#phone guy was my first real introduction to object heads

[yeshiioo]

Know My Place! Introduction Ch. 0

(Author's note: hi everyone! I'm renewing the first chapter of 'know my place!' because I felt like the chapter seemed a little.. dead. And I don't like it, so I'm going to change it. Alright, peace and enjoy the chapter!)

° ÷ . 4.6k characters !

*⁠･⁠゜ﾟ↝ ♡⁠˖⁠꒰⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠⑅⁠꒱. × °

**I steal a few breaths from the world, for a minute..**

**And then I'll be nothing forever, in all of my memories and all of the things I have seen, will be gone, with my eyes-**

"Sora~! Come down stairs real quick!" My mother shouted. Happily? Excitedly? I don't know how to explain it but she said it in a cheerful tone so I'm probably not in trouble right now, and besides, we just celebrated my birthday earlier! I Shouldn't be worried~

"Okay mom, I'm coming!" I removed my newly bought headphones on my ears and placed them near my neck like an accessory, paused the song that's playing on my phone, then headed off downstairs to greet my mother and ask her why she made me come here. I saw her sitting on the couch as well as my dad.

"What's wrong mom, dad? Do you want me to help you guys with anything?" I asked them curiously.

"Oh, no sweetheart. It's just that I and your dad figured that now is the right time to tell you our most awaited surprise. Go tell her, Kira." My mother nudged my father's shoulder. He also seemed happy. Now my curiosity has reached a thousand percent!

"You tell her, Tohru! Do the honours. I'm so happy for our little girl." dad also seemed really proud of me. Is this it? Am I not a failure to them anymore?

"You dramatic man baby... Fine, I'll do it." She rolled her eyes playfully and smiled at me before saying what she has to say.

"So... I and your father.." her words cut off by my dad's loud dramatic sniffles.

"Kira, honey! I'm trying to tell her the news. Control your tears, and nose." Wow. Is it really that big of a news.. that my dad is actually tearing up? He then nodded and grabbed a tissue to sneeze on.

"Ehem.. as I was saying.. I and your father have enrolled you in London, College of fashion!"

Before I could say anything or object, she continued speaking.

"The college is not here ofcourse, nor in the country so you would have to go to school abroad. That's why we were happy to tell you but also sad because we're going to see you leave soon... Please do well with your studies there, alright?"

I wanted to say something. Say that I didn't want this.. but I might come off as 'bratty' or 'ungrateful', Because as a matter of fact, I don't know anything about fashion. Heck, all my clothes are just tees, pants, and shorts. Yeah sure I can draw... but not design clothing or any other knick-knacks!! How the hell did they apply for my scholarship without me knowing? They're always planning something without my knowledge...

"Oh and before you say something, we've already covered your yearly tuition fee and apartment. I will also transfer you your monthly allowance in your online bank account. Enough for your daily expenses and anything that you want to buy there. Your flight will be a week before your semester starts, okay?"

My dad chimed in on my mother's saying. "Also if you want to ask anything, go ahead sweetie. Now's the right time."

I have so many questions in mind.

When will I get to see you both again? How many years am I going to stay there? When college's finished, where or what country will I stay in? What if I fail? Can I restart? London is.. uh.. where?.. Questions are seriously overwhelming me! But I knew I had to stick to one question and not all at once so they won't get irritated.

"Uhm... Where is London?" Gosh Sora.. you asked a stupid question!

"In the UK, of course. Do you have any more questions?" My dad answered me while my mom just giggled. I feel so embarrassed right now...

"When will I get to see you both again? Will I get yearly vacations?" There, finally.. an important question that I wanted an answer to.

"Of course you will! Your mom and I will plan it. Message us when your summer break starts and ends, okay?" I figured.

Now that I think of it.. Dressing up in nice clothes seems kinda nice. But.. I don't know how to style and I would have to deal with that on my own! Thank gosh Google and Pinterest exist. I just have to find an aesthetic to stick with.

"Text us daily, Sora! We don't know what you're doing there so it's best to keep us updated to not make us worry." My mother said. At least they won't set up cameras in my apartment to spy on me or something... And that's good.

"Yes mom... and dad. I'll make sure to update you both regularly." I smiled, dimples showing. I think it's the most beautiful feature that God gave me.

"The only thing I want to wish for you is to grow your hair back again. You look prettier with longer hair, and who knows if you find a handsome boy over there in London." She winked at me. Of course I showed her my face that SCREAMS disgust.

I saw her check her phone. "Oh well look at that. It's already 8:03 PM! I should start reheating our leftovers now so we can have dinner." She got up from the couch then my dad laid down his feet up on the soft pillows my mom was sitting on.

"It's best for you to already start thinking of packing and planning what to do, so in a few weeks you won't have to worry about that any more." My mother advised me. I just nodded and told her that I'm heading upstairs.

"Hmm.. what to bring, what to bring..." I mumbled, grabbing my large shoulder bag. Clothes and underwear are the best start. My iPad and ipencil for drawing, small sketchbooks, mechanical pencil with extra lead, chargers, headphones, and... What else? Oh, my travel toothbrush and small toothpaste.

I'm just going to buy another everyday items in the UK once I get there. I hope my apartment is near a supermarket or grocery store. After I finished packing, I started to imagine what living in London feels like..

ヘ( © ∆@)ヘ ` * ° .

I've heard about Brits. Good, and bad. I hope that I don't meet the stereotypical British people I researched about a few minutes ago. I grabbed my phone and started scrolling through tiktok. They say they're rude.

Maybe judgemental? I don't know but I'm kind of intimidated by them now.

I started to feel sleepy.. just as I was about to doze off, my dad opened the door. "Sora, your mother has been calling you for dinner. Did you not hear her? I've been telling you to just leave your door open so you can hear us when we call you. I know you're excited to pack but you should eat first."

He fetched me to come eat. How long have they been calling me?

"Alright dad, I'm sorry. I'll head downstairs now." I got up from my bed, closed my bedroom door and followed behind my dad.

There I saw our leftovers from the restaurant we went to on my birthday during lunch. We still have a lot of it! Large steak that only half of it was consumed, different types of cheeses have been melted and placed in separate bowls, and rice that my mom cooked.

... After dinner I felt full and tired. I laid on my bed again and started thinking. I can't believe I'm moving abroad after a few weeks. I get homesick easily and can barely cook without making it look like a failed lab concoction!

I'm just really nervous. Nervous for the future... I'll miss my friends here, family, and overall home, but because now that I'm 18, a new journey starts. A brand new, fresh, beginning. Yeah.. I shouldn't worry too much. I should be excited! Rightt... I Sighed.

Before I knew it, my eyes shut from exhaustion.

I can't wait.. I thought to myself....

.

.

. . .⁠ᘛ⁠⁐̤⁠ᕐ⁠ᐷ

**With my eyes, with my body, with me.

****But me and my husband, we are doing better.**

+.*⁠･⁠゜ﾟ╰⁠(⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠´⁠꒳⁠`⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠)⁠╯.*°

(Author's note: sorry for the really long introduction! I hope you guys didn't get bored while reading. This is my first post btw!! Just to clear things up, Sora's mother is named Tohru, while her dad's name is Kira. In this story, the date today is July 7th. Just enough weeks for her to get ready because college starts on July 29th. Her flight will be on July 22th btw :3 . Sora didn't want to go at the start but then she figured that maybe she should try it for I dunno, experience? Lol anyways I might post weekly... Not sure. Alright goodbye everyone!)

Likes and reblogs are appreciated!

Just don't re-upload it without credit or my permission..

Yeye-chan out!

[tinyboxxtink]

"...So I Married A Monster" *Chapter 1*

[Yes I know it's absolutely inappropriate/irrelevant but this gif was too priceless not to use it, okay?]

Chapter 2 is HERE!

