Very...professional,’ Cathy comments turning one in her hand. They are laminated.

‘Lina designed them,’ Jane informs her just as her wife says, ‘less likely to be destroyed.’

‘During the years cards got…water spilled on them. Tea. Coffee. Wine. Ended up in the gravy pot. Were set on fire. Both accidentally and on purpose. Were cut. Tore up. Eaten,’ Catalina lists.

‘Eaten??’

‘By an animal?’

‘Let's say so.’

‘Anyway, laminating the cards solved most of those problems.’

Anna and Cathy nod, still looking at them.

‘So, it’s quite easy. We play in teams. When it’s your turn, you pick a card and read the instructions. It will tell you what's the activity or the game, who has to play, who gets the points, how, how many, and everything else,’ Jane explains.

She is the one who came up with the whole idea and she is very proud of it. Besides some small incidents (hence the need to laminate the cards), it has proved to be a great way to play any holiday away. Changing game at every turn keeps things fresh and gives everyone the chance to play to their strengths, since the cards go from traditional games like Charades, Pictionary, and Taboo, to more hands-on like pin the tail on the donkey, toilet paper mummy, or hot and cold. Points are assigned in different ways too, sometimes for speed, sometimes for scores, others for creativity, etc.

‘Points? What do you win?’ Anna asks.

‘Bragging rights,’ Anne tells her, rolling a whiteboard into the living room.  

Then she uncaps the marker pen with a flourish. ‘We’ll start with me and Kat, as usual.’

‘Why? Out of curiosity,’ Cathy adds. She doesn’t mind.

‘The youngest one, or the youngest one’s team, always goes first,’ Catalina tells her while Anne writes down “sisters from different misters”.

‘So after us it will be your turn,’ Anne writes AC/PC in another column. They had agreed that Anna and Cathy would team up, since they would be more comfortable and more competitive, having known each other the longest.

‘Can I ask again...why? The name, I mean.’

‘Anna Cleves, Parr Cathy. Or Anna & Cathy, Parr & Cleves. Like AC/DC but–you know what? Explaining make it lose all its mystic!’ Anne cuts herself off. ‘Then there is George’s team.’ She writes “Boleyns”. ‘And for last the mums because they are the oldest.’

‘And wisest!’ Jane chimes in.

After discarding the first card picked by Kat, since it required to collect ten objects of a chosen colour as quickly as possible and it is deemed unfair for Cathy and Anna, being the third day of their first visit, the first game is heads up.

Anna’s turn sees a round of Pictionary, much to Anne’s complaints that Catalina has an unfair advantage, ignoring the fact that while the mums’ team indeed wins, Kat is almost as good, and they take second place.

Rocky picks paper bin basketball, each team having to make ten balls of crumpled paper and try to shoot the ball into the bin, which ends up being neck and neck between her and Anna.

Jane mutters something as she reads her card.

‘What?’

‘Guess the song.’

Anne hollers as Catalina groans and the others look on in confusion.

‘Just to be clear, every now and then we add new cards. If we see or get a new game, have an idea...this was Anne’s contribution for this year,’ Jane says, before going on reading the instructions. ‘Each team chooses a player, the others – in our case, other – will guess,’ she stops so that the teams can decide. ‘Each player gets a list of songs,’ she opens the labelled folder and hands them out, ‘they choose one to play and the teammate has to guess the song.’

‘It doesn’t sound too bad,’ Cathy comments.

‘Wait for it,’ Anna recognises the glint in Anne’s eyes. There is still something missing…George seems to think the same.

‘What do we play?’ he asks, wary of anything that comes from his sister’s mind.

‘Kazoo!’ she cheerfully replies.

.

After a round of 5 Second Rule picked by Anne, it’s Cathy’s turn.

‘Ask the other teams to recreate an iconic work of art. They have five minutes to discuss. Then. once the order is decided, each team has another five minutes to prepare. Each team will then vote for the best one...the picker’s vote is worth double.’

‘Lame,’ Anne mutters as George and Jane recreate the iconic Titanic scene on the bow of the ship.

Cathy and Anna sort of agree but are too polite to say so.

Catalina and Jane recreate Grant Wood’s American Gothic, Catalina in particular prompting howling laughter as she presents herself wearing overalls covered by a suit jacket, a shower cap trying to emulate almost baldness, and holding a meat fork in lieu of the pitchfork.

And then it’s Anne and Kat turn, who disappear in the kitchen only to reappear wrapped in aluminium foil from head to toe (well, just mid-calves) on the notes of eurodance music.

Hello everybody! My name is Verka Serduchka Me English nicht verstehen! Let's speak dance!

‘That’s on us. One of them at least,’ is all Catalina says as the wild dancing and singing end.

‘Please,’ George snorts. ‘We all know I had no role in raising Anne.’

‘What was that?’

‘Dancing Lasha Tumbai,’ Anne replies, ‘by Verka Serduchka.’

‘Eurovision 2007, absolutely iconic,’ Kat carries on.

‘I’m not sure I can be friend with someone who doesn’t appreciate it. Or Eurovision,’ Anne informs her guests.

‘Where is it on the scale?’ Anna asks. ‘You know, of unacceptable stuff. From not liking Kat–’

‘They could be most perfect person in world, if they don’t like Kat, they can die in a ditch,’ Anne interrupts her.

‘Amen to that,’ Cathy mutters.

Jane looks around to see if anyone caught that. Rocky is the only one with a raised eyebrow...and Kat is barely suppressing a smile. At least her daughter doesn’t seem to have inherited Lina’s obliviousness.

‘Like I said, from not liking Kat to...I don’t know, not liking chocolate,’ Anna continues.

‘Obviously not as bad as not liking animals but worse than not liking chocolate. I mean, I still don’t trust you, but more for me.’

‘Obviously.’ Anna nods solemnly. ‘I love chocolate. And animals. And Kat. Just saying.’

‘Just don’t give chocolate to a dog or any other animal trying to entice them to follow you home.’ Jane gives Anne and Kat a knowing look.

The girls lock eyes. Twin tiny headshakes. If neither of them spilled the beans…

‘How did you–’

‘As Martina says,’ Jane had heard the phrase from her Italian colleague and fell in love with it, ‘I know my chicken.’

‘Quack.’

Silence falls, incredulous stares pinned to Kat and Anne.

‘That’s a duck,’ George finally says, his voice flat.

‘I honestly don’t know what’s more concerning. That I said chicken and you quacked…or that both of you did.’

‘Both,’ Catalina replies to her wife. ‘Both are seriously, deeply, concerning.’

‘We were winging it.’ Anne shrugs.

‘And we are birds of a feather,’ Kat joins in.

‘Don’t act like it was such a gross misconduckt.’

‘Or like we were using fowl language.’

‘Don’t you mean goose misconduckt,’ Jane interrupts the ping-pong-like exchange.

‘We are all in beak form today!’ Kat grins at her mum.

Catalina groans, hand on her face. ‘What did I do to deserve this?’

‘Proving my point.’ George gestures to Anne, who is snickering with Catalina’s wife and daughter. ‘She is on you too.’

After they assign points, the next card is picked up, a round of Taboo ensuing.

‘The animal you wait for when you have cramps,’ Kat rushes out, their allotted time almost over.

‘Crabs!’ Anne yells, much to Kat’s joy.

Jane chuckles. ‘That was a funny one.’

‘Care to share?’ Rocky asks, curious.

‘One day I come into the room, and I find the girls hunched over themselves, staring at the floor, so I ask them what they are doing, and Kat replies “waiting for crabs to pass”. Mind you, we were inside, no beach nearby, so I was very confused. Anne was confused too. Apparently, Kat had seen Anne curled up, Anne said she was waiting for cramps to pass…Kat misunderstood cramps for crabs and decided she’d join Anne in the wait.’

‘That’s cute,’ Cathy comments.

‘Anyway, that means we won this round, right?’ Anne tries to get back on track.

‘I think it’s a bit unfair to have you two on the same team,’ Anna jokingly complains. ‘You basically share a brain.’

‘Oh, that would explain their hare-brained ideas. They have just half of a brain each,’ George teases.

‘Don’t be so hare on them,’ Jane jokingly scolds him.

‘Please not again,’ Catalina bemoans.

‘Don’t worry, we won’t fall down the…rabbit hole,’ Jane can’t resist one last pun.

‘You know, I can see Anna’s point,’ Kat states. ‘Me and Anne are a formidable duo,’ she continues, a glint in her eyes. ‘I guess we could switch and do couples. So mamá and Mum, Jane and George, me and Cathy, and Anne and Anna.’

‘What?!’

‘I mean–’

‘Sorry–’

‘What?’

‘I don–’

‘We aren’t–’

Anne and Anna’s voices overlap, pitch raised.

‘That’s a good idea,’ Jane says, cottoning on what Kat is doing.

‘Okay?’ Catalina shrugs. It doesn’t change anything for her.

Rocky looks between the younger girl and her homonymous: something is going on, although she doesn’t know what. 'Fine by me.’

‘Great!’ Kat claps her hands. ‘I might need help getting the box, who–’

‘Me!’ Anna leaps to her feet, eager to escape, even if just for a few moments.

‘Traitor,’ Anne hisses as soon as they leave the room.

‘What?’ Cathy’s eyes dart around. ‘I can explain. I mean– Kat is a grown girl,’ she starts again, straightening up, trying to appear confident.

‘I’ll remember your silence.’

Cathy relaxes. ‘Oh, that–’

‘Yes. That,’ Anne spits out. ‘What if I told the person you like–’

‘So you admit you like Anna?’

‘That’s not the point.’

‘Actually, I think that’s exactly the point,’ Rocky intervenes, snickering, now getting what is going on.

‘Shut up.’ Anne glares at her. Then she turns to Cathy. ‘How would you like for me...to tell Kat you like her?’

‘I certainly hope she does,’ Kat says, walking back into the room.

‘I do.’ Cathy smiles at her.

‘That’s good, because I like you too, baby.’ Kat winks at her.

‘I’m older than you.’

‘But shorter.’

‘Word of advice...give up.’ Jane sends Cathy a commiserating look. ‘If she is anything like her mother, she will forever lord it over you.’

‘Quite literally.’ Catalina’s grin and words further prove the point.

‘Can confirm.’ Anne nods. Kat never lets her forget she is taller than her. ‘Wait!’ It finally drops on her. ‘Baby? Couples? Are you together??

‘No killing on Christmas,’ Jane reminds her with a light-hearted tone, ‘nor maiming.’

‘No hurting my girlfriend at all,’ Kat amends the instructions. ‘Not on Christmas, not ever, thank you very much.’

‘Girlfriend?? When did it happen? Why didn’t you tell me??’

‘I told you,’ Kat reminds her.

That’s true. She told her she was seeing someone and that she would tell her more in due time, not wanting Anne to bulldoze all over her girlfriend.

Kat is relatively sure Cathy won’t bail on her because of Anne. She was her friend first, after all. And she can agree that her former girlfriends running off...had not been too much of a loss. Moreover, if they can’t deal with Anne, there is no way they can stay in her life. But still, it had been very unpleasant, and she would very much like to avoid a repeat.

Anne looks a bit sheepish. Even if she still thinks, like she had thought at the time, that it had been good riddance, she still feels a bit guilty for causing Kat pain and tears.

Then she switches her attention to Cathy. ‘You come into my house–’

Catalina clears her throat.

‘You come into our house–’

She does it again.

‘Come on, leave me something to work with, here!’ Anne exclaims exasperated.

‘Out of curiosity, did she ever give you the shovel talk for,’ Jane asks Rocky, nodding towards George.

‘Oh yes, it was delightful. You got this child–’

‘I was in my teens.’

‘Like I said, child. And she came up to me. And is like, if you hurt my brother, I’ll hurt you. But if you break up with him anyway, you better stick around. For some weird reason Kat likes you and if you break her heart, I’ll happily kill you.’

‘I’m really sorry, and this will probably sound quite stupid to you, but I just have to ask. If you don’t mind answering, obviously. But. George is your brother. Biological brother, right?’ Anna looks at Anne, who nods. ‘And how…’ she gestures around to encompass the whole family reunited for Christmas.

‘Would you believe if I told you that,’ Anne launches into a tale, ‘once upon a time, the two cutest kids in the world met and instantly became best friends. We would spend all our time together and live our best lives together. And then one day, my parents didn’t show up to pick me up. So Lina and Jane took me home with them. They tried to get in touch, but nothing. So I spent the night. The next day, when they took me home, there was still no trace of my parents. Just my siblings. Who were old enough to look after themselves, but not to take care of me. Like, properly. Which is also why the rest of the family was fine with taking them in but not me, who was still really young and requiring lot of care and attention. Well. Not everyone in the family. Because while looking into ways for them to take care of me, Lina and Jane found out that Jane is actually my second cousin, which made things easier for them. And that’s how Kat got the best sister in the world.’

‘That’s what you have been telling people??’ Jane’s incredulous question breaks the stunned silence following the end of Anne’s narration.

‘People,’ Anne scrunches her face, ‘we have told the story...what?’ she turns to Kat. ‘Four time?’

‘I think so,’ Kat tilts her head, counting in her mind. ‘But this is the updated version with George and Mary.’

‘Yes, some people knew about him, so we had to justify his existence somehow.’

‘Thank you,’ George mutters sarcastically.

‘Who is Mary?’ Anna asks.

‘My other sister,’ he replies.

‘What?’ Anna turns to Cathy, who looks as confused as she feels.

‘Only you two,’ Catalina sighs. ‘Yes. They grew up together, and yes, Anne was a constant, regular presence in our house, and yes, you could say we raised her, and we love her like another child...but we never adopted her.’

‘Yet.’

[i-mybrunettelady]

My brain is a lump of unflavored oatmeal rn so I can't think of questions, but if you feel like, use this as a free pass to answer any 2 questions from the Headcanon Asks Meme that you wanted to talk about but no one sent you! Or that you want to talk about more :D

(@uselessidiotsquad )

Ann :'(( That metaphor is very descriptive and ty! I have a really sweet headcanon that just begged to be released into the wild. So, here it is.

24. Wild card slot. Just anything that’s on your mind.

- Sylvari have their own holiday/celebration that's unique to them. Name is a WIP still, but I'm leaning towards Hopesday. Its beginnings can be traced to the first year of Firstborn being on Tyria, when they decided to make a small feast and celebrate around the fire the fact that they survived a whole year. Then came the Secondborn, one of which was a Valiant named Siona (El's sister in the Podtwin AU, but in the Orrian ritual AU, she's a Warden captain and the second Secondborn on Tyria after Cadeyrn) who was tasked by the Tree to find and protect the White Stag, symbol of hope amongst the sylvari. By the time she found it, sylvari had multiplied and what was 14 people because dozens more, and the annual celebration of.. having survived for a year more became a holiday of hope for the entire race that continues to this day, ever expanding as each new generation comes!

Currently, it's celebrated by dancing and singing and sparring between Wardens and Noonblooms. Duskblooms read and judge a poetry competition in the sylvari language (variant of Old Krytan that Pale Tree picked up and that was further developed by the sylvari). Siona lets the Stag roam and be seen. Firstborn and most recently, El as the Knight of the Thorn, are encouraged to attend. Nyra's attended more than once at Trahearne's side, as did Liv, on El's side!

