#people willing to take care of him. but my brother lives halfway across the country so i literally never see him

[eileennatural]

finding out a boy who i think is sort of technically my nephew (my brother and his girlfriend are his legal guardians) but who i've never met is going to be staying in my childhood bedroom soon is so. embarrassing. he's gonna see all my stuffed animals. my signed all time low poster. my TAP SHOES

[godofplumsandthunder]

Our First Meeting

Paring: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Warnings: Swear words, Period Homophobia (nothing major, but Bucky does have some homophobic thoughts towards himself)

A/N: First chapter of Ancient History! This is a series that I wrote for @the-marvel-horniest-book-club and its sister blogs Week of Love Challenge. The way I wrote it is when Bucky and Steve are telling Peter their story, we see it from their POV. Like The Princess Bride, or How I Met Your Mother. I had such a fun time writing this and I hope that y’all will like it!

“And so, as ‘The Valkyrie’ made its fast descent into the Arctic Ocean, Captain Steve Rogers lowered the plane into the ocean, saving humanity from the treacherous plans of the Red Skull. Captain Rogers’ sacrifice cost him everything, choosing to leave behind the love of his life, his fiancée Peggy Carter, and their unborn baby. Sadly, losing the love of her life caused Agent Carter to miss carriage, losing the last surviving piece of Captain Rogers. But, as you know, the story doesn’t end there,” the school bell rings, cutting off Ms. Lund, Peter Parker’s American history teacher. Filing out of the over cramped room, Peter is left speechless. He couldn’t mention anything in class, but he thought he knew his Uncle Steve. Losing a child would affect him, right? Steve would have said something. Walking home, Peter decided to make a quick pit stop at the Avenger’s compound, where Steve and Bucky were enjoying their retirement. Sending a quick text to Aunt May letting her know he wouldn’t be home for dinner, Peter quickly slung his way over.

Peter found Steve and Bucky in the living room, Steve playing Mario Karts (he picked up a love for the game in his retirement, don’t blame the man, okay?) while Bucky read some weird book in Russian.

“You!” Peter points at Steve, “you have a lot of explaining to do! I thought we were family! But I had to find out from my freaking history teacher that you and Peggy were engaged and you were having a baby together?” Flopping down on the couch, Peter stares Steve down, his eyes showing how truly hurt the kid was.

“I… What?” Pausing his game, Steve looks up from his game confused. And Peter, crossing his arms, shakes his head. “Don’t lie to me! I thought we were close!” And sure, Peter knows he’s probably acting like a baby, but Peter’s pain is genuine. Steve was the first one to know about his crush on MJ, even helped him plan their first date. After Tony died, Steve became his father figure, someone he looked up to and tried to emulate.

“No, you just caught me off guard Petey. God, is that what they are teaching these days? No, I’m… Peggy and I…” Bucky cuts Steve’s floundering.

“He’s gay Peter, not bi or pan, gay. He likes dick, more specifically mine.” Steve blushes as he reprimands Bucky.

“Jesus, Buck, language! He’s still a kid! But he’s right Peter. I’m gay, I’ve always have been, and I always knew it too. Peggy and I were just really good friends. God, they’re saying I had a kid with Pegs, can you believe it, Buck?”

“Yeah, I can, actually. The government loves to erase me from your, our story.” The bitterness and hurt in Bucky’s voice don't go unnoticed by Steve or Peter. “For fuck’s sake, they’re still pushing this bullshit Americana nuclear family. We’re not in the ’30s! Instead of giving the kids hope, that their sexuality can’t limit their dreams, no keep on pushing this shit!” A heavy silence blankets the room. Bucky’s anger is still fuming in him. And in traditional Peter fashion, he butts in.

“Well, I’d like to know your story! We have to give a presentation on you, Steve, and well I know it’s just one classroom in Queens, but I’d like to tell your story. And I’d love to see my teacher try to correct me. I’ll just show her my Works Cited page. Two resources, Steven Grant Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes.” Steve, smiling at Peter, takes Bucky’s hand in his, rubbing over the vibranium band.

“What’d you say Bucky, do you want our story to be told?”

Putting the book down, Bucky cuddles up next to Steve as he turns to Peter.

“Buckle up, spidey. Our story is a long one.”

----- The last thing that Bucky wanted to do after moving halfway across the country at the start of the Great Depression was to go to mass. Hell, his family wasn’t even Catholic, but the way his Ma saw it was they could take any additional help they could get. And if that meant listening to some Catholic priest ramble on about the virtues of Saint Peter, then so be it. Even if Bucky complained the entire walk to the small chapel.

See Bucky wasn’t that religious. He believed that there had to be some sort of God, a purpose as to why we were all here. But he never once thought about becoming a catholic. So while the Father was rambling on about the lessons we could learn from Mary Magdalene, all Bucky wanted to do was go home and have some lunch. Bored, Bucky decides he’s going to play some people watching. Looking around, he sees the usual church suspects. Stuffy old ladies in godawful hats. Even his people-watching is getting boring. That is until he sees him. A boy, probably close to his age, 15 or 16 max, but small for his age. He had the most beautiful blonde hair and blue eyes. Bucky’s heart is racing, as he tries to push the thoughts in his head away. Recently he’s been having inappropriate thoughts about some of the boys at school. As his friends would go on and on about the gals they fancied, Bucky’s heart was set on the wrong gender. Or at least that is what he was taught to learn.

“Now brothers and sisters, the sister of the covenant prepared a light luncheon that’ll be served outside!” Father O’Malley’s booming voice broke Bucky out of his thinking. Getting up, he turns to his ma.

“I saw a boy that’s my age. Can I go talk to him?” Winnie simply nods as she frets over Becca’s dress. That girl could ruin any dress. Bucky wades through the crowd of people and finally makes it out to the church patio where he sees the blondie, alone on a bench, drawing.

Mustering up all the courage he has, Bucky steps up in front of the boy. “Hi, I’m Bucky. Family just moved here.” Blondie, as Bucky dubbed the boy in his mind, looks up. And god, those blue eyes were so much brighter up close.

“I’m Steve,” smiling at Bucky he motions to the empty space next to him. “Care to sit? My ma went to get some food. I don’t have many friends, as you could probably tell.” Bucky chuckles softly.

“I don’t either. Guess we can be each other’s friends.”

Something there clicked inside of Bucky. He finally understood what the other boys felt when they talked about their crush. Heart pounding and sweaty palms, as he tried to make sure he made a good first impression. He imagined going on dates with Steve, giving him the world. But Bucky knew he couldn’t have those things. He couldn’t take Steve out dancing, or on a date. He had to be his friend, and Bucky was willing to make that compromise. He just hoped his heart wouldn’t break in the process.

[curvynerdfan]

Wolf of Kattegat

Thank you @boomhauer for requesting. This is the longest piece I’ve ever written totalling over 3.5k words. It has definitely put me in an Ubbe mood! I hope you enjoy it!

Ubbe x tattoo artist reader

Ubbe was giddy when he woke up Thursday morning. Hvitserk had managed to get Ubbe scheduled with his tattoo artist. His brother’s tattoo artist was renown in Kattegat and all of the surrounding cities.Their art was immaculate and it was surprisingly difficult for Ubbe to get an appointment without Hvitserk’s help. He could have always asked Ivar but that kind of frustration didn’t appeal to him.

It still shocked him that it was so difficult for him, a Ragnarsson, to get on the artist’s schedule. He knew she was phenomenal, that is why he was willing to wait. But who in their right mind would deny Ragnar Lothbrok’s son.They must be insane, it was very rare for someone to be unaware of his family’s line of work. The Lothbrok legacy was known across the country and no one dared cross them, those who did rarely lived to regret it. The High Seat Incorporation was involved in a plethora of business endeavors. It’s name paid homage to Odin and everyone’s deep seated belief that the Lothbrok family descended directly from the All Father.

While he could have gone to his typical tattoo shop, this tattoo was special to him. His father was referred to as the “Wolf of Kattegat” and he now felt confident in stepping down as leader and letting Ubbe take over. Bjorn took over foriegn affairs after his uncle Rollo’s betrayal. Many people thought that Bjorn would be the next leader of the Lothbroks, he was passionate about travel and felt like he was following in his father’s footsteps but still being his own man. Hvitserk’s role was much more on the criminal side of the business. He enjoyed participating in the night life and was typically running their club or meeting with unnamed business partners. . Ivar majored in architectural and mechanical engineering but always wanted to be involved in raids. He was also called in to retrieve information, when typical methods of torture just weren’t cutting it. .Lastly Sigurd was in charge of the creative qualities behind their business. Of course the family was involved in criminal activity but a majority of the business was legitimate. Sigurd helped with marketing, contracts and business relations. The new tattoo was going to signify Ubbe’s new status, while honoring his father at the same time. ========================================================================

“We aren’t open for walk-ins until 12pm darling,” she said without lifting her head, “ You’re three hours too early.”

“No, I believe I am right on time.” a gruff voice responded.

Y/N snapped her head up and almost gave herself whiplash. She had never seen a man this stunning and powerful in her life. She felt her jaw drop and her cheeks flush with embarrassment. He was wearing a long sleeve shirt and dark wash jeans. There were several pieces of jewelry adorning his body. A chain with several charms that looked like runes, a golden band resting on his wrist, and a skull ring were the most notable.

“I have an appointment with Y/N. I hope she is in. I even brought a peach green tea, like mother said.”, he gestured, lifting the large iced drink in his right hand while keeping his coffee in his left.

Ubbe was beginning to worry. While the girl behind the counter seemed nice and was no doubt talented based on the sketches he was staring at, she didn’t necessarily give off the vibe of the talented and high end tattoo artist responsible for the work he has seen on his family members. She was wearing an oversized cardigan and a pair of ripped jeans. Sure there were tattoos peaking out but the glasses resting on top of her french braided hair did not give off badass tattoo artist vibes. A smirk creeped across his face when he realized she was gawking at him and cleared his throat to get her attention again.

“ Ohh, um, yeah I can take you back and get you set up”, Y/N said with a small smile.

Ubbe followed the lovely lady through the back of the parlor and design studio, up a flight of stairs and was happy to see how professional Y/N’s workplace was. Not that the downstairs parlor was trashy, it was just obvious for the public. This area seemed intimate and very classy. A shapeable leather tattoo chair was in the center of the room. It appeared that the artist can manipulate the chair so the arm rests and leg rests could be extended or bent for the customer’s comfort.

“You can have a seat,” Y/N gestured to the chair “I’ll go make sure everything is ready.”

The girl walked out of the room and Ubbe couldn’t help but hope that she was going to get his artist. While alone, he took in the rest of his surroundings. The walls were pitch black but there were large windows with sheer curtains to keep the room light and airy. A massive mirror sat between the two windows so clients could check their work. There were also framed pieces of artwork scattered across the room. The tattoo cart sat to the side of the chair and could move as the artist pleased.

Ubbe realized he had been observing the space for a while and quickly sat down when he heard the door began to open. He tried to look relaxed and nonchalant so he stared at one of the art pieces, a muscular panther resting in a tree. It was a beautiful piece that seemed to possess raw power even though the beast was snoozing.

Y/N had quickly ran into her apartment once she got Ubbe settled in her studio. She made sure there was nothing in her teeth, added a quick swipe of lipgloss and sprayed some more perfume. The man in her studio was gorgeous. Everyone she questioned before accepting Ubbe as a client failed to mention that particular trait. He oozed power and an air of dominance. She could tell he was in charge of any situation but was confident instead of cocky. That trait obviously ran in the family.

“So, when will Y/N be here?”, Ubbe finally asked, he was really starting to doubt whether he’d be getting a tattoo today.

Y/N did a double take, “What? What do you mean, when will I be here?”

Ubbe looked shocked and he was astonished. Then she realized that neither of them introduced themselves..

“Oh wow! Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N and I’ll be your artist today!” she said with a sheepish smile,”I am sorry I didn’t introduce myself earlier. I’ll take that tea from you now.” she reached her hand out.

“My apologies, I assumed you knew what I looked like.”, Ubbe apologized.

He quickly handed over her drink, their fingers brushing when he passed the drink off. When Y/N reached to grab the drink, the oversized aztec-patterned cardigan fell off of her shoulder revealing detailed snake tattoos trailing across her left collarbone and shoulder.. It also revealed what may be a bralette or some kind of black laced tank top. Ubbe let out a huff when he took in her appearance for a second time. His eyes darkened when he realized how beautiful she really was. The fluffy and plain cardigan with what he believed were called ‘mom jeans’ gave her a demure and almost frumpy look. The outfit was definitely more for comfort than aesthetic. He couldn’t help but admire her body and the artwork that enhanced it. He also noticed chunky snake earrings dangling from her ears and a chain necklace caressing her throat.

“Alright, here is the finished tattoo outline. Please be honest and let me know if there is anything else we need to alter before we start. It won’t hurt my feelings. Every tattoo has a special meaning and I want you to be able to look at it with pride.” Y/N rambled before gently placing the sketch in his lap before setting up her rolling cart.

A small smirk rose on Ubbe’s face. While Y/N was obviously flustered, he could tell that she was passionate about her trade and dedicated to giving her clients the best experience possible. She wandered over to a black minifridge and patted the top of it where a keurig rested.

“While you look your tattoo over I can run through some basics I find important. Your brothers said you already have plenty of tattoos so I hope you know how to care for them properly. Either way, I have a set of printed instructions for you and I usually have customers come in a week after getting inked so I can lay eyes on it and make sure no touch ups are needed. I will also provide you with a healing salve and cleaning solution.” Y/N waved her hand over the fridge, “You’re getting a decent-sized tattoo with a significant amount of shading so we need to make sure to take breaks. I have a wide variety of snacks and drinks available. Feel free to stop me at any time for any reason. Today is all about making sure you have the best experience possible and the tattoo is something you love. That being said, do you have any questions or are there any alterations I need to make before we get started?”

Y/N finished her spiel and shrugged off the cardigan on her shoulders. Ubbe began to answer her, but lost his words when her body lost the cardigan. He was slowly beginning to realize that Y/N may be his dream girl. Her jeans were higher on her hips and he stopped breathing for a second when he came to the conclusion that she really was just wearing a bralette for a top. He could see a rose peaking out on her right hip and tried to stop himself from imagining how far down that design trailed.

A dainty giggle brought Ubbe back to the conversation again, “Umm”, he shook his head to clear it, “No there is nothing I’d like to change and I will let you know if I have any other questions. Thank you for being so helpful.”

“Okie dokie then! Let’s get started!” Y/N said clapping her hands together. “Uh, I think you’re going to have to take your shirt off.” she stated, her voice slowly softened to a whisper.

Ubbe chuckled to himself and began taking his shirt off and Y/N gently told him to leave it on halfway. He wanted the tattoo on his right forearm so only his right side had to be uncovered. Her client’s comfort was always her first priority and even though she would love to see that hunk of a man completely naked, she knew it was better to be professional.

She began to lay the outline down where they had decided to place it and tried her best to keep her gaze from wandering to his delicious abs and bulging arm veins. Y/N softly grabbed Ubbe’s hand and dragged him in front of the mirror. Trying to guide the muscular man was a little more difficult than she had expected. She tripped herself up while leading him and felt his other hand wrap around her waist, in hopes of steadying her.

Ubbe notice Y/N get her boot hung up on a floor board and quickly grabbed her waist with the hand she hadn’t already claimed. He pulled her to him with his right hand and steadied her with his left. He let out a sigh of relief once they were both steady. Y/N gasped, and her free hand went to rest on his chest. Ubbe looked her over to make sure she was okay. His eyes trailed up her body, eyes pausing on the curve of her waist and again on her breasts before quickly trailing back up to her face. Y/N’s eyes were zeroes in on Ubbe’s face. Her eyes were trained on his lips. Ubbe let out a hum that Y/N could feel in the palm of her hand and snapped her eyes up to his.

“I, uh,” she shook her head, “yeah, um, look over the outline in the mirror and from other angles. Every once in a while a client can find an angle that ruins the aesthetic, so make sure you love where it is at.” she said, gently pushing away from him and walking over to grab her drink off of the cart.

The refreshing drink helped her clear mind and her throat. Ooo, that man made her heart race faster than anyone before. After a couple of long pulls from her drink she looked up and smiled when she noticed he really was analyzing the design from every angle.

“This tattoo means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”, her voice soft but curious.

He nodded his head and made his way to the chair, “ It really looks phenomenal the way it is Y/N, thank you.”

She blushed and let out a soft “thanks.”

He settled into the chair and she dragged her rolling seat and cart across the room. She pulled gloves onto her hands and got ready to start. She turned his arm to get the best angle and Ubbe began to speak again.

“You have no clue who my family is, do you?” Ubbe continued when she shook her head. “”We run The High Seat, it is one of the largest incorporations in the country and most definitely the most expansive in companies and investments. Have you ever heard of the Wolf of Kattegat?” he asked. When her eyes squinted in recognition, he continued, “He is my father, Ragnar.”

She stopped him to ask “Aslaug’s husband?”

He chuckled, he could only imagine what his mother spewed about his father,”Yes, that Ragnar. Anyways, he has decided to step back from the business and work more legitimate in a position of advisor. I am taking over as the Wolf of Kattegat. We are also the commanding family of Ansuz”, he chuckled darkly when she flinched, “now, doll, you have nothing to fear from me or my family. Let alone any of my heathens. My mother adores you. So do Hvitty and Ivar. Hate to say it but I think I am under your spell as well.”

“I-I’m not sure how to respond to that,” she said, paying careful attention to his arm,”and my reaction wasn’t all from fear, a majority of it was because it is hard to believe that I am that naive. The leader of the most dangerous crime organization is sitting in my chair.” she let out another giggle, this one reminded Ubbe of Floki, “hell, I even interrogated your family before deciding to take you as a client. Why didn’t you just make me?”

“Mother taught me better than to demand a woman to do anything and I admire your dedication”, he noticed your confused look, “You only tattoo those you believe you can trust. In turn, your clients, my family trusts you. It is like a badge of honor to say my wolf was designed and ingrained in my skin. I refuse to taint that by behaving like a pompous ass.”

She smiled at his description of her work. Y/N knew her practice of vetting clients was peculiar. Most artists were more focused on the money they can make off a client. She wanted to know the person she was leaving a piece of herself with. Y/N had spent over a hundred hours perfecting the piece she was now inking into his skin.

The next couple of hours were spent talking about his family, the stress of his new position, and so much more. Ubbe made sure to ask questions about her family, interests and upcoming projects. At the end of the session, Y/N felt like she had known him for years. The Wolf of Kattegat seemed very down to earth for such a renown crime boss and CEO.

When the tattoo was finished, she cleaned it and instructed Ubbe to look at it in the mirror. His eyes scanned the mirror several times enjoying the way the tattoo made him look and feel. He twisted his wrist several times, analyzing the way the light was hitting the wolf. Y/N was bouncing on her toes. She wasn’t sure if she was excited or nervous. Ubbe’s face suddenly lit up and he grinned from ear to ear and Y/N couldn’t help but let out a little squeal of excitement.

She sat Ubbe back down and began reviewing how to care for the tattoo one more time while carefully wrapping his arm so the shirt wouldn’t irritate it. While she was elated that the god-like man before her loved her art, she knew he was about to leave. She felt like she truly knew Ubbe and the rest of the Lothbrok family. It hurt to think that it may have only been for the day.Once his arm was properly bandaged, she no longer had a reason to keep him with her. Y/N gently let him know it was finished. He immediately pulled out a stack of cash.

“Ubbe! This is too much! We already discussed price before you got here.”, Y/N said, exasperated.

“Yes , we did. That was before you brought this beautiful piece to life on my skin. That was also before I realized how important you would be to me.” He paused and let out a chuckle,” I will not ask you out today, lest you believe that is why I am paying you this amount. I am giving you this because you managed to make this tattoo more remarkable than I could ever imagine.”

Y/N’s cheeks warmed when Ubbe implied his desire to date her. It was good to know that it was not a foolish desire held on her own. She loved his praise and was happy that he loved your most recent passion project. She also couldn’t help but feel empowered by his words.

“Thank you, Ubbe. I will see you in a week to see how it is healing.” she stated clearly trying to sound professional before leading him down the stairs and to the front of the shop.

Ubbe smiled to himself. He would not ask her out today, but he did make sure to slip his number into tha cash during one of their breaks. He only hoped she would notice it soon. The pair had carefully made it to the front windows of her shop. Both appeared to be thinking of a way to delay their goodbyes. Instead of procrastinating his eventual departure, Ubbe decided to embrace it and use it as an opportunity to embrace her as well.

Y/N froze when two burly arms wrapped around her waist. She slowly reached her arms up around him and rested her cheek on his chest. Ubbe took a deep breath of her vanilla scent and lightly pressed his lips against the crown of her head.

“Goodbye, princess”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

6:57 PM

So should I save your number in my phone under Ubbe or Wolf of Kattegat🐺?

@justahopelessssromantic @princessofthalia

[chocoholicannanymous]

If the Spit Hits the Fan (Glee) pt XIV

Follows pt I, pt II, pt III, pt IV, pt V, part VI, pt VII, part VIII, part IX, part X, part XI, part XII and part XIII.

Posting this for day 3 (Dalton) of @kbweek2020, for reasons.

Benjamin Harris asks Kurt to call him Ben during their first meeting, and pencils him in for two sessions per week “for now”. Kurt doesn't know whether to be grateful that he's at a school where his mental health is considered so important or horrified that he's seen as needing that much help.

When he brings it up with Sebastian the answer is “grateful” and Kurt's pretty sure that it's the right one. It's just such a glaring difference from McKinley where the closest he'd gotten to an adult caring about his anything (in a positive way that was) was poor Miss Pillsbury.

And that's, that's just sad.

So he agrees to go to Ben's office every Monday and Wednesday, and he tries to talk, only he finds he's still skittish and wary.

Ben's good though, and finds a way around Kurt's defenses by suggesting that they bring in Finn for a few shared sessions, “to heal old wounds”. It's a good solution as that's something about being back at Dalton, and about boarding again, that Kurt isn't entirely pleased about. Not living at home means it's hard to be there for Finn (and to not having Finn be there for him). Sebastian is a good friend, but Finn's his brother. Kurt worries, okay?