So, I gotta shout out the anon who asked me to explore this idea from a one-shot I wrote. Which actually was a request from @word-scribbless, so really this was a team effort. LoL.

Alright so here's the sitch:

You're dating Rafael Barba, and you finally decide to introduce him to your kids. Everything's going fine, until he figures out your ex-husband "Billy Loomis" is actually William Lewis!

Chaos ensues.

RIGHT?

Alright so I just decided to elaborate on the one shot, so I hope you enjoy this introduction.

Yes, I don't know why we're going back into the dark dark depths of angsty, dark storylines, but here we go. It's William Lewis once again, so you already know it's not going to be some fun fluff piece.

Plan your expectations accordingly.

Also, @storiesofsvu said they might read this one, so there's that. Eeep.

Obviously my lovelies are the best as well.

Tag List

@madamsnape921

@lolliepopsicle

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@milkshqke

@wanniiieeee

@gibbs274

@sassyada

@aprildecker-blog

@bookishfanfic

@stars-in-the-skies-world

@stars-trash-18

@omgsuperstarg

@objection-argumentative

@thatesqcrush

@shittanyy

@mrsrafaelbarba

—————

You twirled your hair nervously, pacing back and forth in your living room. Rafael Barba, the man you were seeing, was on his way over, it was just a normal day. Except that it wasn’t. Today was the day you were going to introduce him to your kids. Something he wasn’t even aware you had.

You had your reservations about dating guys without kids, as it never really worked out. Men without kids didn’t tend to understand the problems that came along with it, like having to cancel plans at a moment’s notice if one of your kids got sick or something. But Rafael seemed like a really good man, and though he didn’t seem like the “I love kids” type, you had gotten to know him enough to know he came from a good family, and that he might be open to at least meeting yours. You hoped you were right.

Soon your doorbell was ringing, your toddler Kylie came bounding towards the door.

“I’ll get it!!!!” She squealed.

“Uh– No no, Kylie!” You intercepted her on her way to the door, snatching her up in your arms.

“Maggie!” You tried to call her softly, not wanting Rafael to hear you. Your eleven year old came strolling out of the living room while on her phone.

“What?” She barely looked up at you.

“Can you take her? Please?” You asked her sweetly, causing her to move her phone down from her face.

“Why? Who’s at the door?” She raised a skeptical eyebrow at you.

“Just…a friend,” You looked towards the front door nervously. Maggie noticed your hesitance, it finally made her forget about whatever she was doing on her phone.

“Who is it, mom?” She pressed.

“I’ll explain everything, okay?” You gave her a pleading look. “Just take her in the living room and I’ll be there in a minute,”

“…It’s a guy, isn’t it?” She crossed her arms in a sassy manner.

“Maggie!” You pleaded.

“Ok fine…” She rolled her eyes and took Kylie from your arms. “Come on Ky, let’s go find a snack,”

“Thank you,” You kissed her head and ruffled Kylie’s hair as they walked towards the kitchen. You fixed your hair once more and swung the door open, revealing Rafael standing there holding flowers for you.

“Hey baby,” He kissed you softly while handing you the flowers. “I can’t believe I’ve never been to your house, it’s gorgeous,”

“Probably because we’re in New Jersey,” You teased him. You knew how much he hated Jersey, so the fact that he came all the way out here on his day off, really meant something.

“Probably,” He nodded with a teasing smile.

“So…there’s also another reason, I’ve never asked you here,” You ran your fingers through your hair as he entered your foyer.

“Oh?” He asked, curiously.

“I um, so– remember when I told you about my ex husband…?” Your voice trailed off.

“Yeah, that he was a real douche,” Rafael rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, but there’s a good thing about him,” Your eyes glanced over to where the girls had run off to.

“…Oh?” Rafael had a hint of worry in his voice.

“He’s a…” You looked down. “He’s a good dad,”

“….A good dad?” You heard Rafael’s voice shift an octave higher.

“Yes…” You forced yourself to look up at him. “In fact, he’s been keeping the girls all summer,”

“The girls?” He blinked, trying to wrap his head around it. “As in, multiple?”

“…Yes,” You bit your lip. “….You can run screaming now, it’s okay,”

“Ay, carino…” He put both hands on either of your face. “…Where are they?”

“Really?” You bit your lip with a relieved smile.

“Of course!” He kissed you and wiped a few tears that started dropping down your face as he spoke.

“…Okay, come with me,” You took his hand and let him into the kitchen. Maggie was handing Kylie a pudding cup and a juice box when you walked hand in hand with Rafael. Maggie gave him a side eye, while Kylie instantly bounded over with her snacks and a huge smile.

“Hi!!!!” She beamed at Rafael, sticking out her left hand which of course made the snacks fall out of her hand onto the floor. Maggie groaned in frustration as she ran over and picked up the snacks, now eyeing Rafael up and down.

“…Who’s this, mom?” She asked you, not taking an eye off Rafael. He didn’t seem phased at all, he just stuck out his hand to Kylie, since she addressed him first.

“Hi, I’m Rafael. And what’s your name?” He smiled warmly at her, making her eyes sparkle.

“I’m Kylie!” She shook Rafael’s hand furiously with a huge grin. Maggie snatched her up quickly, breaking their handshake.

“I’m Maggie,” She said curtly.

“Maggie,” You said through gritted teeth. “Be nice,”

“Oh it’s fine, carino,” He chuckled, smiling at Maggie. “I was protective of my mami when she’d bring strange men home too,”

“So you’re saying you’re a strange man?” Maggie smirked.

“Maggie!” You hissed.

“I guess you’ll have to figure that out yourself, chica,” He smirked back.

“…Guess we shall, amigo,” She narrowed her eyes, but quickly smiled. She liked this guy.

“Wow…I’m impressed,” you whispered to Rafael as the girls got more snacks for you and him.

“Thank you, mi amor,” He smiled before kissing you on the cheek. “And thank you, for trusting me enough with your kids,”

“Anytime,” You smiled warmly as you pulled him into a real kiss.

“Gross!!!!!” Kylie made a gagging sound before collapsing into giggles. This had gone better than you could have imagined.

-----------

After you and the kids all had snacks, you set up a movie for them to watch while you and Rafael went to your kitchen table to have coffee and talk more about the situation.

“So...I guess this is a stupid question, but why haven’t mentioned you had kids before this, carino?” Rafael ask while he sipped his coffee.

“Well..” You nervously stirred your coffee with your spoon. “I guess I was selfish,”

“Explain,” He pressed.

“Well I don’t typically start a first date with ‘hey by the way I have kids, so you might wanna run now’,” Your explanation caused him to chuckle in amusement.

“Yes I can see that,”

“And honestly by the second or third date, I don’t even like the guy anymore so it’s just pointless,” Your voice lowered even more as you started to allude to your feelings for him.

“...I see,” His chuckle turned into an amused smile. “And with me…?”

“With you...I wanted to introduce you,” You looked up to meet his eyes, hoping that would be enough explanation. His growing smile made it obvious it was.

“Well, I’m glad you did,” He put a hand over yours. “So I guess you want to keep me around, huh?”

“For now,” You teased him with a small giggle. He leaned over to give you a kiss, but your phone began going off. You looked down to see the screen:

BILLY CALLING

“Oooh, one sec baby,” You grabbed the phone. “It’s my ex,”

Rafael nodded in understanding as you turned from him to have the conversation.

"Hey Billy, what’s up?” The mention of their father’s name caught Maggie’s attention.

“Is that daddy?!” She called across the room. “Tell him WICKED was so fun!!!!”

“Wicked?” You repeated into the phone with a sharp tone. “Billy...did you take them into the City?”

“Daddy lives in the City now,” Kylie added to the conversation.

“He WHAT?!” You stood up and moved away from Rafael as your voice raised. “Billy, when were you going to tell me you moved to New York City?”

“No, I think it is a pretty big fucking deal,” You growled into the phone.

“Swear jar!!” Kylie giggled.