3. How big is the Pact in respect to other Military forces? Who supports them monetarily (they’ve had enough ressources to build Fort Trinity long before it was certain they could even take Zaithan)

- Big. I personally think of it as the fourth order in terms of size. Do note that the way I write/view the Pact, they're not about to invade a country, as it's not their purpose, but as time progresses, they're slowly becoming more and more a neutral third party that doesn't interfere. If you played Dragon Age: Inquisition, you know what can happen with the Inquisition (who was founded in a situation not that different than that of the Pact) during its last DLC, Trespasser.

Pact's figureheads (Logan, Renira, El, Trahearne, Nyra, various commanders that served under Nyra, etc.) don't interact politically, if they do at all, as members of the Pact. Take Nyra, who is involved with politics (namely Ascalonian nationalism of Ebonhawke, Treaty, that sort of patriotic stuff): when she openly attacks Separatists, she does so as herself, not as Commander.

And I think it's that neutrality, focus on fighting dragons and relief efforts in various wars, that lets them get donations, as someone pointed out, and deals from other races and Orders.

bonus round: Wild card + Pact edition!

- I don't think I've really elaborated on how I hc the Pact to operate. I mentioned a council-esque type of thing, but never expanded upon it. Well, here we go!

There's a Marshal at the top and three commanders below them of equal rank to one another. Only, there's only one Commander by title, and that's Nyra (though she operates more as a free agent now; in my personal canon she rejoins the Pact during the LWs4, but it's someone else who does the field command she did during Zhaitan, and I don't have an idea yet who that person is.) El is the Pact's Head of Research and Renira is the Pact's spymistress. Both are given special permission by their respective Orders to do those jobs.

They're not accountable to each other, something that El is eternally grateful for, but only to the Marshal. Yet, for an action to be that of the Pact and not the advisor themselves, they all have to agree on it. So when El suggested using the Searing Cauldron on temple of Verdance in Orr, he wouldn't have had the green light to actually do it had Nyra not given her permission, which is the first of many questionable things she's since done to have her labeled Lionheart (traitor in a specifically Ascalonian way towards those they feel like are working with specifically charr) by the Separatists. Not that she hasn't called them traitors in return. They have a hate-hate relationship.

[angelisverba]

so precious, if only you knew

in which y/n thinks her brother’s best friend sees her as a little sister, and Jason, her brother’s best friend, thinks she’s too cute for her own good.

word count: 9k give or take some :D

pairing: y/n, and her brothers best friend, Jason (from the snl skit)

notes: inspired by project x. that’s all.

When Jason and his friends were in their freshman year of high school, they made a pact.

To have a party.

A party so big, everyone got laid. A party so big, celebrities came. A party so big, the police feared it.

One where they would loose their virginity. Get drunk so they couldn’t remember how they lost it (although, now it’s too late ‘cause none of them are virgins). And maybe, just maybe, participate in the illegal consumption of illegal substances such as drugs and or alcohol.

At the time of their promise, it was unknown if this party would be any sort of celebration, or just for the hell of it. The four, gangly, skinny, face-full-of-acne, boys had been so fueled by the simple idea that they just had to make their party so legendary future alumni could only imagine imitating an ordeal as great as the one they created. As time passed, they argued over who’s birthday, or what holiday would be the cause of, as it had come to be named, G.C.B.B. Get Crunk and Bone Babes. Pronounced gee-sea-babe, because somehow the two b’s had morphed into ‘babe’. GCBabe, in the end, was endowed to Jason when he made a bet that he would score the winning touchdown and win the league for his high school during his junior year. Andrew and Kent, slightly peeved but more relieved that they had a reason to celebrate (they’d settled on Jason’s birthday), and had shifted their focus to the hows, when, wheres, and whats of the situation.

This was the only thing they ever talked about the closer it got to the date, Feburary 1st, and everything they did revolved around spreading the word, obtaining booze, weed, and whatever else they planned on having. Andrew, who’s uncle so conveniently ran a radio station, not only announced a message himself on said radio station, but also convinced his uncle’s dj coworkers to email any celebrities they knew.

Kent, more on the brainy side of things, was working on the booze and drugs. He snuck into the school and used that machine they had to make student id’s and created a fake state id for himself. He would buy booze in a store where workers didn’t know him. Maybe drive 30 minutes to the next town for beer and the lot. His cousin had told him not to worry about weed and the sorts, as long as he received payment.

Jason, ever the spoiled brat, would pay for everything. Even if it was his birthday.

No, no, because it was his birthday.

The thing is, his parents were going out of town to celebrate their anniversary, which just so happened to fall on Jason’s birthday (what a wonderful gift to Jason’s dad), and had given him a generous sum of money to make up for the fact that they wouldn’t be there to celebrate his 18th birthday party. So, he had the house, the money, and the birthday to celebrate.

“YOU’VE HEARD IT ONCE BEFORE, AND YOU’LL HEAR IT AGAIN TILL THE END OF THIS SCHOOL’S TIME,” yelled Andrew, who stood on the back of a golf cart, megaphone in hand while Jason and Kent drove him up and down the lunch tables, “PARTY AT FUCKING JASON’S HOUSE, THIS SATURDAY. MISS IT, AND YOU’LL DIE.”

“Andrew!”

The cart came to a stop in front of a very disgruntled-looking y/n, Andrew’s sister. She stood comically, with her hands bunched up into tiny fists at her hips, lips in a frown at her brothers actions. “Are you trying to cause a riot? Miss it or die,” she mocked, pulling a funny face and cocking her hip to the side as she does so, “Yeah, think I’d rather die, thanks. Now shut up and put that cart back before they take away your senior privileges.”

Kent laughs, and Jason, leaning with his forearms crossed on top of the steering wheel, snickered into his wrists.

“Well, I’ve got news for you sissy,” said Andrew, his tongue poking out at her playfully, “Coach Barnwell let us borrow his cart, and all the snitch staff is in a meeting, so I’m not gonna get into trouble,” He makes and L with his forefinger and thumb, pressing it on his forehead, “Loser. Now, scram. Go study for chem or... something.”

Y/n laughed at her brother, knowing that he was only joking with her, and flipped him off. She walked away with, as Andrew said, her chem book tucked underneath her arm, and shut herself in a little nook at the library for the remainder of the lunch period. Away from the ‘get crunk and bone babes’ nonsense, god knows she heard enough of it at home. Jason this, and GCBabe that. Sheesh, it was terrible. All she ever wanted to do was study and do her homework in peace... and maybe steal a few glances and Jason here and there.

But we don’t have to talk about that. What y/n really needed to do, was study for the chem test she had on Friday. Tomorrow. She was the best in her class, always raising her hand to answer a question, but for whatever reason, she just couldn’t get the hand of stoichiometry if she didn’t have a sample problem in front of her. She didn’t want to have to, but grades mattered, so all day she had been thinking of way to cheat. How to write what she needed. Which letters to shorten. Where to hide the slip of paper.

She’d done it before.

Cheat on a test, that is. The pressure there was to ensure good grades, well it was an insurmountable force. Her entire life, her parents told her academic success led to success in life, and you don’t want to end up homeless under the bridge do you, y/n?

She didn’t. It was her biggest fear. Studying hard for a nice home and car, and enough money to support herself and her kids was a constant thought in the back of her mind.

It’s because of this that the tip of her nose was always stuck in a book, her fingers always wrapped around a pencil that transcribed notes in her neat writing. It was all she knew.

Because it was all she knew. It was no surprise to her parents when she pulled all-nighters to study for tests. Or when she declined offers to eat dinner out because ‘mom, I have a test to study for’ or ‘dad, i really need to finish this essay’. That night, was no different. Y/n stayed up to study, her thumb pink because of all the pages she was flipping through. Her wrist her from forcing her writing to be as small as it could, so she could fit all she could on an index card she cut in half. 

In the morning, Andrew cheered a loud, “WHOOP! WHOOP! MY SISTER ISN’T SUCH A GOODY TWO SHOES AFTER ALL!” when he saw her place the card up her shirtsleeve after she put her seat belt on. Y/n, had she had the energy, would’ve pushed his shoulder, but instead chose to take a nap during the measly 15 minutes it took to get to school. Her head jostled against the headrest with the cars movements, and she almost cried because she couldn’t doze off. Somewhere along the way, she felt fingers against the side of her face, cradling her head. She jumped, startled, but she heard Andrew say,

“Relax, its Jason. Picked him up cause he needed a ride to school.” and she was out like a light.

Andrew got out of the car once he parked, and Jason circled around the passenger seat so he leaned over the console, with his palm still on the other side of her face. He rubbed up and down her forearm to wake her, murmuring, “We’re here, y/n. S’time to wake up.”

Y/n woke up disoriented, starting with a deep breath and her eyes blinking open slowly, looking around and landing on Jason, who was smiling at her tenderly. She smiles back at him, tilting her head to the side as she does so. She hopes he can’t hear how fast her heart is beating.

“Good morning,” she said to him. The warning bell rings not long after that, and she turns away from him to reach for her backpack. Jason grabs his own backpack, too, swinging it over his should and stepping out of Andrew’s car. Andrew stands at the front of the car, texting someone on his phone while he waits for Jason and his little sister to step out.

“C’mon guys. Big day today!” yelled Andrew. It seemed as if he was always yelling. His voice, ebullient and clear, held an electrifying energy today, amplifying itself to the max. He whooped and hollered, locking his car carelessly and comically skipping away, but not before turning back and blowing a kiss in Jason’s general direction, yelling, “This is for you, big boy!”

Y/n snickered at her brother, and at Jason’s shocked face. “That was for you, big boy,” she repeated after he brother.

“You forgot the kiss,” he said, pouting and pointing his chin down at the floor. Her heart doubled over in her chest, and she struggled to contain her swoon.The little 13 year old in her, having been the first time she ever felt anything for Jason, squealed like a banshee, and the rational 17 year old in her, shushed her by taping her mouth closed. Having seen Jason’s blonde, skinny, cheerleader girlfriends, she knew it would never happen. Jason was only nice to her because she was his best friend’s little sister.

That was all she’d ever be.

“Oh I have no doubt you’ll get plenty of those tomorrow,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. When she noticed the groups of students getting smaller and smaller, she started walking away, eager to get to class and not be late. She’s only taken three steps when Jason calls out her name.

“I know you’ll do great on your test today,” and he has the goofiest smile on his stupidly handsome name and y/n just wants to go over there and slap him for making her heart to pirouettes.

“Thank you,” she said, and turned to walk to her class.

Jason felt as if he was in one of those indie movies. But, the ones from the 80′s. Ironically, he’s leaned up against the car, one foot propped up, hand clenching the singular strap he wore on his left shoulder. Entranced, he stared after y/n as she walked away, brows dipped over his eyes and his leg bouncing jitterishly.

When he was 16, a sophomore, and she a freshman, he’d stumbled upon her on a rainy spring day. He’d been on his way home from his (now ex) girlfriend’s house, and she was huddled underneath a large birch tree, the canopy thick enough so she wasn’t getting wet, but the winds strong enough that she was chilled to the bone. Her knees were banged up, and her ankle was twisted. Jason remembers asking her what happened, and she said nothing, instead jumping into his arms when he knelt down beneath her. He remember hissing because she was so cold, her clothes soaked through. She’d whispered to him a weak don’t tell my parents, please take me to your house, and he did. He took her to his house, carrying her because the poor thing had to hop on one foot. This was around the time he was bulking for wrestling, so he didn’t have a hard time lifting her and carrying her the rest of the way.

She fell asleep on his bed wearing a pair of his sweatpants and his hoodie after she took a warm shower. They never talked about. Not even once. But Jason swears that every once in a while, the skin of his neck still burns where she pressed a kiss to it after he got in bed next to her because she was ‘still cold’.

Since then, Jason harbored feelings for her. His yearning of her dainty hands to press against his chest while she cuddled into him was squashed every time he heard Andrew yell at another guy in the locker room for sexualizing his sister.

It was a dangerous game he played. Sneaking looks at her in car rides to and from school. Wanting to kiss her like he did then. And when she wore plaid school girl skirts, he wanted to press her up against the wall and hold her by the throat while his tongue snaked into her mouth. All while he sat next to Andrew.

He knew that one day, he’d say fuck it all and do it. He wasn’t an idiot. His back burned when she stared a him from her kitchen isle while he played video games with Kent and Andrew in the living room of her house. He knew every little thing she tried to pass as discreet, because he did the same thing too.

One day, and one day soon, he’d say fuck. it. all.

.

.

.

Y/n was very nervous.

Well, she always get nervous when she’s getting ready to take a test but, today was different. She was on edge, leg bouncing and head pounding. She was stressed. Her english teacher had assigned a paper that was due at midnight, and her math teacher had given her a surprise quiz she knows she failed. And this test was her chance to bring her B+ to an A-. Not to mention, if she got caught, she’d be sent up to the office with a referral.

“You have until the end of class to complete this exam. If you fail to complete before the class period, you will be granted five minutes after the bell. You may begin,” the teacher, Mrs. Prowe, sat down after the little announcement, and turned her full attention to an adult coloring book she had set up on her desk.

Y/n stared at the first question for a solid 2 minutes before any of the information actually sunk in. To which does He belong? a. metals b. metalloids c. non-met....

The first few questions are always easy. Review from past chapters, all of which y/n understood. The first page, front and back, were a breeze. She bubbled in circled on her answer sheet without hesitation. The back side, however, was a different story.

Her palms began to sweat at the sight of brackets and subscripts on letters. Her pencil started slipping. Y/n’s heart started to race, the edges of her eyes blurring. Don’t cry, don’t cry. Fuck. The note card. She took it out with no second thoughts. Within seconds, she had finished the first problem. It was almost exactly like the example exercise she had copied down, only the letters had been changed; different elements. Halfway through the period, the teacher announced how much time was left, and y/n was nearly done.

On the last page, however, was one problem she knew she wouldn’t get. It was one of what the teacher called ‘irregulars’, because you needed to follow certain rules that pertained to the elements or whatever the heck it was. She stared at the paper with her eyebrows raised, and all the dreadful feelings she had felt before tumbled back. Her pencil began to slip, her eyes began to blur. Shit, shit.

The bell rang. She didn’t want to doddle any longer, cut she needed to answer this last problem, and she didn’t fucking know how. Her leg was near violently shaking, the table quivering with her movements. Her breathing grew tight, and she figured, she could lose one point. Knowing Mrs. Prowe it wouldn’t matter because that last one is most likely worth half the test. Y/n felt herself go rigid, body nearly frozen as she walked against student traffic to place her test on the teachers desk.

She was the last to exit the classroom. She did so with her head hung low, her feet dragging slowly on the tiles. Lips trembling, fighting to hold back tears.

That was how she bumped into Jason. Shoulders drooping and eyes shining wet. She bumped into his chest so hard, she would’ve fallen back if he didn’t catch her.

“Y/n?” He asked after he stumbled back a bit. He’d seen her coming, and he was looking at her, ready to smile when she looked up, but she hadn’t. “What’s wrong?” He followed her gaze to try and make eye contact with her, but she shifted her eyes to the floor, and let the tears slip.

“Y/n? Y/n? Hey, look at me,” Jason’s voice was desperate and panicked because he wasn’t really sure what was wrong. Y/n started to curl in on herself, her hands coming to clutch opposite shoulders. When she didn’t look up at him, Jason gingerly lifted her chin up with his curled forefinger. “What is it?”

“It’s too much. I-I,” was all she managed to whisper before she started crying, she body swaying with sobs. Y/n knew, she knew she was crossing the same lines she had that rainy spring day, but she needed to feel her arms around him. She needed to feel secure.