Ben being sneaky and getting permission to have Finn come over for the first two weeks is an excellent solution.

(The only one who doesn't realize that half the reason is so Finn can get the help he needs but McKinley won't provide is Finn himself.)

Once Kurt begins to trust Ben – once he's seen that it's justified – talking gets easier. Telling him about everything that's lead to Kurt transferring to Dalton not just once but twice in a year in painful but also healing. Even if he sometimes hides from everyone afterwards just to deal with the sheer hurt of how little help he's ever been offered outside of his home and his dad's garage, and how much he could have thrived if he'd gotten this earlier.

The worst part is talking about Blaine.

Except, he has to, and maybe that's even worse.

So he makes an appointment late on a Friday, arranges for Finn to come pick him up, and then walks in with his back straight and his emotions tucked away as deep as possible.

He tells the whole story of him and Blaine, from that first meeting on the staircase all the way to the police station, with as little detail and emotion as he can get away with. He winces, once, because Ben shifts a little during the part about Scandals, and right, he worked  here last year. It's possible, Kurt thinks, that not that long ago it was Blaine sitting in this very chair telling Ben about his circumstances.

When Kurt reaches the end he falls silent. He's a little hoarse, from talking so long, and he feels empty.

Ben's quiet too, at first. He sits there, then gets up to fetch Kurt a bottle of water and waits for him to drink some of it.

“That's...that's a lot you just told me, Kurt. And judging from what I've learned about you I'm guessing this is the first time you've talked about all of it like this?”

True. Kurt's talked, yes, with Finn and Sebastian and even his dad. Before Blaine's disappearance he'd talked to Rachel and Mercedes. But not like this. Not without hiding things, or editing them out. Not with honesty.

“All of this, everything that's happened with Blaine... How does it make you feel?”

“Angry. Pathetic. Weak. Stupid. So, so stupid.”

“Why stupid?”

“Because I trusted him. I've got trust issues from here to forever, and I just trusted him. All I had to go on was that Blaine was cute, and charismatic when performing, that he was willing to listen and seemed sympathetic, and that he was gay just like me. That he'd been bullied, like me. Or so he said.

“And I just took him at his word. Trusted him like a damned sheep. Without a single shred of evidence that he was worth it. I told him things I hadn't even thought about telling my dad – who was worth my trust – and things I didn't have the right to tell him, and for what? So things could get even worse?”

Ben takes a moment again, before asking his next question.

“Do you feel now that Blaine didn't deserve that trust? Not just in the end, but throughout your relationship, I mean.”

Kurt laughs, short and harsh and joyless.

“You know, I dream about it. Not, not about that night – or I do too, but those are, that's not dreams, that's... Anyway, no.

“I dream that it's an ordinary day, and I'm driving over to Blaine's house to surprise him for some reason. I don't know why, since Blaine specifically told me I was never to show up there without warning, and I respected that.”

He'd added two and two and come up with “Mr Anderson is a homophobic prick”, which may or may not be true, and also may or may not be the actual reason.

“Anyway. I drive over there, and I ring the doorbell, and when Mrs Anderson opens the door I ask for Blaine. Only she tells me there's no Blaine living there, there never was. And when I push her on it, she tells me that a boy paid them to pretend to be his family, but she doesn't know why, or where he really lives.”

Kurt swallows.

“And then I wake up, and I can't help but wonder, if I were to do my research, would I find an Anderson family at West Elm Street? And if I did, would the faces match the people I've met?”

“What do you mean?”

“Blaine and I dated for six months, and were friends for another six months before that. And somehow I never got to know his family. I haven't even seen a photo of Blaine's older brother. I've only ever met Mrs Anderson three times, and Mr Anderson twice. If it wasn't for the fact that they were at the police station, specifically as Blaine's parents – which, by the way, is one of those times – I don't know if I'd believe that's who they are. Hell, at my darkest moments I still question it.”

“Do you really believe he would fake something like that?”

Ben's voice doesn't hold mocking, or disbelief, just worry.

“No. Not really. As I said, they went to the police as Blaine's parents. That's not something you risk if it's fake. Besides, Lima's too small to pull something like that off.

“It's more that I find that I was such an unimportant piece of Blaine's life puzzle that I can't even trust something like that.”

They both sit quiet for a while. After all, what is there even to say about thoughts like those?

When Kurt returns to Dalton on Sunday evening Sebastian is leaning against his door, dangling a thermos-flask from one hand. It's both a welcome sight and not, seeing as Kurt had let slip about the nightmares during a check-in the day before. But. It's coffee, and it's Sebastian.

He's halfway through his cup before Sebastian grabs the bull by the horn.

“Do you want to talk about the nightmares?”

No, he most certainly does not. Not those anyway. Still...

“The ones about that night, no. But there are others. Sometimes I have nightmares where I come to school and instead of Blaine being gone, instead of me being called into Miss Pillsbury's office the next day to be met with the news that Blaine's gone... I go to my locker and he's there. And I forgive him. I just...ignore that he tried to rape me, and I forgive him. Even worse, I take the blame.

“And then I wake up shaking, knowing that I could so easily have done just that.”

“Kurt...” His name falls from Sebastian's lips with almost no sound, and it's so clear that the other boy wants to protest.

“No, I really could have. Right from the beginning everyone was so happy to let me know I was lucky to find Blaine, and some made it clear that they didn't think I'd ever be able to do better. Hell, my own experience made me believe that. So why would I have let him walk away? If he was the best I could get, then it was forgive him or spend my life alone.

“Talking to Ben has made me realize exactly how unhealthy that kind of thinking is, and how me folding about something like that would have impacted our entire relationship. He would always have known he could get away with just about anything, and I would never be able to stand up for myself because of the fear of being alone.”

Kurt shudders. Had those dreams been reality then he would never have felt safe denying Blaine sex again. He'd never have felt safe denying Blaine anything. You want that role I need? Of course. You want to move across the country? I'll start packing. You want me to quit my job and be a househusband? Yes dear.

He'd have become a doormat, and he'd have told everyone it was what he wanted while believing it was all he deserved.

Blaine leaving had hurt like hell, but Kurt's beginning to believe it had been a blessing.

“I think I might have dodged a bullet there.”

Sebastian scoffs.

“No shit. That's not a bullet though, that's ammunition for a small war.”

Kurt acknowledges the point. It's a bit of an overstatement, he thinks, but then again he went the other direction.

“Either way, he's out of my life, and he's not getting back in. That's a good thing. The same will be true about the nightmares, sooner or later. No, this isn't me pretending things are fine when they're not, this is me honestly believing it'll be fine. Talking to Ben helps.

“Having you helps.”

He watches amused as Sebastian blushes softly at the compliment while trying to play cocky. He likes it when Sebastian's facade breaks down. In fact, he might just have made it his mission to make it happen as often as possible.

“So, do you have any plans for the rest of the evening? Lacrosse equipment to clean? Lingering homework? No? What about that essay for Mme Lacroix?”

The panic in Sebastian's face as he jumps up is delicious.

“What essay? When did she– Oh, I see. Not funny, Hummel.”

“From where I'm sitting? Definitely funny, Smythe. But if there's nothing else you need to do, would you like to watch a movie with me? I've got some chocolate I don't mind sharing, and I'll even let you pick the movie.”

Sebastian looks at him suspiciously, searching for the next joke. Then he apparently decides that Kurt is serious.

“I could do that. Careful though, that almost sounded like you asking for a date.”

“Who said I wasn't?” Total deer in headlights look. “Would it be so bad? I like you. I think we are good together. I believe we could be even better. I trust you. Giving this, giving us, a chance feels smart. It feels right.”

Sebastian keeps staring at him, and Kurt feels himself begin to fidget a little, suddenly uncomfortable. Did he read the situation wrong? Then, finally, Sebastian speaks, voice a little raspy.

“Oh god. I thought you... Can I kiss you?”

There's a desperation in the words, but Kurt can't fault him for it. He feels it too. So he nods, and takes a step towards Sebastian. He's expecting... Well, he doesn't know what he's expecting. More of the desperation maybe? Expertise?  Seduction? He definitely wasn't expecting careful softness, and constant checks for consent, but that's what he gets.

Then again, maybe that's exactly what he should have expected from Sebastian, who's been with him the whole way, who knows everything, and has shown himself to care in a way Kurt's not entirely used to to.

It's a Sebastian without masks and attitudes, meeting a Kurt without the same, and it's everything he could have wished for.

He's got no memory of what movie they finally play.

[bookaddict19]

Sleeping with the Enemy (Part 1) | Fred Weasley x Reader

Rating: Mature...eventually. I don’t know.

This is my first fanfiction so bear with me. This is an AU that occurs after the Goblet of Fire, during the events of the Order to the Phoenix. No hate, please. But if you like it, let me know and I will continue adding to it. 

Despite being filled with the sounds of chattering students and the clinking of dinnerware, Y/N found the so-called Great Feast to be a very dull affair. She nursed her pumpkin juice, thinking longingly of the bottle of firewhiskey upstairs in her dorm room, until she felt the reassuring squeeze of a familiar hand. Y/N reluctantly pulled herself out of her sulky state to come face-to-face with a pair of concerned, gray eyes. 

Are you okay? they seemed to ask. 

Y/N forced a smile. Draco looked at her pointedly, then shrugged, returning back to his conversation with Crabbe and Goyle.

“If what Potter says is true,” Goyle began in rather slow whisper, bits of treacle tart plastered to the side of his mouth. “And the Dark Lord has actually returned, what does that mean for us?”

Draco sighed. Clearly, he was not pleased to be going through this conversation again for what seemed to be the thousandth time. Y/N was sick of this discussion as well but for an entirely different reason. If she wanted to spend her days discussing corrupt governments and rising dictators, which seemed to be the only topics of conversation in this remote castle, then she would have stayed in America. Although, she reminded herself sullenly, returning home to the stony shores of Britain had not entirely been her own idea. 

While Draco recited the rehearsed response given to him by his father again to the questioning idiots, Y/N busied herself by partaking in the ancient pastime of people-watching. As her eyes searched the room for signs of intelligent life, her attention was caught by a pair of bobbing red heads over by the Gryffindor table. It seemed that the Weasleys twins were up to their usual nonsense. 

Y/N watched with a smirk on her face as Fred Weasley transfigured his golden goblet into a large, amber-colored spider and placed it on the seat next to his younger brother. The younger, Ron, had briefly given his fork a break and had come up for air from his dinner, resting his tired arm on the table. The spider, whether by nature or the twins’ design, took this as an invitation to begin to crawl from Ron’s rested arm to his freckled neck. 

The next few minutes were filled with girlish squeals and roaring laughter from the other side of the hall. Ron had fell back out of his seat in an attempt to rid himself of the arachnid, thrashing and screeching as he did so. His friends, Granger and Potter, were attempting to calm him long enough to properly dispose of the creature. From Y/N’s position at the Slytherin table, she could see the top of Potter’s dark hair as he struggled to hold down Ron’s flailing limbs. Granger, on the other hand, was standing above them both, her wand at the ready. 

Meanwhile, the entire Great Hall had ceased their conversations to gawk at the most recent outburst from the Gryffindor table. Y/N noticed that Draco’s debate with Crabbe and Goyle had also come to an abrupt close. Y/N tore her gaze away from the Weasleys’ shenanigans long enough to catch a glimpse of Draco. His dark eyes hovered towards spot where Potter’s hair was visible.  He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have too. As students stretched in their seats in order to get a better look at the spectacle, Y/N laced her fingers back through Draco’s empty hand in a silent gesture. He took a deep breath then adverted his eyes from the unfolding scene. 

Dissimilarly, Fred and George were basking in the success of their wonderful prank, accepting high-fives from surrounding students at the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. The celebration only ceased when Professor McGonagall, who had descended from the professors’ table with a basilisk-like glare, had seized George by a freckled-ear and began pulling him out of the hall. Fred, who would be damned if he let his twin suffer such a fate alone, took one last bow and followed his brother out of the Great Hall. However, he wasn’t the last to leave. Following the twins exit, a tiny witch in a pink dress slowly rose from the staff table and made her way to the exit. That’s not good, Y/N thought. 

“Filthy blood traitors,” Millicent Bulstrode mumbled beside Y/N as the twins left the hall.  Y/N’s eyes quickly snapped to Millicent’s toad-like face. “Careful, Bulstrode,” Y/N said slowly. “Their blood is purer than yours.”

Millicent’s face turned an ugly shade of red as the surrounding Slytherins crackled under their breath. Tears filled Millicent’s eyes and Y/N began to feel something resembling pity for the toad-faced half-blood next to her. It wasn’t that Y/N particularly cared about blood status. Despite growing up with the fanatical ramblings of Lucius Malfoy for the better part of her life, she didn’t feel as strongly about the widely debated topic as her fellow housemates. Her indifference could’ve been attributed to her time in America; a simpler country where blood status was of very little importance because there were no purebloods to be found. Or perhaps, she was simply more culturally evolved than her current company. However, she admitted, the later was most unlikely. 

Following Fred and George’s interruption, the noise level in the hall had quickly returned to normal. This meant the return of pestering questions about the future of Slytherin house in the wake of the Dark Lord’s return from Crabbe and Goyle. Goyle, who was continuing to talk despite the large piece of pumpkin pie hanging from his mouth, whispered something to Draco that Y/N couldn’t hear. She looked at Draco; he had gone quite pale.  

“Can you both please attempt amuse yourselves with any other topic of conversation,” Draco exclaimed rather harshly. “For instance, the growing obesity rate or how difficult it is to shovel food from the plate and into your mouth without most of it ending up on your face.” He looked sharply at Goyle. 

He had begun to shake. His eyes flashing dangerously under his pale blond hair. Crabbe and Goyle immediately quieted and recoiled in fear as if Draco were about to stand up in the middle of the Great Hall and start throwing out jinxes. Normally, Y/N would have welcomed anything to bring a bit of excitement to her current somber state. While the Weasleys’ act was quite amusing, she hadn’t had a good fight since she had returned to the UK and Draco was never one to disappoint her. There was nothing like the thrill of a good duel. No civilized bows and niceties that were so very common to European wizards, but a good old-fashion wizards’ duel. All wands and curses and the heat of palpable magic in the air.  

However, despite her thrill-mongering, she saw the truth beneath Draco’s thundering. The fear in his dark gray eyes as they shifted restlessly across the hall like those of a frightened animal. The way his fingers, which had still been laced through Y/N’s, had suddenly found themselves pulling at his left sleeve, making sure that his forearm was completely covered.

           Y/N put her hand on his shoulder and the shaking ceased. She moved her fingers to his back and began to draw small circles on the fabric of his jumper. As his breathing began to return to normal, Draco pushed his relatively cleaned plate aside, kissed her forehead and started a conversation with Warrington about Slytherin’s chances at beating Hufflepuff in the upcoming quidditch match.

It had been like this for as long as they both could remember and nothing, not even five long years apart, could change it. Not that their relationship was anything remotely romantic; although, by the jealous glares Pansy Parkinson was throwing Y/N at the moment, you could not tell that. Pansy was not alone in her assumptions. Most of the school believed that Y/N and Draco were secretly dating or, at the very least, sleeping together. This amused Draco, who would make it a point to grab Y/N’s hand in the halls on the way to classes in order to get giggles from nearby girls or high-fives from passing boys. Y/N learned to just smile and take the attention in strides.

It was not that she didn’t love Draco. She did. Sometimes he was the only thing in the world that made her feel like life was actually worth living. It was all-consuming love. An unconditional love that would have them both willing to help the other bury a body if it ever became necessary. But not a romantic love. It helped immensely that this feeling was most-assuredly mutual. This was ever-present in his incessant flirting with anything that qualified as remotely human. Draco was not shy in the slightest, and despite having a quiet infatuation with a certain dark-haired, scar-faced wizard, he spent the majority of his days chasing snobby Ravenclaw girls or freckled-faced Hufflepuff boys. 

Y/N, on the other hand, had only been at Hogwarts for a little over a year, despite being almost sixteen. She had no time for such fancies. She was here for a reason. Although, thinking about that reason made her heart beat faster and her stomach turn. “I’m going to go,” Y/N mumbled to Draco, untangling their fingers. His eyes searched hers for a brief second before he nodded and turned away. 

She left the hall in a bit of a rush. She made her way through the entrance doors, turning left to head downstairs towards the dungeons and the Slytherin common room.  She was halfway there when she spotted the back of a familiar red head. Fred Weasley was sitting on the stairs, his crimson head resting against wall. Y/N immediately looked around for any signs of a mischievous plot afoot. In their own way, the Weasley twins were like wolves. One must always have eyes on both of them. Lose sight of one and there is a good chance that you’ll find yourself cornered, being bombarded with water balloons. 

“Weasley…,” she began cautiously, her eyes darting around to make sure that the other twin wasn’t going to come out of nowhere and blast her with a Bat-Bogey Hex. “Well, if it isn’t Miss Black,” Fred replied in a strained voice. He turned and attempted what Y/N believed was supposed to be a smile. His face was strained with pain while his left arm cradled his right hand. 

Y/N stopped in her tracks. It seemed that Umbridge had had the last word in the twins’ little prank in the Great Hall. Y/N took one last vigilant look behind her before taking seat on the step next to Fred. She looked at him slowly. Beads of sweat raced down is freckled face, his stormy blue eyes fixed on his feet. Y/N watched his chest rise and fall in a slow but controlled manner like he trying very hard to keep himself from crying. 

Y/N didn’t know why but she could always tell the difference between Fred and George. While to most each twin was synonymous with the other, to her, the acknowledgement of the differences between the two was more than just a matter of respect; it was a matter of intelligence. Fred was obviously more outgoing than George. His eyes shined a bit brighter than his brother’s, especially when mischief was afoot. And while his Quidditch skills weren’t as outstanding as George’s, he showed more compassion both on and off the pitch; choosing to fight harder to win rather than resulting in cheap shots. 

“While I understand than I am stunningly handsome, Miss Black, I am sort of concerned that my good looks have caused you to stop breathing,” Fred remarked with a forced sort of laugh. Y/N, being rudely brought back to the present, made a noise somewhere between a snort and a cough.

“Not even in your dreams, Weasley,” she mumbled.

She looked at his injured hand. The words, I will not cause disruptions, was scratched into his pale skin in ugly, bloodstained letters. The cuts were deep. Apparently Umbridge had felt that Fred needed to do multiple lines in order to understand the message. Y/N wondered if the cuts would heal before the twins were up to their usual tricks again. Probably not, she thought. 

“This,” Fred started, noticing the direction of her gaze, made a motion to his cradled hand, “This is nothing. I had a filibuster firework go off in my hand once. Mum said I was lucky to still have all of my fingers.” Fred was talking mostly to himself. His head rested on the wall.

“I can help with that,” Y/N offered. Fred’s crimson head slowly rose from it’s resting place. His gaze fixed on her; suspicion filled his eyes. Y/N looked down at the serpent insignia on her robes. It was amazing how something that seemed so small and insignificant to her could cause such division in this foreign place. “Or you could just stay in pain,” Y/N said, that anger that she fought so hard to control came bubbling up to the surface. “See if I care.” 

She made a move to get up, her face reddening with anger and embarrassment. She was almost down the staircase when she felt a hand on the left sleeve of her jumper. She quickly tore her arm away from him, more out of fear than anger. 

“I’m sorry,” Fred said quickly. He slumped back down on the staircase. He was in really bad shape. Y/N hesitated, then slowly sat next to him. Draco had always said that she had a soft heart when it came to broken things. 

“It’s no use,” Fred mumbled feverishly. “Even Madam Pomfrey said there was nothing to do for it but ice it and wait for it to heal.”

Y/N took his hand and examined it. It was warm and wet from inflammation. Fred shivered. Y/N had seen this kind of magic before. “Well…” she started slowly. “You should never ask a saint to do a sinner’s work.”

Y/N knew from examining his wound that the quills that Umbridge had been using in her detentions contained a dark and ancient form of magic. Knowing this, she thought it unlikely that any conventional spell would be able to reverse the effects of the curse. Luckily for her, and the redhead beside her, Y/N was anything but conventional. 

“I can fix it,” she began slowly, moving her dark hair out of her face to look back into his eyes. “But I need you to trust me…and I need you to keep quiet about it. I don’t intend on becoming this castle’s new healer, nor do I have the bedside manner to do so.” At this, Fred nodded a bit cautiously. After he gave his consent, Y/N’s attention returned to his hand. She didn’t pull out her wand or even make a move to do so. She simply wrapped her hands around his. He squirmed. “It’s okay,” she whispered. She didn’t know who she was trying to calm.

She had done this a thousand times before. But sitting here in the middle of the castle, in a land that was all but alien to her and with boy she barely knew…it was enough to set anyone on edge. After covering his hand in hers, she began to chant. Softly, at first. So soft that Fred could hardly hear her. As her voice rose, he realized that she wasn’t speaking English but some sort of Latin spell. The torches around the pair began to dim as her voice rose higher and higher. The sounds from the feast above seem to grow silent. Magic crackled in the air like sparks in a hearth. Their joined hands began to pulse and glow with a soft, golden light. And then…it was over as quickly as it had begun. The flames in the torches surrounding the two seemed to had risen back to their full height. The noise from the Great Hall above echoed in the stairwell once more. 

Y/N forced herself to look at Fred’s face. She decided to take in one feature at a time in order to postpone the look of fear that was most likely present there. His color had come back. His cheeks flushed with red. His lips, that had almost been blue before, were now very pink and sporting a ghost of a smile. Y/N met his gaze. His blue eyes were not as stormy as before and were now filled with…not fear but something else. 

Fred let out a harsh breath that pulled Y/N out of reprieve. She looked down at their entangled hands and quickly pulled hers away, standing up to move onto the other side of the stairwell. Fred inspected his hand. There wasn’t a mark on it. Not even a scar. 

“How…,” he began. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Y/N responded quickly. “We’re not speaking of it again, remember?”

His gaze shifted from his hand to her face. It wasn’t fear she saw in his bright eyes but confusion, shock, and…gratitude. 