“You know how I feel about the City,” You ignored her as you lectured your ex.

“...And how is that?” Rafael raised an eyebrow.

“Shut up, you know I love it,” You rolled your eyes at him. “I just don’t want my children--” You were cut off by Billy’s questioning.

“What? It’s nobody, Billy,” You saw the hurt in Rafael’s eyes when you called him a “nobody”. You walked back over and squeezed his hand.

“I don’t want to get into ‘the talk’ with my ex on the phone, baby,” You explained softly.

“Well I was pretty sure you introducing me to the kiddos was ‘the talk’, but clearly I was wrong,” He shook his head and stood up to go, but you squeezed his hand tighter preventing him from walking away.

“I’m sorry Billy, that was my boyfriend,” You gave Rafael a small smile, hoping for his approval. His grin back gave you all the approval you needed.

“...What?” Your brows furrowed. “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know I needed your permission to have a boyfriend, Billy,”

“No, he just met the girls today. In fact it wasn’t even like fifteen minutes ago--” Billy’s voice was rising, Rafael could hear obscenities through the phone.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business--” You bit your lip in nervousness.

You hated it when he got like this, he had quite the temper on him. It was one of the reasons you got divorced. That, and the fact that he was constantly absent from your lives for work. It was like raising the girls on your own anyway, so you figured you’d make it official.

Rafael noticed the fear in your voice, and he went into a protective mode. He grabbed the phone from you and spoke to Billy with an eerily calm voice.

“Listen Billy, I don’t know who you are, but I don’t appreciate you calling here and intimidating my girlfriend when we were having a perfectly nice day,”

“.....Barba?” A very familiar, terrifying voice came through the ear piece.

“E-Excuse me?” His voice wavered.

“Rafael Barba, is that you?” The voice half laughed; all of the color drained from Rafael’s face.

“...Lewis?” Rafael barely whispered, causing your eyebrows to furrow again.

“Loomis,” You told him, causing him to furrow his own eyebrows. “His last name is Loomis,” You clarified.

“You have some balls, detective,” His evil chuckle made Rafael’s blood run cold. “First you and the red headed bitch try and put me away, and now you’re fucking my wife?”

“She is NOT--” Rafael clenched his fists.

“You know what, as much as I enjoyed this trip down memory lane, I think I’d like to talk to my wife,” William quickly tried to avoid any more detection.

“Like hell you will--” Rafael started to growl, causing you to snap the phone out of his grasp.

“Um, Billy,” You gave Rafael an accusatory look as you spoke to your ex. “Can I call you back?”

“I don’t want that man near my kids,” Billy stated angrily.

“What?” You blinked in surprise. “Why?”

“He’s a bad man, Y/N,” William lied.

“W-What are you talking about?” You looked at Rafael cautiously.

“What is he saying?” Rafael questioned angrily. “Whatever he says, he’s lying,”

“No I’m not, he’s the one who’s lying to you sweetheart,” William quickly shut Rafael down as he heard his accusations through the phone.

“I-I have to go,” Your voice quivered as you hung up on Billy.

Your mind was racing. Who could you trust?

-----------

After you hung up, you just sat there for a second trying to process what had just happened. You didn’t have much time, as Rafael started throwing a million questions at you almost immediately.

“You were married to William Lewis?” He hissed. “Do you have any idea what that man did to me? My squad? My best friend?!”

You suddenly snapped to attention as the familiar feeling of being interrogated kicked in. “Dining room, NOW,” You grabbed his arm and pulled him into the other room, away from your children’s ear shot.

“What the FUCK are you talking about, Rafael?” You now raised your voice a bit. “I don’t know who the hell you’re talking about, but I married Billy Loomis, not this-- William Lewis,”

“Oh please,” Rafael scoffed with a dry laugh. “That’s barely an alias!”

“I’m sorry, are you insinuating I’m a moron?” You crossed your arms. “You think I’m that stupid not to know my husband is a...whatever you think he is?”

“He’s a MONSTER, Y/N!”

“What are you talking about?!” You tried keeping your voice below a roar, but this was getting to be a lot. “You just heard his voice, you don’t even know if it’s the same--”

“He knew my name,” Rafael simply said. “He knew who I was, and he taunted me about it,”

“He taunted you?” You laughed sarcastically. “How did he ‘taunt you’?”

“He’s rubbing in the fact that he escaped NYPD, and now he’s upset I’m fucking--” He paused at the offended look on your face. “...Dating, his ex wife,”

“Wow,” You exhaled exasperatedly. “Wow,”

“Look I’m sorry to be crass, but those are the words he used,” He put a hand to your face, but you stepped back. “Except he used wife,” He added.

“What are you talking about?”

“He still thinks you're his,” Rafael explained. “He thinks of women as things, as property. And he clearly thinks he still ‘owns’ you,”

“Look I-- I don’t know who you think Billy is,” You shook your head as you walked towards a cabinet full of family photos on display. You picked one up and handed it to Rafael: A family photo at the beach.

Billy’s arms were around you, his gorgeous smile at it’s full power. That smile was heart melting, you fell in love with it as soon as he had flashed it your way in a coffee shop. Maggie’s arms were around his neck, and Kylie was in your lap with her hands raised in glee. It was a few years ago, Kylie was a baby and Maggie was nine.

“But this man isn’t a monster,” You finished your thought. “He’s a kind, generous man. He’s a wonderful father, even if he wasn’t that great of a husband--”

Rafael’s eyes were wide and horrified as he saw Lewis’s arms around you, that sick evil grin looking at him as if he was taunting him through the frame. He snapped his head up when you mentioned him not being a great husband.

“Why do you say that?” He cut you off. “Did he hurt you?”

“What?” You laughed, as if thinking that Billy could ever be violent was the funniest thing in the world. “No, he never hurt me Rafael. That’s why I don’t understand--”

“Look, I don’t want to scare you Y/N,” Rafael put the photo down and put his hands on your shoulders. “But this…’Billy’, he isn’t who you think he is,”

“And who is he?” You gave him a curious look.

“He’s a…” He looked into the other room, making sure the girls weren’t listening. “He’s a serial killer and a rapist,”

“What?!” You yelled rather loudly, stepping out of his grip. “Alright, that’s it--” You started leading him to the door.

“W-What are you doing?” Rafael began to panic as you showed him out. “Y/N please, you have to listen to me--”

“No, I’m not going to sit here and listen to you say such vile things about the father of my children,” You narrowed your eyes.

“Why would I make this up?!” He cried, trying to stop you from shutting the door on his face.

“I-I don’t know,” You looked down, thinking about it. Why would he make up such terrible things about Billy? Then you thought about what Billy had said: Rafael was the bad man.

“Maybe because YOU’RE the monster,” You suddenly glared.

“W-What?” Rafael’s voice fell to a whisper, hurt tears came to his eyes.

“Billy said you were a bad man, maybe you’re trying to flip all of this on him. Maybe Billy was trying to warn me, and you’re trying to get to me first,” The more you said it out loud, the more it made sense to you.

“NO!!!!” He almost screamed, tears now dripping down his cheek. He tried desperately getting back into the house, causing you to put more pressure on the door to keep him out. You had never seen him this...unhinged, before.

“No, Y/N please,” He pleaded with you. “You have to listen to me. Please, for the love of God baby you HAVE to listen to me--”

“No, I don’t have to do anything Rafael,” Tears stung your own eyes.

“I-- I thought we had something,” Your heart was breaking as you spoke.

You had thought you were really falling for this man. This kind, sweet, amazing man. And now it was all unravelling, his true colors were coming out. You almost let this psychopath into your children’s lives.

“We did-- we DO!” He was shaking; he was so upset. “Why do you think I’m being so adamant about this? I-- I love you!”

“Shut up!” You barked at him. How dare he say that to you for the first time, at this of all times?