So,

she took one step forward, and wrapped her arms around his neck awkwardly, Not a full millisecond passed, when she felt his arms encompass her, a secure bind around her waist. His chin propped on her head, on his hands rubbing up and down her back, and she had her face tucked into his neck.

“S’okay, y/n. You’re okay,” He cooed into her ear, making ssh-ssh noises every now and then.

Slowly but surely, y/n felt herself come down from the self-destructive place she put herself in; the knot in her throat untangled. She began to retract her arms from Jason’s neck, when his arms tightened around her. She stilled, unsure of what to do.

For a second, Jason had forgotten his situation. Why he couldn’t get close to her. He was so close to saying fuck-it-all. He wasn’t sure what held him back. Maybe it was her teary eyes. Or the fact that a teacher had come out of their classroom. But, he cleared his throat and pulled away from her, stuffing his hands in his letterman jacket to avoid reaching out to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

“Sorry about that,” she said, sniffing and attempting to laugh to brush off the back that she had a mini-breakdown in his arms. “I-”

“It’s okay, y/n. Don’t apologize. I just want to to know what had you so upset,” Jason said, his words coming out slowly to make sure that she truly understood how much he meant them.

“It’s just,” she sighed, “school. It’s a lot.”

He scoffed, “I bet. You do so much. More than you give yourself credit for, I think. Deserve a break.”

“This weekend; s’gonna be my break. Yours too, no? Are you excited?” She confessed, turning the other way and beginning to walk. She was sure that Andrew was waiting for them at the car. Jason walked alongside her, as soon as she started moving.

“Yeah. It’s been all me, Kent, and Andrew have wanted since freshman year.” Jason stops talking for a minute, and scrunches one side of his face.

“But?” Y/n prods. Looking at him out of the corner of her eye. He scratched the back of his neck, and his jacket inflates where his bicep flexes. Jason notices her looking, and smiles at her while giving her a side-eye look. Blushing, she turns her face straight forwards, like that didn’t just happen.

“But, some of the novelty has worn off if I’m being honest.” When she hums, almost knowingly, he adds quickly, “Don’t tell Andrew or Kent I said that.”

She giggled, and murmured, “You’ve kept my secrets, I’ll keep yours.”

Jason, surprised at her subtle acknowledgement of what happened nearly 2 years ago, turns to look at her, shocked. He wants to say something. Anything to get her to say more, but he sees Andrew and shuts his gaping mouth.

“There you are- hey, y/n, are you okay?” Andrew’s chesire cat grin drops from his face when he sees that his little sister’s face is splotchy and swollen red from past tears- a look he recognizes all to well from the times she’d come into his room in the middle of the night asking to be held.

“I’m good,” she smiled at her brother, a sad smile that revealed she wasn’t okay, but didn’t wanna talk about it. “Let’s go home.”

Their ride was full of quick gibber and banter over tomorrow. How thing would go down, who they hoped to see and, in Andrew’s words, fuck. What music they would play, etc. etc. Y/n laughed at their enthusiasm under her breath. As much as she loved her brother, he could be such an idiot sometimes

They dropped Jason off at his house, which was being prepped by Kent by the looks of it. His car- a red corolla- was parked in Jason’s strip of a driveway. Andrew promised he’d be joining them later that night, and pulled out. 

He pulled the windows up, and turned the music off. Then, he said,

“Y/n, what happened?” Andrew, as much as he was a fuckboy an party animal, cared about his sister if he cared about anything at all. Maybe a little too much.

Pushing air past her lips, “I’m fine now, Andy. I promise. That stupid chem test really had me going, that’s all.”

“Are you sure, y/n? No one was bothering you?” Andrew looked at her quickly, hesitantly turning away from her to look at the road.

“Andy, I’m okay.” She reassured her brother.

Jason wasn’t a bother.

.

.

.

Saturday morning, y/n woke up to an eerily quiet house.

A difference to the pasts months. She’d gotten used to Andrew yelling ‘GET CRUNK BONE BABES!” all over the house. Hell, their parents knew of the entire party ordeal, and were quite skeptical about it. Knowing their son, they didn’t try to stop him, they just told him time and time again to ‘be safe, Andrew.’ So many nights he had come home excited and drunk, and shown them videos on his phone of what had occurred at whoever’s house he’d been at before

Their dad, in fact, had watched the videos with amazement, and never bashed on anything other than the fact that he shouldn’t be drinking when he wasn’t the appropriate age for it yet.  Y/n and Andrew were lucky to have such laid-back and relaxed parents that focused much more on safety and well-being rather than the semantics of it.

As y/n crept down the stairs in her silky pj’s (a christmas gift from her 26-year old aunt who liked to shop at Victoria’s Secret), the murmurs of her parents in the kitchen became louder and louder.

“Heard it on the radio, for godsakes,” said her mother, laughing as she stirred whatever liquid she had in her mug.

“I wonder if Jason’s parents know, about the whole thing,” said her dad, his back was to her, facing his wife.

“They must, I mean, it’s the only thing these boy’s have wanted since they started high school, Jason proba- oh hey, y/n!” Her mom smiled wide when she saw her step off the last stair.  At the mention of his daughter’s name, her dad turns around, and y/n can see that he has a mug in his hand too.

“Good morning,” y/n croaked, her voice froggy early in the morning.

“Big day today, no?” Her dad teased.

“I guess so,” she murmured, taking a seat on the kitchen counter and drumming her knuckles on it. Her mother makes her a small plate of what was left over from their breakfast, eggs, bacon, and a slice of toast with jelly. Picking up the slice of toast, she takes a small bite out of it and pulls out her phone from her back pocket, and starts scrolling through her social medias. It consists of people’s dogs, food, photos of Brad Pitt, and....

Her brother had posted a snap from the night before. A short video, not even 3 seconds long. Jason heading into one of the rooms in his large house, with a girl trailing behind him. She wore shorts that barely covered the swell of her butt, and a bikini top. It was captioned crudely: pre-birthday head for the birthday boy.

“Y/n?”  Her dad, or maybe her mom, she didn’t know. Her stomach started twisting, a sour taste settled in the back of her mouth. A weird underwater filter covered her ears, making it seem as if her head was underneath the water, and her parents were speaking to her from above the surface.

Forcing a smile onto her face, she hummed a response, not taking her eyes off her phone screen. It was weird, the feeling that overcame her when she spotted Jason with another girl. Every time, the same thing. Nausea on her tongue, a heat covering the back of her neck and ears, and a dreadful feeling settleling in the pit of her stomach.

“So, you’re going tonight then?” One of her parents asked.

Taking a few seconds to think, taking into consideration what she could be doing instead of watching Jason....”No, I don’t think so.” Her voice is sure, and strong, loaded with finality. 

A load clink of ceramic against marble echoes in the kitchen. She looks up from her phone then, placing it on the counter face down. Her mother was staring at her with her lips pressed together in a hard line. “And why not?”

“Because a party isn’t my scene, mom.” Y/n responds tentatively, alarmed at her mothers hard and inquisitive tone. Her dad stood quietly watching the interaction, stepping to the side to that there was nothing on between y/n’s line of vision.

“And how would you know that if you’ve never been to the one. You’re brother loves them! And I think that you need this break. Andrew told me what happened yesterday. You need to let loose, y/n.” Her mother argued, her words going from agitated to coaxing. “Go to this party.”

“No.” y/n said, looking at her mother straight inn the eyes. She didn’t want to go. She wanted to spend a calm night at home,, all cozy in her blankets with a book, and not having to look at Jason with a pain in her chest.

“Fine,” said her mother, taking her phone out of her pocket.

“Thank you,” responded y/n, relieved. Her dad nodded, and opened his mouth to speak, when her mom said,

“If you don’t go, Andrew can’t either.”

Both y/n and her dad gasp. Her mom was lifting her phone up to her ear, the dial tone ringing in the room.

“N-no, you can’t do that! Andrew’s gonna be so upse-”

“Hello? Andrew? I’m doing good sweetie, uh, listen. Your sister doesn’t want to go to the party, so you can’t go either. However, if YOU MANAGE TO CONVINCE THEN YOU CAN GO,” Y/n’s mom’s voice raises to cover her brother’s protests, “THAT’S FINAL. GOODBYE.”  Yn’s mom hangs up the phone and places it next to the kitchen sink.

Not even a full second later, while y/n stares mortifies at her mom and dad, her phone starts to blare the theme song to The Simpsons, the ringtone for her brother.

She picks it up with her jaw still dropped. She answered the phone.

“Y/n! Y/n, PLEASE. WHAT’S GOING ON? PLEASE COME TO THIS PARTY, Y/N, DON’T DO THIS TO ME, Y/N...” her brother’s voice fills the room even when she doesn’t have him on speaker. he’s begging her, his voice truly distraught.

She knows she has no other option that to agree. She couldn’t do that to her brother, not when it’s the only thing he’s talked about for the past month. She wasn’t mean enough to do that to him.

“... FOR TWO WEEKS. I’LL DO ANYTHING, PLE-”

“OKAY! I’ll go, fuck,” Y/n yelled back, exasperated and defeated. She pinched the bridge of her nose, and stares down at her plate, not bearing to look at her mom and dad.

“Thank you! Oh my god, thank you. I’ll pick you up at 5, so-”

Y/n hung up on him. Glared at her mom, and the went to mope until 5 in her bedroom.

.

.

.

Somewhere along the line, moping turned into pre-party prep. She turned her speaker up all the way, and sang at the top of her lungs. Y/n was going in with the mentality of drinking and keeping to herself.  Observing, or locking herself in on of the rooms and fall asleep. She was dreading it, but wouldn’t deprive her brother of this because it meant so much to him. 

Her parents tried coming in several times, and every time she refused to open her door. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, she thought to herself, I’ve got this. 

Once it got closer to 5, she put in some jeans and her favorite t-shirt. A faded purple short-sleeve with a smokey image of Prince on it. She totally didn’t wear it because every time she wore it, Jason complimented her on it. 

It was 4:57 when Andrew knocked on her door. 

“Y/n, y/n, y/n, my sister whom I love so much, can you please-“ he’s knocking rapidly on her door, and y/n throws on a green knit sweater at last minute before opening the door, and her brother knocks right on her eye. 

“Ow!” She helps, the hand that wasn’t holding her shoulder bag reaching up to cover her eye. Andrew gasped, and started to repeatedly apologize. 

“I’m so-“

Y/n, irritated and upset, held up her palm and shook her head. “Just shut it. Please.” Andrew tried saying something, and y/n just pushed past him, staring ahead coldly, “lets go.”

Her previous attitude about this party had returned. She was mad and couldn’t be more bothered to attend. A tiny part, deep in her heart, ached and pulsed wildly. She wasn’t really sure how the night would end, and she didn’t like that. She wanted to know that by 10, she’d be falling asleep after a bubble bath, or reading a book safely in her bed. 

Not drinking and partying with nobody she knew (none of her friends-the little she had- were going). And she was damn sure that Andrew wouldn’t stick around the entire night. No, he’d be eager to be at all places at once, included in all the action. All. The. Action. 

They walked to Andrew’s car in silence, she strutting and fuming with attitude, and he, with his head bowed and cowering like a shunned puppy. Sure, he was older, bigger, taller, buffer than y/n, but when she was mad, he became a scurrying mouse who bent at her command. Not because she was mean or anything like that, but because Andrew loved her and he wanted to see her with a smile, and he figured listening to her was the first step. 

So, he shut the fuck up, and followed behind her, listening closely in case she ordered something else.  To clarify, y/n didn’t order. She said things. But Andrew (again) loved her and took those sayings very seriously. It wasn’t like she was the Wicked Witch of the West with a whip in her hand. It was more like she was a disappointed mother, and he her kid who loved his mom and didn’t want her to be upset at him anymore. Their dynamic was like that. 

Not even a full 10 minutes later, Andrew was pulling into Jason’s driveway, and pulling into his six-car garage, next to Kent’s car. Pulling the key out of the ignition, he sat for a moment, not turning to look at his sister. 

He didn’t have to. 

Without glancing at him, she said, “I want a margarita... please.” Then, she turn to look at him with a tiny smile; a piece offering. She’s forgiven him. And she has. Well, she wasn’t angry at him to begin with, but her irritation is gone.

Andrew laughed, his head thrown back and his ha, ha, ha’s bellowing. “Yes, ma’am. Strawberry or Mango?”

“Both.” Y/n opens the door to the car, and walks through the garage door that leads to the house. The doorway opens into the kitchen, where Kent and Jason are seated on the kitchen isle, a blunt mid-pass from Jason to Kent.

She stops in her tracks, eyes wide at the smell, and the smoke exiting in grey ropes out of Jason’s lips. Andrew pushes past her like nothing, and opens the steel fridge to look for fruit. Jason grins, a slow and lazy spread of his spit-slicked lips. Kent coughs after he inhales.

“Hellooo y/n,” Jason sing-song’s, drawing out her name and laughing. Kent snickered.

“Long time to,” Kent makes a c-shape with his hand, “see,” and bursts out laughing.

“Gimme some of that, dickheads.” Andrew makes a ‘come here’ motion with his fingers.

Y/n fakes a gasp, and hoists herself up onto the counter. She’s been surprised, and a tiny part of her itches because marijuana is a drug, but she can’t really do anything to stop them. They’re half gone and if she said something, she was a party pooper. Tucking her legs underneath herself, she takes a long look at Jason’s kitchen. She’s been in it plenty of times before, when his mom invites her and her brother other for dinner, or breakfast. She’s even helped prepare meals.

But it never gets old.

It always look bright, the lights on the ceiling shine in a way that fills the space, and the reflection off the cream marble glint against the steely surfaces of all the appliances. Toaster, fridge, sink, stove, all a grey color. There was an oven built into the wall, and another right next to it to cook pizza or bread. The kitchen isle in the middle was 7 steps long (she counted once) and 4 steps wide. There was a stove on the counter, and a sink next to it. Jason sat next to the stove, and Kent in the alcove that stretched and transformed into the sink up against the wall.

“... bringing booze and 6, and says he’s got Snopp Dog as DJ. Ben is on back up DJ, or alternate if Snopp wants to.” Kent says, coughing and waving a hand in front of his hand as he does so. Y/n’s ears perk up at his revelation, and her head turns in a peculiar motion.

“Wait, wait, did you say Snoop Dog?” She says, the top half of her body leaning forward. Andrew looks up from his task at the blender, dunking in cut strawberries with ice.

“You heard right, sissy. Snoop Dog!” whooped Andrew, pumping his arm in the air.

“Jesus Christ,” Y/n murmured underneath her breath, shaking her head.

“Raise your hand if you’re staying to fix this place up tomorrow,” said Jason, lifting both of his arms up in the air.

Kent crosses his arms as if he were in a straight jacket, and Andrew laughs and says, “Jason the party keeps going tomorrow.” He presses a button, and the machine starts blending, the loud noise blocking out whatever Jason said next. Whatever it is, Andrew and Kent catch it and bend over laughing, while y/n just watched in confusion.

Once the machine stops, Andrew pours the thick, pink substance into a sugar-rimmed glass, and gives it to his sister. Y/n takes it from him, and looks over at all the ingredients next to the machine because she hadn’t seen what kind of alcohol he put in it. She sees a squat bottle with a green sticker and a cork top; Ciroq.