“Y/N…,” he made a move to stand. 

“Don’t mention it,” she pushed passed his outstretched hand and hurried down the staircase, refusing to look back. Y/N returned to the Slytherin common room and spent most of the rest of night sitting in an armchair, staring at the same page of her textbook for hours. Her fellow housemates had come back from the feast, and slowly emptied the common room as they headed to bed. Eventually, only Draco and Y/N remained.

           Noticing this, Y/N decided that she had most undisputedly earned a drink her actions this evening. She went to her room, grabbed the bottle of firewhiskey from under her bed, and returned downstairs. Draco was waiting. His Nimbus 2001 was stretched out on the floor next to him and a cleaning kit was in his hands. The sound of a bottle opening diverted his attention from his work 

           “I’m starting to worry that you’re becoming an alcoholic,” he muttered darkly. 

           Y/N poured the amber liquid into a nearby glass. “You’re only an alcoholic if you start drinking alone,” she smirked. “And look,” she walked towards him and thrusted the glass into his hand. “You’re drinking with me.” She took a long swig from the bottle. 

           The next few hours were spent in quiet contemplation of the night’s events. Draco didn’t want to talk about Potter or the upcoming war or that thing that was tattooed to his arm. And Y/N decided that she wouldn’t be able to take lecture on her irresponsible use of her powers that would most assuredly occur if she told Draco about the Fred incident. Instead, they stayed silent. Y/N fell asleep a couch in the middle of the common room, wrapped snuggly in Draco’s arms as she thought about the way Fred’s hand felt in hers. She awoke to a pain in her left arm as her dark mark seared in agony.

[thisiswherewestart]

I Remember (1/?)

Today had started out like any other Tuesday. I had woken up, logged in to work remotely for a few hours and then moved to a café for a change of scenery and to grab some lunch.

I usually frequented cafés close by my apartment, but my friend had highly recommended this quaint, newly opened one with an extensive pasta menu that was a half-hour train ride away. Anyone who knows me knows I'm a sucker for good pasta, and her rave review of their squid ink spaghetti had haunted me for the past week.

And so there I was on a Tuesday afternoon, after checking that they welcomed lingering customers. My laptop sat open across from me so I could monitor my inbox and I surveyed the simple decorations that created a homely ambiance. The fact that I was the only customer helped complete the serene scene. If this café were within walking distance, I would come again just for the atmosphere.

Ten minutes after giving my order to the waiter, my food finally arrived. The dark sauce coated the noodles beautifully, the seafood peeking out between the long strands making my mouth salivate in anticipation. As I picked up my fork, a tinkle of a bell sounded from the café entrance.

"Hello," a soft but confident voice greeted the approaching waiter. "One salmon aglio olio to go please. Thanks."

My fork stopped halfway to my mouth. My back was to the entrance but I would recognise that voice even in a noisy room.

"Tasha?"

And that confirmed it. It was him.

"Dongyoung," I greeted, standing and turning around to face the man. "It's been a while."

"When did you come back to Korea?" His tone was accusing now.

"How are you? How's Taeyong? How are the kids?" I shot out question after question, hoping he would forget the one he had asked.

"We're all fine. When did you come back?"

So much for that.

"Oppa…"

"Don't you 'oppa' me. We're basically the same age."

I sighed, dropping onto my seat and turning away from him. "I've been back for a year now."

He took the seat opposite me. Uninvited, but not unexpected.

"One year." The hurt in his voice made me wince. "A whole year and you didn't bother to call."

"Dongyoung, please."

His laugh was void of mirth. "So we're back to this, huh? The last time I saw you, you exclusively called me Doie."

I looked up at him.

"I guess that's what four years of silence does between friends."

*~*

"Five, six, seven, eight…"

The 7th Sense NCT U unit was made up of my favourite fellow trainees. 

Mark, who was the same age as my little brother whom I dearly missed. His naive sense of humour and bright eyed wonder had me growing fond of him in no time at all. Our shared love of story writing also brought us closer, as we encouraged each other to keep up with writing even as we were busy with idol training. He was my happy pill during our years as trainees together.

Ten, my fellow international school kid. We were different in that he came from money while I was the daughter of a diplomat. PSA: not all diplomats are wealthy! They are still government officers and don't earn nearly as much as you think they do. One of the perks was getting subsidised education, which made it possible for my siblings and I to attend international schools in non-English speaking countries we lived in. Ten and I hadn't known each other prior to becoming trainees, but he and I found that we just clicked. We even found several mutual friends in our international school networks.

Jaehyun and I took a little longer to warm up to each other. I was a fairly quiet person, only talkative around people I was comfortable with, so I was never one to initiate conversation. Jaehyun never approached me to start talking either, so a few months after we first met, our relationship had not progressed beyond a polite greeting when we bumped into each other. It took Taeyong to help us break the ice, but once we got to talking we found that our interests overlapped and they were the foundation to our pretty solid friendship.

Taeyong is the one trainee to whom I’m most grateful. I entered the company shortly after he did, and he seemed to decide to take me under his wing upon our first meeting. It didn’t matter that our training schedules didn’t overlap; he would always check in on me and help me when I struggled with getting dance moves memorised. In time, as Taeyong started writing and producing more songs, he would include me in his process and get me to record demos with him and Dongyoung.

Dongyoung was an enigma to me. I knew he had a kind heart because he would do things like invite foreign trainees home during holidays so they would have somewhere to go. I could see the warmth in his interactions with other trainees but he was only ever cordial to me, so I always thought he did not like me very much. It was, once again, thanks to Taeyong that we got closer. Dongyoung and I were both vocalists, but I dabbled in some rapping and Taeyong seemed to enjoy writing songs that featured the three of us. Studio sessions with the two of them became some of my favourite memories of my time as a trainee.

I was looking through the lyrics of the latest song Taeyong had written when the group finished their practice run and paused for a water break.

“Tash,” Taeyong greeted as he flopped down next to me, leaning his back on the cool mirror.

“You guys are looking really good,” I praised, handing him a water bottle. “The modifications you guys made last week improved the overall performance a lot.”

“Right? I’m so glad the choreographer let us do that.”

Dongyoung approached us, sitting on my other side. I passed him the last of my stock of water bottles. “Hey.”

“I’m beat,” he sighed. “But we look good right?”

“Yeah I was just saying that.”

The three of us sat in amicable silence for a few moments, the two of them gulping down the cool water as I finished perusing Taeyong’s lyrics. I shut my eyes as my thoughts turned to my own debut, or lack thereof, and my family’s increasing worries. 

“Hey, you okay?” I opened my eyes to find Dongyoung peering at me in concern.

I gave him a half smile. “I guess.”

“You’ll debut soon,” Taeyong assured me, guessing the subject of my thoughts correctly. I appreciated his vote of confidence, but we all knew that was a lie, at least if I stayed at SM. Having debuted Red Velvet two years ago, it was highly improbable that they would debut another girl group so soon. And besides, they were all tied up in NCT’s official debut, with two U units, 127 and Dream all training hard to perfect their debut performances.

“We should probably get back to training,” Taeyong said apologetically. His eyes were kind as he briefly grasped my shoulder with a comforting hand before standing up. “Tell me what you think of that song later,” he nodded at the printed lyrics in my hand. “I want your verse by the end of the week!”

Dongyoung sat studying my expression for a bit longer.

“I’m fine, Doie. Really.” I pushed his shoulder gently. “Go. They’re waiting for you.”

“We’ll go out to eat after this, okay?” he offered, standing. “We can get pasta. My treat.”

“Man after my own heart,” I proclaimed, clutching my chest in jest.

He grinned as he walked to his starting position. 

I watched as Taeyong counted the boys into yet another rehearsal. Meeting Dongyoung's eyes in the practice room mirror, I could see the nerves he increasingly felt but rarely showed for their debut performance, only seven days from now. I smiled as brightly as I could, hoping he couldn't tell my heart was breaking knowing I would be leaving in five.

*~*

The Doyoung that sat before me today was a fully fledged kpop star, hair perfectly coiffed and clothes fitting his comfortable but stylish lookbook. He had truly grown into his looks, and seeing him was making my heart ache. With pride? With longing? I didn't even know myself. I had just started developing maybe-more-than-friends feelings towards him when I had found myself back with my family.

"You look good. Healthy."

"Where have you been for the last four years, Natasha?"

His use of my entire first name hurt more than I expected. Was this how he felt when I called him Dongyoung?

"I went back home."

"As in back to your home country?" he asked, incredulous.

"Yes."

"Why? And don't tell me it's because you didn't debut with Red Velvet."

"You're kidding, right?" It was my turn to laugh humourlessly. "Has SM debuted another girl group since then?"

"Well no, but-"

"Don't say they might have added me to the group like they did Yeri. When I left, it had been one year since that happened and two years since they debuted!"

"But why did you have to leave?" Doyoung's voice was rising. "You could have moved to another company. You know you had the skills to debut."

"I just… had to, okay?" 

I guess he heard the pleading in my voice because he switched to another line of questioning after studying me for a minute.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” His voice was quiet. “Taeyong and me, especially,” he sighed. “We missed you. We still miss you.”

“I’m sorry. I know it was shitty of me but I just didn’t want to make a big deal out of me leaving.” I did not want to give you guys the chance to persuade me to stay.

There was a pause. “Did you miss us?”

Tears I thought had dried up years ago threatened to fall. “You have no idea how much,” I whispered, willing myself not to cry.

“Oh I think I do-”

“At least you guys had each other,” I blurted. 

“Excuse me?” Doyoung narrowed his eyes at me. “We were not the ones who stopped talking to you! I called until your number went out of service! And then we looked for you online but there was absolutely nothing. Why did you fall off the grid completely?”

I opened my mouth to respond but was interrupted by the waiter bringing Doyoung his food. Doyoung thanked him and handed him a card. “I’ll take care of her bill as well.”

“Don’t,” I protested. We were in the middle of an argument and he still wanted to take care of me. “Just charge him for his food, please,” I asked the waiter.

“I’ll pay for her,” Doyoung insisted. “Thank you.”

The waiter left, an awkward smile on his face as he retreated.

“I have to go now, so we’ll put a pin in this conversation.” Doyoung stared hard at me until I nodded my assent. "Does anyone know you're back?"

I shook my head. "I work in software now. I don't run in the same circles anymore."

"You know we have these things called phones, right?" He gestured at his Samsung with exaggerated motions. "They're amazing. You can connect with anyone, anywhere. Even if they're in a different country." He looked at me pointedly.

"I'm sorry, okay? I know I could have, should have, kept in touch but I just… I couldn't."

"Why?"

A million reasons. "I don't want to get into it right now."

"Fine. But you know I'll keep asking until I get answers."

I smiled, thinking about his habit of persistently badgering us until he got what he wanted. "I know."

"In fact," he grabbed my phone, which had been lying next to my rapidly cooling plate of pasta. "I'm going to call myself so I have your number."

Before I could protest, he had held my phone up to unlock it with my face and was dialling.

"Wait, I-"

He clicked the dial button and automatically put the phone up to his ear, before slowly lowering it again, staring at the screen in disbelief.

"So you kept my number. This whole time. And you still never called."

I didn’t know what to say to that. All I could do was apologise again. “I-”

“Just save it, Tash.” He put my phone back on the table. “I’m going now. Pick up when I call, okay?”

“I don’t like talking on the phone. Can you text me instead?” I joked, trying to keep my tone light.

“Do not test me,” Doyoung glowered. “Answer when I call.”

“Okay,” I murmured, but he was already walking to the counter to pick up his card.

He left without looking back.

[greengargouille]

At long last I have some time for Mother of Learning’s epilogue, which is great because I’ve been missing checking the tag but I wanted to avoid thinking too much about it before getting some rest So! What happened to our two -now former- time travellers since Zorian last fell unconscious?

-I expected either the ‘good morning’ wake up or a flashforward, but I admit I did not think of the two together. One month already, wow. Also, Zach is on friendly terms enough with Kirielle to rope her into his revenge pranks via PTSD. Neat.

(And Zorian complains about how long will Zach keep up with this, but, let’s admit it, halfway through that month Zorian probably pulled some nasty prank too in retribution, like pretending to have forgotten everything that happened within the loops. You can’t make me believe he never tried to get back at Zach) - “A dozen of people or so”, that’s... kind of a lot? I remembered that the only reason Zorian wasn’t sharing his bed with Kirielle in most restarts is because Imaya allowed her to have her own room while there wasn’t a third tenant for it. *checks previous chapters* Hmm, nope, it does say that there is a bunch of rooms on the second floor. Though I guess with the ‘slightly beyond’ capacity, some people do have to share their bedrooms.

Ah, nevermind, it does seems to be what I initially remembered. Well, one room for Imaya, one for Kael and Kana, one for Zorian and the last one for Kirielle would count as “a bunch”. But how are they sharing that between a dozen people?

(Zorian one evening just come to the Noveda Estate to get a room here, because he just can’t handle that many people under one roof and especially in his room.) (...Wait, is the Noveda Estate in good state, actually, or was it destroyed during the invasion attempt? Though I guess even if it’s mostly intact, it’s not Zach’s yet till he get a fair trial against his mentor)

-Ilsa is here! Did she sleep at the academy too? Or is she just here to watch over her students? I don’t care, I’m deciding she is sleeping here. Look, I might have never mentioned it before, but I have an incredibly soft spot at the idea of Ilsa and Imaya being girlfriends through their school years, and deciding to break up due to not being able to invest time in each other any more, but still remaining good friends. Look, I’m just a simple lesbian that like some wlw of adult age in her fantasy.

-Imaya having the time of her life aaaaaaah my heart, this epilogue only started and I already feel so blessed.

-Zorian ask where Zach is, Ilsa reply by refering to him as [Zorian’s] friend, which is... weird? He is her student too, even if she must not have seen much of him (or Zorian too, either, though he still tried to have mind magic sessions at school so maybe he was more present. Hmm. I do remember him saying to Akoja that he wouldn’t be present much though.) That would also imply that Zach is Zorian’s friend first, and eventually for his other classmates too. Hmmmmm.

...No, really, the fact that Zach was here but couldn’t wait for Zorian to wake up, wouldn’t that imply that he lives here too? Would make sense that he avoids the Estate if he is currently fighting with Tesen. Or maybe he comes to grab breakfast after whoever in charge of cooking at the Estate resigned after the invasion.

...I like the idea of Zach being part of the household, though, he must have spent enough time there through the loops to feel attached to the place. (which means that instead of Zorian going to the Noveda Estate to get at least one peaceful night, it’s Zach instead that come to crash in his room to avoid his shitty mentor outside of court meetings)

-Study groups is something I never thought about but make complete sense given how the academy is supposed to be in a bad state. Cyoria’s importance as a town will probably be massively cut despite the presence of the only rank 6 mana hole, and the academy’s management will be tough for the whole year. I wonder if, by the end of it, it will be able to go back to being the best academy of the country (continent?), or if its reputation will never recover and students will be more distributed across other academies. This could have interesting consequences, economically or politically.

-Ah, confirmation that Zorian was indeed absent from most classes this month.

-Zorian is starting to follow in Xvim’s footsteps, aww :’D

-We get to check up with Raynie, and while I don’t have much to say about it, I do like the... realism of it? The whole ‘putting this young girl with an emotional story up front to cover for other things, but ready to turn on her if it was beneficial’. We’re not left with a saccharine closure for her, but it still feels hopeful.

-Oh, Zorian is openly a mind mage. And here I thought he would really try to cover this up. Guess I will have to make major changes to that sequel fic I was never going to write in the first place

-Akoja finding motivation to become better out of the accident is... oddly sweet, in a way? Her way of explaining it is relatable. It was a terrible thing, and she knows it was terrible and feel bad for all those people, and guilty for how it turned out so well for her- but that’s not going to stop her from getting those opportunities. And she does frame it as “when war came for her again, she would be ready”, not out of altruism or wanting to protect others, which I actually really love?

-Zorian have an ‘uncanny ability to notice the problem people were having, and how to fix them’. I wonder what’s at play there. Is it his empathy/mind magic that helps him, his archmage level experience, the fact he already made training programs for multiple people in the past, or just because he is quite familiar with those people due to the time loop? Maybe all of this.

-Akoja understanding that the image she had of Zorian is flawed, but that she still likes him, is a good conclusion for her- even though the ways she notices in which he diverge from that mental picture are only due to the time loop, when even before that they already had major differences. Still a good step in the right direction.

-Akoja, Kopriva and Kael becoming buddies is nice. I like that the classmates are becoming friends even outside of the ZZ sphere of influence. (The term ‘bedfellow’ is not one I ever heard before, and I was ready to point this out as proof they all share rooms before looking at the definition. Sigh.)

-Ah, Zach is still seen as a ‘clown and a wastrel’ by his classmates, or at least Akoja. Seems obvious, as he didn’t interact much with her and need to stay low, but man, I feel like this kind of reputation could become a problem down the line. Or not. Even if he doesn’t show the full extend of his abilities, he can show enough to get some respect, for example hunting dangerous creatures.

-Kopriva thought Zorian became close to Zach for money, before learning about his sales. But not everybody have her connections. And Zorian is now a known mind mage. There’s probably one or two conspiracy theorists in Cyoria thinking that Zorian is manipulating Zach via mind magic and that’s why their relationship drastically switched.

-Hmm, if Kael is surprised someone got into his room despite the lock and ward, then it’s probably safe to say he doesn’t share it with someone else. Or another classmate, I guess he’s in the same situation with Kana that Zorian is with Kirielle.

-Some investigation ongoing! Seems like ZZ&co did a pretty good job at erasing their tracks. Zorian had probably no choice in leaving so much of the golem’s core behind, but I can’t help but think it means the end of his golem-making career, or he will have to keep it for private use- someone is going to recognise this kind of spell formula if he start producing golems interesting/effective enough to make enough sales despite being a one-man team.

-How much does the Triumverate Church knows about the summoning? Did Zorian went and erased the minds of people that were here when him and Zach first asked for an angel summon, or since it didn’t gave away anything about the loop, they were left alone? Is the fact those two were present at a not only successful summoning, but one that was hijacked by an high-rank angel, known by people higher in the Church hierarchy? Will they become unexpected allies in an eventual sequel when either of them is put in an awkward position by the crown?

-”It may take a year, or even a decade, but they were bound to make a mistake.” Flash forward a decade later, when Elayer learns the ‘saviors’ are the most powerful couple of the continent, and also are behind some of the help/money the investigation team got on other cases, and so it would be pretty bad for him to reveal the truth.

-POV switch to Damien, and we get a reminder that Zorian is basically an impostor who killed the original. Which is not something I, and probably many readers, thought much about at this point of the story, but it’s true this is a moral dilemma. Damien’s acceptance is a pretty normal reaction, though. I think. I dunno, my brother have yet to come up to me and tell me he is actually a time loop clone that killed the original, but I feel like I would be able to accept it.

-”Daimen was pretty sure his little brother would be willing to make an enemy out of the whole family for Kirielle’s sake”, except Daimen was baffled by their mother’s plans for her and wouldn’t go against Zorian, only try to smooth things over, and Fortov... wouldn’t it be hilarious if he actually supported Zorian through this plan. Zorian wouldn’t even know what to make of it since he just doesn’t care about his brother’s opinion.

-’Zorian can pull a grudge’, Daimen thinks, meanwhile Zach have been making petty pranks at Zorian for a whole month in retribution for putting him in an illusion world. The one who makes an enemy out of those two is going to have a very bad day.

-Benisek had to appear at least once in the epilogue, and with his overall contribution to the story it couldn’t have been a big part, but boy is his scene glorious. What a way to reveal some major information to people around :’)

-Spear of Resolve get to stroll openly through the city, how nice. The situation is far from being resolved for the web, and people’s perceptions probably aren’t going to shift even after getting used to them, but they are too important to strike down or ignore, and even before they already had trade relationships with some humans; a lot of possibilities are going to open for them.

-Taiven cameo! Her thriving as a combat mage and being totally independent from Zorian is a pretty satisfying end for her. Spending too much time around him would only make her discover some of his abilities and doubt her own, I’m afraid.

-The Noveda Estate is mentioned as a potential private meeting place, so it’s probably safe to assume it is not only mostly intact, and that Zach is living here/can invite people.

...Which reminds me. Didn’t Zorian have a workshop there (as seen in the chapter where he talks with Novelty and we hear about the pokeball grey hunter trap? Is the reason he asked Zach to buy a place for Kael and not for himself because he already had access to this one?

- “In all honesty, Zorian had yet to hand out even a fraction of the stuff he owed (...) It would take him literal years” This shouldn’t be surprising, given he already mentioned something similar before, but this is still something I wanted to point out, since it does align with a certain headcanon of mine on how the close future would go for him. This post is already pretty long so I won’t develop, might end up making another post about it I already said I won’t write that fic! Someone stop my brain from putting on more projects on me!

-Speaking of headcanons: Zorian is writing a book! My bet was on shaping exercises- a sort of follow up on the 15 variations basic book, putting the most interesting ones he saw during his travels, as well as less well known ones (Xvim did say there were shaping exercices for mind magic too, after all), and basically the kind of book he wished he could have during his training sessions with Xvim. But a mind magic book would actually be pretty great! If he is allowed to publish it. Not sure he can get the peer approval for it.

-Holy heck that Grey Hunter end. Well, that does answer the question of whether that primordial essence would dissolve away after Silverlake failed her contract. Man, I hadn’t expected her to actually have a part, despite joking about it.

-I expected Zach to have more of a role in the epilogue, but you know what? That just mean the unseen interactions are Free Real Estate.

This epilogue felt pretty good to read! It went in unexpected directions and managed to pull a lot of loose threads, while giving enough content to imagine an interesting sequel. I was worried till the end Zorian would date one of the girls he had interacted most with through the story, because this is the kind of disappointing ending stories tend to go for, but it really wouldn’t fit with Zorian’s character and just... the whole ethical problem of being mentally way older, having some major power imbalance and him retaining memories the other doesn’t have. Now that the story is completed I think I can go back and enjoy the passages where said girls appear more? They’re all very interesting characters in their own right, so I’m glad for that.