“You-- You need to leave, Rafael,” You pointed to the driveway. “And don’t come back. Don’t call me, don’t text me,” Your voice was stern but filled with tears.

“No,” Rafael barely whispered, his eyes filled to the brim with fresh tears. “Don’t do this, Y/N. Please don’t do this--”

“NOW,”

“Look-- I’ll go,” He put his hands up in defeat and started to walk backwards off your porch. “But for the love of God-- PLEASE, just--- Just google the name ‘William Lewis’,”

“...Why?”

“You’ll see I’m telling the truth, I swear you will,” He looked at you with serious eyes. He was really convinced of what he was saying to you. Your heart started winning over your head, but just for a moment. You had to think about your children’s safety, you couldn’t listen to the ramblings of a crazy man.

“I don’t need to do that Rafael, you’re clearly the psycho,” You snapped before slamming the door in his face. As soon as it was closed, you sank to the floor and pulled your knees to your chest as you silently sobbed, trying to not alert the girls about the chaos that had just erupted.

Why did this have to happen?

[poppinisperfection]

Cool. || Peter Maximoff x Reader pt. 1 ||

Peter Maximoff x fem!human!Reader

(Y/n) is history teacher.

Requested.

Word Count: 3543

Notes: Peter acts a little strange in this, he's not being cold on purpose - so keep that in mind. Let's all presume (Y/n) is an independent woman who doesn't let an aloof guy ruin her day 💫 it's more of an introduction, so sorry if that dissapoints y'all. I hope you enjoy this extremely long piece of writing, let me know what you think. Requests are open 🙌

Taglist: @amourtentiaa @scorpionchild81

Masterlist

I flicked the indicator, as it clicked rhythmically and signaled my next turn. Grasping the steering wheel tightly, I wondered whether the direction I was heading in was the right one. My eyes drifted down to the small business card that was beginning to wrinkle from the amount of times it had been read and re-read.

‘Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

407 Graymalkin Lane, Salem Center, Westchester County, New York’

With a deep breath, I pushed my foot gently on the accelerator and turned the wheel - solidifying my decision. I drove down the graveled driveway as the evening sun pierced through the acres of fields and forests that dotted the landscape. This place was unlike any school I had ever seen. I had taught at various institutions of all kinds during my training, but something about this place was like something out of a fairytale or Jane Austen novel.

The old academic building grew closer as I prepared to slow down my vehicle and stop at the entrance. I peered around, trying to see if there was any places dedicated for me to park; but as far as I could tell, this was the only appropriate place for me to stop. 

I pulled out my key and felt the car’s engine fade to silence. I didn’t notice how comforting the gentle grumbles of the vehicle had been until they were gone. Now, all that was left was my mind and the thousand worries that crashed around inside it. I'm not a mutant, but I often wonder if being anxious about everything is some sort of weird useless mutation that I unfortunately had. 

Before I could become consumed by my menial fears, the vintage wooden doors opened up as if on cue. A man in a chair wheeled out as his familiar face smiled at me, and I was honestly quite awe-struck by his sudden appearance. I had spoken to Professor Charles Xavier on the phone before (for the job interview), and I had watched him on television a few times, but something about actually being near him was so incredible. This man changed the lives of so many people, possibly even the world.

I took a deep breath in and returned the kind smile, opening my car door and placing my feet onto the ground - the gravel crunching underfoot.

"Professor Xavier, it's so good to meet you." I spoke nervously, unsure of what I should do with my posture. Should I shake his hand? Should I high-five him? Should I bow? Okay maybe those last two were a bit far-fetched...

"The pleasure is all mine, (Y/n)." A voice rang through my head, as if it were my own thoughts speaking to me. But I recognized the voice, a smooth English accent that belonged to the world's most famous telepath.

"Incredible..." I breathed. Some might find it intrusive or freaky, but I was quite honored and honestly dazzled by his abilities. A figure appeared behind the wheelchair-bound man, distracting me from my child-like awe.

"Don't be a such a show-off, Charles." my attention turned to a tall man wearing a pair of glasses and a smart checkered shirt. "Good Evening, I'm Hank McCoy." he piped up cheerily, holding out his hand for me to shake. I absentmindedly took it, a bit starstruck by the world-renowned engineer, scientist, blue-furry man, and genius.

"(Y/n) (L/n)." I eventually spoke up, causing Hank to raise an eyebrow at my words.

“’(L/n)’? You're the new history teacher?" I nodded at his question, "Oh wow, you came so highly recommend that I presumed you'd be a bit more... experienced?" he chose his words carefully as to not offend. I know that most people picture an old greying woman who wears outdated fashion when they think of a history teacher...

"Oh, I'm young, I know." I explained with a bashful chuckle. 

��Hank, you of all people should know greatness is not defined by age.” Charles turned to his colleague. 

“I read that you graduated Harvard at 16.” I blurted out. 

“15, actually.” McCoy mumbled humbly. Xavier gave a satisfied smile as his point was proven. 

“(Y/n) here was top of her class, and I have no doubt that she’ll be a wonderful addition to the school.” the wise mutant stated, assuring Hank and giving me a boost of confidence. “Come inside, Hank can carry your bags for you, won’t you?” the professor inquired cheekily as McCoy threw him a look of slight distain. 

“Somedays I wish I wasn’t born with super-strength...” the academic man shook his head - the comment laced with light-hearted sarcasm - before heading to my car and pulling out my two bags, not even giving me a chance to politely object to the offer. 

“Ignore him, he’s just grumpy because he’s not on the mission.” Professor Xavier chuckled, turning his wheelchair around and beckoning for me to follow him inside. 

“I only trust myself to pilot that beauty.” Hank mentioned wistfully, probably referring to his famous aeronautical creation.

“’The mission’?” I questioned with intrigue, trailing behind him and entering the grand entrance.

“The X-Men are on a routine escort mission for the President at the moment,” my attention turned away from the antique décor as I choked on my breath slightly at his words. Of course I had heard of the famous troop of mutant heroes, but it just suddenly became so real. I was living where the X-Men lived. You know, the same X-Men that saved the world from complete destruction. “I was hoping they’d be here to show you around - but duty calls.” Charles finished. 

“Oh of... of course, duty...” I managed to mutter out eventually, earning a slight laugh from the Professor. He didn’t need to be a telepath to read my mind right now. I was so obviously astonished at the whole situation. I couldn’t believe that I was finally here, after months of thinking, considering, and second-guessing. I knew it was a risk, and I couldn’t even return to my parents if it failed.

Let’s just say that my folks weren’t very supportive of my decision to teach at a 'mutant mansion', as they would call it. Maybe it was stubbornness, maybe it was bravery; but I ignored their advice and became determined to come to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngers. Now it was my only chance, since my family won't be welcoming me back anytime soon.

I followed Charles around, as he showed me all the rooms and explained some of the history as Hank make the odd comment or interjection. Most notably that the house was actually only a few years old, owing to the fact that the school had been blown up and rebuild a year ago. That was a fact that I could’ve gone without knowing. All I could do was hope that it didn’t blow up again, or at least not when I was around anyway. 

"Your classroom will be right next to the library," Xavier motioned towards a pair of wooden doors that lay open for students to walk freely into, "and feel free to check out any of the books as well - I have a few secret shelves for teachers, with some unregulated research papers on pre-20th century mutations, if that sounds interesting to you?" he added with a playful smile, as I nodded my head in admiration. This place sounded like an absolute dream, and I've only been here for less than an hour.

-------

As we strolled (and wheeled) down the wooden hallways, I noticed the students disappear one by one. By the looks of it, the early night had truly set in, and the majority of children were either in their rooms studying or hanging out in a common area.