It’s when she’s puckering her face after her first sip, that the first group of people come in. Andrew and Kent spring forward to answer the door, and Jason just watched them push each other to see who would get there first. Her and Jason are alone in the kitchen, and even though she sees perfectly clear where Kent and Andrew are, she seizes this as her chance to ask Jason what may be her only chance for a stress free night.

Climbing down, she walks over to where Jason sits,and poked his jean clad thigh. “Jason?” She tries not to let her eyes linger on the spots where his plain white shirt pulls tight across his chest, his pectoral muscles rippling. His blonde hair is unruly today, parting down the middle so strands of hair glittered in front of his green eyes.

“Mmm-oh! Yes?” He said, his eyes blinking owlishly at her, slow reflexes when you’re high and all that.

“Is it okay if I lock myself in your room? Or a guest room? Please, I just d-” she started to explain herself when he interrupted her.

“Yes.” Jason placed his hand on her shoulder in a comforting manner, his eyelids drooping a little further than they already were.

“Yes?” She asked, surprised.

“Yes. Si. Oui. Andrew told me what your mom did. And I’m sorry. You can lock yourself in my room. I’m the only one with the key.” He said. Jason stretched, yawning and raising his hands over his head, the bottom of his shirt raising up and revealing the hard lines of his abdomen, the two lines that form a ‘v’; a make shift runway to what lies underneath the waistband of his pants. Y/n, having seen only one other penis, a leaked celebrity’s nudes, is surprised to see that Jason’s doesn’t have a ‘happy trail’.

Clearing her throat, she said, “Thank you. I’m going up there now, okay?” Y/n backed out of the kitchen, Jason’s nodding at her and turning his attention, and what a surprise this is, the blondes that had just walked in with a few dudes who carried packs of beers in their arms. The girls, five of them, all looked like barbie dolls in bikinis.

Rolling her eyes, y/n trudged up the stairs and walked down the hall to Jason’s all-to familiar room. She entered again, into the place she had mulled over many nights in a row.

Jason’s room would be her sanctuary, like it had been that one rainy spring day.

It was just like she remembered it.

For a teenage boy, Jason was very neat. He had a bamboo four poster bed, with Japanese art covering the space above his puffed-up white pillows. His comforter was the same eggshell color of his walls. In front of his bed he had a record player, and a wooden box with records in it. He had a mahogany bookshelf as well, every crevice stacked with books, straight across, and sideways in the spaces between books and the self above it. His room faced the backyard, and y/n had a clear view of the pool and the people that gathered around it. Jason had a window ledge large enough that he could sleep in it comfortably, and judging by the looks of it, he had. There was a tartan quilt and quilt laid out messily on the expanse of it, a book titled Norwegian Wood open with the pages-side down next to the pillow.

His room smelled like him too. No clothes lay scattered in any place, but his scent permeated the room. Sandalwood and vanilla; his musky and sweet scent of boy.

Y/n kicked off her shoes at the foot of Jason’s bed, and set her barely-even-touched margarita on his bedside table, next to a pair of clear lens glasses. That’s funny, she thought, I didn’t know Jason wore glasses.

She tucked herself into his bed, lifting the comforter out of its tucked position, and nestled tightly into the warm cocoon. Taking a deep breath or Jason, her eyes shut themselves, and snapped back open seconds later. Did I lock the door?

Fuck. No, she didn’t. She had to get back up and lock it. Jiggled the knob for extra measure, just to make sure it was locked.  Once she was satisfied,she returned to the bed, and tucked herself in. Her eyes were closing once again, when the thrum of the bass in whatever rap song it was blaring the house, shook through Jason’s room.

No matter. She was out like a light not even 5 minutes later, Lulled to sleep by the smell of Jason.

.

.

.

Jason, Kent, and Andrew were having the time of their fucking lives.

Andrew had forgotten all about y/n after Jason told him she was in his room, and had downed a total of 6 body shots, all on different people. He lost track of how many people took shots on him. Cloud nine, this is what cloud nine is. He was everywhere and nowhere. Try looking for him and you’ll only catch his shirt-tail because he was already moving on to the next scene. If you saw a flipped red solo cup, then he had been there. He was absolutely reveling in the mass of sweating bodies. His yelling inn the cafeteria had paid off.

Everyone and their fucking mom came. He’d seen everyone he knew from school, and twice the amount of people he knew from school that he didn’t recognize. True to his word, his friend had brought Snoop fucking Dog, and he was up by the pool, dj-ing with five towering giants surrounding him. This only brought more attention. The party had spread out to the streets.

Kent was out of his mind, with how high he was. Don’t tell his mom, but he didn’t know what drug it was making it look like the guy passing the blunt had an elephant head. The lights made him feel like he was in a galaxy, sitting on the rings of Saturn with two topless babes under his arms. He sat with a ring of boys in the den, where you couldn’t see past your nose with how much smoke there was in the air.

And Jason? Shit, Jason was having a really hard time getting his dick up. He was in the pool with more than TWENTY topless babes he was supposed to be boning. It was his birthday after all. Andrew had posted a sign on the shallow end of the pool that said ‘only naked babes allowed’, and would appear every five seconds to remind said ‘babes’ to “TAKE YOUR TOP OFF!!!”

No matter how hard he tried, Jason just couldn’t get hard. The girl who pressed her tits in his face- a real 10 really, with bee stung lips and all- was starting to get confused, and Jason was starting to feel like a real tool.

There he was, his party was crazy, police having been chased off, a racoon being passed around on a leash, Snoop Dog having a literal concert inn his backyard, and far off in the distance there was the shinning light of a news helicopter. And he wasn’t having it.

He did for the first hour. Did some shots, smoked more weed, grinded on some people, got grinded on. Someone had inflated a whole-ass bouncy castle next to his garage, and it was filled with nothing but naked girls (which also did nothing for him). And it was fun seeing it build up. It gave him a bit of a heady adrenaline rush, knowing that ll these people where there because-

“So are you gonna let me give the birthday boy, his birthday present?” said the girl who was topless on his lap, her voice sultry and velvety smooth. She was licking a stripe up Jason’s throat, her hips swiveling against his groin.

Jason, still wearing his clothes, jeans and white shirt and all, looked up at his bedroom window, and what he saw made his heart crack in two. Y/n, his precious y/n, was looking at him with horror, tears painting her cheeks not unlike the way they had yesterday in the hallway, and a hand cupped over her mouth. The other hand was lifted up to her ear, and Jason saw that her mouth was moving.

She was on the phone.

He started to feel dirty, like slime. Guilty, was more like it. He realized then that the reason why he couldn’t get hard is because the girl in his lap wasn’t y/n. And seeing her, in his room all alone and in pain, made him feel like scum.

Pushing the girl off without remorse, he said, “No, I don’t think so.” He ignored the girl’s protests, and also whatever the hell Andrew yelled after him. Jason looked straight ahead, striding with intention to his room. It was difficult, with all the bodies and high-fives and bro-slaps he had to give on his way up the stairs, but he made it. He was dripping all over his floor, but he made it.

He hesitated, placing a hand on the door. As the bass of This is How We Do It vibrated through the wall and against his hand, he wondered what would happen when he opened the door. He wanted to console her. Ask her what was wrong, even though he had a large inkling he knew why she was upset- that it might’ve been his fault.

Jason dug his hand into his pocket, using his fingers to peel apart the cloth because it stuck together, and felt for the key to his room. Once he found it, he fed it through the lock, and turned it, the door giving away a sliver to which he was able to peek inside.

Y/n was on the phone. She was sitting at his window ledge, on her knees, still looking out. She hadn’t heard him coming in. Shutting the door closed behind him, Jason held his breath and listened.

“Am I an idiot?” she squeaked, sniffling to the other person on the line. “Why? Well, isn’t it clear. Donna, he’s constantly surrounded by all these skinny, tall blondes, and I’m not like that.”

Jason’s eyes widened. His heart felt as if an arrow had been shot through it.

“I’m so stupid, really. How could I ever think-”

Yes, yes?

“-that Jason could like me?”

He was appalled. Frozen in his tracks, because god did she really think like that? How could she not realize it. She was so precious; all Jason ever though about. If only she knew. If only she knew-

Well, the thing is- and it might be the weed talking, but- she could know. Jason didn’t have to keep it from her anymore. He could tell her. Fuck it. Fuck it all.

“Y/n?” He said. Clearly, not loud enough because she didn’t turn around. He walked to her, close enough that his knees pressed against the ledge of the window seat, and close enough so that he could grab her wrist.

She yelped, surprised, and whipped her head around. When she saw it was Jason, even though he was smiling a dopey, sweet smile that made her want to fall into a puddle, her face fell into one of mortification. He took the phone from her hand and hung up, tossing it on the pillow.

 “Oh, y/n.”

“Jason, I-” Her cheeks flushed. Her words died in her throat, her tears frozen on her lips.

“I like you, y/n. More than you know.” And his clothes were wet sure, but it didn’t matter because fuck. Fuck it all. Jason pulled her up, wrapped a hand around her waist, and kissed her.

A soft, gentle, press of his lips against hers, their noses bumping. She squeaked and tensed, her fingers squeezing his biceps. His thumb rubbed circled to the sliver of skin that peeked from the place where her shirt rode up.

He pulled away from her, and she leaned forward with her own lips puckered, whining because he pulled away.

“I’ve been wanting to do that, for so long, you know?” He told her, placing her back down on the ledge, while she stared back up at him dreamily.

“Why didn’t you?” she asked him.

“Because Andrew would beat me to a pulp,” he said, laughing. “But it doesn’t matter anymore.” Jason reached for the bottom of his shirt, and pulled it over his head, y/n watching with cheeks flaming at the way his skin rippled and tightened with every movement. After a beat she says,

“Why’s that?”

“Because I’d rather get beaten to a pulp, than be away from you any longer.”

super proud of this. THERE WILL BE A PART 2!!

much love, -abigail

[captaindaddykru]

☆for emily☆

today it’s @keiraknighted‘s birthday. i wanted to finish this before today, but everything is flaming garbage, so a preview will have to do. no, i will no be giving out more details. happy birthday to my musical soulmate, the kinkiest queen of them all, em. my ol’ cobber. my favorite drongo. quite the spunk you are. you’re a classic. and you live in the worst possible timezone imaginable. here’s some best friends, pining, sexy, below <10k hopefully. also, sorry for the ugly temporary moodboard???? i was getting desperate at this point and am no grapic designer. i just needed something to distract from what you’re about to read. cheers!

So, by the time their holiday break rolls around, Clarke isn’t only sexually frustrated, she’s also kind of desperate. Which only intensifies when a few days before they’re all flying back to their hometown, Wells casually lets it drop he’s now in a relationship with a girl from his old chess club and things are ‘heating up fast’, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean. She’s just more aware than ever she’s running out of time. 

Clarke doesn’t even know why it’s such a big deal to her. Maybe it’s her competitive streak coming into play, or the fact she really just wants to get the whole awkward virginity thing over with, maybe it’s the dark inexplicable pang in the middle of her chest whenever she sees the constant rotation of girls on Bellamy’s Instagram and Snapchat. She figures it’s a healthy amount of jealousy, courtesy of their very codependent ways, sharing everything with each other since childhood. They’re all apart for the first time in a decade, going their own ways, perhaps even growing apart. 

She doesn’t think about why Wells’ honest to God girlfriend doesn’t bother her as much when in reality that should make her feel even worse. A girlfriend could screw with their dynamic, a bunch of one night stands rationally speaking won’t. It could be that she knows Wells too well to know there’s still a very big chance he won’t go through with it, that he’ll let the girl down easy before Christmas even rolls around. 

But. Then she finds herself thinking of his jacket covering her shivering body, drenched from the rain, her left arm throbbing with pain, his hand wrapped around hers as he told her it was all going to be okay. She thinks of that time he left Gina’s birthday party early to come pick her up at a friend’s house after almost having a panic attack, the nights he spent sleeping in her bed after her father died, how he never once complained about getting her coffee from the drive through that was more than his hard limit of three dollars, and that one throw-away moment at the end of summer. That goodbye hug that lasted just a little too long, his arms tight around her waist, the intense look mirrored in both of their eyes as they pulled apart, the way she was afraid to say anything in case her voice gave out, before she got into her mom’s car and watched him and Wells disappear in the rearview mirror. 

It’s hard to explain, even to herself. It’s why she never thinks about it for too long. 

Which all brings her to tonight. A new year’s party at the house of someone who went to the same high school as them, that has all the charms of a bad hang-over in the making — terrible beer, music that’s mostly EDM and completely shit-faced people plastered across every surface.

She hasn’t seen Wells since his father’s Christmas party. Clarke finally met Luna there in person. She’s beautiful, easily talked to her about the non-profit she’s interning at for half an hour and had nothing but love in her eyes whenever she looked at Wells. He’s with her at her parents’ ski cabin right now, and from the way Bellamy was clapping his shoulder before he left early in the morning, Clarke figures he’s probably losing his v-card to her there which means that she’ll be the only one out of the three of them not to complete the pact. There’s no way she’s finding someone before midnight that she’d both feel comfortable with taking hers, and is even willing to do so in the first place. 

To make matters worse, Bellamy has totally ditched her to play beer pong with Bree, which she isn’t even sure isn’t code for hooking up in the coat closet. He knows she hates parties, especially when she doesn’t know anyone else there, and that she’s horrific at first impressions. She’s forced to make small-talk with Murphy, the loser who still hangs around their high school parking lot and she used to share one Culinary Arts class with before he got suspended. 

All of it combined has put her in a sour mood. And a drinking mood, but since all there is fucking shitty beer that might as well be toilet water she can’t even get drunk, so that just makes her even more unreasonably upset at nothing in particular. Maybe at the fact she’s so high strung and obsessed with controlling every little detail, that she didn’t just get it over with back on campus with some frat boy she never had to see again after, or that Wells and Bellamy managed to make it happen without even trying. It’s probably because she’s trying way too hard, people can probably tell.

It’s not fair that both of them beat her to it. Clarke wants to just be done with already, too. She wants to get it over with so she can get to the good, non first time stuff like them. She wants to be flirting with boys and girls at parties, or ask for someone’s number at a coffee shop without having to worry about having to explain it’s her first time doing any of it when they eventually invite her over to their room. She wants to be free and nonchalant and spontaneous, not constantly weighed down by the fact that she’s a virgin. It’s not like she’s asking for much. 

Half an hour to midnight, she pushes her way outside to the porch for some fresh air. It’s there where Bellamy finally bothers to leave Bree and her attention-seeking ways behind and come find her. 

“What’s up with you?” He asks, half a chuckle in his voice as he leans his forearms on the railing, mirroring her. 

Clarke grits her teeth together, then slowly exhales through her nose. She keeps her eyes on the tree swing in the distance, swaying softly because of the wind. “Nothing.”

He elbows her playfully, although his tone is serious. Of course he sees right through her. “Come on. Don’t give me that.”

She just grumbles something indecipherable, pushing back her hair from her face with one hand. She still doesn’t look at him, scared she might give anything more away. From inside, there’s the muffled beat of a hiphop song playing joined by the distanced tumult of college kids getting drunk and having fun. Except for the couple making out on the other end of the porch and one stoner sprawled over the grass smoking and staring at the sky, they’re alone. 

“I’m sorry about leaving you for Bree—” Bellamy starts, straightening back to his full height, and before she knows it, a flare of anger rises within her, burning white hot. She doesn’t recognize the feeling, but gets too lost in it to analyze it for very long.

Her head snaps to the side to glare at him, fingers tightening around the railing until her knuckles turn a pale white. “It’s not about Bree and her pathetic fuck-me eyes.”