...I wouldn’t say I don’t want a sequel, but... I’m satisfied if Mr. Kurmaic ends the MoL-verse there (or only come back for worldbuilding posts on his blog). He did said he wanted to edit the story and eventually publish it before starting anything else, and he did want to write a completely different story, so even if he talked about a possible sequel, it wouldn’t be before years, and who knows how he will feel about the idea then. So I’m glad, I’m really glad, that the story ended so satisfying, because I feel like it’s fine for me if it’s over. I want to stay and enjoy the (very small) fandom here on tumblr, maybe contribute to it too, and I’m happy that I can do it without canon spoiling my enjoyment.

Mother of Learning will probably have a special place for me as a story. I wished it had more details on certain points, but it’s still a complete worldbuilding that felt fresh, the story had done amazingly well on Chekhov’s guns and twists, and I never felt like it went lazy or had disappointing answers to its mysteries (okay, maybe on Red Robe’s identity, but I feel that’s very forgivable). The magic system, Zorian’s progress, the time loop... so many elements that could have been badly exploited, but no, it never made characters take the idiot ball, the story didn’t pull power increase out of nowhere, it was all so good. Mostly, what I will admire the most, is that Nobody completed the story. The updates might have been constantly delayed, but it was still at a pretty good rhythm, and in a language that isn’t the maternal tongue of the author. As someone whose one-shots can stay WIP for years before I complete them... It is very inspiring.

I am so, so glad that I decided to read this story, that I was part of this adventure if only as a lurker... And I wish the best to Mr. Domagoj Kurmaic, whatever his next writing project will be- or even if he decides to stop writing at all. Sincerely, thank you.

[maaaddiexo]

Chapter Thirteen | Peter Pevensie

[Red Series Book One: Roses]

Synopsis: With World War Two ravaging the world, no one is safe and no one is happy.

Despite their protests, Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy Pevensie are evacuated from London and sent to live in the English countryside with an old professor. Scared and unhappy, only the youngest Pevensie child remains optimistic and ends up sharing her hope with her siblings in the form of a wardrobe that takes them to Narnia, a different world where they are the only form of hope to bring an end to an evil witch's reign of terror.

Rosemary Bennett has no more hope left in her heart. Her brother and father are off fighting for their country, the former having gone missing months ago, and her mother ignores her, preferring the company of a bottle over her own daughter. Giving up seems the only logical plan of action. But when it finally comes to carrying it out, she's transported to a different world, with talking animals and a prophecy that doesn't involve her. Unsure as to why she is there, she must navigate a new world and ponder the possibility that maybe - just maybe - she doesn't actually want to die.

*Warning: this book deals with depression and suicide. Though mental illness isn't what this story revolves around, the act of suicide and depressive thoughts are intertwined with the plot and act as 'backseat drivers' to the novel.

[Chapter Fourteen] [Series Masterlist] [Masterlist]

What Susan had meant was mounting horses and running around the range. If it was all about tracking, then it shouldn't matter whether it was the target or the shooter that was moving. Right?

Once again, Rosemary was clearly more experienced with riding horses than the Pevensie girls so she spent the first hour simply helping them learn how to ride without their weapons.

When they'd finally called it quits for the day hours later, the sun was halfway through its descent. After returning the horses, the girls headed back to the outside of the camp where the shooting range was. There, Edmund and Peter were galloping through the large boulders and tall grass.

"Come on, Ed! Swordpoint up - like Oreius showed us."

They disappeared behind rocks and hills before reappearing somewhere else. The girls climbed on top of a large rock where they would be out of the way and cheered the two boys on.

"On garde!"

"Now block!"

Enchanted by the sight, the girls leaned forward with big smiles and watched the two boys spar, their swords clanging.

"Peter, Edmund!" Beaver appeared from the direction of the camp, standing up on his back paws. "The Witch has demanded a meeting with Aslan."

"What?!" Rosemary gasped, jumping down off of the boulder. "Why?"

"I don't know, but she's on her way here."

•

By the time the Witch's minions appeared at the edge of the camp, everyone had already assembled at the main pathway and watched silently and angrily as she was carried to Aslan's tent on a portable throne by four ogres.

A dwarf with a knotted beard and heavy fur coat walked ahead. "Jadis, the Queen of Narnia. Empress of the Lone Islands!"

"You can't be queen and empress but whatever," Rosemary uttered from between Peter and Edmund who snickered.

"Don't tell her that. She'll have your head."

Rosemary swallowed and looked back at the Witch, having never seen her before. She was very pale with long bleach blonde hair styled in dreadlocks that had been pulled up into a bun. She seemed extremely skinny, her cheekbones and elbows on the verge of breaking through her skin. A small crown of ice rested on her head. Her dress was extravagant, long, and thick. Rosemary was sure she must have been hot, even though it had short sleeves. Her wardrobe was clearly made for the cold.

People in the crowd heckled the Witch and Rosemary wanted nothing more than to join in with them. But unlike them, she was still scared of the Witch.

From the end of the aisle, Aslan growled lowly. Even he couldn't hold back his hatred for the Witch. As the Witch stood, everyone quieted down and Rosemary inched further back behind Peter. Noticing this, he grabbed her hand and squeezed it softly.

Hidden behind Peter, the Witch didn't have a good view of Rosemary but she could see the Witch in full. She could tell the Witch wasn't comfortable - perhaps not scared but definitely not fully in control. She wasn't in familiar territory and she was greatly outnumbered. If anything went wrong, the Witch knew she would lose within minutes. Nonetheless, the Witch made sure to keep her chin up.

"You have a traitor in your midst, Aslan."

"His offense was not against you."

"Have you forgotten the laws upon which Narnia was built?"

Aslan growled. "Do not cite the Deep Magic to me, Witch. I was there when it was written."

"Then you'll remember well that every traitor belongs to me." The Witch looked over at Edmund. Her smile was one of pure evil. "His blood is my property."

Peter stepped in front of Edmund, raising his sword. "Try and take him then." He just got Edmund back and wouldn't lose him without a fight.

Jadis chuckled. "Do you really think that mere force will deny me my right, little King?"

With a burst of courage, Rosemary stepped forward. "You just acknowledged that he is meant to be King. Doubting yourself, are we?"

The smile on Jadis' face dropped at Rosemary's taunting words. Wanting to return to being in control and debuting her power, she turned back to Aslan as Rosemary pulled Peter back into the crowd.

"Aslan knows that unless I have blood, as the law demands, all of Narnia will be overturned and perish in fire and water." Pointing at Edmund, she yelled, "That boy will die on the Stone Table as is tradition."

•

Rosemary had been sitting on the grass for close to an hour now, playing with the end of her braid. Aslan had demanded he speak alone with the Witch in his tent and no sound had been made since.

"Maybe I should just sacrifice myself," Edmund sighed. "So nobody else has to die."

"He won't let you die, Edmund," Susan assured. "He's so sure of the prophecy he wouldn't let us come so close to fulfilling it only for it to be ruined."

"Thanks, Su," Edmund smiled but it didn't quite reach his eyes. They waited for another thirty minutes in silence before the tent flaps finally rustled and the White Witch stepped out. She stared Edmund down before turning away and walking back to her carrier wordlessly.

"She has renounced her claim on the Son of Adam's blood."

Rosemary smiled, hugging Edmund first but she was soon trapped in the middle of a large group hug. She could hear Susan's relieved breath and Peter's laugh in her ears.

"How do I know your promise will be kept?" Jadis asked, turning to face the Lion.

Aslan released a threatening roar that knocked the Witch back into her traveling throne. Rosemary laughed and cheered, hugging her group of friends. It was about time someone put the Witch in her place. As the Witch was carried away, the cheers only got louder, but Rosemary could still hear Aslan when he called her name.

"Could I speak with you for a moment?"

Rosemary separated herself from the celebrating crowd and walked beside Aslan up the hill. It seemed it was his favourite spot. Celebrations moved to the campfire and Rosemary could see the four Pevensie children being lifted into the air, their laughter carrying up to Rosemary and Aslan.

"Do you know why you are here, Rosemary?"

Rosemary chuckled under her breath, "I've been trying to figure that out since I got here. Hate to admit I haven't had much luck."

Aslan sat down, looking out over Narnia. "You are here because you are important, Rosemary. Not like how the Pevensie children are important. Narnia needs them whereas you need Narnia."

"I don't understand."

"You know that Narnia called the Pevensies from England because it was time the prophecy was fulfilled. They were needed. You are special. You are here because Narnia believed it wasn't your time to die."

"Oh," Rosemary looked down, fiddling with her fingers. "How do you know about that?"

"I am entwined with the Deep Magic. It tells me what it wants to tell me."

"You're like the man behind the curtain in the Wizard of Oz. So Narnia didn't want me to die - for whatever reason. But why would it call me here?"

"Because only the best of us deserve a second chance."

Tears welled in Rosemary's eyes and she let them fall, knowing no one would see them from up on the hill. "I wanted to die, Aslan. And yet something always stops that from happening. Why couldn't Narnia just let me die?"

"Perhaps because it isn't your time to die."

"Isn't it my right to decide when to end my life?"

"It is, but the Deep Magic has a stronger hold on its inhabitants here in Narnia which is why you haven't tried to end your life since you got here."

"I was willing to sacrifice myself, though."

"Sacrifice is different than suicide. Tell me, do you still want to end your life?"

"Isn't Narnia's Deep Magic changing my mind?"

"No, it doesn't work like that. It doesn't change your mind, it is simply trying to stop you from carrying out the action."

"Oh, um," Rosemary squinted as she took a moment to think. Every sense seemed to heighten as she breathed deeply and looked around. The light of the moon seemed stronger, the grass felt softer, and the laughter of the Narnians by the fire seemed louder. She thought about her journey to Aslan's camp - Mrs. Beaver taking care of her, bonding with Susan during the boring parts of the journey, and Peter helping her across the melting river. "I...I don't know anymore."

"These people have changed your mind?"

"When the war began, everything seemed to fall apart. My father and brother left to fight and now Daniel's missing, and my mother drinks all the time and ignores me. I just couldn't live with that anymore - the war and being so alone. But the Pevensies and the people here - they're fighting through war too so I wonder what makes me different. You guys here have lived under the reign of the White Witch for a hundred years and I can't even last five months!"

"No two people are alike, Rosemary. You struggle with the absence of your family because you miss them. Your mindset is understandable."

"But you still don't agree with it."

Aslan avoided answering. "Have the rings on your necklace separated yet?"

"What? Oh. No." Rosemary pulled the necklace out from underneath her dress, taken off guard by the sudden change of topic. "I think Santa Claus made a mistake."

"He didn't. Give it time. You are changing as a person - growing. Perhaps you just need to grow a little more."

"I just want to be happy," Rosemary cried softly. She began to sob again, hiding her mouth behind her hands.

"I know it's hard but things will look up soon. Try to hold on a little longer."

"What happens when I return to England."

"I'm afraid I don't have the answer to that."

"What about your promise to the Witch? What did you promise her?"

Aslan sighed and lay down beside Rosemary, his mane brushing against her side. "I suppose I can tell you - it would be nice to get it off of my chest. But you can't tell anyone, Rosemary. Not the Pevensies and certainly not Peter."

"I promise. But why specifically not Peter?"

"Because his grief needs to be real."

"Grief? Aslan, what did you promise her?"

[Chapter Fourteen] [Series Masterlist] [Masterlist]

[an-avid-reader]

Opal (Lux #3) - Jennifer L. Armentrout

my rating: 3.5/5 stars

After losing her father, Katy and her mom move across the country to West Virginia. With her luck, Katy's new neighbour is pleasing to the eyes...maybe even abnormally so. But that's not all, this town has it's secrets--maybe that's just how small towns are. Little does Katy know that her new neighbours Daemon and Dee are more than they appear to be. As Katy is swept into Daemon and Dee’s lives, she quickly learns that they are aliens; as she spends more time with them, Katy has an aura which makes her a target to other aliens. Paradoxically, Katy must be protected by the twins while also losing the aura before she gets killed.

Note: this review is written after rereading the book

Link to Goodreads // book 1 / 2 // Spoilers in review!

Alright, where do we start--the I-told-you-sos or the this-needs-to-happen-but-morals-are-a-things ? Man, oh man, this book is literally chasing one goal: to get Bethany (and Chris *sigh*) out of the warehouse, but the obstacles and challenges?? What a ride.

I wanted to start off by talking about Armentrout’s writing and how I appreciate how it’s changed from book 1 onto this book (and undoubtedly changes with each book she publishes (or doesn’t)). I felt like while there wasn’t as much “action” happening in this part of the series, we got to delve into the characters’ relationship with on another--notably Dee and Katy’s relationship and how we can still build bridges after a fire *wipes single tear*. We obviously get to see Katy and Daemon’s relationship grow - which (assuming you’ve already read the book) damn some of those scenes are graphic ! But at the same time, it didn’t feel like it was overdone, if that makes sense. In terms of the plot, or the timeline rather, everything felt like it was happening naturally; we don’t just skip from one part to another without an explanation. Everything seemed to be meticulously planned out--some events having much more foreshadowing than others--and we never lost sight of the main goal of the book. I feel like sometimes we get sidetracked into smaller adventures, but in this case, everything that happened was done with the intention of rescuing Bethany and Chris, so it just reinforced the fact that the Luxen really care about them.

Alright, now onto other aspects of the novel--I will admit, when I started reading this book, I don’t actually remember what happened in book 3+4 of this series. It’s odd because I didn’t feel like this book was just filler (though it did feel more like a “bridge book” than Onyx. Nevertheless, we pick up on where we ended in book 2 (I’m telling you--you’ve got to binge these books!). We get to connect with Dawson and Katy-I found that their exchanges seemed natural, I’m not surprised that Dawson didn’t really feel like talking with his siblings. Katy was just there for him, she was willing to listen, and she didn’t push him into an interrogation session. She was just someone from the outside who he could talk to without feeling judged--that’s the type of person we all need in our lives to be honest. 

I honestly felt a bit bad for Katy, or rather for her mom, because it was just...wrong...to keep her mom in the dark about the Luxen, but more importantly, about Will. Not to mention, it’s a huge risk as Katy’s mom would become a liability. I also think that Katy’s mom wouldn’t believe her--I imagine she’d say something like “oh Will isn’t trying to replace your dad” blah blah. But now Will isn’t a problem anymore...while these are fictional characters, we need to consider the morals of the situation. Of course Will was a piece of garbage (just like another character we all know…) so I guess his death was kind of his own doing, but then again a life is a life. Murder isn’t right, and it shouldn’t be justified unless it’s for self-defense, but even then things are a little hazy. I think what we can take away from this book is that it’s a good sign that Katy and Daemon understand the consequences of their actions, and they regularly check-in with one another to ensure that they don’t follow the same dark path that Will and Blake did.

So that’s about it for the morals, I guess, but, for the I-told-you-sos...well there’s Blake and the attitude/confidence that everyone had. I’ll start with the latter: I think the most obvious foreshadowing was that “everything will go fine” pep talk that the characters had with each other for BOTH times they were going to the warehouse. Sure we might not have known what nor the magnitude of what was going to happen, but the who or why was pretty obvious: Blake. I felt like these pep talks--while it’s key to have a positive mindset when you do something that’s scary, I felt like it also hindered their (Katy, Daemon, Dawson, etc.) ability to plan just in case something went wrong. And how do we know Blake would have his hand in this situation? Because it’s Blake. After the first betrayal from book 2, anything that comes out of that man’s mouth can be taken with a bucket-load of salt. Not to mention he literally blackmails Katy into his plan, so that’s another warning that he must have some personal gain. Double agent? Big yikes. Luc’s comment on trust? Another big hint. Can I also just say that Luc acts like a spoiled brat who needs to get off his high horse?? He’s trying to replace Matthew by giving some advice, but he’s a smol child. Y’all can’t beat Matthew, he’s still the most underrated character! ANYWAYS, needless to say, I felt like everyone was just walking into Blake’s trap again and their lack of judgement and overconfidence was the cause of their downfall.

Gosh, I have to hand it to Armentrout, Blake is such a good villain--I honestly despise his guts and he’s a fictional character. I think what makes him a good villain is because he acts like a Venus fly trap--what he has to offer seems almost too good to be true and BAM you get sucked in and there’s no escape because he’s also a snake. The airborne onyx, the opal?? “Oh yeah those are minor details” BRO. He’s so manipulative and I feel like he tells little white lies which is how he was able to get away with his crap (in addition to the blackmailing). I think the worst part is that there are some people who are trapped in a similar situation--not the alien thing, but the manipulation of a partner or a “friend”, which stems from the same ‘methods’, if that makes sense. I also just have a question about a small detail that never made sense to me. So upon Blake’s death, Nancy would get a letter and she finds out about everything--Katy, Dawson, etc. But...how would the letter be sent???? Blake’s dead so that’s not an option, his uncle is in the same situation...unless there’s an implant watching Blake or there’s some sort of sensor that acts as a trigger...I mean I guess Blake also plays a pretty big role with the DOD so I feel like his death would be learned about pretty quickly, but still...these small details are still details!!

I just remember about halfway through the book, I was like how did we get into this mess. You know when you’re watching a movie or tv series and the characters are in deep trouble and they’re kinda stuck or have only a few options? Yeah, trusting that one person who ends up betraying you will absolutely blow up in your face, and hitting the rewind button isn’t a thing, unfortunately. Anyways, that’s the feeling I had when everything was heading south, and then it just kept getting worse and worse--gaaaahhh. I guess the only thing that wasn’t terrible was Katy and Daemon’s relationship. As I’ve already mentioned, some of those scenes were super steamy, and I’m sure the last two books will be no different (spoiler--I already know something that happens within the next two books but I forget when it happens lmao). Their relationship went from 0-100 quickly, but also because it developed over the course of 2 books, the pacing seemed reasonable?? 

And finally, I wanted to briefly mention Matthew and how he’s still underrated. LISTEN. This man literally says stuff aloud that’s on everyone’s minds; “Ash, you need to learn a tad bit more sensitivity". Get  W R E C K E D, Ashley (but for real, she’s developed a lot from book 1, and I think that has to do with maybe accepting that Daemon isn’t in love with her, as well as her brother’s death). Matthew is literally the glue that keeps the Luxen crew from falling apart, especially during those stressful times, such as the warehouse expeditions. He’s that wholesome but also high key broken character we need to appreciate a lil more.

So overall for me, this book felt slightly like a filler for what’s to come in the second half of this series, but with Armentrout’s writing changing from book one to book three, and the development of the characters and the timeline of the plot, I would say this installment falls between book one and two in terms of the rating. I sincerely hope that the characters continue to grow and develop some thinking skills, especially when it comes to trust and uhh...people whose names start with a B and end with a LAKE...You know the saying...seasons change but people don’t!! Ahhh something tells me Blake will still be in book 4 *sighs heavily*.

I’d love to know your thoughts on this book in the Lux series--how would you rate it compared to the other books in the series? Did you like it or nah? I’d love to know! =D

Thank you for reading my review, I hope you are having an outstanding day, wherever you are in the world!