"I suppose there's nothing more we can show you until the class starts tomorrow morning, I was really hoping that the team would be back by now..." Xavier gave a short sigh and furrowed his brows slightly, "But I suppose I've prolonged your tour as long as I could. Perhaps Hank, you could show (Y/n) to her room and she can rest in preparation for tomorrow." his smile returned as he asked his colleague for another favor. McCoy nodded his head and gave me a polite smile, still carrying around my bags from earlier. Maybe he didn't anticipate the Professor giving such an expansive and detailed tour of the mansion, so the bags must've been getting burdensome at this stage.

The spectacle-wearing teacher walked ahead of me and strolled towards the grand staircase that lead to the upstairs area (which we had previously travelled to earlier, but it's mainly bedrooms that we couldn't intrude into). I trailed my fingers along the carved bannister of the staircase, admiring the craftsmanship. Considering the school had been blown apart; this place looked as though it was straight out of a historical drama. The Professor could've went for a more modern update, like the ones you see in magazines and government buildings - but something about the simplicity of 1980s architecture just seemed cold and clinical. I'm glad they kept the historical charm alive.

"So you're really not, well, you know..." Hank broke me out of my daydreaming as he turned his head slightly and paused at the top of the steps. It took me a second to register what he was asking, but then it hit me.

"A mutant? Oh," I gave a meek smile before answering, "No I'm just a regular 'homosapien', completely boring." my sentence ended with a light chuckle at my own expense.

"Then you'll be the first non-mutant teacher here, you're making history." McCoy replied with zest as he began to walk down the hallway again.

"I thought I was supposed to teach history, not make it." I chirped from behind him, earning a snort and chuckle from the nerdy fellow (I know, I know - I'm a superb comedian).

As we passed by the student rooms, I could hear the various sounds emerging from behind their doors. One was gossiping loudly to their friends, another was blasting ABBA and singing along, and I could've swore that I heard some quiet sobs escaping through the keyhole of one door. My face fell into a frown as we passed by, and Hank paused slightly, before turning to me.

"That's Sophie Smith's room, she's homesick a lot." he whispered to me, his features showing concern. "You might have her for a class, so maybe keep an eye out if she's struggling." Hank suggested, as my heart went out for this student. I gave him a nod before we continued on our neverending journey towards my room.

Eventually, we stopped at the end of a corridor and my guide dropped my bags carefully on the wooden flooring. He twisted the door knob with one hand, and I watched as the door opened and revealed my bedroom.

"’Home sweet home’, as the saying goes." Hank uttered with a light tone. I stepped into the room and took my bags from the floor, carrying them in with me.

"It's so..." I breathed, observing the room.

"I know, we were supposed to get the curtains changed last month, but there was a mix-up and it's been dela-" he tried to explain, but I cut him off.

"Oh no! I was going to say, 'It's so perfect'." I clarified, brushing off his embarrassment at the state of the curtains (which were beautiful anyway). I stepped forward and placed my bags at the end of the bed while gazing at the beautiful room. This place was growing on me more and more with each minute that passed. 

“I’ll let you get settled in for the night then, there’s a copy of your timetable on your desk - it has all the information you’ll need for classes and etcetera.” Hank gestured to the neat pile of paper sheets on the wooden desk, “There’s always food in the kitchen, feel free to eat whenever and whatever you want.” he added, as my attention turned to my empty stomach. I will definitely be visiting the kitchen after I get settled in. 

“Thank you, for everything.” I beamed, unable to truly express my gratitude. He returned the smile and nodded, before shutting the door and returning to his business. As soon as his footsteps disappeared, I fell flat on the quilted bedsheets and sprawled out, giving out a pent up sigh. It was the kind of sigh that released anxiety and replaced it with assurance. From the looks of it, things were going to be alright - and there was nothing more satisfying that knowing you made the right decision. 

My brief escape into my feelings was cut short, as my stomach audibly warned me that it was running low on fuel. I turned my head and looked over to the beside alarm clock, reading the time; ‘8:24p.m.’

“Hmm,” I mused as I considered my options, “I should probably read you first...” my eyes drifted to the timetable that sat untouched on the desk. My belly did not agree with this decision, as it grumbled once more. “Okay, alright... yeesh.” I placed a hand against my abdomen, trying to settle the noise. “Food first, read later.” I threw my legs over the side of the bed and resolved to make my way towards the school’s kitchen. 

-------

Finding the kitchen was no problem, as the Professor showed it to me at least three times earlier. I guess he really was trying to stretch that tour out as much as possible. A few of the older students who were hanging around glanced at me as I entered the room. I couldn’t tell if they knew I was a teacher, or if they just thought I was a new student; either way, they didn’t stick around to find out. The group of teenagers grabbed their snacks and left the room once their privacy was interrupted. Honestly, I just think they were gossiping about some pop music band and didn’t want a stranger listening - so I didn’t mind their swift exit. It left me with some privacy as well, which was nice. 

I noticed a small radio sitting in the window sill, and decided to switch it on to break the silence. A static noise rang out as I extended the antenna and turned the knob carefully. Soon a voice grew clearer, and I had reached a station playing something. I just let the song play out, since I didn’t want to bother with searching the airwaves for something else. 

I stepped over to the pantry and surveyed the contents carefully. I was starving, but I couldn’t figure out what for. I picked up a loaf of bread and placed it on the counter, deciding it would have to be a PB & Jelly sandwich. Grabbing a plate, I began to craft my makeshift dinner. Absentmindedly, my head began to sway gently to the tune that played through the tinny radio speaker. It was one of those cheesy love songs that are always playing these days. There was something so catchy about those songs, and instinctively I began to mouth the words and drift into an MTV daydream. 

My brief escape from reality faded away as I noticed a clinking noise coming from the glass and cutlery. It was almost like an earthquake, but I knew that New York was unlikely to experience that kind of disaster (well I hoped so, at least).

A bright light shone outside the window, and I stepped closer to peer out. The basketball court had opened up and revealed a massive basement beneath it. A few seconds later, a black jet descended gracefully from the dark sky and lowered itself underground while the whole mansion trembled with the power it created. I swiftly grabbed the jam jar as it almost slipped off the edge of the counter, and stared in awe. 

“So that’s where they keep it...” I breathed out as the basketball court returned to its normal state, as if nothing had happened. I stood in wonder for a few seconds, still holding the jar tightly in my hands. That was probably the most of the X-Men I’d be seeing tonight. I’m no expert on presidential mission debriefing, but I presumed the team of elite heroes wouldn’t be mingling with the common folk upstairs for at least an hou-

“Ugh, this song’s a real bummer.” 

I nearly jumped out of my skin as a voice suddenly quipped from beside me. My attention hastily turned to a combat uniformed young man - quickly flicking through the radio stations. I stared at him, half confused and half terrified of his sudden appearance. Slowly I began to recognize his features; silvery hair, aloof attitude, and of course, the recognisable X-Men uniform. 

“Hey - you’re that guy...” I tilted my head slightly as I spoke without thinking. In a split second, he appeared at the fridge wearing an entirely new outfit, this time more casual. The music had changed to something more rock-y and alternative, matching his aesthetic. I was almost certain of it. I couldn’t remember his name, but I’ve definitely seen him with the X-Men on the news. I was almost certain of it.

“Nah, you’re thinking of a different guy.” he responded without second thought, while lifting out a can of some kind of soda. I felt my mouth contort in confusion, bemused by his comment. 

“I...” my thoughts paused to phrase my words correctly, “You were just wearing an X-Men uniform, you’ve got to be him.” I managed to retort, causing the confident fellow to raise an eyebrow. With the blink of an eye, he had disappeared from my sight again. 

“So, you don’t even know his name - and you’re convinced he’s me?” the silver-haired guy stated nonchalantly from behind me as he sipped on his drink. I gasped and grabbed my chest in surprise, not expecting him to sneak up behind me like that. I gave a sigh and prepared to answer the question. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” I closed my eyes and wracked my brain for a moment, “Peter, right?” I sighed, finally recalling the speedy mutant’s name. I looked up at him and expected some sort of witty remark. Instead, he just stared at me for a few seconds. I avoided his gaze awkwardly and looked down at the jam jar that still sat in my hands. Clearing my throat, I placed it carefully onto the counter beside me - trying to distract from his sudden silence. 