“Okay,” he replies, sounding a bit too amused for her liking. He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. It makes his biceps bulge in a way that’s completely unfair when she’s been perpetually turned on since Halloween, and it sends a surge of want pulsing from her core. “Then what’s it about, princess?”

Has his voice always been so deep? She hesitates, not sure she even wants to share this with him. He might be her best friend, but it’s embarrassing on a level she can’t even try and start to describe. “I’m annoyed, okay?” She bites, heated, which immediately makes her feel guilty. It’s not his fault nobody wants her. “I expected that I’d at least beat Wells to it. And since it’s all I can think about all the time now, I’m constantly horny.” A blush forms on her cheeks, down her neck and all over her collarbone, but she refuses to let that or the way his eyes widen slightly stop her. It’s only awkward if she lets it be. “I just feel so stupid. I mean, I had five months to get it over with like both of you, and here we are. What the hell is wrong with me?”

A tense silence wraps around them for a moment, Clarke’s heart pounding loudly in her chest as panic claws up her throat. She’s such a fucking idiot. She shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place. She’s sure neither of them would’ve actually held it against her if she didn’t lose her virginity before new year’s, they’re better than that. She knows they are. Clarke is just so — frustrated.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and she finds herself entranced with the movement. “I didn’t know you were so upset about it,” he starts, tentatively. Her blue eyes snap up to meet his, a smirk breaking across his face. He’s teasing her, the asshole, when he says, “I mean, if you’re that desperate, I’ll do it.”

Her eyes narrow, finally pushing off the railing. A gust of wind greets her body, bristling her hair and making tiny goosebumps appear over her arms. She’s seconds away from angry tears, she can tell. “Don’t make it sound like it’s such a fucking chore.”

Bellamy just kind of stares at her dumbly, his whole body grown tense, making her even more furious. Did he lose his tongue all of a sudden? He’s never had a problem sharing his opinions on her, no matter how negative, before. “What?” She snaps, roughly brushing  a strand of hair behind her ear before tucking her hands back underneath her opposite armpits.  

“It wouldn’t be a chore, Clarke,” he corrects her, his eyes still slightly widened as if alarmed by the sound of himself speaking. He swallows visibly, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down in the low glow of the Christmas lights draped across the ceiling of the porch. Bellamy lifts one of his shoulders, casual, even if the movement is stiffer than it usually would be. “I just — I didn’t realize I was an option.”

Her heart trips over itself as silence stretches between them for a moment. She wants to ask him a million questions, but the best thing she can come up with is, “So you were serious?” Clarke raises her eyebrows, trying to figure out if he was just being nice, taking pity on her or if it was something much more dangerous than that. “You’ll do it?”

His jaw clenches briefly, his nostrils flaring. Another second, and he asks, rough, “Do you want me to do it?”

She considers it. This is Bellamy, her best friend. He can always make her laugh, and there’s no one else she feels as much at ease with, and he’s definitely attractive, even she has noticed as much. She likes his stubborn curls, his smile when someone catches him off guard, the sharp line of his jaw. And at the very least he would know what he’s doing. She trusts him. “Yes.”

Now that she’s aware it’s a possibility, she refuses to want anything else. It’d be kind of perfect, actually.

He clears his throat, blinking hard as he tears his eyes off her for a second, scrubbing his face with one of his hands. It’s very big, and Clarke finds herself wondering for the first time if it means the rest of him is big as well. Bellamy sniffs when his dark eyes land back on her. “Have you been drinking?”

“Just half a beer,” she answers, maybe a bit too eager, her hands dropping at her sides after smoothing down the bottom of her glittery top. She doesn’t want to give him enough time to talk himself out of it. “And I think someone diluted it with water so it barely counts.”

He nods, once, then nudges his head to the side. “Want to get out of here?”

Taking one more look around the porch, Clarke worries her bottom lip pensively, shooting him an apologetic look. “My parents are having friends over, so my house is definitely not an option.” 

Besides, she doesn’t want to risk them finding out and making it weird. Especially not if the consequence is going to be an open door policy whenever he or Wells are over. Nothing has to change after tonight.

“Thelonious is out,” he offers, then flinches when he seems to remember something else. “But Octavia might show up with her friends.”

Clarke nods, giving him another long searching look before she makes up her mind. It’ll be fine. This is Bellamy. She’s a pro at compartmentalizing and he’s sleeping with a different girl like every other night. It can just be sex. “Upstairs then?”

[fmdjaewonarchive]

event post time lets goooooo. as usual, under the cut there will be some general ideas for event, pls like this post or slide into my ims/dscrd if u wanna plot! i’m trying to be as detailed as possible but like, there is a lot going on, this list probs won’t be exhaustive. i’m also open to p much anything so pls don’t feel limited to any of these plots!! im down for anything!!! either way, continue below the cut if u wanna know more ab what my kids are getting up to (any dates that arent specified i just... didn’t decide on anything and am open to Absolutely anything):

JAEWON: 

general: backstage at the concerts is v welcome for any of the days, just idk, hanging out, i’m tryna keep this v general. pros: jaewon is p proud for unity snatching one of the three closing performance slots, dimensions’ pride indeed. cons: he probably has his tits out, jaewon always has his tits out on stage, he rlly lives like this. anyone is allowed to feel whatever way he wants ab either of those two things.

dec 26: jaewon pulls a blue card cuz sexy pool montage of jaewon. ok im kidding (kinda). idk, kick his ass at games, team up w him to crush the competition,  drown his stupid ass, literally anything.

dec 26: so SOMEONE learned his lesson from the halloween party, no alcohol at the ball for him. come clown him w/ memories of that night (he sure doesnt have any) or idk, try to talk him into drinking (he won’t)

dec 26: in general, i think jaewon might forego most of the party, just find a quiet spot to hang out, look at the sea or some fake deep shit. if anyone is feeling up to it come hang out w him and, idk, reflect on the past year. it’s a time for realizing stuff. (the muse in question would have to b somewhat close to jaewon for this but like im always down to plot that out!)

dec 27: idk, jaewon will probably forego most of the traveling and exploring, opt for a calm day on board instead, anything re: that is super welcome.

dec 28: jaewon ends up in team red for the day so like, kitchen antics w/ jaewon. he’s a surprisingly good cook (shoutout to grandma park, the real og, for kicking this idiot into the kitchen since a young age)

dec 30: jaewon pulls blue again and... you’d think he wouldn’t be as disgruntled about it? someone pls kick his shins till he accepts going to the spa isn’t such a bad thing sir just relax for one (1) day it will Not kill you

YUANJUN: 

dec 26:  yuanjun pulls a yellow card cuz dancing king xiao yuanjun sure as hell is fucking involved in this god damn flashmob sUE ME. local enthusiastic dance teacher, will annoy anyone who Doesn’t Want To Be There into having fun and partaking, cutely messing around w people who are having a good time anything you need him to!

dec 26: in their free time after that he’ll def drag someone along to come explore the ship with him so like!!! will they get lost? possibly, but it will be Fun

dec 26: someone decorate sugar cookies w him at the holiday ball pLEASE

dec 27: yuanjun is DEFINTELY exploring the hecc out of taipei, grab dinner w him, go late night shopping w him, sightseeing, ANYTHING

dec 28: he pulls yellow again so you know how it is, photo session at the zoo, you just know he’s going to vibing so hard taking pictures of animals. whether they succeed or not i’m not decided on, im down for either way tbh

29 dec: YUANJUNS BDAY BITCHESSSSSS. ill probs write up an open ab this, but he’s !!!! going to be so annoying the entire day, he WILL be acting like bc has organized this entire thing Just for his 21st bday and u can’t stop him (you can try tho, feel free to attempt and burst his bubble). again, i’ll do a general open for this but if anyone wants to do anything specific for his bday let me kno uwu

30 dec: this time he ends up w a red card and he will be whining and pouting about his, he rlly has to clean up? the day after his birthday? preposterous how dARE they

31 dec: firework go boom and yuanjun WILL be endlessly fascinated by it, idk man why do we let him look at dangerous explosive things. this isn’t an idea but? it could be? i think? idk man

MINAH: 

general: someone that teams up w/ minah and makes a pact to try every restaurant on the ship at least once,,, good food is important okay

dec 26: minah pulls blue and... why do they expect her to play pool games? idk man she’s just going to be worried ab people cuz pls don’t drown children. also good luck if u are on a team w her for anything, you’ll probs lose

dec 26: someone,,, come make,,, gingerbread houses w minah,,, i just think it’d be neat,,, pls i need this

dec 26: minah will mourn not having like a classic christmas at home watching stupid movies and shit, someone that sets up some kind of small tradition w her at the ball to make up for it?

dec 28: minah pulls red and wow kitchen work w minah thats neat she knows how to cook this will be easy WRONG ur stuck w her and shes a huge control freak and will correct every little thing you do and jesus christ woman leave them ALONE they’re TRYING

dec 30: minah pulls red,,, again,,, and tbh this time she won’t be as annoying, just some therepeutic cleaning, if ur muse complains ab it tho she might lecture them. alternatively: ur muse pulled yellow and they think they’re being casual but minah calls them out cuz “hey i didnt see u around before have u been slacking???”

dec 31: minahs baby sister minji is attending the busan concert and minah will be over the moon about it, odds are she will chat ur muses’ ear off ab it backstage, sorry not sorry!

YENA:

general: first things first, yena doesn’t have a roommate yet so like,,, any female-presenting muses hit me UPPPP 

general: yena will be complaining backstage at the concerts tbh, she’s tryna celebrate a vacation here why does she have to WORK, does anyone really care to see gal.actic perform anyway?

dec 26: yena pulls red and has to help decorating which honestly she’ll enjoy but i also just need someone to playfully fuck around w her cuz yena doesnt Do excessive labor and instead decorate her in tinsel instead because yes, yena IS the main attraction here thank you

dec 26: yena WILL spend most of the holiday ball in the indoor pool, chilling in a jacuzzi w a glass of champagne or smth, real hot girl shit, you know how it is

dec 28: lucky queen pulls blue which means she gets to go shopping, it also means she’s going to try and scam someone into spending their money on buying her pretty things, whether she’s succesful or not

dec 30: this time. yena is on team yellow and she ends up later tagging along to the spa day and tbh, id like to think she’d do a pretty convincing job at it, acting queen nam yena pop off

dec 31: if u think yena will see the new year sober ur WRONG and truly u should know better, if there is any night she goes stupid crazy its this night just saying

jan 1: god she’s going to complain the living FUCK outta the day cuz of that god damn fansign, in part cuz shes hangover and part cuz ew who even is a gal.actic stan in 2020. either join her in her complaining or lecture her ab being thankful for fans or smth!

[bike42]

April 13-15, 2021 IAT Heading South

The funny thing about Spring in Wisconsin is it can be variable. After two weeks of amazing warm weather, we’re back up North in the cold. It’s actually “normal,” weather for April, but after what we’ve had recently, it’s kind of hard to go back. Actually, it was perfect weather for hiking, we just had to keep moving.

This time, we’re staying in the Holiday Inn Express in Antigo, WI (population 7780). I had a Waunakee Chamber Board meeting via Zoom early Tuesday morning, so Jeff and I drove up late Monday night so I’d be able to take that call before joining the gang.  The hotel experience is different than when we’re together in a cabin, but we can’t always have everything perfectly aligned.

Kent had shoulder replacement surgery about two weeks ago, so this hotel option worked out well for Kent and Lynn too.  He can’t hike “off road” for a bit (risk of falling), so he’ll hang out while Lynn hikes with us.  I will say it felt odd not having him along on the hike.  They arrived at the hotel early Tuesday morning, and Lynn rode with us to rendezvous at the start with Dan, Tam and Gary who had already left a car where we’d finish our Tuesday hike.

There were a few snow flurries in the air as we set off hiking just after 10am.  We all dressed in layers, but the 34 degrees with a high of 40 caught me a bit off guard and I had to get creative and layer in some clothes that I’d brought for hanging out in the evening!

Everyone started out in gaiters, which was good as it wasn’t long until we were detouring around or splashing through puddles.  In fact, as we were traversing around 4H Camp Susan, the road was completely submerged so we hacked our way into the woods, up a hill, and bushwhacked back down to the trail.

A little more than three miles, and we were crossing Hwy 45 – which marked the end of the Highland Lakes Segment and the start of the Summit Moraine Segment.

We came upon the Jack Lake ski trails area, and a nice little warming shelter with a porta-potty.  It had a stove and wood – we could have had a fire if we’d needed to warm up.  We were glad to have a picnic table and took an extended break there.  The terrain was like other cross-country ski areas we’d hiked before – nice wide-open trails, but hilly!

After a few easy miles, we came to a fancier warming shelter called the Spychalla Lodge.  We didn’t need another break, but we took one anyway.

From there, we continued on to Veteran’s Memorial Park. My folks had checked this out already, so I knew to expect cute little cabins and a nice campsite – I thought we were just a few weeks too early for camping, however – plus we needed Wi-Fi for a few conference calls.  Just outside the campground, we entered the Langlade County Arboretum, where all the trees were labeled – we found it to be quite educational.  The trail wound around several beautiful lakes:  Game, High, Low and Jack Lakes – said to be named by card-playing loggers that had previously inhabited this area.

Our guide book warned us of possible issues with floating bogs and beaver dams, but we had no issues.  We arrived at our end point for the day about 3PM – could have gone further, but Jeff and I had a Zoom call to be on at 6:30PM that evening so we’d planned for just over 11 miles today.

It was a windy day, but we were mostly protected in the trees – the sound of the wind in the high pines was awesome.  While it never got warm (although Gary was hiking in a t-shirt), it was a pleasant day.  The woodland flowers were just beginning to bloom, but they were advanced enough to use my “Picture This” app to help identify them.  The forest and lakes were alive with the sounds of birds including sandhill cranes, geese, several kinds of ducks and I really loved the sounds of the Ruffed Grouse as they were “drumming,” to attract females or ward off challenging males.

Back to the hotel, and we walked over to the Bowling Alley across the parking lot – always a fun experience and the place was hopping, and the food was ok.

Wednesday morning, we awoke to snow on the cars, and the temperature was 33 degrees as we set out.  I was the navigator, but wasn’t paying attention as Gary, Lynn and I were in a deep conversation about Waunakee’s Community Study on race ... so we missed a turn and saw a bit more of Langlade County!

We did the car drop, and at the start, there was a moss-covered stump that I’d photographed Tuesday afternoon – what a contrast to now find it snow covered!!

We set out at a brisk pace, and quickly finished the last 3.5 miles of the Summit Moraine segment.  The terrain was mostly wide, grassy rolling roads, but then it turned and climbed along a ridge.  Someone had built steps out of large rocks – the first time I can recall seeing that. I imagine it was a lot of work to build that, but made the climb easier. We skirted several beautiful lakes, and saw a beautiful DCA site.

The trail paralleled Highway A for a stretch, where we got a few honks from cars going past.  We crossed the highway and began the Lumbercamp Segment.  The trail went through the Peters March State Wildlife Area, and I expected it to be wet, but aside from an occasional large puddle in the low spot on the trail, it wasn’t bad.  No one got wet feet today!

We walked along lumber roads, mostly grass covered thankfully. We only came upon a short stretch where there was active logging with equipment present but no one working today.  The roads there were muddier, but nothing like the mud soup that we’d experienced several weeks ago on the Highland Lakes Segment!  