- Cassandra / an-avid-reader

PS: Happy New Year everybody! I hope 2020 treats y’all well <3

[father-lost]

Father Lost; Chapter 2

Chapter 2 Everything was a mess. He was sitting freely now, nothing attached to him but the I.V. that gave him fluids. He had a mess of papers sprawled across the bed; newspapers, printed articles, and a tablet open to the internet, browsing through Sean’s Facebook to see if he couldn’t make heads or tails of where the boys have gone off to. It wasn’t until he saw a post about the police finding them in Beaver Creek that he began to put the pieces together. So the boys fled the police, walked until they ended up at a little truckstop, the police were called because of theft. When the police arrived, the place was ransacked, the owner saying that he was attacked and robbed. Things went dark after that for about two months before they were spotted in Beaver Creek, police ending up at Claire’s and Stephen’s. They must not have stayed long before being chased out again. Then the news goes dark until there’s an update in the papers that Sean was hospitalized in Sacred Hope Hospital, Daniel missing. He was being contained until he was healthy enough to go on trial. He chewed the skin rough on the side of his thumbnail, the phone to his ear as he listened to it ring. Sean was in the hospital, that meant he was hurt, and Daniel was missing. “Hi Curtis, this is Esteban Diaz, we went to school together back in Seattle.” He spoke once the phone kicked to life, handing him over to the hands of an answering machine. “I’m really sorry to be calling randomly out of the blue, but I have no idea what to do. I need an attorney, and I need a good one, please. I’m currently in the hospital, please call me on my cellphone, 541-323-7738. Please.” He hung up the phone, stomach killing him. On the tablet, he dove further into the news that his oldest was in the hospital, uncovering he wasn’t the only one. A boy named Finn McNamara was also admitted after attempted robbery of a man named Merrill's estate. The man owned a pot farm that the two were working at. He put the tablet down, hands brushing over his face as he tried to imagine it. He wasn’t mad at his boy, he found work that keep him off the radar and he was taking care of Daniel. He wasn’t sure if he had Daniel working the fields or not, -and if so he hoped Sean had enough sense to keep his little brother away from people who would influence him negatively. He would rather Daniel stay away from the stuff all together, but Sean couldn’t do it all on his own. He sat back, knees pulled up, keeping the hospital gown over them. It’s been nearly three days since he woke up, and he was feeling fine enough to leave, but the hospital seemed hell bent on keeping him. If they were going to detain him, then they better do it. Suddenly his phone started ringing. He jumped, had lashing out at the mobile phone. He didn’t look at the number, praying to god the message he sent to Sean earlier made it through finally and this was his baby boy calling him, begging for him to come get him like he used to do in elementary school when he missed them. “Hijo?” He asked, heart pounding in his throat. “Hi daddy.” An adult voice answered back in a chuckle. Esteban let off a labored sigh, crossing his legs. He rested his head in his hand, hands shaking like he was face to face with a gun again. “Curtis,” he breathed, wanting to let the man know he was still there, just trying like hell to cope with the disappointment that his fantasy hadn’t come true. “Hey, I got your message, obviously. What’s up?” He asked. The man on the other end of the phone was a lot more casual than a lawyer normally would be, and if it wasn’t for the past of the two, that would be different. “October 29th, my son Daniel was outside playing, he accidentally got fake blood on the neighbor kid. White boy, real fresa, his father is no better. The kid started some shit, my oldest ended up in a fight, of course the cops got involved.” He explained wanting to go over as much as he could. “Uh oh.” The voice grunted on the other side. “So we looking at hate crime? I can win that no problem.” He added, a light boasting tone to his voice. “No, hijo pushed the kid, knocked the wind out of him, cop pulls a gun on them. I went out to break it up, got shot. I just woke up four days ago.” He explained. “Oh shit,” the man sounded concerned but didn’t push to make any guesses. “What happened to your boys?” “Sean ran. Comes to find out, the boy lived but the cop died. They went to their Grandparents in Beaver Creek but were apprehended and fled again. Last seen, they were working a pot farm in California where they were assaulted, Sean ended up in Sacred Hope Hospital guarded until he gets better then he’s going to juvie, Daniel is missing.” He finished. He was back to chewing the now raw skin on the inside of his thumb, thumbnail short and rigid. He waited for any sort of response, any at all until the man whistled almost sounding defeated. “Well shit, Esteban.” He grunted. “A cop died,” the father groaned, falling back against the pillows. “They fled the law making them look guilty. They were working a pot farm.” “They did nothing wrong!” He boomed. “Of course the hispanic boy is the bad guy! That’s what’s wrong with this fucking country since the fraggle took office!” He defended. “Ssh, sh,” the man laughed. “Sh, honey, baby cakes, I got you.” He teased, trying to calm him down. “I’ve already got a couple ideas. Step one, we find your sons, step two, we stop anything from progressing in court. Step three, find out a way you can repay me because we are definitely going to have to pull out a lot of stops with this one.” Esteban sighed, eyes closed, smile coming to his lips as the relief flooded him. “Got any idea where they might be headed?” “Mexico, I think.” Esteban didn’t open his eyes, feeling a little bit of comfort for the first time in 4 days. “What is with people trying to flee to Mexico?” The man on the other side muttered. “Because I used to live there.” Esteban shot back, reminding him that he wasn’t a born American citizen. “I forgot my princess was a terrible, awful, scary, Mexican thug.” The man on the other side of the phone, Esteban rolling his eyes but he couldn’t help the smile at his lips. Curtis always played jokes like that, calling him princess, or honey or baby cakes. It was just...sort of natural for them. “I own land, it used to belong to my Grandmother.” He replied. “They probably think that that’s going to be the easiest way out.” “He wouldn’t be wrong, if he can get across the border without dying.” The other man was serious now. “Have you tried contacting him? Or his grandparents?” “No,” he admitted. “Well, no to contacting Claire and Stephen, yes to Sean, but he must have ditched the phone, my message bounced back as unavailable.” He hated this, he hated the whole thing. “Ok, where is the best place for you to meet me?” The sound of rustling paper could be heard on the other phone, the faint clicking of a pen preparing to write. “At this hospital.” Esteban replied, looking at the only information he had about the whereabouts of his kids. “Geez baby, you aren’t even gonna meet me halfway?” Curtis scoffed playfully. He hadn’t been called this many pet names since he was with Karen, and it felt odd, but kind of nice? “They won’t let me check out even though I’m fit enough to leave. I think it’s a tactic; keep me here so I won’t interfere with the trial. Bet the racist bastards wished I’d have stayed dead.” He gathered up the papers, putting them in a pile. “Gotcha, I’ll come and break you loose. Send me the address and I’ll leave right away; should be there in a few hours.” The sound of shuffling and setting things away could be heard, and finally that feeling of relief began to outweigh the feeling of worry. “Will do, Curtis. Thank you.” He smiled, voice dropping to something warm and sweet. “Anything for you, babe.” With that, he was gone. The man punched in the address of the hospital, sending it to number who called him, and one to the email incase the number was a landline. Taking a breath, he laid back down against, eyes closed. He could take a small nap while he waited, he was almost positive he’d be there in the morning. Esteban wasn’t a holy man, but as he let the silence of the room fall over him, he prayed; prayed his boys would be found amd praysd they could overcome this nightmare. His boys deserved better, and was willing to devote his entire life to making sure nothing bad ever happened again.

[matrixaffiliate]

Salient

Chapter Update FFN and AO3

One more warning that this is NOT Cursed Child Compliant...

Chapter 5

They ate in silence for a few minutes before Ellie asked a question that Al was very accustomed to answering.

"What was it like growing up famous?"

Al chuckled, "Thankfully, I'm not famous. Dad and Mum are. But it was still weird. My first day at Hogwarts, a reporter wrote a gossip column saying that I'd come to her from the future claiming that Voldemort had tried to come back through an illegitimate daughter, and I had stopped her."

Ellie laughed, "That's crazy."

"Yeah, but for the most part everyone is focused on Mum and Dad, less on me and my brothers and sister."

"So we'd be safe in Diagon Alley?"

Al hesitated, "Probably not. When my brother Ted was a teen that same reporter followed him and his now-wife around at the World Cup to try and stir up controversy about Dad and his friends. The rest of us have since tried to lie low."

Ellie blinked, "I thought your dad saved your country, and probably the rest of the Wizarding world subsequently. Why on Earth would reporters want to drag him through the dirt?"

Al shrugged, "Mum always says it's because they're jealous. Grandpa Weasley says it's because small minds have to occupy themselves somehow. I don't know, but I do know I like being a nobody in the Muggle world."

"So there are no benefits to being the son of famous war heroes, and a famous Quidditch star?" Ellie chuckled.

"I guess the lifetime Harpies' tickets Mum gets," Al tried to think of anything else, "And seeing Dad on Chocolate Frog cards is pretty cool. But that's about it. Mostly, we get left alone, as long as we're good and boring."

"But in the Muggle world, you don't have to be good and boring?" Ellie smirked at him and Al rather liked the way his chest warmed at her teasing.

"I tend towards good and boring anyway."

"I disagree," Ellie leant closer across the table, "I find you anything but boring."

Al suddenly found it hard to swallow.

"Why are you really living in the Muggle world, Al?"

Al took a large gulp of his water before breathing deeply. He was so thoroughly gone for this woman. It was sort of pathetic but, Merlin, he didn't care.

"I, I'm trying to solve something," Al took another drink, willing himself to stop acting like a nervous little git.

"Solve something?" Ellie frowned, "Like a mystery?"

"No, more like a puzzle," Al hesitated. "Are you sure you want to hear about this? My brothers assure me this is boring and my sister once told me it was definitely not dating conversation."

Ellie laughed, "I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't willing to risk it. Tell me about your puzzle, maybe I can help."

Al had to temper his excitement. She was willing to listen to him, not geek out with him.

"So, I don't know how much you've tried to mix the Muggle world with the Wizarding world, but when you mix technology with magic the whole thing is a nightmare."

Ellie nodded, "Ruined a phone on accident that way."

"Right," Al nodded excitedly, "so as a teenager I'd buy old used phones and computers and try to make them work while doing magic around them. But as I neared the halfway mark of my NEWT year, I realized I still didn't know enough to figure it out. So I badgered Aunt Hermione into helping me get into Muggle university. I figured if magic wasn't teaching me the solution, then I'd need to get a Muggle degree before I'd have a chance at solving this."

Ellie looked at him expectantly and Al sighed, "Only, I'm starting to think maybe I was wrong. I'm nearly two years in and nothing I've learned so far is making a difference."

She frowned, "Al, you do realize most of the classes that might help you are going to be starting next year or the year after, right?"

Al blinked. He actually didn't know much outside of what Aunt Hermione had told him, and she'd handled putting his classes together for him. He just followed the spreadsheet she made.

"Er, so I should have moved those classes from next year to last year?"

Ellie laughed, "No, it's just like magic, you can't learn NEWTS until you've learned OWLS."

"So I'm supposed to spend the first two years learning the basics and then I get the good stuff the second two years?"

"That's sort of simplified, but pretty accurate all the same."

"How do you know so much?"

Ellie grinned, "My mum is a Muggle. She's actually from around here. The waitress that helped you when I was gone is my mum's sister. She and my uncle own the place and offered me the job when Mum told them I'd be coming to university here."

Al's excitement bubbled beneath the surface as Ellie revealed more about herself. He loved puzzles and seeing another facet of Ellie was thrilling.

"What took your mum to Canada?"

"Mum visited St. John's after she finished A-Levels. She and Dad had a summer romance while she was there." Ellie smiled, "Mum decided to stay."

"So why did you leave?" Al pressed his luck, seeing how much more of herself she was willing to show him.

"I wanted to see the world. I love St. John's, and I want to end up back there, but I wanted to see what else was out there. This was as far as I could get with what I have, but I feel like it's been good for me." Ellie sighed, "But I do miss home."

"Benefits of the Wizarding world," Al smiled, "home is a portkey away."

"Not when you live with your Muggle aunt and uncle." Ellie gave him a sad smile. "They don't know I'm a witch, or that Dad is a wizard, or that Dad's whole family is magical. Mum says it's best that way."

Al frowned. He didn't like the way Ellie's demeanor had changed, but he didn't have answers to her problem either, and that left him feeling helpless.

He didn't like that feeling, especially not in regards to Ellie.

"Hey," Ellie tapped his foot with her own and Al looked up to see her smiling again. "Tonight's my last night in that gallery. Want to go look at my art with me?"

Al smiled, "Definitely."

Al decided to take an Uber from the restaurant to the gallery. He wasn't sure he knew the area well enough to Aparate without running into trouble. Ellie didn't seem to mind, at least Al hoped her holding his hand the whole ride was a good indication that she didn't mind.

Ellie smiled brightly at the lady tending the gallery that evening before pulling Al back to the small corner that held her five canvases.

"You're incredibly talented," Al stepped closer to Ellie, tentatively interlacing his fingers with hers. He tried not to sigh in relief when she squeezed his hand.

"Thank you."

"Have you ever painted with magic?" Al asked, remembering his silly attempt to talk to the painting of the old woman.

Ellie sighed, "Yes, but it's different. Painting with magic takes a lot of the process away from you. You really can end up with the painting dictating to you. Not that it doesn't feel like that happens in Muggle painting too, but…"

She frowned, and Al watched as she worked out what she wanted to say. She was really pretty when she was thinking.

"You know how technology to wizards who have never interacted with Muggles comes off as weird or a trick? Well, I can paint things the Muggle way that can feel like magic but aren't."

"Your bear," Al nodded. "It was a black bear and a polar bear depending on where my eye focused."

"Exactly!" Ellie nodded excitedly. "I love that I can make magic happen without a wand. And I want to get better at it. I want to show that there's Wizarding magic, but that there's magic in the Muggle world too. Artists and inventors and people who innovate new and amazing things are magical, just in a different way from the people who use wands."

Al grinned down as Ellie gave her impassioned little speech. She was so right. He'd learned as much having spent the last two years living in the Muggle world. Craig, for example, was a wizard of computer coding. He really could make a computer do almost anything. And Al's goal to merge Muggle technology and magic was going to show their world how right Ellie was.

"You're amazing," he suddenly realized his feet had moved closer to her. She smiled up at him with dark eyes, her lips mere inches from his.

"I think you're pretty amazing too."

Al could feel his heart beating against his ribcage as he closed the remaining space between them.

"May I…"

Ellie cut him off, pressing up on her toes and bringing her lips to his.

She started to lower down but Al followed her, maintaining the kiss as she put her feet flat on the floor. The feeling of kissing her lips was thrilling and he wanted to savor the way she made his mind quiet so completely and focus solely on her.

Al once heard his dad describe the first time kissing his mum as stepping out of time. Al didn't understand what his dad meant until this moment, in this gallery, kissing this woman, this wonderfully impassioned, beautiful woman.

After several long moments, Ellie pulled back just slightly and squeezed his hand still intertwined with hers.

"I've wanted to do that for weeks," she gave a small chuckle as her cheeks flushed with pink.

"Me too," Al ran his free hand through his hair, not sure what to do next. They stood grinning at each other like fools in the silent gallery. And if he was being honest, Al would have been content to stand there with her forever.

It was the gallery attendant that ultimately brought them back to the real world.

"Ms. Battiste," she walked up from behind them, "were about to close. Were you going to take your paintings tonight or come back and get them in the morning?"

"I can take them tonight," Ellie let go of his hand as she turned. "Just let me go grab my box."

"Excellent," the woman nodded before heading back to her post.

Ellie extended her hand out to Al, "Shall we do a bit of magic?" She asked him in a flawless imitation of his own accent.

"Merlin, you're full of surprises aren't you?" Al laughed and took her proffered hand.

"Says the man who tonight told me he's Harry Potter's son." Ellie winked at him.

She pulled him out and down a little side street where she pulled out her wand.

"Keep watch, yeah?"

Al nodded as she summoned a large box. He felt the familiar flow of magic around them as Ellie's box materialized on the pavement. When it stopped, he bent down and picked it up for her.

"I can get it," Ellie quickly held out her arms.

"I'm sure you can but I'm going to ask if you want to get it?" Al grinned as Ellie's arms fell back to her sides.

"When you put it like that," Ellie chuckled.

Al helped Ellie pack up her paintings before thanking the attendant and stepping back into the side street to send her paintings home again.

"So," Al pulled Ellie into his side as they returned to the pavement. "I honestly thought I'd be lucky if you stayed through dinner tonight and have nothing else planned for our evening. Anything you'd like to do?"

Ellie shivered against him, "I'm actually working tomorrow because I missed Tuesday. So we should plan to see each other after my shift if you're not busy and then take me home so I'm not completely useless."

Al experienced the most bizarre combination of feeling both excited and disappointed at the same time. He didn't really want the night to end yet, but his heartbeat on overdrive thinking about seeing Ellie again outside of her work.

"How about I pick you up at 4? We can decide what we'd like to do then?"

Ellie grinned as her teeth chattered, "Sounds perfect."

"Here," Al threw his coat off and draped it over her shoulders. "Don't you have a warmer coat?"

"Of course I do," Ellie snuggled back into his side. "But I was concerned about making sure I looked pretty tonight and that doesn't usually include synthetic down coats with windbreaker covers."

Al laughed, "Ellie, I thought you were the most gorgeous woman I had ever seen when you were in your work uniform. If you'd looked like this when I first met you I probably would have been so tongue-tied I would have walked right back out the door in shame for even attempting to talk to you."

Ellie laughed and pulled him down another empty side street.

"Don't be silly, it's not like you aren't good looking."

Al liked how that felt, to be called attractive. It wasn't something he really thought of himself as, but Ellie thinking he was made him want to hold his head a little higher.

He wasn't sure what to say, so he kissed her instead.

While their first kiss had been soft and tentative, this one was more confident on both their parts. He pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her waist. She linked her arms around his neck, pressing herself into him and causing his jacket to fall off her shoulders and pool around her waist where his arms held her close. He gently ran his tongue against her and smiled when she sighed into him, parting her lips to give him entrance. When her tongue reached out to his, Al had to exercise all his self-control not to Aparate them to his flat on the spot.

"Ellie," he whispered as he continued to kiss her.

Her reply was a soft moan which almost did him in.

"We should get you home because I'm losing the will power to keep this appropriate."

She smirked against him. Apparently, she was rather pleased with what she could do to him. Which, unfortunately, or perhaps, fortunately, ended up being even more arousing.

Ellie stepped back before he could decide.

She handed him back his jacket before taking his hand and turning. Al felt the familiar sensation of being pulled through space before his feet hit the pavement of another side street.

"Just this way," Ellie tugged on his hand and led him out to the main street.

"Wait," Al took a moment to get his bearings, "isn't your work just over there?"

Ellie laughed, "Yeah, my aunt and uncle didn't want to live very far from it."

It was only a few yards more before Ellie stopped in front of a door and pulled her key from her coat pocket.

"Thanks for not giving up on me." Ellie smiled up at him.

"Thanks for giving me another chance." Al closed the distance between them and pulled her close. "Tomorrow we'll do something warmer."

"Warmer is good," she snuggled closer to him.

"Anything with you is good," he rested his forehead against hers.

"So tomorrow?" She tilted her head up just slightly.

"I can't wait," and he kissed her.

[kenzieam]

Druid - Chapter Three

Rating: M (smut, language, violence, mature themes, potential major character death)

Genre: Drama/Angst

@captstefanbrandt @iammarylastar @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @notimetoblog @captain-ariel-barnes @jaamesbbarnes @lancefvcker @bitsandbobsandstuff @softlybarnes @lovelybbarnes @buckitybarnes @bucky-plums-barnes  @moonbeambucky @badassbaker @citylights221 @empress-of-boujee  @shynara51 @diinofayce @casestudy-mw  @jewels2876 @damnaged-princess @everythingisoverrated @allmyfanficfaves @melgoodwin @clarabella960 @curvybihufflepuff  @angryschnauzer @wowspideyholland @sergeantwhitewolf @smilexcaptainx @plaidcat4815 @shirukitsune @chook007

Thank you, my lovelies, for your kind words and support XOXO

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Alright…. here’s another Bucky AU with my OFC, Levi.

Bucky is the President of the Druids MC and Levi is back in town to take care of her dying father. They meet through mutual friends and Bucky is immediately (still) taken with the girl he secretly fantasized about in high school, but he’s an outlaw biker and she has a life halfway across the country, will Bucky have a chance to make her his???

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LEV

We make love one more time, slow and sweet before I give in and acknowledge that I have to get back home. I want to spend the night, so goddamn bad, but I can’t. I’m not here for a fricking vacation, I need to keep reminding myself, I’m here for my dying father.  

Thor’s reluctant to let me go, keeping me snuggled close to his massive body, his giant hand stroking my sweaty hair.  

“I need to go. I have to get back to my dad.”

He sighs, but not in frustration. “I’m sorry that’s the reason you had to come back here, but I’m so happy you did.”

I nod, feeling warmth spread through me. “Me too. When was the last time you went home?”

He shrugs. “Few years ago.” Thor didn’t move out here until after I graduated and left town, but I’ve caught myself wondering more than once what would have happened if he’d been here during school.  

Thor sighs once more, a hard sound this time. He pushes up and swings his legs out of bed. “Let’s go.” He wants me to stay with him, but I can’t, and I’m relieved he doesn’t push it.

One person is conspicuously absent as we descend the stairs and walk past the couches towards the door. The remaining brothers call out goodbyes to me and I wave, grinning. None of these guys are nearly as scary as you’d think, but I sure wouldn’t want to be on their bad side. If Thor notices Bucky’s absence, he doesn’t comment.

I snuggle close on the ride home, wrapping my arms and pressing close to Thor’s back. I could get used to this. Too soon, we’re back at my place.

I hand him back my helmet and Thor tenderly cups the back of my head, pulling me close for a goodnight kiss. I melt against him before forcing myself to pull away.

“Goodnight.” I whisper, lips tingling.  

“Goodnight, my lady.” Thor murmurs, his voice husky. “I’ll wait until you go inside.”

I nod and turn, rummaging for my keys. I wave once more to Thor as I open the door and shiver at his delighted answering smile. As I shut and lock the door, I hear his bike start and roar away.  

I’m in serious trouble of falling for this man. 

BUCKY

Steve’s the only one still sitting on the couches when I return. I plan on bypassing his determined stare and heading directly to my room but he calls out to me.

“How much longer are you going to do this?”

“Do what?” Maybe he’ll leave me alone if I act like a dense fuck.  

“Don’t fucking play with me. Get over here.” Rogers doesn’t command very often, but his road name isn’t Captain for nothing. Knowing full well if I ignore him, he’ll just follow me and bust down my door, I sigh dramatically and wander over, flopping exaggeratedly onto the couch beside him, making the big bastard bounce a little.  

He waits until I’m tempted to start squirming uncomfortably before speaking again. “You can’t keep doing this.”

I sigh roughly and sit forwards, scrubbing my hands over my face. Prick isn’t saying anything I haven’t already told myself a million times.  

“You had your chance to tell Levi, you had years to tell her.”  

“I know-”

“You gotta make a decision fast, brother. Either tell Levi how you feel or leave it the fuck alone.” He rubs his hands on his thighs, making the denim rasp. “You don’t, and how are you going to feel if Thor claims her? When you gotta see her all the time, wearing another man’s patch?”

I grimace, that thought hadn’t occurred to me. The answer though? It’ll be fucking hell, torture every goddamn day, I’d rather give up riding.  

“Yeah, and I spill my guts and she tells me to fuck off?”

“Then at least you told her. You know one way or the other. You leave this too long and it’s going to start getting in the way of the club, it’s going to start affecting the brotherhood. We need to trust each other, 100 fucking percent.”      

He’s such a bastard. I tell him so and he snickers, slapping my shoulder.  

“I’m sorry, but someone’s gotta say it. I can’t stand seeing you like this, and I sure as fuck don’t want the club affected either.”

He’s still a bastard, but he’s right.

LEV

“Dad? Supper’s almost ready, come sit down.”  

It’s been six days since Thor and I first slept together, and we aren’t slowing down. I still come up to the clubhouse and share his bed, every night, but Dad’s been pretty quiet about it. Bucky’s been pretty scarce too, and it bothers me more than I’m willing to admit. I’m not ready right now to get to the bottom of that any time soon though.

“Dad?” I set aside the salad in my hands and walk into the living room.  

“Dad?”

But I already know it’s pointless. Tears spring to my eyes. Dad’s sitting comfortably in his favorite chair, the TV playing quietly, but he’s no longer watching it. He looks peaceful and far too still. He’s gone to sleep, and he’s not going to wake up.

I turn away and dial 911.

*******************************************************************************************

Thor arrives just as the ambulance is taking Dad away, their lights extinguished, the sirens silent. He moves rapidly to my side, chains clinking on his boots and hips and pulls me into a tight hug.

“Aw darlin’, I’m sorry.” He drawls as I let go, finally breaking down and starting to really cry, burying my face in his broad chest. His hand moves soothingly on my back while his other one threads gently into my hair.

“Do you need to call anyone?” He asks gently.

I shake my head, voice muffled. “No, I already called the funeral home. Everything was set up before.”  

“Come back with me, Levi. I don’t want you here alone.”  