“Oh.” I mumbled at the change of topic, “I am. Only arrived here a few hours ago. The Professor showed me around earlier, with Hank, I saw all the classrooms and it was really quite-” I harped on, “I'm sorry, I'm rambling..." my voice lowered, as I watched the casual fellow open up a bag of pretzels and munch on them absentmindedly. He gave a soft chuckle at my apology.

“So, you’re new here?” for the third time, he appeared in a different location, leaving me to turn around one more time. He faced away from me, opening a drawer and surveying its content silently. 

"Cool." he replied simply, placing a few more pretzels into his mouth.

"Cool." I repeated gently, trying to decipher his aloofness. This 'Peter' was blunt, distant, and almost cold. It was as if I had offended him somehow. I stared at my surroundings for a brief moment, before deciding to get off of the wrong foot.

"I'm sorry if I was rude earlier; or was it that I couldn't remember your name?" I tried to find the reason for his indifference, wringing my hands with nerves. Peter raised an eyebrow and scowled slightly at my question.

"Rude?" he asked with a shocked tone.

"Yeah, I thought I offended you?" I explained.

"Nah, nah, we're good." he shrugged my theory off and zoomed over to the bin, throwing the crumpled wrapper in it. "I gotta go now, X-Men stuff." Peter turned to me and excused himself. I gave a soft 'oh' in surprise, and held out my hand for him to shake (just a teacher habit, I guess).

"Nice to meet you anyway, Peter." I smiled at him. The silvery guy just stared at my hand and then looked back up to me - but for some reason, avoided my eyes.

"Cool." he said again, before disappearing from sight; leaving me standing there, alone, holding my hand out for no one. Slowly I lowered my wrist and cleared my throat.

"Cool..." I said to myself, still entirely confused by the interaction. My attention quickly turned to the change in music. The radio suddenly shifted from the grungy tunes, back to the end of love ballad that I was listening to earlier. He must've changed it back. I tilted my head and stared at the little radio in the window, listening and thinking.

Maybe he wasn't as cold as I thought. Maybe I'll try and get a better conversation from that silver-haired boy tomorrow. Maybe I'll get that handshake from him. Maybe.

Still, the only thing that matters right now is that I eat that PB&J sandwich.

-------

[kittyspring-creates]

anyone who knows me knows I’m obsessed with werewolves. And a female werewolf makes me blush. So heres the rough draft of the first chapter, introduction to the town before the actual story begins 

Oregan is made up of small towns, surrounded by forest life. Social communities that take pride in knowing one another. Crime spreads through the state regardless of the friendly atmosphere. Petty crimes, sometimes domestic crimes. But nothing as horrific as what's been happening in one of the bigger cities. Almost it's own big time concrete jungle. It was almost fitting a killer would manifest in such an area.

When the first body was found just outside the town, a fear ran through the police on the scene. Laying in a bloody pile in the grass was a married man. His face red and stained with what use to pump through his veins. His clothes scattered around the area, showing off the animalistic scratches. The flesh torn and the torso ripped open. The only thing missing was a heart, cleanly removed. The report came back as an animal attack and the body cleaned then returned to the family. No investigation was made. Not even when a second body was found a few weeks later.

The second victim a married man. Claw marks littered his body and left a sizable hole on his chest. The officers around the area ruled it as another animal attack. Requesting safety measures to be taken and a man hunt to start for the beast. A restriction of civilians in the forest was put in effect and a team of officers and hunters were put together. Eventually turning up nothing. Eventually the hunts were called off. With no more accidents the voluntaries returned to their every day lives. The restrictions were still in place as a precaution. But the county felt the danger had passed with only two tragedies in it's wake. That was until a very unwelcomed man rolled into town.

The sheriff of the town was given a heads up that the dc office was sending people over. That an agent from their sector was interested in the events. The man was disgruntled about the news. Knowing that an up roar would manifest once the DC official stepped into the police station.

John Doggett, dropped the phone on the receiver. Letting out a low grunt as he looked at the black object. A headache starting to form before the trouble even entered his quiet town. He ran a hand down his face, pressing his thumb into his cheek and dragging it over to his mouth. He let the limb fall to the arm of his chair. A gentle tapping came from his door. A tone he was familiar with. "Come in Monica" he spoke out. His voice rough with tired annoyance at what was to come. The door opened a sliver and a tall woman stepped into the small office. She gave a nervous smile to the man sitting behind his desk. "I have that field report from the jerkins" she began. Closing the door behind her, she held out a piece of paper. Looking it over to reference the information. "Nothing but fauna they said. Then Marcus shot one and Dave wrote out a report. Then... officer Scully fined him for hunting out of season." She summarized then placed the paper on the mans neat surface. He took in a long breath then reached for it.

The woman raised a brow as she looked him over. Taking in his expression. "You look troubled John" she pointed out. He let go of the paper and turned to her. "I am. I just got off the phone with Violent Crimes. They're sending a few agents over to investigate the deaths" he confessed to the officer. Leaning back in his chair a little as he looked up at her. She tilted her head slightly, her dark locks swaying with the movements. "But those were animal attacks" she reasoned to no one. "That's what I thought. But some big shot from DC thinks otherwise. He's gonna start a panic" he raised his voice slightly and the woman smiled. "Are you sure that's the issue and not a bit of guilt for chopping the deaths up to accidents" she frowned her brows in worry at her own words. The man glared passed her. "I'll be damned if there's a murderer running around under my nose. Or being incompetent" he mumbled the last part. Confessing a little unwillingly his real trouble.

Monica let out an appreciative noise. "John no one could ever think that. Everyone here thought it was an animal attack. Even I think it has to be a mountain lion. Besides what evidence does this agent have about the case. Their probably bored and looking for anything to get out of the city" she reasoned for him but he was unconvinced by her words. "He's gonna bring up the lack of autopsies. I should of had Scully look the bodies over" he spoke his thoughts. "And what create panic for no reason. Take a breath John, why don't you come out with me and the girls tonight" she offered, earning a smile from the serious man. "I don't think I fit in" he answered. He Stood up from the chair and walked around the objects in the room. Monica fallowed his movement and headed for the door. "Regardless If I caught it or not there will be an uproar. The agent will be here later tonight or in the morning" he warned, reaching for the door handle for her. He opened the door and she nodded. "I'll drink lightly tonight, compile everything I can on the incidents tomorrow" she promised, stepping out of the office. The door was closed after her in a silent goodbye.

With the news of the coming trouble, Monica found it hard to keep her mind on the night. Despite being a tight community they did have a red light district. A literal street full of clubs and pubs. A gay bar at the end and a 90's themed go go dance across the street. A place she usually loved. Unwinding on a Saturday night with her coworker and her friends. But the only thing on her mind was the case. She rubbed her thumb over her gin atonic, catching the condensation on the glass. Staring off at the wall, lost in thought. Till she was called. A soft voice spoke her name and she looked over at the seat next to her. A woman with piercing blue eyes stared at her. "Monica, what's wrong you're a thousand miles away" she asked, concern rather then drunken joy in her voice.

The raven haired woman forced a smile, thinning her lips by accident. "I- it's john" she began. Getting cut off by a a few 'oooo's. One more prominent then the rest. "OOoo man troubles" a woman with a thick British accent called out form her other side. The skinny gal sat down with two other woman. Her open backed, golden dress hanging off her body like she purposely bought a size to big. She set down two margarita glasses. Sliding one over to the strawberry blond beside Monica. "Uck, men are nothing but trouble. Like this guy keeps coming into the library and won't leave me alone. Even when I'm in the restricted section updating our ever evolving computers. There he is waiting for me" a blond woman pouted. Sighing out her frustration as she looked at the low spirited woman.