I slowed my pace a bit and immersed in the peace of the surrounds – enjoying seeing the new growth of the trees and flowers, and listening to the cacophony of the birds.

After six miles, we searched out a place to stop for lunch. We’d been spoiled yesterday coming upon several shelters and areas with picnic tables!  We finally spotted a downed tree, and Jeff got out his saw and lopped off a few branches to make room for the seven of us.  It made us all think about the lunch we had sitting on a log atop a mountain in Slovenia a few years ago!

We continued trekking, on the lookout for the “Hillbilly Hilton” that we’d read about in our guidebook.  Its all that remains from the Norem Lumber Camp which operated from 1920 to 1938.  The camp originally had several log structures, but the only remnant is the root cellar, which has been renovated (?) into a respite for hikers.  There were several sleeping platforms, a table and shelves with various things that had left behind.  Unfortunately, there was a lot of trash both inside and outside.  In the event of severe weather, it’d be a good place to take shelter, but I’d have been more comfortable in a tent versus sleeping inside there!!

We had another snack, and the guys kicked into turbo mode, with Gary issuing a self-challenge to finish the hike by 3pm.  Tam, Lynn and I hiked a more moderate pace, stopping to check out the ramps (wild onion, or wild leek) – the forest was full of them, and I’d never seen them growing in Wisconsin before.  Made us wish we were cooking dinner tonight!  

The trail left the primitive road and headed up of high-relief hummocky topography.  Once again, we found ourselves stumbling over roots and rocks, which actually was a welcomed change from the monotony of the forest roads.  We came upon the beautiful Baker Lake, with a steep boat launch and a wooden slide to launch a canoe or kayak – would be a great secluded place to paddle!

From there, we climbed up a steep hill to Hwy-52 and the endpoint of our segment (and the guys patiently waiting).

We hiked over 16 miles today, in just under 7 hours. Great pace, but not too challenging. Feels great to be able to put in these longer distances.  Gary commented that we had “rain, snow, sun, and wind; everything but locusts!”  All in all, a great day.

We picked up the car at the start and got back to the hotel about 4:30pm, where Kent was waiting for us.  He walked around Antigo, but reported it was much colder and windier than what we’d experienced in the protection of the forest.  Since we had a Zoom call scheduled with Donovan of Embark Explorations (our Kilimanjaro guide company) at 7pm, we decided to head out to dinner right away.  Tam found the Fifth Avenue Restaurant in downtown Antigo that had a good-looking menu and great reviews, so we headed there.  Like most placed up north, they’re a bit casual with COVID restrictions and masks seemed to be optional and they had no problem with our group of 7 people sitting at one table.

We had a great dinner, lots of food, my favorite Leinenkugel Creamy Dark beer, and Jeff and I got pie to go from the Dixie Diner next door (same ownership – same family operating both places for 75 years).  

After dinner, we went back to our “suite” at the Holiday Inn Express and huddled around Jeff’s laptop for our call with Donovan (and George Sanchez, our BrightStar colleague from Austin TX who will be joining us in Africa).  Donovan and his wife have a pact to live somewhere else in the world every five years. They’d lived in Tanzania at the base of Kilimanjaro, and are now living in Guatemala so he was logged in from there. The call went well, but a storm was approaching there – we could see the lighting in his background window, and as he predicted, he lost power towards the end of the call.  We learned enough to get super excited for our September trek! I’m so thankful that Gary suggested this IAT adventure to help get us so comfortable with multi-day trekking and test out our cold weather gear in preparation for all the weather we’ll encounter on our 9 days on the mountain in Tanzania.

Thursday, we woke to clearer skies, but still cool – the sunshine makes all the difference, mentally as much as physically.  An easy car drop, we found ourselves at the start of Kettlebowl and hiking down into the bowl by 7:50AM.

The road opened up at the base of the Kettlebowl Ski Area, a nice little hill with some short, steep sections, served by several rope-tows, so that made me think of the nearby Paul Bunyan Ski Hill where I learned to ski!

Kettlebowl is a segment I’d read about as one where people had trouble getting lost so I was a bit nervous. It was rated a 4 / 4 so that got our attention as well.  In reality, it was mostly wide forest roads, with numerous intersections.  Perhaps in full leaf out, some of the signage is obscured, but we had no issues.  We did have over 1000 feet in elevation gain, but easier to do with wide grassy paths versus narrow rocky trails.

 Our group set off fast, which helped warm us up on the cold morning. After a mile, the layers started coming off.  After about 3 miles though, I backed off a bit to enjoy the hike a bit more.  Most of this area had been logged long ago, and has a successional forest of aspen and birch.  Without leaves, we could really see through the trees – lots of hills, kettles, large rocks.  We didn’t see wildlife, but I’m sure they saw us!

After about 5 miles we had a break – I went into the trees to find a large rock to sit on while I enjoyed the coffee I’d brought along with a fig bar.  I really enjoyed the tranquility of being “alone” in the forest, knowing Jeff and my friends were just over the ridge – not exactly out of ear shot, so I had my “adventure with security” moment.  I honestly cannot imagine doing these treks alone, but many people do.  Our group is so compatible too, its ok for some to head out fast and work on cardio, and for others to linger back and talk or just enjoy the solace of the hike.

We completed the nearly 10-mile trek well before noon.  We’d left two cars there, so Gary and Lynn headed back to Antigo to pick up Kent at the hotel, while Jeff and I drove Dan and Tam back to their car.  We all met up at the Dixie Diner in Antigo for a hearty lunch.  I was thinking cheeseburger of course, but their special today was a Pastie – either beef or chicken variety.  My love of dough led me to choose that option – it was good, but very different than what I was used to.  It had large chunks of beef and potatoes, while I’m used to more of finely diced version, more like a hash stuffed in a pastry.  

After lunch, we drove back to the cemetery where the Kettlebowl segment ended to begin what’ll be a 30-mile connecting route (CR) – through the end of the Guthook West portion and onto the Central portion of the app!  Since we had a great day and we were all feeling good, we decided to knock off 5 miles of the CR, and Kent walked with us – we felt complete as a group again!

I’d developed a small blister on my right heel yesterday, that was unusual.  This morning’s hike, even though I’d had a Band-Aid on it, expanded it to quarter size.  It didn’t prevent me from hiking; I hardly thought about it.  But I’ll need to work on route cause (probably will have to give up pedicures and my foot softening lotion and build up my calluses before September)!

We had a fast 5 miles back to the tiny village of Polar, then a shuttle back to the cars and we were all on our way home.  We’re still a 2.5-hour drive to our home – getting closer as the “crow flies,” but its still a remote location with small county roads to drive to get to our locations.  After our 4 days next month, we’ll be within two hours – still too far for day trips, but that will come this summer.

[camillesfm]

。· . ˙ ⌈ alva bratt + cis female + she / her + the  intangible concept ⌋  yo ,  have  you  meet  that  KOOK  ,  camille 'cj' petersen ,  yet ?  — no ?  well ,  to  give  you  a  little  heads  up  before  you  do  ,  they’re  a  TWENTY   year  old ,  PRE-LAW STUDENT  ,  and  have  been  living  in  coston  for  TWENTY . since  i’ve  known  them  ,  they’ve  reminded  me  of PALE PINK POINTE SHOES , CHAINS MADE OF WHITE CLOVERS , A PURPLE SKY JUST BEFORE SUNRISE , STEADY WAVES CRASHING AT LOW TIDE , AND SHATTERED & SCATTERED GLASS . usually  they’re  quite  LEVELHEADED  &  THOUGHTFUL  but  just  make  sure  you  keep  an  eye  out  for  them  around  town  because  i  heard  can  be  quite  RETICENT  &  ALOOF  as  well  so  here’s  hoping  they  aren’t  the  ones  to  undo  this  whole  peace  pact  they  have  going  on  this  summer .  but  just  between  you  &  me ,  i  kinda  hope it  all  falls  apart .  the  rivalry  keeps  this  whole  boring  town  interesting . –– this is cj . . . let’s just . . . dive into this mess ! 

𝐁 𝐀 𝐂 𝐊 𝐆 𝐑 𝐎 𝐔 𝐍 𝐃 .

scarlett petersen is a name known statewide, as she’s the best corporate lawyer on the east coast, clever as the devil and twice as pretty with long blonde hair often pinned into a sleek ponytail. david petersen got his degree at vanderbilt university, moving on to get his phd at unc chapel hill where he could never quite shake that carolina blue. he’s been sitting chancellor for the past six years in tandem with a long term sports-medicine, neuroscience research project that studies the long term affects of brain damage in athletes in contact sports. they both hail from old money families, and long lines of success are continued in two people who hold appearance and accomplishment far above humility or even . . . . humanity lol. they’re good people, really . . . just not really the parenting type.

which is unfortunate! as.  well into their marriage, they had twins, caleb, first, and camille, ten minutes later. bright eyed and blonde haired, the perfect petersen babies were angels in their infancy, and it was easy to parent them . . . especially when they were paying someone else to do it.

caleb and camille grew up under the watchful eye of a rosy-cheeked nanny. think julie andrews as nanny in eloise. they were happy, but lonely, though you’d never guess it by their wide smiles in cuddled family portrait christmas cards. for all anyone else knew, scarlett and david were perfect parents, raising two beautiful children who they loved more than anything . . . but behind that iron gated entryway to a house on the coast was another story.

they liked their kids, sure, but whether or not they loved them was another question entirely. camille, growing up to be the spitting image of scarlett, was liked in the way a rare porcelain artifact was. she was a beautiful thing to behold; seen, not spoken to. shown off, not interacted with in anyway. held with delicate hands and passed around as a humble brag: look at this precious thing i’ve brought into the world. i bet mine’s better than yours. 

but as time passed, the novelty of having children seemed to wear off, and they were moving to the next big thing, the next big step in their careers. they weren’t around when camille began going by cj because it was easier for little voices to say. they weren’t around when blonde ringlets relaxed and grew darker. they weren’t around when she started to develop a personality of her own, interests of her own, talents of her own. christmas cards would go out, but rarely were they all together on christmas morning. thanksgivings were often spent with grandparents, as their parents worked through the holiday. they spent more and more time away from coston, leaving cj and caleb in nanny’s capable hands.

but life goes on, and sometimes it was easy to forget that it was abnormal not to have your parents around. as a youngin, cj was interested in everything. she took a liking to soccer and lacrosse, painting and drawing, piano and guitar . . . but somewhere in between a blue mat and pale pink pointe shoes, she found her thing.

it was obvious, from an early age, that cj was one hell of a dancer. disciplined and precise when she needed to be. creative and passionate when it called for it. gymnastics trained her strength, ballet trained her patience, contemporary pushed her limits with creativity, partner work taught her teamwork. dance was very clearly her best thing and her favorite thing.

her parents only ever attended recitals when it didn’t conflict with anything else on their schedules and when it was classical ballet. dance was a frivolous thing for them, but for cj it was everything. being a naturally shy kid, naturally timid in the shadow of her last name, she became a completely different person on stage who dominated a spotlight . . . without even needed a literal spotlight. ultimately, this is what she spent her life doing. monday through thursday evenings, dance. competitions and performances on the weekends. if neither were happening, you’d catch her teaching classes at coston’s local studio.

it’s what truly made her happy, but that wasn’t something her parents understood. caleb and nanny did, sure, but her parents? not one bit. someone would ask what she wanted to be when she grew up, and if dance was mentioned, she’d be cut off mid-sentence. they didn’t want to hear about it because it wasn’t logical. you can’t make a career out of it. it didn’t help much that her brother was the ideal child in that realm, charming and on a path to success in the medical field. they still had questionable motives, but they favored nonetheless.

sometimes it was a blessing; sometimes it was a curse. when she could slip under the radar, she was grateful, but it seemed that her parents had a keen eye for her screwups. any chance they had, they’d use to scold her or nudge her away from the pointe shoes.

so cj spent a lot of time being pristine in the way that was expected of her, never letting anyone know too much about her, only keeping a few friends close enough to really know her. she stayed out of trouble, kept up exceptional grades, smiled and nodded when necessary, and began catering to the idea that she’d go to law school, a fate pre-determined by her mother no doubt. 

nowadays, she attends brown university, pre-law. she’s a picturesque ivy league gal with a dark academia aesthetic when at school, but there’s a restlessness lingering under the surface. even she’s doing what her parents require of her, she never seems to live up to their unrealistic expectations. we rly do be . . . . waiting for her to have a complete breakdown . . . . aklsdfjha

𝐏 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒 𝐎 𝐍 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘 .

miss camille . . . better known around town as cj . . . is, above all else, the picture of serenity. she’s levelheaded and calm, and patient as all get out which is probably why she’s so damned accustomed to just going with what her parents thought of her. she’s really great to have in a crisis because very few things cause that steady nature of hers to crumble, and because she’s honestly. . . quietly very maternal. putting the needs of others before her own comes naturally.

she’s quiet and shy, yes, but just because she doesn’t speak doesn’t mean she doesn’t listen. she listens and sees and is . . . quite observant. there’s a way about her that notices the little things, which makes her quite thoughtful when it comes to the people she loves. if you’re lucky enough to be close to her, you can bet she quietly takes notes of little habits and favorites and carefully uses them to idk love ya better ya feel??

reticent comes from the fact that she doesn’t often let people get close to her. the way her parents treated her and caleb growing up has taken. .. . a toll for sure because honestly she’s terrified of disappointing people by shattering the mirror of perfection and revealing too much about herself that’s unexpected

aloof comes from the way she’s calm and quiet . . . and how that sometimes translates as apathy . . . on top of that she’s very daydreamy like she is That Bitch who is staring out of the window producing a whole move in her head which sometimes causes her to not hear when people are talking to her . . . cue the ‘hm? what?’ tuning back in

when i say cj is a different person when she’s dancing . . . . i mean it. like i REALLY mean it. she’s confident and expressive. her choreography tests the limits of tradition. she pushes boundaries when it comes to the physicality of performances. like u rly look at her being quiet and to herself in the corner at a country club event and then see her performing like she invented contemporary and ur like . .. . are u SURE that’s the same girl

people who know her most know her as warm. when she opens up, getting past the shy, she can be a little goofy, definitely has avery creative way about her, wants to know that you’re okay and if you’re not, how can she help ya know!! 

has a black cat named lucky because ya know . . . black cats are bad luck . . . ha ha ha ha . . . get it

the ‘j’ in cj is for her middle name . . . but no one really knows what her middle name is . . . except family and close, close friends 

absolutely hates the energy of the pogue/kook rivalry and thinks violence is most cERTAINLY not the way to go

often times found by the shoreline at night, just a little ways off from the petersen estate because she likes the way the waves sound as they roll in. it helps her think

is trying to make the best of law school by studying to become a defense attorney and she likes it! sort of! really, she just wants to dance for as long as she can and ultimately open up her own studio

definitely believes in wishing stars

bad case of insomnia

has a finsta dedicated to lucky

has a dance insta too . . . . but that’s lowkey bc her parents can’t know about it

please for the love of god watch this because charity and cj have the same energy

this also has cj energy

so does this . . . classical is fun when it’s telling a story and she loves a good pas de deaux but otherwise meh

my girl is physically . .. QUITE strong

says sorry WAY too often

incessant need to prove herself, prove her worth, since her parents never seem to find it

loves caleb sfm but will thump him in the forehead for mentioning he’s older

overachiever . . . . yikes

ABSOLUTELY burns the candle at both ends

idk if y’all watched high school musical the musical the series but gina . . . . . ..  minus the ‘mean girl’ plot they tried . . .. is v cj and bitch i hate to say it but neville longbottom??? also a cj mood LMAO

OK THAT’S IT THAT’S ALL THERE WE GO IT’S DONE I’M DONE GBYYYYYE BABIIIIE

[buffyversefanfiction]

Felix Fierce (Buffy and Angel Fanfiction) Season 1

Episode 1 - Welcome to The 20s

Warnings: I do not own or claim to own the original content to “Buffy the Vampire Slayer”, “Angel”, the comics or any of the original characters from the “Buffyverse” all rights belong to Joss Whedon.