I nod, breaking down harder. I couldn’t stand to stay here right now, especially not by myself, but I was afraid to ask and am relieved beyond words that Thor offered. “Thank you. Just let me pack a bag.” I hesitate at the bottom of the stairs. “I didn’t clean up the kitchen-”

“I’ll do it, go pack.” Thor replies, his deep voice soothing.  

I almost make it through stuffing some clothes into a backpack before I start crying again, then I feel Thor behind me. He wraps his powerful arms around me and I lean back into his strength. He lets me cry, chin resting on the top of my head. When I’m down to sniffles, he reaches over and finishes my packing, zipping the bag closed. He follows me as I walk through the house, making sure things are turned off, windows shut and doors locked. I won’t be gone long, but I can’t stay here tonight. Hopefully I can stay over at the clubhouse until the funeral, then... I guess I have to decide if I’m going back to Houston or not.  

Thor cups my face as he hands me my helmet, gifting me with a hesitant, beautiful smile then waits until I’m seated and gripping his sides before firing up the bike and pulling away. I close my eyes and let the motion of the bike, the warmth of the man in front of me soothe me almost to sleep.  

Steve is there when we arrive, just about ready to climb on his own bike and head home for the night. He pauses to speak to us before leaving; surprise and concern filling his eyes as I dismount and pull off my helmet and he sees my reddened eyes.

“Levi? Are you okay?” His voice is so gentle and deep, so full of concern that I fight not to break down again. Dad was wrong, this isn’t a gang, these are good people who sometimes do bad things. It’s a grey area, but isn’t that what life is? It’s never just black and white, good and bad, there’s always shades.  

“I-” I try to answer him and just end up hiccupping with sobs again. Thor pulls me to his chest, even seated he’s still taller than me and rubs my back.

“Her dad.” He replies quietly. I feel a hand rest on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Levi. Can I do anything?”

I shake my head, rubbing my nose against Thor’s shoulder.  

“You want Nat to come up?”

I consider it, but I can’t be selfish. She has little kids to take care of. “No, thank you. Maybe tomorrow?”

I hear Steve smirk sadly. “I doubt I’ll be able to keep her away.” He pauses and I think he and Thor are having a wordless conversation. “I’m sorry again Levi, try and get some sleep. Nat and I will be up in the morning. Call if you need anything, okay?”

“Thank you, Steve.” I manage and close my eyes against Thor’s shoulder as I hear his bike fire up. I don’t raise my head until the sound fades away down the road.  

Holding me away slightly, Thor manages a surprisingly graceful dismount while still holding me and guides me to the clubhouse. It’s another quiet night inside, only one of the brothers, I think his name is Barney, is on the couch, half-asleep in front of ‘Gone with the Wind’ of all things and if I was in a better mood, I might tease him.  

“You hungry?” Thor whispers in my ear.

I consider refusing but my stomach answers and Thor leads me silently into the kitchen. I wait, seated at the counter while he roots around in the fridge and, despite myself, my mouth waters at the sandwich he places in front of me. He’s made one for himself too, and for a long moment, we are quiet, chewing reflectively.  

“Are you sure it’s okay if I stay for a few days?”

Thor nods. “Don’t worry about it, darlin’.”

But I can’t let it go. “What about Cannon?”

“What about him?” Thor asks, laying the rest of his sandwich down on his plate. He turns to look at me and I regret saying anything. “He’s just moody. I’ll admit it’s been worse lately, but I don’t think it’s you. It’s just the way Prez is.”

I nod, not really convinced. I have the oddest feeling that Bucky’s moodiness towards me is personal, something I’ve done to provoke him, but for the life of me I can’t figure out what.  

“Either way, darlin’; you’re my guest, you’re welcome here. Don’t even worry about it.”  

Thor stands, taking my plate and tipping the remains of our sandwiches into the garbage; then he takes my hand and leads me upstairs.

*******************************************************************************************

The next few days are a blur. There’s nothing to do for Dad’s funeral plans, and he’d gone through the house in the last few months and disposed of most of his possessions. I have an appointment with his lawyer today for the reading of Dad’s will but, unless his will explicitly states otherwise, I think I’m going to sell the house. What I’m doing after that is a big fat question mark, but Thor hasn’t asked. I can tell he wants to know, but is giving me space, which I appreciate.  

He’s giving me a ride down to the lawyer’s office and I’m in his room, mindlessly fiddling with my clothes when he appears in the doorway, tapping on the frame to get my attention. This is his room, he doesn’t need to knock to enter and I tell him so.

He only chuckles under his breath and pulls me close. Thor’s been amazing since Dad’s death, seeming to instinctively understand when I need space and when I need him close.  

“Ready to go?”

I snort. “No, not at all.”

The only time the lawyer was free was this morning, which is also the day of Dad’s funeral itself, so we’ll be heading to the service right after. Dad was cremated, and the service is going to be small, but Thor and Steve surprised me this morning by asking if it was alright for them to attend as well. To be honest, I’m surprised they care; I doubt Dad would have attended either of theirs, but the support chokes me up nonetheless.  

I’m silent as Thor leads me downstairs and to the door. Steve meets us halfway and gives me a squeeze on the shoulder, and a few more brothers surprise me with kind words. Even Bucky manages not to glower quite so darkly from the corner, but he doesn’t approach and I’m secretly grateful. There’s a strange feeling in the air between us, like a low-level static charge that bothers me; probably just his hatred of me made tangible.  

Whatever.  

I was all ready to take Thor’s bike, but he pulls me to his truck, his cage, instead. Like the man itself, it’s big and bulky and shiny; barely-leashed testosterone on big knobby wheels and I squeak as Thor helps me into the passenger side, pinching my ass in the process.

The ride to the lawyer’s office is silent, swamp rock playing quietly on the radio. Thor reaches over and takes my hand, resting them on the console between us and I squeeze it gratefully.  

He's about to sit out in the waiting room but I pull him with me and he follows wordlessly; waiting until I’m seated before sitting himself.  

The lawyer, an old fuddy-duddy if I’ve ever seen one, eyes him a moment before clearing his throat and getting down to business.  

It doesn’t take long.

I’m left the house, and there’s no clause against selling, so it’s going. There’s more in Dad’s investments than I knew or cared about, but the real surprise is the envelope the lawyer says Dad came down to the office and handed to him himself the day before he died. It remains sealed, as Dad specified it was for me only and I consider shoving it into my bag and reading it later, but something tells me to do it now.  

Dear Levi;

I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to say these words to you myself, please forgive me for taking the easy way out.  

My words to you over breakfast continue to haunt me. You know as well as anyone how little I’ve uttered these words in my life, but... I was wrong.  

I had no right to dictate your life choices, and to be honest; beyond you surprising your mother and I with your decision to become a tattooist, you’ve always shown maturity and wisdom beyond your years. Although initially a shock, you choosing to become an artist was the right choice.  

Life is too short to do anything but what you love.  

My opinion of The Druids is just that, my opinion; and as I stated before, I was wrong. Although it is true there are far more opportunities in a large city than here, your mother and I have always just wanted you to be happy.  

That was always our goal for you, not to be more... but to be happy.  

Please don’t think too harshly of me, my dear daughter; I’ve always loved you and wanted you to have the best life I could give you. Whatever you decide to do from here on out, you have my blessing.  

I will always love and watch over you, your mother and I both;

Dad.  

Holy shit.  

I can’t deal and I feel Thor pull me to his chest as I break down. Dimly I register the lawyer huffing in discomfort and leaving, but Thor stays still, letting me cry. After a long beat I manage to sniffle and snort silent and a thick, strong finger raises my chin. Thor’s watching me carefully, sympathetically and I give him a watery smile.  

He doesn’t ask what’s in the letter and, after a few more minutes, I stand, Thor standing quickly with me. He hands me a large brown envelope, the will, and leads me gently back out. The lawyer is nowhere to be seen, but his secretary eyes me with a mix of curiosity and sympathy as we pass.  

After I crawl back into the truck, and Thor climbs in his side, he sits quietly, watching me and waiting until I’m ready to go. His thoughtfulness is staggering and I almost start bawling again, but we have to get going.  

“I’m okay.” I whisper and he starts the truck.  

*******************************************************************************************

I’m exhausted.  

The service was short and sweet. There’s a decent turnout, but I’m saved from regulating the festivities by Dad’s sister. She’s a whirlwind of motion, the type of person that mourns by staying almost manically busy and I leave her to it. She has responsibilities at home that kept her from staying with Dad at the end, but she’s here today and determined to lead the charge. It doesn’t bother me in the slightest. I haven’t seen her in years, and we’ve never had the closest relationship, so we’ll both go back to our respective corners after this.  

Once back at the clubhouse, I retired upstairs and promptly fell asleep in Thor’s bed. By the time I wake up, it’s past midnight and Thor is asleep beside me, one arm flung over my waist, face buried in the nape of my neck. I’m starving but don’t want to disturb him, so I wriggle carefully and manage to squirm my way out from his embrace. He grumbles in his sleep but doesn’t wake and I pull on his hoodie to cover my tank top and capri bottoms before heading downstairs.  

The clubhouse is silent, but I catch a few snores as I pass closed doors. No one is still awake and it’s weird to not hear the background noise I’ve come to expect from a pack of bikers. Usually both the TV and stereo are blaring, and noisy conversations and games of pool are happening; and someone, usually a prospect, is behind the bar handing out drinks, but it’s dead silent now and I suppress a shiver.  

I enter the kitchen and freeze. I’m not as alone as I thought.  

Moonlight shining through the window illuminates someone standing at the sink. Their hands are braced on the counter and their head is lowered, hair hanging in a curtain over their face. Whoever it is, they are powerfully muscled, chest bare, clad only in sleep pants, their skin like velvet in the moonlight. I reach over and turn on a small overhead light.  

The figure snaps away from the sink, whirling to face me; so lost in their thoughts that they didn’t hear me approach and I bite back a gasp.  

Bucky.

I’m transfixed by the sight of him for a moment. His muscle definition is stunning, thicker and more corded than Thor’s but what draws my attention instead is his left arm. It’s metal, sleekly beautiful, a sinuous design of sliding plates that whir quietly with each movement. The flesh of his chest and shoulder where the arm is attached looks angry and red, heavily scarred and I wonder fleetingly if it pains him. I know now why he always wears gloves.  

For a long moment we just stare at each other and I wait for the inevitable sneer but it doesn’t come. Instead, something breaks in Bucky’s face, emotion contorting it and he strides to me, clasping my face in his hands. I barely have time to register the warmth and chill of his opposing hands before his lips capture mine and all thoughts disappear.  

His kiss is rough; claiming, an edge of desperation darkening it. He groans against me, swallowing my breathy moan. Something deep inside of me snaps awake, blinking in surprise and my heart threatens to gallop right out of my chest. I’m instantly, almost painfully aroused, my body crying out for more. His tongue licks the seam of my lips and I open, whimpering as he starts to fuck his tongue into my mouth. My knees go weak and I grab desperately at Bucky’s forearms for balance.  

Abruptly, he pulls away, resting his forehead to mine. His chest is heaving, lips parted and his breath rasps hot on my face. I’m still reeling as he tilts his head back to look into my eyes. He’s panting with emotion and desire, his eyes blown black but I’m still too stunned to react. A beseeching look crosses his face, a desperate plea for me but I don’t know how to answer, don’t know what he’s trying to ask me and, after another heartbeat, he lets go of my face and rushes from the room. Dimly, over the pounding of my heart, I hear him running upstairs, taking the steps two at a time, then his door slamming shut.  

BUCKY

Stupid, stupid stupid!!!

What the FUCK was I thinking????

I finally couldn’t hold myself back anymore, finally gave into my desire to taste Levi’s sweet lips and it was even better than I ever could have imagined.  

I was wrecked, exhausted, leaning over the sink, trying to steady my racing thoughts. I’d stared at the moon for a time, begging it for answers, then dropped my head in mingled shame and sorrow. I coveted my brother’s woman, I dreamed of her every night, I came in my hand with her sweet name on my lips and it was WRONG.

Having Levi stay in the clubhouse after her father’s death was agony. She was here, all the time now, no escape. I knew perfectly well when she was upstairs in Thor’s bed, knew by the languid flush of her skin every time he took her, pushed inside her sweet warmth and felt her come apart around him.  

I feel physically sick by the tension and emotion she elicits in me, and I can’t say a word. Every day Steve’s glare becomes more pointed, more exasperated, but I turn into a mute around Levi, my tongue paralyzed as all blood and sense rushes south. I’m constantly, painfully hard around her all the time and have taken to escaping to the garage or out on my bike to deal.  

Tonight, I was begging the darkness for strength; strength to either confess my love to Levi or, painful as it would be, cut that part out of me forever. I’m not sure I could survive the loss, nor the rejection. This anguish, at least, is known.  

Then, she was there, behind me; like a dark angel. My heart clenched painfully. She wears Thor’s hoodie, but it has the Druids MC logo on it and, for an instant, it’s like she’s wearing my patch, my colors. Her eyes find my metal arm, and rather than disgust, I see appreciation, gentle curiosity.  

Looking at her, I’ve never seen anything more beautiful; I doubt Levi realizes how simply, perfectly beautiful she is.  

Before I can stop myself, I’m right in front of her, clasping her face in my mismatched hands and claiming her mouth. A tsunami erupts in me as my mind, body and soul practically combust. Her lips taste sweeter than I ever imagined, her breathy moan intoxicating nectar to my ears.

Fuck, fuck this is too much, I can’t handle what I’ve set free in my body by giving in.  

I pull away, begging Levi to save me, to spare me this anguish; to kiss me back, to acknowledge in some way that she feels this too, feels my love for her, my absolute misery at trying to fight it.  

I don’t see what I need to see. Desire, sure; but not answering love.  

I’m broken, shamed. I can’t stand here in front of her anymore, knowing what I know now.  

I fucked up... so, so badly.      

[thekoshertribble]

“Oh, the sound of male ego. You travel halfway across the galaxy and it’s still the same song.” Women of Star Trek Blog Entry #3 “Mudd’s Women”: Eve McHuron

Hi everyone! I’m back. I’ve been looking forward to writing about this episode. Eve McHuron is a great character, and I have a lot to say about her. With that in mind, I’ve broken this blog into 4 parts. It might end up being the longest entry I make so please bear with me.

Part One: Hologram Brides

Ever heard of Picture Brides?

If you haven’t, here’s a quick history lesson: back in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, men from China, Korea and Japan immigrated to Hawaii and California in search of work opportunities. Most engaged in hard manual labor, and couldn’t make enough money to go back home. Many of them wanted to marry women from their home countries, so they would have their photograph taken and sent to a matchmaker there. Local families would, with the matchmaker’s help, choose a man they liked and send one of their female relatives over as that man’s bride. These future brides, like their to-be husbands, often made the long journey to seek opportunities they could not find at home.

I know what you’re thinking: okay, great history lesson, but what does this have to do with Star Trek? Well, I’ll tell you. 

When Harry Mudd and his three female passengers are apprehended and taken aboard the Enterprise, Mudd explains they is bound for Ophiuchus III, and that he he “recruits wives for settlers.” Kirk is concerned the women did not come voluntarily, but Eve explains that they are personally motivated : “it’s the same story for all of us, Captain: no men! [My planet] was a farm planet with automated machines for company and two brothers to cook for, mend their clothes...we’ve got men willing to be our husbands waiting for us, and you’re taking us in the opposite direction!” Criminal background aside, Mudd granted these young women with an opportunity they could not turn up - the chance to have a husband, a home, a family of their own, to live a “Little House on the Planetoid” kind of life. Harry Mudd’s passengers, Eve, Ruth and Magda, are essentially like the picture brides of old, (albeit not ethnically.) Although, it might be more accurate to call them “hologram brides” instead.

Part 2: Magda, Ruth and Eve, the Daughters of Lear

English lesson time! Ever read/watched King Lear? Shakespeare’s classic play tells of a elderly mad King Lear and his 3 daughters, Goneril, Regan and Cordelia. The first two sisters are greedy, corrupt and power hungry, while Cordelia is kind, forgiving and loyal to her father. Her most notable trait is her honesty - she refuses to over exaggerate her love for her father, as her sisters do.

Now let’s look at Ruth, Magda and Eve. Ruth and Magda, while not necessarily bad people, are more willing to go along with Mudd’s schemes. At his instructions, they seduce various crew members to get information. They also take the Venus drug, which transforms them into beautiful women from their original “ugly” appearances. They are tempted by Mudd’s offers that he will marry them off to rich husbands: “Maggie, I’ll make you a countess. Ruth, I’ll make you a duchess.”

And then, there’s Eve. She immediately stands out for the audience because she is the first to speak. When Mudd and his passengers are escorted from the transporter room to Kirk by Spock, Mudd says some rude things to Spock in the turbolift. Spock, of course ignores it but Eve turns to him and says: “I apologize for what he said, sir. He’s so used to buying and selling people-“ but Mudd cuts her off before she can continue. 

Later, during Mudd’s hearing, Eve explains where she came from (see quote from part one) and why she wanted to leave. Mudd tries to patronizingly calm her down, saying, “fine, Evie, fine” but she cuts him off: “No, it’s NOT fine!” These moments tell us she is not afraid to speak her mind, and she does not accept being pushed aside.

Even more notable is her later (seduction?) scene with Kirk. Mudd sent her to Kirk’s quarters to get information from him. She does a fair job of charming him, and the two share some interesting dialogue too, reflecting some similarities in their characters. But just as Eve tries to kiss him (with Kirk seemingly reluctant to do so) she pulls away and the whole mood changes. She sighs: “Oh, no! Oh, I just can't do it. I don't care what Harry Mudd says. I do like you, but I just can't go through with it. I hate this whole thing!” And with that, she runs from the room, leaving a very confused Kirk behind her.

There’s a lot going on in this scene. (You should go back and watch it, I’m not going to get into it for sake of brevity). But what it tells us is this: Eve has a very strong moral compass. Yes, she likes Kirk, but she won’t seduce him because Mudd told her to.

After leaving Kirk’s quarters she goes to Mudd’s. She finds him there plotting with the Ruth and Magda. She glares at him: “I don’t like you! And I’m not very happy with myself either.” She hates the situation, Mudd for trying to manipulate her, and the part of herself that complied. You have to feel for her - she’s a young woman alone on the frontier, traveling with corrupt strangers to marry another stranger. Like the Picture Brides of old, she’s lonely, desperate, and trying to hold onto her identity. And she has yet to reach her lowest point.

When Kirk is forced to hand the women over to the miners in exchange for dilithium, Eve is the one who can’t adapt. Magda and Ruth practically throw themselves to the men, and are amused when they brawl over their attentions. Eve however, breaks down. Having nothing left to lose, she runs outside into a magnetic storm, practically a death sentence: “why don’t you just run a raffle and the loser gets me?”

Fortunately, Ben Childress, the head miner, finds her passed out and brings her back to his quarters. He puts her on his bed and goes to sleep on a bench. When he wakes he finds her up and about, cooking on his stove. “I ate some of your food so I paid with some chores,” she explains. Childress doesn’t like her food, or her working around the house and complains, but she calmly brushes it off. “Oh the sound of male ego. You travel halfway across the galaxy and it’s still the same song.”

DAMN she didn’t just serve him food, she served him too!

And she proves to be the smarter of the two as well. When Childress says he can’t properly clean the cooking pans without a decent water source, she suggests hanging the pans in the wind to let the sand blast them.

All of these scene snippets tell us what kind of person Eve is: honest, loyal, kind, and clever. Despite her trials she perseveres and refuses to be defeated.

Part 3: Drugs or confidence? (Or...Aliens)

This episode is a bit unusual in that it gives us an ambiguous ending regarding Mudd’s hologram brides, particularly Eve. The Enterprise crew is confused by how intriguing Mudd’s women are. (Seriously, some crew members act like they’ve never seen a woman before - it’s really funny. Spock is super amused.) We get a partial answer through the Venus drug, as we see Magda and Ruth take it and transform from ugly to beautiful.

But with Eve it’s a different story. Mudd gives her the drug, telling her to take it: “it’s not a cheat. It’s a miracle!” But we never actually see her take it. Later, on the mining colony when she is confronted by Kirk, Childress and Mudd, we see her take the drug and transform, but Kirk reveals it wasn’t the drug at all. It was just colored gelatin! Eve is confused, and Kirk simply explains: “there is only one kind of woman. You either believe in yourself or you don’t.”

Okay, so two things:

1. Nice little motivational speech, Kirk

2. But seriously, what just happened?

Right before she takes the “drug” Eve yells at Childress, challenging his idealistic expectations of women: “You don’t want wives! You want this!” She shows him the drug. “I hope you remember it and dream about it, because you can't have it. It's not real!” Then she takes the pill and transforms.

It’s implied that her sudden boost of confidence causes her transformation. Otherwise, she took the colored gelatin pill and experienced the greatest placebo effect in the history of placebo effects...

...but I just can’t quite buy it. Since when has feeling more confident in yourself made you look fantastic in less than 5 seconds? Have you ever woken up, gone to the bathroom and looked at your gross morning face in the mirror saying, “I feel great about myself today,” and BAM you’re all made up for the day? No, of course not! Because that’s not how life works!

The only other explanation I can come up with to explain this phenomenon within the bounds of Star Trek logic is this: Eve is not a human. This is totally possible, considering how many aliens in Star Trek look exactly like humans. So consider this: what if Eve is a humanoid who can control her appearance, consciously or unconsciously? We never actually get a confirmation that she is human, and when McCoy attempts to give her a medical exam, she refuses. So the question of Eve’s transformation still seems open to me. Is it just magical realism or aliens? I really don’t know. Let’s just move on.

Part 4: Final Thoughts

Its implied at the episode’s end that Eve will stay with Childress, or that he wants her to stay, despite his earlier rudeness. I hope that’s not what happened to her. I’ve never cared for Ben Childress, and he certainly doesn’t deserve someone like Eve. I want to imagine that she somehow got off planet and found a husband elsewhere, but with Mudd arrested I think that would be more difficult.