"Sounds like you need an officer Leyla" the British woman gestured to the other two sitting by her. Only the one drinking a margarita smiled. "Or a restraining order, that's a stalker Leyla" she added after taking a sip. She turned her attention back to Monica. "What's wrong" she asked again. "It's these deaths, the two men. Someone thinks their um not right" she tried to phrase. Not wanting to give information away to the three woman not police officers. "What, aren't they animal attacks. Of course their not right, the thing hasn't been caught ha" the British woman scuffed. "Right Dana" she gestured to the strawberry blond. The woman looked annoyed at being called out. "I don't know, I haven't seen a single body. I couldn't tell you anything about the cause of death" she informed. "Look whatever is bothering Doggett he's a big boy he can handle it himself" the silent woman spoke up from the end of the small table. She stood up and grabbed the blonds arm beside her. Pulling her out of the seat and on her feet. "Enough work lets get drunk and regret it in the morning" she laughed, causing Leyla to giggle.

"I'll drink to that" the British woman gobbled down what she could of her drink then stood up with the others. The three rushed away from the table harboring their reality and dived onto the dance floor. Dana giggled at them. She tossed her hair back with a shake of her head. Her smile fell as she looked at her friend. Seeing her worry undimmed by the conversation. "Don't listen to Phoebe, we all know men are play things to her." She scuffed, moving to take a sip of her margarita. With the wild women gone from the table, Monica turned to her co worker. She placed her hand on the drink and lowered it. The action confused the smaller. Before she could ask Monica began to tell her. "Someone from violent crimes is coming in tomorrow, they believe these animal attacks are really murders. John doesn't want someone stirring up trouble" she quickly told. Dana looked her over, her buzzed state fading with the news.

"Really I think he's beating himself up, chopping everything up to an animal attack instead of investigating further" Monica continued with a sigh. She looked down at the drink she held, staring at the bottom as she thought things over. Dana placed her hand on the woman's wrist, rubbing her thumb over the exposed skin. No words were spoken in the moment. The two officers sitting in the news of what will come. Their drinks long forgotten in contemplation.

As the night raged on Monica became to tired to continue their girls night. She called a cab and the group waited with her. Seeing her off when the car pulled up. They continued to wave even when she wasn't in sight. Dana watched longer then the others. Feeling the fear of what was coming. "Ello earth to Dana" her friend called for her. She turned to look at the group, her smile long gone. The thin woman raised her brow and crossed her arms. "Are you alright" Leyla asked in her ever questioning voice. She reached out for the older woman to check on her. "I'm fine" she obviously lied. The brunette rolled her eyes as she scuffed. The action mirrored by the woman in gold. Dana took in a deep breath. "Come on what did Monica say to put you in the glooms" Phoebe demanded. But the woman didn't answer her question. "We need to rein in our activities" she said instead. "No more hunting deer. We stick to smaller prey like rabbits and we leave no carcasses" she warned. Her voice stronger then it had been. "What are you talking about" her friends questioned.

"But Dana the blood moon is in cycle, you know what that does to us" Leyla tried to explain. Looking scared as she glanced at the moon in the night sky. A pink shade almost visible to her trained eyes. "I know, this couldn't of come at a worse time. But an investigator is coming to town. I don't want any of us discovered" the small woman whispered to them. Stepping closer to the group. They nodded at her. Conforming they will obey. "Fine when will they be here" Phoebe did little to hide her anger at the new rules. "Tomorrow" they were informed. "Tomorrow not tonight" she asked with a sly smile. "Yes why" Dana mirrored the smile, already knowing what was coming. The British woman reached down and lifted her foot off the ground. Taking off her heels. As she did so the other woman fallowed.

"One last night of un tamed fun, we rush through the trees till we hit the valley" she pointed out to the woods they were not allowed to be in anymore. Dana removed her heels, looking down the road for on lookers. The group buzzed with anticipation for her answer. Her smile grew and she nodded at them, shaking her bouncy hair excitedly. Taking one last look around the road, the four raced to the trees. Disappearing into the forest. Their bare feet hitting the ground hard. Tearing up the dirt and grass with each sprint.

It was the last thing Dana remembered. The feeling of dirt between her toes, wind rushing passed her ears. The feeling of her heart beat quickening. Her friends letting out small howls and giggles. Then darkness. A slight chill and the absents of familiar scents. An indication she was alone. Until she heard a gathering of voices. Deep and frightened. She snapped open her eyes, seeing the forest ground where she laid. The grounds contents sticking to her form. Her black dress nowhere to be seen. The voices got louder words became more distinct to her. She sat up quickly, leaves falling from her soiled hair. Her body covered in dirt and drying blood. Her hands to her forearm coated in the mixture. She gasped at the sight, her attention caught by the cracking of branches on the floor. The men were getting closer to her. She scurried to her dirty feet.

Her legs running once she was up. If she was chased there was no way anyone could keep up. Her speed reaching higher then the average person. She listened out to the forest. Searching for her friends, but she could not find them in the nearly dead night. She made her way as close to her apartment as she could. Cautiously she exited the trees and scurried to the building. Keeping watch out for anyone. She snuck in the back. Poking her head in to see if anyone was inside. The hall way was empty. Quickly she made her way up the stairs of the building. Making her way to her floor and her door. The wood unlocked as she pushed it open then slammed it closed. Tossing herself against it she let out a deep breath. "Auh that was close" she told herself. Once the danger had passed, the threat of being seen. She looked down at herself. Taking in how dirty she was from the forest. She inspected her arms. Letting them drop as she huffed out. Annoyed by the night.

[lime-be4n]

;)

Shuffling could be heard in the background but it was almost as if he was adjusting himself, almost sporadic and ill-prepared, though he gave it plenty thought beforehand; thus, the camera was on, and he appears to just be frozen. He runs his hands through his hair and laughs a bit. “ God, what am I doing?” his gruff voice groused, nervous hands instinctively hovered over his keyboard as he stared blankly at the not yet recording camera. A twitch. Then another. Those very hands now sat comfortably in his lap as he bit his lip in an unfavorable mix of anticipation and gut-wrenching terror. Blue eyes were momentarily lost behind dark lashes as he took a deep breath in-- 4,3,2..-- then out. He could do this. He needed to do this. Not for everyone else, but for himself. To grow-- he had to stop himself and let out a breath of amusement at the personal pep talk. Ok, smiles on-- no smiling? Smiling. No smiling-- 

As if his own hands were tired of his indecisiveness, a click of the mouse and the appearance of a small red dot had Jon’s mind reeling. Act natural, okay, normal like any other human being.  No more clowning around. That earned him another chuckle. Well, maybe if he were to make eye contact with the camera it wouldn’t be as bad, or would it be worse? Just imagine the camera in its underwear... Wait, nevermind. Ok… here goes… and from the show-stopping buildup that one could only imagine being accompanied by drums and fanfare, led to the very first word(s) that Jon would say to his fans in person (sort of). The English language offered many things; a multitude of combinations that all boiled down to the introduction of the century. That anticipated and oh so magical word was...: “Uh”. Welp, that was it. He’s got nothing. That was the extent of his genius and severely unhelpful mind. 

“So, this is me.” almost instinctively his hand goes to his nape, eyes avowedly avoiding everything but the textured bamboo wood flooring that was installed months ago. “I... uh... I know the fact that I’m not actually a raccoon crime-fightin’  hero or a giant hockey-masked serial killer, uh, clown is pro’lly disappointin’, more-so for myself than for you guys” an awkward smile, a camera glance, then back to the bamboo. At that moment, Jon swore that the bamboo flooring could rival any attention-seeking object or person. Or at least, that’s what Jon told himself as his gaze avoided contact with the camera like it was the motherfuckin’ plague. He can’t keep doing this, he needs to assert himself. With a hefty sigh, he sat forward, arms resting on his legs but stabilizing his head and looked directly at the camera. 