15 plus, displays of Violence, Gore, Torture and Sexual Innuendos, M/M, F/M, F/F.

Into every generation there was a chosen one until a powerful witch called Willow Rosenberg changed the rules forevermore.

No longer would Buffy Summers stand-alone against the vampires the demons and the forces of darkness.

She was the slayer that changed everything but now it’s his turn.

Felix Fierce found himself running through the woods late at night frantically looking behind him until he found himself crashing into Thorn in full vampire mode, his body hitting against the vampire before he himself fell to the ground.

“Thorn listen this isn’t you.” Felix pleaded as Thorn pulled him off the ground.

“Your right it isn’t that’s kind of the point.” Thorn replied before sinking his teeth into Felix’s neck before Felix suddenly woke up in his bed within his bedroom.

He slowly sat up in his bed before hearing a knock at his door as his father Forest walked into his room.

“I see someone’s finally up I know it’s the holidays and that means allowing my 18 year old son to be as lazy as possible before the new year of school starts but you did promise to chaperone your sister tonight at the New Year’s Eve party.” Forest Fierce reminded his son.

“Dad,” Felix replied as he leaned over to his bedside unit, picking up his phone to check the time. “It’s still morning last time I checked parties happen at night.”

“Yeah but Fyre’s decided she needs to go shopping for an outfit and that’s not exactly my area of expertise.” Forest told him.

“Is this because I’m gay dad?” Felix asked his father.

“No this is because I almost had to take out a second mortgage last time you went on a date with your boyfriend and you decided to buy yourself a whole new wardrobe only to wear something you already.” Forest replied.

“Okay,” Felix yawned. “I see your point but at this point letting me loose with your cards is at your own peril now I’m thinking a new chaperone style outfit is going to need to be bought.”

“Who needs two kidneys anyways?” Forest joked before walking out of Felix’s room and closing the door behind him.

“Great now I’m stuck with my kid sister all day and night.” Felix moaned to himself. “Worst New Year’s ever!”

“Remind me again how I was roped into driving you and Fyre to the shopping mall?” Bryce Kane asked his best friend as he and Felix stood within the store located within Scorchville shopping mall while Fyre was further down the store searching the rails for a New Year’s outfit.

“Because like my sister you both have parties and have left it to the last minute to get an outfit so like the amazing brother and friend I am I agreed to help you both out in this archaic shopping mall that only stays open because of people like you and my sister.” Felix replied.

“Good point,” Bryce agreed. “I do need something other than bland to impress Malerie at her party tonight so let’s just pretend I never moaned to you and I’ve been thankful since the minute we got here.

“Yeah okay Bryce,” Felix laughed at his best friend. “Mercy’s still pissed at you for ditching us tonight so your best keeping me on side at least.”

“Mercy’s still mad?” Bryce asked. “Any ideas on how I can make it up to her?”

“Oh, I’m so not getting involved in a fight between my two best friends.” Felix made himself clear as Fyre walked over to them both holding a somewhat revealing dress in her hands instantly catching her brother’s attention. “Hell, no dad would very much like you to go into the year 2020 with your virginity intact.”

“Felix you’re like an old man it’s almost a new bloody decade let’s not go into it assuming certain outfits make a girl a whore.” Fyre Fierce scolded her older brother. “I mean you dress like a librarian, but I know for a fact you’re not going into the year 2020 with your virginity intact.”

“Well played.” Bryce said with a smile to his best-friend’s younger sister.

“Fine if your going to get bitchy about it you can wear the bloody dress but at least get a cardigan to trick dad with before we leave for the party.” Felix replied, giving into an argument he knew he had no chance of winning.

Fyre quickly walked away from her brother and his best friend and on wards toward the store’s changing room to try on her dress with a victorious smile on her face.

“She is only a year younger than you Felix you need to stop treating her like she’s seven and start realizing she’s seventeen.” Bryce told his friend.

“Here I’m just doing father patrol because dad’s going to be super pissed at her for picking that dress then me for allowing that dress and then she’ll be pissed at dad for being such an old man and then I’ll have to get pissed at dad because he’s pissed at me and before you know it it’s Christmas Armageddon all over again.” Felix explained to Bryce.

“If you think holidays are bad with your family just wait until your dad starts the new year as headmaster at Scorchville High.” Bryce revealed before realizing he slipped up. “Which I wasn’t supposed to mention until after the New Year.”

“You’ve got to be joking me can’t he just stick to teaching at that pompous New York school I mean sure it’s a commute but that comes in handing for sneaking Thorn in and out the house now I’m not even going to be able to sneak about school with him.” Felix complained to his friend. “How the hell did you find out before me anyway?”

“Well I’m captain of the Scorchville Swimmers and Mercy’s is Scorchville High student body president so between the two of us we know everything that goes down in that place.” Bryce revealed. “We were going to tell you, but we couldn’t decide who had to deliver the news and then she stopped talking to me.”

“Well just you wait till I see Mercy because it may just be me blanking the both of you.” Felix warned him. “Now let’s hurry up and find you something because I’m craving coffee.”

Felix and Bryce walked up to the new coffee store/book shop called Scorching Scorchville with a quote underneath the sign saying come in for simply scorching reads and charismatic coffee having dropped Felix’s sister Fyre back off at home after finding her and Bryce outfits for their New Year’s Eve parties.

It was a relatively new store and Felix tended to stick to what he knew best when it came to his caffeinated hot drinks, but he knew his friend Mercy Cole had become obsessed with the place recently and was currently inside meaning it was time to fix things out between her and Bryce but before they even got a chance to step inside they found themselves confronted by Felix’s high school nemesis Rick Star appeared from down the street.

“Well if it isn’t Scorchville’s answer to Ross and Joey.” Rick greeted them with a mocking tone as always. “I bet you guys take naps with each other all the time.”

“Seriously Rick do you just pop up to insult me or do you actually have a life outside of being an archaic school bitch?” Felix snapped back at Rick.

“I’m so glad you can make Malerie’s party tonight I’m sure she’s going to be pleased to see you.” Rick said to Bryce before giving Felix a bitch stare. “Just remember your weird little sidekicks are not on the list.”

“Sidekicks really? Someone really needs to give your side a kick or several.” Felix replied.

“I can’t wait.” Bryce said to Rick, much to Felix’s disapproval as Rick quickly budged past them both and made his way out of sight after turning the street corner. “Why do I have a feeling your pissed with me too?”

“I’m just going to stay focused on the task at hand right now because if I don’t, I may wind up aligning myself with Mercy.” Felix answered Bryce making it clear he wasn’t impressed.

“Malerie has terrible taste in friends but great taste in boyfriends.” Bryce replied trying to justify attending a party with the number one enemy.

“Yeah the jury’s still out on that one.” Felix responded by rolling their eyes.

“Did you really have to bring the traitor with you?” Mercy moaned after Felix and Bryce walked into the coffee shop/bookstore and walked over to her table.

“Play nice Mercy he’s here to apologize.” Felix told her as he sat down opposite his friend.

“I am?” Bryce asked until Felix grabbed a hold of him and forced him to sit down next to him. “Okay I am I’m really sorry.”

“I get the whole rush you seem to be in losing your virginity and I can even somewhat understand why Malerie’s the girl for you, but you’ve not even got a girlfriend yet and your ditching us for her.” Mercy moaned at Bryce.

“Mercy that’s a little harsh don’t you think?” Felix butted in only to get a furious glare from Mercy. “Okay I’m back to being Switzerland over here.”

“Look if it means that much to you, I’ll ditch Malerie’s party and chaperone Fyre with you guys tonight.” Bryce submitted to Mercy’s mood.

“Thank you.” Mercy replied with a smile.

“Okay Switzerland just got switched off for a moment,” Felix couldn’t help but say. “Mercy do you remember our anti-valentines pact last year before I got with Thorn?”

“Not really no, why?” Mercy asked her friend.

“That’s because it only wound up being Bryce and me because you decided to be in a throuple for that long confusing week and we were all like yay go for it because hey it’s something to tick of the list.” Felix defended Bryce. “Bryce has been relentlessly trying to give his virginity to anyone offering and he finally gets a sliver of hope and you’re going to stand in his way?”

“Remind me to remind you never to defend me again.” Bryce told Felix, clearly embarrassed.

“Hey that throuple would’ve worked if they didn’t both fall in love with me the same time, I wound up falling in love with Julien at the same time.” Mercy defended herself before giving in. “But I see your point.”

“So, do I get to go or not?” Asked a confused Bryce.

“Yes, but only because of your dated need to lose your virginity before your 19 if you fall in love with moronic Malerie I may have to disown you.” Mercy warned him.

“Please Malerie’s not going to last a month.” Felix laughed. “Also isn’t it a bit stereotypical to judge someone purely based on their intelligence?”

“When exactly does Switzerland switch back on?” Mercy asked Felix.

“I think Malerie and I have serious potential.” Bryce said in defense of his choice of woman.

“Of course, you do,” Felix mocked his friend while tapping his hand on Bryce’s shoulder before noticing Trix Lance over by the bookstore part of Scorching Scorchville instantly grabbing his attention as he realize she was reading the infamous book with the title Vampyr book. “Here the owner here is very peculiar.”

“I know right? She’s part of the reason I love this place.” Mercy admitted with a smile on her face as she and Bryce joined Felix as they observed Trix reading away within the library like area of the store.

Suddenly Felix began to feel a piercing pain in his head before his eyesight went and all he could see is whiteness before being thrown of his chair much to Mercy and Bryce’s horror as they watched their friend collapse onto the floor.

Felix found himself awaking from the same nightmare he had earlier only this time when he woke up he found himself lying on the floor of Scorching Scorchville after a glass of water was thrown in his face awakening to see Trix, Bryce and Mercy standing over him with Trix holding an empty glass making it clear she was the water culprit.

“See I told you it’s just a perfectly normal teenage collapse you children these days are forever skipping breakfast.” Trix told them all as Bryce and Mercy helped Felix get back onto his feet.

“Are you okay?” Mercy asked her recently conscious friend.

“Yeah clearly just need more carbs or something.” Felix replied to her.

“Are you sure because we could always drop by the hospital and get you checked out?” Bryce suggested.

“Nonsense the boy is perfectly fine you teenagers don’t want to be wasting New Year’s Eve in hospital just because your friend forgot to have breakfast.” Trix said to the three of them.

“Okay lady you seem way too invested in this considering you’re a stranger.” Bryce replied to the blonde-haired store owner.

“Guys I’m fine besides Fyre would literally kill me if I cancelled being chaperone to the party she’s going to.” Felix told Mercy and Bryce, attempting to reassure them both he’s okay.

“What did you see?” Trix asked Felix. “Every time that happens the person always sees something either during it or in a dream the night before.”

“Every time what happens Mrs Lance?” Mercy wondered.

“Fainting of course.” Trix lied to her.

“Okay as interesting as you clearly are, we’ve got a party to chaperone and Bryce has a first date to prepare for.” Felix declared, clearly wanting to get as far away from Trix Lance as possible as something about her made him feel uneasy.

“Very well Felix Fierce enjoy what remains of 2019.” Trix said with a smile before starting to walk away over to the store counter. “I have a feeling 2020 is going to be your year.”

“Hold up how does she know your name?” Bryce asked Felix.

“Beats me.” Felix replied.

“I’m crushing super hard right now!” Mercy admitted as she looked over at Trix with admiration in her eyes.

“So, I’m guessing by the fact your sister was happy when she came home that I’m going to hate her outfit?” Forest asked his son Felix and his son’s friend Mercy as the three of them stood at the bottom of the stairs in the hallway of the Fierce family home waiting for Fyre to grace them with her presence.

“Not half as much as I’m hating you as my new headmaster but if you don’t go all old man on Fyre then I’ll postpone telling her till after the new year.” Felix replied.

“Deal,” Forest gave in reluctantly before telling both Felix and Mercy. “Just make sure she’s always with at least one of you and you all come back here.”

“What are you doing for the new year Mr Fierce?” Mercy asked Felix’s father.

“I’m heading to your parents’ New Year’s Eve party like I do every year it’s a shame none of use will be there this year.” Forest replied to his son’s best friend. “Speaking of which where’s Bryce tonight?”

“He’s at a party where Rick the…” Mercy began to say before quickly changing her words. “Where Rick Star is attending because his soon to be girlfriend Malerie has terrible taste in friends.”

“I still remember the days when you and Rick were inseparable.” Forest said to his son who looked unimpressed with him for reminding him.

“I was friends with Rick before he became a dick.” Felix replied to his father just before Fyre began walking down the stairs in a silky black dress demanding all the attention from the room as she continued to go down the stairs until she was stood next to her father, brother and her brother’s friend.

“Fyre you look as beautiful as ever.” Forest told his daughter before giving her a hug and kissing her on the forehead lovingly.

“When’s Thorn meeting us?” Mercy asked Felix.

“He’s only just finished work so he’s going to meet us at the party once he’s had the chance to get changed.” Felix answered her as Forest broke off his hug with his daughter looking irritated by Thorn’s mention.

“You didn’t tell me Thorn was going to be chaperoning too.” Forest said to Felix in a disapproving tone.

“He is my boyfriend dad and it’s our first new year whether we’re partying or chaperoning or sitting at home doing nothing we’re going to be spending it together.” Felix replied. “Which is probably a good time to mention I invited him over for dinner tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow’s family only.” Forest told his son.

“Does that mean my invite’s revoked because my parents are going to be way too hungover to cook and even if they weren’t, I much prefer your cooking Mr Fierce.” Mercy butted in making it clear she wasn’t going to be uninvited easily.

“Of course, not you and Bryce are extended family.” Forest said sincerely making Mercy smile.

“Dad, if you don’t let Felix have his boyfriend round tomorrow then I’m going to go out tonight find myself a new boyfriend or maybe a couple of boyfriends and get them to gate crash tomorrow’s dinner.” Fyre warned her father.

“Fine,” Forest once again found himself giving into his children’s demands. “I hate when you decide to gang up on me.”

“Why do you hate him so much anyways dad?” Felix asked his dad, clearly annoyed that his boyfriend and father didn’t get along.

“I don’t hate him Felix I’m just not a big fan either.” Forest admitted.

“I guess that just makes tomorrow the perfect timing for everyone to become fans of everyone.” Mercy once again butted in, this time trying to calm the room before Christmas Armageddon had a New Year’s special.

“I don’t know what’s taking him so bloody long it’s our first time seeing the new year in together and he’s running late.” Felix complained to Mercy as the two of them stood within the balcony part of the nightclub The Avenue while looking down at the dance-floor monitoring Fyre who was busy dancing with a group of friends.

“He’ll be here Felix I’m sure he’s got a great reason for showing up late.” Mercy replied, trying to reassure her friend.

“Anything short of him being dead is going to be a hard sell at this point.” Felix told her before he was suddenly nudged accidentally by a man causing him to fall over the railing of the balcony.