Eve’s character stands out to me because, unlike most of the characters I’ll be writing about in this series, she’s actually rather ordinary. She’s not an officer, a doctor or diplomat. She’s just frontier settler looking for a husband. She’s not trying to explore the final frontier, she’s just trying to live in it. And as this episode demonstrates, that’s not as easy as it sounds.

Thank you for reading! It took several days for me to gather my thoughts and write this so please like and share if you enjoyed it. I hope it provided some new perspective on this old episode and I look forward to doing this again.

Next entry: What are Little Girls Made Of?

-ftd

[imagineteamfreewill]

Lawrence

Title: Lawrence

Pairing: Reader x Model!Sam

Word Count: 4,793

Warnings: Fluff, mention of infidelity

Beta: @jpadjackles

Summary: You’re an art student who accidentally meets the world-renowned model, Sam Winchester. When he wants to meet up with you, you accept, not knowing that your decision would throw you into the spotlight. And fame can be a cruel thing, especially when it comes to love.

A/N: This is part 11 of the Fame series! It’s short and pretty much just fluff, as well as a sort of update on the reader and Sam’s lives, considering the past few parts have been a little rocky. I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think! I think the series will only have a few more parts!

X

Fame Masterlist

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_______________

“Y/N! It’s great to finally meet you!”

You smiled at Dean as you got out of the passenger seat of the car, laughing when he pulled an unsuspecting Sam in for a hug. The two brothers patted each other on the back before stepping out of the hug to help you unload the trunk.

Dean gave you a quick side hug before taking your luggage from you. “I can’t have my brother’s pretty girlfriend carry her own luggage, now can I?” he quipped, giving you a cheeky grin.

Sam smacked the back of his head, but you only laughed, happy to see Sam looking so relaxed. The flight from LAX to Kansas and the car ride to Dean’s mechanics shop had been tense, considering you’d run into nosy fans and reporters at both airports, and you figured that the both of you were equally as excited to be done traveling.

“You sure that you’re okay with us staying here, Dean?” you asked as you followed the boys inside. Sam held open the door at the top of the stairs so you and Dean could go inside first.

“Of course I am! I’m not using the place, anyway. I thought about renting it out for a while, but I never got around to it,” he replied. After setting your two suitcases down on the floor by the windows, Dean turned to face the two of you.

Sam was walking around the living room while you checked out the kitchen, and when you caught his eye through the window between the two rooms he smiled. “This is great, Dean. Thanks again,” Sam said. Dean waved him off and ran a hand through his hair. You smiled, thinking of how Sam often did the same thing when he was uncomfortable.

“It’s nothing. The furniture’s pretty old and it needs some paint, but there’s a hardware store—”

“Down on Limon Street,” Sam finished. “I may live in L.A. now, Dean, but I remember where everything is.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Listen, I still live just down the street if you two need anything. Sammy knows where. I usually start work in the shop around seven in the morning, so if the noise wakes you up, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You laughed a little at his gruffness, then crossed the room to give Dean a hug.

“Thanks for taking care of him,” he whispered. Surprised, you pulled away and looked at him. Dean’s eyes were soft, sadness tinting them. He clearly loved Sam a lot. You gave him a weak smile in response. After patting Sam on the back once more, Dean left the apartment and shut the door behind him, leaving you and Sam alone in your new home.

“Dean seems great, Sam,” you said, turning to face him. A strange expression was on his face, and you noticed after a minute that he was just standing in place, watching you. “What? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I, uh,” Sam laughed a little, blinking and running a hand through his hair, “I was just thinking about how lucky I am that you’re my girlfriend. I mean, you just moved halfway across the country with me so we can work on our relationship and so I can get my life under control. Not many people would be willing to do that, Y/N.”

“It’s nothing,” you murmured, shyly tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

Sam shook his head and stepped over one of his bags to get to you, then took your hands in his. “It’s not nothing, Y/N. It really means a lot to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I mean, I could be dead in a ditch somewhere after taking too many pills…”not nothing, Y/N. It really means a lot to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you. I mean, I could be dead in a ditch somewhere after taking too many pills…”

“But you’re not, Sam. Okay? You’re not, and we’re in Kansas, and we’re going to have to paint the living room, and I should probably call Steph and let her know our plane didn’t crash, and—” Sam cut you off with a kiss. You melted into it, closing your eyes and bringing your hands up to play with the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

“You’re rambling again,” Sam murmured when he finally ended the kiss, a smile tugging at his lips.

“And you’re interrupting me again,” you replied. Sam nudged his nose with yours and you sighed happily. “Let’s take a nap and then unpack the rest of our stuff from the car.” Laughing softly, Sam picked you up, making sure your legs were firmly wrapped around his waist before walking to the bedroom and setting you down on the bare mattress.

You pulled him down with you and curled against him, tucking your head against his chest. Sam smoothed one hand over your hair and then down your back. He smiled as you relaxed against him, completely worn out from all the traveling.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he whispered, kissing your hairline. You smiled in response and kissed his collarbone, then closed your eyes and drifted off before he had a chance to say anything else.

_______________

You and Sam settled into your little apartment easily. The two of you had brought your clothes with you on the plane, but a lot of your stuff had been shipped ahead, like your art supplies and Sam’s books. The noise from the shop below you stopped bothering you after a few days, and you’d discovered that Sam was a very handy person to have around when things broke. He’d also found a job working as an online advisor for young models who were trying to broaden their careers, and you could tell that he was doing a lot better in Kansas than he had in L.A. You’d been working on the last few projects you needed to pass your classes, including the portrait of Sam. It had come a long way since your first day working on it, but you refused to show it to Sam. You wanted it to be a surprise.

Since moving to Kansas, you and Sam had been rebuilding your relationship. You spent days just talking, and within the first few months, you’d practically had a play-by-play of his life. Sam took you on dates to the park and to local restaurants, and he told you all about his childhood in Lawrence, as well as his modeling jobs before he met you. He hadn’t mentioned much about Jessica yet, but you figured that painful memories took more time. He never asked about the difficult moments in your life, so you didn’t press to learn more about his. It was his story to tell on his own time, not yours to uncover.

“Do you think we’ll be done painting by the time the sun goes down?” you asked, looking over at Sam from where you were standing. You’d put him in charge of painting the top portion of the walls, mostly because you weren’t comfortable climbing ladders while you were painting, but partially because you enjoyed watching him flex his muscles to reach the parts of the wall that were at the very top of his reach. Sam knew you were watching him as he painted, and he kept asking you questions so you had an excuse to look over at him without being too obvious.

“Don’t know,” Sam replied as he dipped his roller back into the paint tray to his right. His hair was tied up in a man-bun, but somehow he still managed to get it in his face. You laughed as he used one hand to brush it away and ended up getting a smear of light blue paint across his forehead.

“What’s so funny?” he asked. You shook your head with a smile and went back to the section of the wall where you’d been painting little white vines.

A cool, wet feeling on the back of your neck made you jump a moment later, and you looked over your shoulder to see Sam reaching toward you again with his paint-soaked roller. “Sam!” you squealed, jumping out of his reach. He laughed and came at you again, and soon the two of you were chasing each other around the tiny living room of the apartment, laughing and getting more paint on your clothes and skin than you were getting on the walls.

“What are you two doing?”

You stopped and looked over at the doorway, one arm up in the air, your roller poised only inches away from Sam’s cheek. Dean was standing in the entryway.

“Uh, nothing,” you told him, quickly lowering the roller.

“Did you need something?” Sam asked, wiping his paint-covered hands on the old pair jeans that he was wearing.

“Yeah, Mom’s here. She wants to know if you two want to come for lunch,” Dean replied, raising an eyebrow at the two of you. “That is if you’re not too busy having a paint war.” You blushed at his comment, feeling like a little kid.

Sam wrapped his free arm around your waist and kissed the top of your head. “I’m game if you are, Y/N,” he said. You nodded in response. “Alright, just let us clean up and put the paint away so it doesn’t dry out. Tell Mom we’ll be over soon, okay, Dean?”

Dean gave you a thumbs up, already halfway out the apartment door, and you sighed.

“Now we’ve gotta clean all this up.” Sam laughed and squeezed your waist before heading over to set his roller down and pour the excess paint from his tray back into the can.

Sighing, you did the same before heading into the bathroom to start the shower. Sam was getting clean clothes for the two of you when you went back into the bedroom. You grabbed them and climbed into the shower, leaving enough room so Sam could climb in after you.

“Hey, question,” you said, reaching past him to grab your shampoo. “What’s your opinion on kids?”

Sam paused and looked down at you.

“In general? I think they’re okay,” he replied.

“No, I mean, what if we were to have kids?”

“Do you want kids?” Sam asked, taking the shampoo and setting it back on the shelf for you. “Y/N, I don’t think this is a conversation we should be really having in the shower. It’s more of a ‘let’s discuss this over a cup of coffee’ kind of conversation.”

“I’m not saying I want them now, Sam. I just read somewhere online that people are speculating we left because we’re trying to have kids, and it made me think…” Sam sighed and stopped what he was doing. You bit your lip and looked up at him, squinting to keep the spray from the shower out of your eyes.

“Y/N, I told you to stop reading that stuff. It’s never anything good and I don’t want crazy ideas about me put in your head. It’s not fair to either of us.” Sam touched your shoulder and moved you so you had your back to him, then took the loofah from its hook and began to scrub off the paint he’d gotten on the back of your neck.

You stayed silent for a few moments, letting him take care of you while you thought.

“Okay, well, say I didn’t read it online. What do you think about us having kids at some point in our lives?” you questioned, turning back around to rinse the soap and shampoo off of you.

Sam thought for a moment before shrugging and changing positions with you so you could climb out of the shower and dry off. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice now slightly muffled by the sound of the water running and the shower curtain that separated the two of you. “I’m not against it, I guess. We just have a lot going on right now, and I’ve always been raised that you should get married before you have kids.”

Not knowing what to say, you wrapped a towel around yourself and began to blow-dry your hair. Neither one of you could speak over the sound of the hair dryer, and you took your time while he finished showering and drying off. By the time you were completely dry, Sam was already dressed and ready to go. You dressed quickly and put on a swipe of mascara before heading out to join him.

“Ready?” he asked, standing from where he was leaning against the back of your dropcloth-covered couch. You nodded and grabbed your phone and keys, following him out of the apartment and down the stairs to your car.

The two of you arrived at Sam’s parents' house a half hour later, and neither you nor Sam spoke much during the car ride. You chewed on your nails the whole time, nervous that you’d upset him in the shower. Mary was happy to see you when you got there, and you pushed the thoughts of marriage and children from your mind, choosing instead to focus on the lunch she’d made and Dean and John’s conversation about the shop.

_______________

Sam was humming as he opened the boxes of Chinese takeout and spread the various containers out on the living room floor. He’d spread out a blanket and picked up the food while you’d been in the shower, and you smiled when you walked in and saw the setup. You watched for a moment, leaning in the doorway. He was completely unaware of your presence, and the sight of him so at ease and happy in the apartment made you happy. Sam deserved to be content with his life, and you were glad that moving to Kansas gave him that.

“You’re staring,” Sam said, not looking up from the paper takeout bag.

You grinned. “Very observant, Mr. Winchester,” you replied. Going over to the blanket, you lowered yourself down to sit. As soon as you were comfortable, Sam handed off a box of rice to you, then picked up his own.

“Thanks for picking the food up. I didn’t even hear you come in.”

“Mm, you were singing in the shower. Loudly,” Sam added. He laughed when you flushed, and you picked up a pair of chopsticks so you could start eating. “I liked the song, though.”

“Oh yeah?” you asked, glancing up from the rice. Sam nodded in response, starting to eat his own food. “I take requests, you know.”

Sam laughed and shook his head, smiling as he ate. You grinned and ate as well, the two of you sitting in comfortable silence. Outside, the sun was just beginning to set, and colors were only streaming across the very edges of the horizon. You could see them through the open window from where you sat, despite the gauzy white curtains that hung from the curtain rod Sam had mounted on the wall only days before.

“What are you thinking about?” Sam asked.

You looked up from where you’d been staring out the window, meeting his eyes. They were sparkling—hazel, filled to the brim with curiosity and adoration as he looked at you—and you couldn’t help but blush a little as he watched you.

Setting your chopsticks down, you swallowed the bite of rice in your mouth and smiled a little. “Sunsets,” you told him. “We don’t have these kinds of sunsets in LA.”

Sam nodded in agreement, then took a sip of water from the crystal wine glasses he had set out for the two of you. When you’d first found them among the things he’d had shipped to Kansas, you’d worried that he’d want to drink wine from them. You’d read online that people who were recovering from addictions—like Sam—should steer clear of alcohol or other drugs. So, when he’d said that drinking was out of the equation, you’d breathed a sigh of relief and agreed to keep the glasses. You still felt silly drinking water, milk, iced tea, and soda from them, even after months of living in the apartment, but you’d decided that if it made Sam happy to see you drinking from fancy wine glasses, then it was the least you could do. You were working as a team to rebuild what you’d once had, and drinking from the wine glasses was you saying that you’d do your part if he did his.

Still, despite all the rebuilding and all the conversations you’d had since first moving into Dean’s apartment, there was still something that bugged you.

“Hey, Sam?”

“Yeah?” he replied, looking up from the container of lo mein he was opening.

You hesitated. You didn’t want to ruin any progress the two of you had made, nor did you want to upset him and ruin the rest of the night, but you had to know.

“When you were in Paris,” you began, fiddling with the chopsticks you’d picked up once more, “was there anyone else?”

Sam was silent. You could feel his eyes on you, watching and trying to figure out what was going through your head. You kept your head down, however, eyes focused on the half-empty box of rice resting in your lap.

It was a long while before Sam finally answered you. “Why are you asking?”

“Why does it matter?” you replied. Angry at his response, you dumped your leftover rice into the bowl Sam had brought out for his extra rice, then stood and started to head to the bedroom. Before you could ever make it out of the living room and into the hallway, however, Sam was on his feet. His hand wrapped around your wrist, effectively stopping you from going any further.

“Wait, Y/N. You’re right. It doesn’t matter why. You deserve to know these things,” Sam sighed.

Slowly, you turned to face him, eyeing him as he dropped your wrist and ran a hand through his long hair. “Deserve to know what, Sam? Does that mean your answer is yes?”

“Yeah,” Sam replied, his voice quiet. “Yes. There was someone else.”

Your heart clenched and you sucked in a deep breath. “How long?”

“Wha—”

“How long, Sam?” you shouted. You hadn’t meant to shout, and the suddenness of it shocked you, but you didn’t back down.

“Two weeks. That’s it. Then I ended it.”

You stayed silent, watching Sam watch you, shame and hope both flickering in his eyes. “Sam, I can’t— I’m going to go take a shower.”

“Y/N, you already—”

“I’m going to go take a shower, Sam,” you repeated, this time more forcefully. “When I get out, we’re going to talk about this. We’re going to talk about it like adults, and we’re going to figure out what this means. Okay?” He nodded in reply, and you turned on your heel, heading into the bedroom and locking the door behind you.

You stripped off your clothes without a word, then climbed into the shower, standing under the hot, stinging spray. For the longest time you simply stood, your mind still trying to catch up with the information you’d just received. Sam had cheated on you in Paris. He’d cheated on you for two whole weeks, then came back and made up with you without a second thought.

“Y/N?”

You jumped, startled out of your thoughts by Sam’s voice. He reached into the stall and grabbed you before you could slip and fall. Quickly, you jerked your arm out of his grasp and steadied yourself. He opened his mouth to say something, but you held up a hand, closing your eyes.

“Don’t,” you said. Sam stayed silent as you turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping yourself up in the towel he handed to you. Finally, you looked up and met his eyes.

“It’s a lot to process,” you told him. He nodded. “If I was smart, I’d leave right now.”

Sam didn’t answer.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” you asked.

“I don’t have anything to say,” Sam answered. “What I did was awful. You deserve better. I won’t try to stop you if you want to leave. I don’t have any excuses for anything, but I want to make it up to you somehow.”

Not knowing how to respond, you swallowed thickly and pushed past him, padding back into the bedroom to get dressed once more. When you were finally clothed, you sat on the edge of the bed and stared down at your hands.

“You kissed me, Sam. You kissed me after you kissed her. That’s not okay. I’m not okay with that,” you murmured. Closing your eyes, you tried to hold back the tears that were forming in them. You didn’t want to cry over this, but it hurt to think that Sam would ever cheat on you. Logically, you knew that it had been the drugs that had influenced his decisions, but the thought was still there. Sam had cheated. You hadn’t been good enough for him, and he’d cheated.

“I know. And I hoped you wouldn’t find out. I hate myself for this. I hate that I did this to you. You don’t deserve this. You deserve so, so much more, Y/N,” Sam replied.

You looked up through your lashes at him, watching as he moved to kneel on the floor in front of you, slipping his hands into yours. Sniffling, you let him hold your hands and rub his thumbs over your skin until finally you couldn’t stand the strained silence any longer.

“I do love you, Sam,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I love getting to spend time with you, no matter what it is we’re doing, and I love to see you happy. But this… Why did you even do it? Am I not good enough?”

Sam shook his head, his hair fluffing out on either side of his head as he did. “Y/N, you’re so much better than I am. You’re amazing, that’s why you should find someone who’s good enough for you.”

“Oh, Sam…” Slipping one of your hands from his, you cupped his cheek and then ran your fingers through his hair. “You’re a good guy. You’re good. I know that the drugs and… And the cheating and a lot of other things you’ve done haven’t been good, but you are good. That’s part of why I love you. Just because you made some mistakes doesn’t mean this isn’t fixable. Are you still willing to fix this? Fix us?” He nodded in response, and you felt yourself begin to smile a tiny bit as you let out a little sigh of relief. “Then we’ll fix it. Okay? You and me, Sam. We can fix this, just like we have been. It’s just another bump in the road.”

“You’re not mad at me?” Sam asked, looking up and meeting your eyes again.

“I’m not sure if mad’s the right word. I’m… Hurt. I know that the drugs probably influenced you somehow. I know that you regret it, and I know that you want to try and move past this. Let’s just give it some time, maybe?”

Sam nodded, carefully pulling you into his arms. You let him, and when he hugged you, you held on tightly, letting yourself believe that things would work out for the best.

_______________

Two months later, you and Sam were doing okay.

It had taken a lot of time for you to get over what had happened, and even though Sam was still constantly kicking himself for what he’d done, you were always there, waiting to tell him that he was forgiven, that he was good, and that the two of you were okay. You weren’t entirely sure if he believed you just yet, but all that mattered was that he was beginning to.

You were at the point in your projects where it was crunch time, and Sam was starting to have to pry you away from your canvas and supplies so that you could sleep and eat and live a normal life like a normal person. He’d insisted on making you take a day off once in a while, but those days mostly consisted of running errands, working on remodeling the tiny apartment, or having lunch with the other Winchesters.

You’d just gone to bed with Sam only hours before, mostly because he’d carried you out of the extra bedroom-turned-studio so you could get some rest, but somehow you found yourself waking up again. Slowly, you blinked open your eyes, rubbing them and peering at your dark bedroom wall in confusion. On the nightstand beside you, the clock’s red numbers blinked midnight, and you carefully sat up in bed, looking around to see what had woken you up. Sam was still sound asleep on his side of the bed, but a flash of light from outside made you frown. There’s no way that’s lightning, you thought, feeling somewhat unsettled. It’s not even drizzling out.

Sam didn’t move as you slid out of bed and padded to the window. Carefully, you moved the curtain away just a smidge so you could peer past it. There was no sign of anything unusual outside the mechanic shop, so you pulled the curtain away more to see if you’d just seen the lightning of an incoming storm. As soon as you had moved it far enough that your body was visible through the window, however, the flash of light appeared again, revealing a lithe woman standing out on the patch of grass by the street. You blinked in shock, and as your eyes adjusted to the quick change in light, you realized she was holding a camera in her hands.

“Sam!” you cried, dropping the curtain and stepping away from the window. He didn’t reply. “Sam, wake up!”

“Hmm?” Sam sighed. After a moment, he blinked open his eyes, a slight smile already on his lips when he looked up to see you. The smile disappeared quickly, replacing itself with a frown as concern set in when Sam noticed the panicked expression on your face. “What’s wrong, Y/N? What happened?” he asked. Sam took your hand, sitting up in bed.

“There’s a photographer on the lawn,” you replied, fidgeting nervously. You glanced back at the window, holding your breath as you waited for another flash.

“So?”

You blinked. “What do you mean ‘so?’” you asked. Looking back at Sam, you saw that the concern and worry that had filled his eyes was completely gone. In fact, he didn’t look upset at all.

Shrugging, Sam asked, “Why is it such a big deal? What are they going to get pictures of? The house? You in your pajamas? Y/N, we have nothing to hide. They can criticize us all we want, but you’re happy, right?” You nodded. “So what does it matter if they criticize us for living above Dean’s mechanics shop? Are you worried they won’t like your choice in paint color for the living room?”

That earned him a little smile, and you shook your head, tucking a tangled piece of hair behind your ear as you crawled back into bed with Sam, cuddling up against him. “I guess I shouldn’t worry so much,” you murmured, letting him lace his fingers with yours.

“We have nothing to worry about here, Y/N. I promise. I love you and you love me, we’re both here and we’re both happy, and my whole family is supporting our relationship. I couldn’t ask for anything more right now,” Sam said. “I know that we’re not perfect right now, but I don’t think we’re ever going to be. I’m okay with that, as long as you are.”

His words brought a smile to your face, and you tilted your head to press a kiss to his shoulder. “I love you so much, Sam,” you smiled.

Sam squeezed your hand. “Let’s go back to sleep, okay? We have to get up in the morning and finish painting the kitchen so we can stop ordering takeout and have some actual food for dinner.”

“But I like takeout,” you giggled. Despite the darkness, you could practically see Sam rolling his eyes at your reply, and you quickly squirmed away before he could tickle you. “Goodnight, Sam,” you sang, a smile still on your face.

“Goodnight, Y/N. I love you,” he laughed, pulling you against him so the two of you were cuddling again.

You smiled to yourself, closing your eyes and letting yourself fall back asleep. Your worries of being found by photographers drifted away like bad dreams, and when you awoke in the morning you realized that real life was practically a good dream itself, leaving you with a permanent smile the rest of the day.

________________

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[palmnix]

Chaos’s Assassin 9

Half an hour after successfully retrieving the information from Rose Song we were all sat around a table in a little coffee/tea shop a couple of streets down from the Agent's house. The tea shop itself was nice; small, with tables lining the windows and a cute little bar by the door. The tea's they sold were even cuter, they were little bubble tea's of different colours and flavours. Not exactly my style, but it would do.

“So, what's the plan?” Piper asked, tugging at the feathers braided into her choppy chestnut hair. There seemed to be some kind of unspoken agreement between the six of us, the two quests were meant to come together. And seeing as the prophecy had mentioned that we would “travel with six” we were pretty sure that we were on the right track.

“I guess we need to find a way to get down to the Whitehouse today.” Annabeth answered, her grey eyes deep in thought.

“We could always get a bus.” Jason contributed, sipping quietly on his strawberry bubble tea. It was an odd choice, but one we all accepted readily.

“The bus station just got shut down,” Hazel said, “apparently there was some robbery in the corner store right next door to it so they shut it down for the investigation.”

“How do you know that?” Leo asked, edging to see what she was looking at in her hands. It was a newspaper, and front page was a photo of the corner store.  

“That may have been us,” Piper said, raising her hand slightly, “does it say if they have any leads?”

“No, luckily none of the witnesses pegged you guys as the robbers, so they have all just got different descriptions for the monster you were fighting. ”

“Lamia.” Piper contributed.

“Nice…” Jason complimented, high fiving Leo across the table.

“Well I wish the detectives good luck with that case,” I said, looking up from my black coffee, “What are you guys doing in Boston anyway?”

I had to ask, it had been on my mind all day.

“Same reason as you.” Annabeth answered with a cold glare in my direction.

“Well, not exactly,” Jason offered with a slightly nicer attitude, “Octavian is from our Camp, so he's our responsibility. It's only natural that we have to go get him before this gets too far.”

“Rose Song called both camps.” Hazel clarified.

“How does she know about us anyway?” Leo asked, his decaffeinated green tea and croissant left untouched (because we all know what happens when he has too much caffeine).

“I think Chiron said something about a younger brother who was a half blood during the Battle of the Labyrinth or something… and with all the ruckus during the Giant War, I would be surprised if she didn't know about the Roman Camp.” Piper piped up.

“There were apparently a lot of unregistered deaths during the Labyrinth’s Battle.” Leo said, nodding matter of factly.

“It was practically slaughter,” Annabeth muttered, the air getting tense. Then, with new vigour, she asked, “How old was he?”

“He died at 15.”

No one spoke for a long time, Annabeth's eyes stared into the distance, and I couldn't help but feel guilty. It was a time when people were disappearing all over the place, many just not returning to camp. People were going on quests without prophecies and deaths were not taken into account. But still, I felt as if I was once again carrying the sky on my shoulders, and this time it was permanent. I had to live with my mistakes, so many deaths, the least I could've done was remember their names… but I didn't. I guess I was just selfish.

“Okay,” Hazel said, having not known about the Camps at the time. The others, apart from Annabeth and I, snapped out of it quickly, “So where do we go from here?”

“We could just hitch a ride,” Jason suggested, “It's not uncommon, a lot of the time there are many tourists that are willing to take a couple of people along. We might be lucky and find someone heading for Washington.”

“I would be surprised if we don't,” Piper said, agreeing with her boyfriend and sipping on her camomile tea, “That's tourist destination number 1.”

“Okay, and how long will it take us to get there? Does anyone know?”

Leo smirked slightly, before saying in a bad robotic voice, “I estimate, around 7 and a half hours.”

“Well it's almost 9 o'clock,” Annabeth said, beginning to put things in her bag, “so if we leave now we could get there before 8, and that would give us time to quickly catch a bite and then kick some ass. Remember, we have to get Omega’s friends out before sunrise tomorrow. So let's do this quick.”

 It had been surprisingly easy to find a family to allow us to crash their little road trip. After we mentioned chipping in on gas money, they were happy to bring us along. Due to this, 2 hours after the discussion at the tea place we were already on our way to Washington in a large black and grey camper van with a family of four. Hazel had very kindly spun the mist so the people that were helping us saw a random person’s face, instead of a shady hood. However, in the end it didn't seem like it was really needed, seeing as I mostly stayed in the back where the ‘living room’ area was. If you'd ever seen ‘We're The Millers’, it was basically that truck.

Piper and Jason stayed upfront, talking to the parents and Hazel and Leo stuck close to the main door, having a conversation with the two teenage kids about the “New Era of Electronics”, whatever that was supposed to be. At first Annabeth stuck with Jason and Piper, but after a while, upfront seemed to be a bit too cramped for her. So she then decided to join me on the couches at the back of the bus, the furthest away from the commotion. I wanted to complain, but honestly, I had missed her so much, I was kind of craving her company…

“So what's your deal?” she asked bluntly, her face betraying her badly hidden curiosity.

“My… deal?” I replied cautiously.

“Yeah, your story. Tell me how you are connected to Chaos.”

I looked at her, it wasn't as if she was giving me puppy dog eyes or anything. It was nothing like that in fact. Her stare was one of a warriors, and she was not backing down. That alone reminded me of the good old days, stuck in trucks similar to the one we were caged in at the moment.

“How about this, I'll tell you what you want to know. In return, you tell me what I want to know.” I said, coming up with a compromise.

“Alright, deal.” she said smirking slightly.

Upon feeling her curiosity, I paused for a second, thinking about how to explain my situation without giving too much away, “You know how there's that one person in the whole wide universe that you would sacrifice everything and everyone for, just to keep them safe. You would even give your life for this person. You know?”

She looked at me for a moment before leaning back slightly and ducking her head to her lap.

“Yeah” she said.

“Well, I almost lost that person. I’m not the kind of person to let someone I love suffer, so, as payment for their safety, I gave up my life and joined Chaos’s Army.”

Sensing the fragility of my confession she chose to move the subject along, “So you were recruited then? For the Army.”

“Yeah, but I had to go through the same procedure as the others.”

“Wait, I don't understand, what  ‘procedure’?” It hit me that she probably thought it was some kind of operation. I couldn't help but released a short, quiet laugh at her shock, before clarifying.

“We spend 385 days training in the school they have there.”

“Okay, then how come you aren't the regular soldier? How come you're a-”

“An assassin?”

“Yeah...”

“I was given the choice after I graduated, either join the army like the other recruits and start from the bottom working my way up, or just become his Assassin. That was about 11,615 years ago.”

“So, you just kill people in cold blood?” As she said that her eyes glazed over with a frozen kind of hatred, one that I knew wasn't caused by my character, but rather by what she assumed were my actions.

“Not really, I do what the Army can't. I take care of the threats to the universe, the army takes care of threats to specific planets that could eventually grow to something more. Like this planet and Octavian. Basically I have smaller, more skillful targets. Assassin is just a title. I mean, I guess in some sense it's accurate… look, the people I kill are killers, they’re criminals in the eyes of Chaos. So I get rid of them.”

“Does that not have an effect on you?” She asked, her eyes turning from icy to troubled, “You’re from earth right? Humans aren’t born killers.”

“No species’s are born killers, but, depending on the circumstances, they can be taught to be, even if that's not what you thought you were doing. Anyway, if by killing these people I’m saving an innocent person's life? Then, It’s worth it.”

She looked at me for a couple more moments, her legs crossed from where she sat on the beige seats across from me. All of a sudden her stone faced expression crumbled and another Annabeth emerged, the Annabeth I was in love with. Then, without any warning, she started to giggle.

“What’s so funny?” I couldn't help but ask, the infectious laughter threatening to spill from myself as well.

“This situation just reminded me of a very similar scene from a couple of years ago, it was on my first ever quest. I had gone with my two bestfriend’s, although I hadn’t known that at the time, to go retrieve a stupid lightning bolt and somehow ended up in the back of a van slightly different from this one (if you count goats and hay stacks as different), driving halfway across the country, filled to the brim with barnyard animals. It stunk. But ironically our friend Grover blended right in. I remember sitting there with Percy and just talking about anything and everything, it was the first time we had really even clicked, you know? Right now, I can't help but miss him.”

Throughout her speech she had subconsciously ended up with a peaceful expression on her normally anxious face. She had been in her own world, I could see that much, but when she was brought back to the terrible, harsh reality that is life, the only thing in the whole universe that I wanted to do, was hug her. Hug her and tell her everything was okay. I would crack a terrible joke, get her to laugh, get her to feel the same peace, the same happiness, she had felt when she told her story.

Reality didn't feel the same anymore. I had left everything, just for it to end, but now she was all alone, suffering, and I was the cause. I didn't really regret leaving, if it meant all was well, then perhaps it was for the best. But what about her? What had she wanted? What had my family wanted? I hadn't even taken that into consideration. What did she think happened? Where did she think I had gone?

[lifeofaliterarynerd]

We Need Diverse Books: Black History Month Edition                                          *Books by black authors and/or have black protagonists

How It Went Down - Kekla Magoon //  When sixteen-year-old Tariq Johnson dies from two gunshot wounds, his community is thrown into an uproar. Tariq was black. The shooter, Jack Franklin, is white. In the aftermath of Tariq's death, everyone has something to say, but no two accounts of the events line up. Day by day, new twists further obscure the truth. Tariq's friends, family, and community struggle to make sense of the tragedy, and to cope with the hole left behind when a life is cut short. 

X - Ilyasah Shabazz & Kekla Magoon //  Cowritten by Malcolm X’s daughter, this riveting and revealing novel follows the formative years of the man whose words and actions shook the world. X follows Malcolm from his childhood to his imprisonment for theft at age twenty, when he found the faith that would lead him to forge a new path and command a voice that still resonates today.

The Hate U Give - Angie Thomas // Sixteen-year-old Starr lives in two worlds: the poor neighbourhood where she was born and raised and her posh high school in the suburbs. The uneasy balance between them is shattered when Starr is the only witness to the fatal shooting of her unarmed best friend, Khalil, by a police officer. Now what Starr says could destroy her community. It could also get her killed.  

The Women of Brewster Place - Gloria Naylor //  We follow the stories of seven women living in Brewster Place, a bleak inner-city sanctuary, creating a powerful, moving portrait of the strengths, struggles, and hopes of black women in America. Vulnerable and resilient, openhanded and open-hearted, these women forge their lives in a place that in turn threatens and protects—a common prison and a shared home. 

Piecing Me Together - Renée Watson //  Jade believes she must get out of her neighborhood if she’s ever going to succeed. Her mother says she has to take every opportunity. She has. She accepted a scholarship to a mostly-white private school and even Saturday morning test prep opportunities. But some opportunities feel more demeaning than helpful. Like an invitation to join Women to Women, a mentorship program for “at-risk” girls. Except really, it’s for black girls. From “bad” neighborhoods. 

Shadowshaper - Daniel José Older //  Sierra Santiago was looking forward to a fun summer of making art, hanging out with her friends, and skating around Brooklyn. But then a weird zombie guy crashes the first party of the season. Sierra's near-comatose abuelo begins to say "No importa" over and over. And when the graffiti murals in Bed-Stuy start to weep.... Well, something stranger than the usual New York mayhem is going on.

The Rock and The River - Kekla Magoon //  Set in 1968 Chicago, Thirteen -year-old Sam realizes it's not easy being the son of known civil rights activist Roland Childs. Especially when his older (and best friend), Stick, begins to drift away from him for no apparent reason. And then it happens: Sam finds something that changes everything forever. Sam has always had faith in his father, but when he finds literature about the Black Panthers under Stick's bed, he's not sure who to believe: his father or his best friend. Suddenly, nothing feels certain anymore. 

Monster - Walter Dean Myers //    Sixteen-year-old Steve Harmon is on trial for murder. A Harlem drugstore owner was shot and killed in his store, and the word is that Steve served as the lookout. Guilty or innocent, Steve becomes a pawn in the hands of "the system," cluttered with cynical authority figures and unscrupulous inmates, who will turn in anyone to shorten their own sentences. For the first time, Steve is forced to think about who he is as he faces prison, where he may spend all the tomorrows of his life. 

This Side of Home - Renée Watson //  Identical twins Nikki and Maya have been on the same page for everything—friends, school, boys and starting off their adult lives at a historically African-American college. But as their neighborhood goes from rough-and-tumble to up-and-coming, suddenly filled with pretty coffee shops and boutiques, Nikki is thrilled while Maya feels like their home is slipping away. Suddenly, the sisters who had always shared everything must confront their dissenting feelings on the importance of their ethnic and cultural identities and, in the process, learn to separate themselves from the long shadow of their identity as twins. 

Brown Girl Dreaming - Jacqueline Woodson //  Raised in South Carolina and New York, Woodson always felt halfway home in each place. In vivid poems, she shares what it was like to grow up as an African American in the 1960s and 1970s, living with the remnants of Jim Crow and her growing awareness of the Civil Rights movement. Touching and powerful, each poem is both accessible and emotionally charged, each line a glimpse into a child’s soul as she searches for her place in the world.  

Promise of Shadows - Justine Ireland //  Zephyr Mourning has never been very good at being a Harpy. She’d rather watch reality TV than learn forty-seven ways to kill a man, and she pretty much sucks at wielding magic. Zephyr was ready for a future pretending to be a normal human instead of a half-god assassin. But all that changes when her sister is murdered—and she uses a forbidden dark power to save herself from the same fate. 

Fake ID - Lamara Giles //   My name isn’t really Nick Pearson. I shouldn’t tell you where I’m from or why my family moved to Stepton, Virginia. I shouldn’t tell you who I really am, or my hair, eye, and skin color. And I definitely shouldn’t tell you about my friend Eli Cruz and the major conspiracy he was about to uncover when he died—right after I moved to town. About how I had to choose between solving his murder with his hot sister, Reya, and “staying low-key” like the Program has taught me. About how moving to Stepon changed my life forever. But I’m going to 

Endangered - Lamar Giles //  The one secret she cares about keeping—her identity—is about to be exposed. Unless Lauren "Panda" Daniels—an anonymous photoblogger who specializes in busting classmates and teachers in compromising positions—plays along with her blackmailer's little game of Dare or . . . Dare. But when the game turns deadly, Panda doesn't know what to do. And she may need to step out of the shadows to save herself . . . and everyone else on the Admirer's hit list. 

Don’t Fail Me Now - Una LaMarche //  Michelle and Leah only have one thing in common: Buck Devereaux, the biological father who abandoned them when they were little. After news trickles back to them that Buck is dying, they make the uneasy decision to drive across country to his hospice in California. Leah hopes for closure; Michelle just wants to give him a piece of her mind. Five people in a failing, old station wagon, living off free samples at food courts across America, and the most pressing question on Michelle’s mind is: Who will break down first--herself or the car? 

Flygirl - Sherri L Smith //  Ida Mae Jones dreams of flight. Her daddy was a pilot and being black didn't stop him from fulfilling his dreams. But her daddy's gone now, and being a woman, and being black, are two strikes against her. When America enters the war with Germany and Japan, the Army creates the WASP, the Women Airforce Service Pilots - and Ida suddenly sees a way to fly as well as do something significant to help her brother stationed in the Pacific. But even the WASP won't accept her as a black woman, forcing Ida Mae to make a difficult choice of "passing," of pretending to be white to be accepted into the program. Hiding one's racial heritage, denying one's family, denying one's self is a heavy burden. And while Ida Mae chases her dream, she must also decide who it is she really wants to be. 

Mare’s War - Tanita S Davis //  Meet Mare, a World War II veteran and a grandmother like no other. She was once a willful teenager who escaped her less than perfect life in the deep South and lied about her age to join the African American Battalion of the Women's Army Corps. Now she is driving her granddaughters—two willful teenagers in their own rite—on a cross-country road trip. The girls are initially skeptical of Mare's flippy wigs and stilletos, but they soon find themselves entranced by the story she has to tell, and readers will be too. 

Not Otherwise Specified - Hannah Mockowitz //  Etta is tired of dealing with all of the labels and categories that seem so important to everyone else in her small Nebraska hometown. Everywhere she turns, someone feels she's too fringe for the fringe. Not gay enough for the Dykes, her ex-clique, thanks to a recent relationship with a boy; not tiny and white enough for ballet, her first passion; and not sick enough to look anorexic (partially thanks to recovery). Etta doesn’t fit anywhere— until she meets Bianca, the straight, white, Christian, and seriously sick girl in Etta’s therapy group. Both girls are auditioning for Brentwood, a prestigious New York theater academy that is so not Nebraska. Bianca seems like Etta’s salvation, but how can Etta be saved by a girl who needs saving herself? 

Parable of the Sower - Octavia Butler //  When unattended environmental and economic crises lead to social chaos, not even gated communities are safe. In a night of fire and death Lauren Olamina, a minister's young daughter, loses her family and home and ventures out into the unprotected American landscape. But what begins as a flight for survival soon leads to something much more: a startling vision of human destiny... and the birth of a new faith. 

The Sun is Also a Star-Nicola Yoon //  Follow Natasha, a girl who believes in science and facts, as she meets Daniel, a dutiful son and dreamer, as they spend a single day together in New York - and try to stop Natasha’s family from being deported to Jamacia.

Everything, Everything - Nicola Yoon //  My disease is as rare as it is famous. Basically, I’m allergic to the world. I don’t leave my house, have not left my house in seventeen years. The only people I ever see are my mom and my nurse, Carla. But then one day, a moving truck arrives next door. I look out my window, and I see him. His name is Olly. Maybe we can’t predict the future, but we can predict some things. For example, I am certainly going to fall in love with Olly. It’s almost certainly going to be a disaster 

Pointe - Brandy Colbert //  Theo is better now. She's eating again, dating guys who are almost appropriate, and well on her way to becoming an elite ballet dancer. But when her oldest friend, Donovan, returns home after spending four long years with his kidnapper, Theo starts reliving memories about his abduction—and his abductor. Donovan isn't talking about what happened, and even though Theo knows she didn't do anything wrong, telling the truth would put everything she's been living for at risk. But keeping quiet might be worse. 

The Misadventures of Awkward Black Girl - Issa Rae //  Being an introvert in a world that glorifies cool isn’t easy. But  Rae covers everything from cybersexing in the early days of the Internet to deflecting unsolicited comments on weight gain, from navigating the perils of eating out alone and public displays of affection to learning to accept yourself—natural hair and all.

Tiny Pretty Things - Dhonielle Clayton & Sona Charaipotra //  Gigi, Bette, and June, three top students at an exclusive Manhattan ballet school, have seen their fair share of drama. Free-spirited new girl Gigi just wants to dance—but the very act might kill her. Privileged New Yorker Bette's desire to escape the shadow of her ballet star sister brings out a dangerous edge in her. And perfectionist June needs to land a lead role this year or her controlling mother will put an end to her dancing dreams forever. When every dancer is both friend and foe, the girls will sacrifice, manipulate, and backstab to be the best of the best. 

Liar-Justine Larbalestier //  Micah will freely admit that she’s a compulsive liar, but that may be the one honest thing she’ll ever tell you. Over the years she’s duped her classmates, her teachers, and even her parents, and she’s always managed to stay one step ahead of her lies. That is, until her boyfriend dies under brutal circumstances and her dishonesty begins to catch up with her. But is it possible to tell the truth when lying comes as naturally as breathing? 

Hidden Figures - Margot Lee Shatterly //  Before John Glenn orbited the earth or Neil Armstrong walked on the moon, a group of dedicated female mathematicians known as “human computers” used pencils, slide rules, and adding machines to calculate the numbers that would launch rockets, and astronauts, into space. This book brings to life the stories of Dorothy Vaughan, Mary Jackson, Katherine Johnson, and Christine Darden, four African-American women who lived through the Civil Rights era, the Space Race, the Cold War, and the movement for gender equality, and whose work forever changed the face of NASA and the country. 

The Color Purple - Alice Walker //  Taking place mostly in rural Georgia, the story focuses on the life of women of color in the southern United States in the 1930s, addressing numerous issues including their exceedingly low position in American social culture. The novel has been the frequent target of censors and appears on the American Library Association list of the 100 Most Frequently Challenged Books of 2000-2009 at number seventeen because of the sometimes explicit content, particularly in terms of violence. 

Sister Citizen- Melissa Harris Perry //  Not a traditional political science work concerned with office-seeking, voting, or ideology, Sister Citizen instead explores how African American women understand themselves as citizens and what they expect from political organizing. Harris-Perry shows that the shared struggle to preserve an authentic self and secure recognition as a citizen links together black women in America, from the anonymous survivors of Hurricane Katrina to the former First Lady of the United States. 

The Blossoming Universe of Violet Diamond - Brenda Woods //  Violet is a smart, funny, brown-eyed, brown-haired girl in a family of blonds. Her mom is white, and her dad, who died before she was born, was black. She attends a mostly white school where she sometimes feels like a brown leaf on a pile of snow. She’s tired of people asking if she’s adopted. Now that Violet’s eleven, she decides it’s time to learn about her African American heritage. And despite getting off to a rocky start trying to reclaim her dad’s side of the family, she can feel her confidence growing as the puzzle pieces of her life finally start coming together. 

The Summer of Chasing Mermaids - Sarah Ockler //  The youngest of six talented sisters, Elyse d'Abreau was destined for stardom - until a boating accident took everything from her. Now, the most beautiful singer in Tobago can't sing. She can't even speak. Seeking quiet solitude, Elyse accepts a friend's invitation to Atargatis Cove. Named for the mythical first mermaid, the Oregon seaside town is everything Elyse's home in the Caribbean isn't: an ocean too cold for swimming, parties too tame for singing, and people too polite to pry - except for one.

Black Boy White School - Brian F Walker  //  Anthony “Ant” Jones has never been outside his rough East Cleveland neighborhood when he’s given a scholarship to Belton Academy, an elite prep school in Maine.But at Belton things are far from perfect. Everyone calls him “Tony,” assumes he’s from Brooklyn, expects him to play basketball, and yet acts shocked when he fights back. As Anthony tries to adapt to a world that will never fully accept him, he’s in for a rude awakening: Home is becoming a place where he no longer belongs.