Felix fell from the balcony instantly getting everyone’s attention as the entire club looked on in horror and the music stopped only for Felix to land from the long fall on both feet with ease causing everyone to instantly clap and cheer him on.

“How did you just do that?” Fyre asked her brother as she ran over to Felix. “Are you okay?”

“I have no idea,” Felix replied as Mercy began running down the stairs from the balcony to check on her best friend. “I guess I just got lucky.”

“Lucky’s definitely the right word there.” Fyre said before turning to the rest of the club and shouting. “Show’s over get the music going!”

“Despite my death defying stunts how’s your night going sis?” Felix asked his sister as the crowd went back to dancing as the music began playing once more.

“It’s alright except for most of the eye candy being brain farts the intriguing ones being stuck up and me just a girl looking for a new year’s kiss.” Fyre admitted to her older brother as Mercy walked over to them both.

“Are you okay? That was some fall have you been secretly taking in extra gymnastic lessons?” Mercy asked her friend.

“Yeah I’m fine.” Felix reassured Mercy before turning his attention back to his sister. “I’m sure you’ll find someone to kiss for the bells whereas my date seems to be…”

“Here,” Thorn butted in as he appeared from out of the crowd and starting walking towards Felix. “Your date seems to be here and he’s really sorry for being late.”

“Well at least you’re here now.” Felix said to his boyfriend before giving him a kiss on the lips only to feel a strange tingle when he kissed him making him pull a confused face.

“Are you okay?” His boyfriend asked him.

“Yeah it’s just been a long day.” Felix replied.

“You can say that again earlier he fell of a chair fainting and just now he falls off the bloody balcony and lands on both feet.” Mercy revealed to Thorn and Fyre.

“Wait when did you faint?” Fyre and Thorn asked Felix in unison.

“It was nothing,” Felix answered them while giving Mercy a glare. “Definitely not worth talking about.”

“Well I best give you extra attention tonight just in case.” Thorn to his boyfriend before hugging Felix and kissing him on the cheek unknowingly making Felix feel the same strange tingle, this time making Felix’s skin crawl.

“Happy New Year!” Thorn said to Felix as the two now stood at the balcony of the night club, before kissing his boyfriend on the lips after the entire club counted down to the year 2020.

“Happy New Year,” Felix replied after feeling something off with Thorn’s touch once again before kissing him again to see if things still felt off, which it did. “Is everything okay with you Thorn? You seem a little off.”

“I’m fine in fact I was about to say the same to you.” Thorn told him. “How about we go outside and bring in the New Year properly before anyone notices we’re gone?”

Suddenly Felix saw Thorn’s full vampire face appear before his face returned to normal within a blink leaving him even more confused as he was reminded of his earlier nightmare.

“Yeah sure.” Felix answered with uncertainty.

Felix and Thorn quickly made their way out of The Avenue kissing passionately as Felix decided to ignore the weirdness, he experienced leaving it in 2019 before Thorn suddenly threw Felix into the wall with force.

“Thorn what the hell?” Felix asked before being left horrified as Thorn’s face went into vampire mode. “I’m so hating my brain today!”

“Being with you is truly tedious you never stop talking and you and your friends are even worse I think I’ll kill them after killing you.” Thorn cruelly mocked Felix as he walked towards him.

“Thorn what’s wrong with you?” Felix wondered, clearly terrified by Thorn approaching him with a vampire face. “I had this dream before.”

Thorn plunged at Felix who quickly moved to the side before grabbing a hold of his vampire lover lifting his body upwards and slamming him into the brick wall before beginning to make a run for it down the alleyway only for Thorn to start chasing after him.

Felix didn’t get far before Thorn caught up to him as the vampire jumped on his prey making them both fall to the ground Thorn landing on top off Felix with Felix’s back to the ground.

“Don’t worry this will all soon be over.” Thorn promised him.

“Screw you!” Felix shouted before kneeing his lover in the crotch and throwing his body over his head making the vampire land harshly onto the ground as Felix quickly rose to his feet.

Thorn wasted no time in getting back on his feet and charging towards Felix again who quickly kick Thorn in the stomach before using his other foot to climb up his body kicking the vampire in the face before black flipping back into the same spot where he delivered a punch straight to Thorn’s stomach making Thorn crash to the ground once more.

“You’re a vampire.” Felix finally realized as Thorn once again stood back up.

“This isn’t over slayer.” Thorn promised before turning around and making a run for it as Felix suddenly heard a clapping sound only to turn around to see Trix Lance standing before him with a lit cigarette in hand.

“Preferably slayers stake the vampire, but I suppose that wasn’t a terrible first time I’ve heard of worst.” Trix said to him while taking a draw from her cigarette as Thorn was now out of sight. “But next time you go up against a vampire you should probably kill them.”

“He’s a vampire and I’m a slayer,” Felix began to understand. “I’ve heard stories I mean who hasn’t, but I didn’t think any of it was real.”

“Vampires, werewolves, trolls, ogres…the list goes on.” Trix revealed as she threw her cigarette to the ground and stubbed it out with her heels. “All of them are real.”

“I want to argue the reality of it all but I literally survived a fall without a scratch and I just fought with my vampire boyfriend who I guess now is my ex.” Felix replied to the blonde haired store owner as he walked towards her. “My only question is who are you?”

“Bellatrix Lance, your new watcher from the newly established Watchers Academy founded by Rupert Giles.” Trix admitted to her slayer. “We should probably start discussing your training.”

“Wow,” Felix said in shock. “Welcome to 2020 Felix Fierce.”

[sombrisaofficial]

The Masked Stranger: A Sombrisa Fanfic (rated T for teen) Sombra x Orisa PART TWO!!

Summary: Sombra and Orisa’s dance is interrupted as the evening takes a turn for the dramatic!! Published for the Holidays in commemoration of the Sombra/Orisa & Mercy/Bastion pact. 

Written by: Mod Brigitte and beta’d by the wonderful Mod Mei!

Word Count: 1,889

 read part one here: https://sombrisaofficial.tumblr.com/post/182195417335/the-masked-stranger-a-sombrisa-fanfic-rated-e

The omnic approached her and Sombra was frozen in place. There before her was a quadrupedal omnic decorated in green and gold. Underneath her trimmings and decorations, Sombra could see she was also tan and brown. Beneath her black mask, her face was painted a bright and sunny orange and yellow, giving off a warm and friendly glow. The omnic had two decorated, lime horns, one on each side of her rounded head; They were draped in flashing lights and crystalized jewelry reminiscent of a flashy monarch. Her metallic plating was decorated for the event in golden markings of African origin, and she had intricate splashes of paint markings all over her body. Fresh carnations and violets were weaved into the expensive-looking tapestry on her back. Her appearance and demeanor were striking! What a magnificent beast of macherinary and software ingenuity! She was very handsome, indeed. 

"Hello." Sombra managed to say. It was all she could manage.

"NGHGNdgngnNNGNghhhh" The mysterious stranger whinnied.

"Orisa, is it? A pleasure." Orisa. Orisa. Orisa. Sombra had never heard a name she wanted to say more of. 

 Orisa's eyes changed to reflect her mood and became curious and blinking lights.

"Oh you'd like to have a dance?" Sombra could hardly believe it. She was ecstatic.

"gHGNHWHHWwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww" Orisa stomped her hooves in agreement.

Sombra took Orisa's hands and the two began to move onto the dance floor. The room seemed to move in slow motion as they waltzed. It was a perfect moment that Sombra knew she'd look back fondly on later. Sombra never wanted this to end, however, there was more in surprise for that night than the two had bargained for. 

One minute the ballroom was flush with lights, colors, and sounds and the next it was overcome with darkness and hushed quietness. No one spoke. The only thing that kept Sombra grounded was her fingers interlaced with Orisa's hands. What was going on? 

She felt a sudden bump in the darkness as someone passed by her in a hurry. Her mind started to race. All of these rich people, in this type of setting? But perhaps she had just watched too many telenovelas as of late. This was the perfect place for a robbery or murder, she thought grimly. She let out a shout in protest but whoever it was was long gone. Some time went by. It had to have been a whole minute now surrounded by nothing but darkness. Suddenly, a blinding light sent Sombra's mind spinning. Orisa, startled by the  intense light, backed up.

It was a milky white spotlight that focused directly on where one of the windows used to be visible. A tall, thin man dressed in something of a scarecrow costume called out.

"Nobody move! This is a robbery!" His voice was crackly and loud. 

Called it, Sombra thought. 

The man was holding onto the window sill. He was accompanied by a much larger man wearing a pirate shark costume. It was an Interesting duo, even if their methods of attaining wealth were a bit unconventional. Although, they were certainly prepared for the occasion. The blackout was an excellent idea as everyone seemed to be in a state of panic. She wondered who these masked strangers could be. 

"A robbery by JUNKRAT AND ROADHOG!"

Oh.

"Place all your fancy jewels on that table over there!" Junkrat pointed a robotic arm towards the center of the room, to a table just adjacent to the dance floor. The table was fairly inconspicuous. On top of it was just a white tablecloth and a large swan ice sculpture, surrounded by a shallow bucket. "Earrings, necklaces, watches too! Anything of value put it on that table." He began to tap his peg leg impatiently. "Hurry it up."

Everyone looked around in panic as if they expected security to hurry in to their rescue at any second. But no security, human or ominc was present. Where had they gone?

"And why should we do that!" A man dressed in a solid wool two piece suit spoke up.

"I'm glad you asked" Junkrat chuckled and held up a remote. He made a show with his hands as he fiddled with the device. Roadhog, even through his mask, looked exasperated.

"WAIT! Don't press it! We will do as you say." A woman shouted. She was tall, and slim and dressed in a luxury, floor-length, white Vienna gown. The sleeves of which were lace-trimmed and expertly fitted. Her black hair was done up in a way that showcased her diamond earrings, which she was in the process of taking off. Sombra immediately recognized her as the leader of Russia, Katya Volskaya. "Don't any of you watch the news? They've obviously planted explosives beforehand. These are dangerous criminals." She was the first to set her earrings on the table.

"Why thank you." Junkrat took a short bow, nearly falling off the windowsill. "Now you lot, keep them coming!"

One by one, people hesitantly started putting their valuables on the table. Orisa went besides the table and shook her entire body with a thunderous rumble. Jewels from her horns and flowers from her back fell together onto the table. Sombra realized that she hadn't yet contributed.

"What have you there?" A familiar voice sounded besides her. Angela peeked over her shoulder. "I only had a watch. It wasn't cheap but I could live without it."

"I have a necklace." Sombra touched the necklace gingerly before admitting. "Well, it's borrowed."

"Ah." Angela hardly reacted. "Ah, well."

"Ah well is right. I better put it up." Before Sombra had the chance to reach the table, the lights went out again. This time, the people in the ballroom stayed silent.

When the lights came back on, around thirty seconds later, the scene was notably strange. Eyes darted around the room and people exchanged quick words to ask if anything was different. From higher up, even Junkrat looked confused. So the second blackout had nothing to do with them...

A scream interrupted throughout the ballroom. Besides the banquet table, a person, finely dressed in a sequined piece with matching gloves and a feathered boa had fallen to their knees - which were nearly covered in tall peacock-printed boots with four inch heels, pointed at the toes- the person’s face warped in anguish. 

 "S-She's dead!" The person screamed out.

"Who?" A tall Italian man ran to the person's side and looked to where they were pointing. He was dressed in a chic two piece black suit, with an omnic tech chest piece engraved near the front giving the suit a dignified but innovative look. His silver shoes only complimented the whole piece more. He shouted out. "Paramedic?! Is there a doctor here? A woman's fainted!"

Within a moment, a crowd had gathered besides the banquet table. Even with her heels, Sombra could barely see past the looming heads. But she could see Angela Ziegler make her way to where the passed out body lay cold. A woman in a white dress lay slumped against the table. It was Katya Volskaya.

Angela pressed her fingers against Katya's wrist, then listened against her chest. With one disheartened look, Angela looked where her watch would be before sighing and asking a bystander for the time. "Time of death, 10:10 pm" She stated.

The crowd, as well as the two thieves who were in the middle of robbing them, were speechless. There was an uncomfortable air surrounding the ballroom. Moments later, the lights flickered, and a generator sounded. Heavy metal sheets slid down over the windows and Junkrat and Roadhog were forced to jump down below, landing shakily. The detonator remote Junkrat was holding felt out of his reach and hit the floor, shattering into irreparable pieces. He frantically tried to gather the remnants but was unsuccessful. 

"The security has been restored!" Someone shouted. "We've gone into a lockdown!"

"With a murderer!?" A woman screamed.

"And with thieves!" Angela shouted and pointed. "Someone apprehend them!" A crowd began to swarm the two men and soon they no longer posed a threat.

Suddenly Sombra realized how very alone she was. She clasped her hands and looked around the room, looking to see if Orisa was okay. She was standing at the far end of the buffet table next to the stacked tea cakes and champagne.

"Orisa." Sombra whispered. "Orisa!" She waved her hand in front of Orisa who seemed to be in screensaver mode. Suddenly Orisa's eyes focused on her.

"Glad you're okay." Sombra said casually. Her mind was buzzing a mile a minute, but she didn't want Orisa to worry. "Crazy, huh? A murder."

Orisa shook her head up and down and let out a neigh and Sombra knew. She knew it was impossible to keep everything bottled up around Orisa. Sombra could be herself around her and Orisa would understand. It was unreasonable to keep blocking everyone out from how she was feeling. She couldn't let anyone know how really vulnerable she was, but with Orisa she could. "Alright." Sombra said as she ushered Orisa to a more secluded spot.

"Truth is. This is more than I bargained for," Sombra begain "-I'm not even supposed to be here. When the cops show up it's going to be hard to keep a low profile while they investigate everyone. Dios mío, I shouldn't have come tonight." 

Orisa whinnied and turned her whole body to face her, quizzically.

"But I'm glad I did." Sombra confessed with a sigh. "It was nice... meeting you."

Orisa whinnied, a long series of electronic chirps and whirrs. Orisa was right, she didn't always have to keep up her facade of a person who had all the cards. Sombra was glad she had someone now who could know her. Just through her words alone, Sombra could tell Orisa was an intellectual. 

"Thank you." Sombra brushed a piece of stray hair behind her ear. "Would it be alright if we stay here for a bit before facing the others again? Can we stay, just like this?"

Orisa whinnied. Sombra pressed their foreheads together and they stayed silent. As the night went on, people started to sit in groups on the floor. There was a rumor that the police were on there way and everyone should sit tight but as minutes dragged into hours, uncertainty slowly turned into an icy fear.

Sombra and Orisa continued to share a corner. Orisa had circled twice and seated herself on the floor by a pillar and Sombra leaned into her metallic flank. She leaned up against Orisa and listened closely. Somewhere deep inside Orisa, she could hear mechanical whirring and the soft clicking. A mechanical heartbeat, she thought. Sombra wondered if while sitting this close, Orisa could hear her own heart beating. A deep blush spread over her face. 

Orisa kept quiet for as long as it took Sombra to calm down. Five minutes past... then ten. Sombra felt her eyelids grow heavy as she let her mind drift to sleep. An hour must have flown by peacefully because she was suddenly awakened by her cellphone. There was an incoming text from Gabriel.

Gabe!! He was okay!!

Sombra gave the text a quick read.

 'The police aren't coming. On the right is a grand staircase, you need to come to the second floor library now. You're in danger.'