A void, he’s staring at a void. Just like the people who’ve pushed him down, opposed him solely to spite him, gave him shit--  a void of an unwelcoming and bone-chilling cold derived from harsh diction that every YouTuber has, at some point during their channel, had to face...but was it ever this bad? Could anyone anywhere truly empathize with the emotional and mental strain that people-- no, monsters have caused him? Have submitted him to? Would it escalate upon the uploading of this video? Oh god… oh god oh f uck…  the chime of his new phone drew him from the stupor. Who would text him at this time? His family most definitely were asleep, and he (purposefully) lost contact with his friends, and God knows Luke would only call. He seized the device, Whomest’t’ve… Evan. 

God, this man, he’s going to give him a kiss if anything comes of this. Unknowingly, a smile etched onto his face, courage filled his lungs and he set the phone down realigning himself back into the same assertive position and gave the camera a straight face. Time for a change.

“ As y’all know, some things are goin’ to be changing around here.” breathe, “ and it’s not the audio quality.” the inside joke didn’t lighten the mood. His face portrayed a disappointed look, not that he could see. “I want y’all to take this seriously because this is going to be enforced.” He took another breath,” and don’t take anythin’ the wrong way, this isn’t directed toward anybody specific,” he closed his eyes, it was getting a little harder to breathe, but he has to make it through this. “I want everyone to get along, and I know that’s impossible but try? Okay?” A subtle smile, whether it was to encourage the audience or himself, he’ll never know. “ And second, please respec’ my friends! I know they make stupid comments but, they’re still my friends and I know they’re joking, so hearin’ someone else flip their shit is kinda off…” He gave off a self-conscious look, bashful in a way; But something (almost) light-hearted turned sinister, and instantaneously “ I understand that y’all’ve been curious ‘bout me, but that needs to come to an end now.” He didn’t yell, he made sure of it but he made sure that he was heard. To some, he was a disappointed parent, not mad but disappointed, to others he was the quiet kid who took everything but said something against one person. Overall? Bone-chillingly terrifying. 

“I want my life on-line and in real-life to be separate. Unless I say or mention somethin’, I don’t want y’all to be lookin’ into it. Whether or not you guys listen, it will continue to be that way. And I’ll make sure it’s enforced. I hope I’m making myself clear.” His arms, now crossed, were cold despite the long sleeves. He wanted to hold himself but resisted the urge. “I know that may sound like a lot but just like how I help y’all, I need y’all to help me by understanding and respecting my decision and I don’t want to ramble on ‘bout a past that’s behind me...,'' He was frustrated, to say the least, and confused on what to say. He doesn’t want to spill out on the whole world, yet it’s usually what it takes to change it. “Listen, I just, I don’t, I think, AGHhh!” Why has this drought of words stopped pouring out? He just needed to breathe and speak words… Now his mind can’t even think. He takes a deep breath, hold, blow, hold, in, hold, out. Okay, back into the groove. “I need y’all to understand that, I had a troublin’ life, In real life, and while it’s completely behin’ me. I don’t want to have that mixing to my online life, ‘cause it has nothing to do with it and while it shouldn’t have an effect on me, because it doesn’t, I don’t want anything changing. Better or worse. And I’m okay with that. I'm already happy with what I have and I don't want to change that.” He sits up straight, emphasizing his surprising height. “So please, don’t change my happiness. I’d appreciate it.” He smiled a crooked smile with smiling eyes, both closed. A wholesome finish that ended with the same outro, and newfound home screens and desktops for the fans.

[queenmylovely]

The Law of Attraction i

Summary: John deacon x fem!reader. Your first week of classes with Professor Deacon.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: little bit of awkwardness, cussing (probably)

A/N: This is the first part of a probably miniseries or two-parter to fill the request I got. I just am incapable of not writing some backstory I guess. Side note: this takes place in the present but John is in his late 30′s. For you, anon, don’t worry, spicy things are coming soon! I hope you all enjoy, and any feedback including likes, replies, reblogs and asks are greatly appreciated! Requests are open!

Request: idk if you write for prof!deaky but like… i’d be so down for that. 

Part ii, Part iii*, Masterlist 

(look at this picture, what the fuck)

💥💥💥

In your junior year of university, you had finally decided on your major after switching between math and physics. You had definitively chosen electrical engineering. While you had enjoyed math and physics, they were much too focused on theoretical equations than on real-world objects, which is where you found most of your interest.

The problem solving and designing aspects of electrical engineering were what had appealed to you the most. You could plug input into equations and get the correct answers in your sleep, so creating was what would challenge you in the way you wanted to be.

Since you had taken all of the math and physics prerequisites already, you were able to jump straight into the engineering classes and labs right away in the fall of your junior year. When you had registered in the spring prior, you had wanted to keep two days empty so that you could have days free for your part-time job at the admin office. This had somehow ended up in you having five classes between three different professors. Two of the professors you had only one class each with, which meant you had three classes with the same professor. Your days off from classes had landed on Mondays and Fridays, which you thought would be good bookends to your pretty heavy Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. Plus, the admin job would be good for starting and/or finishing homework when it was slow.

_____

The first Monday of the semester was spent getting a quick brief on your duties as administrative assistant. It seemed like it would be pretty simple; answering phones, putting appointments into the computer’s calendar, scheduling tours, and directing people to the correct offices around campus. They also said that you were free to do homework in your down time.

That Monday was pretty busy though, which was okay since you didn’t have any homework aside from printing out the syllabus. (Which you might have used the office printer to do.)

You had some pretty frantic-looking students asking questions about how to change their classes or where to find their professor’s office. Since you were a junior and had changed your major twice, you were pretty fluent with all of the forms and were able to answer their questions easily. You went home around 5:00, which, with the hour lunch, made for an eight hour day. Since you were taking 16 engineering credits, you felt pretty good with working 16 hour weeks.

Tuesday you started with a System Modeling and Control class that was 75 minutes long, and started at 9:00. The professor seemed nice, which was good, but you were more worried about the professor you had later that day since he was the one you had three classes with. Two of which were labs of no more than 25 students. First, though, you had an Electromagnetic Theory lecture with him on Tuesday and Thursdays.

The class was at 10:30, which meant you had fifteen minutes to walk down the hall from your first class. You figured you would at least get a good seat.

Walking from room 215, you counted the numbers on either side of the hall until you reached 220. The door was cracked open with a rubber door stop and you looked through the crack to see that it was empty. There must not have been a class in there yet. You pushed the door open and walked in, seeing there were actually a couple people there on the edges. The room was lecture style, but pretty small with only four rows with 10 seats each going up from the floor. There was a lectern in the middle of three blackboards that had been wiped completely clean. You nodded at the other students as they looked up at you, but chose to sit in the middle of the front row. Since you were probably getting a later start to electrical engineering than most, you wanted to be front and center to absorb as much information as possible. And perhaps you were a bit of a teacher’s pet at times.

You pulled out the fresh, three subject, college ruled, spiral notebook you had gotten for this course and a mechanical pencil. Labeling the first page “Electromagnetic Theory,” you then flipped the page and wrote the date. You also took out the syllabus for the class and skimmed over it again while you waited for the professor and the rest of the class to get there.

Students slowly trickled in, most opting for the edges of the room and a couple joining you in the front row, but still near the sides. Once it hit 20 past, the professor walked in. He was on the taller side, a man in his late thirties from what you could tell, with brown hair that was shorter on the sides and longer and kind of curly on top. He was pretty handsome, in kind of a dorky way. He was wearing a plaid button down shirt tucked into jeans with a black belt and dad sneakers. You giggled at that last part and found your eyes drifting to his left hand to see if there was a ring there. There wasn’t. You shook your head slightly at yourself. He was your professor, and your professor with who you will be spending over five hours a week, and a crush will not make it any easier to learn, you had to remind yourself.

Just before class started, a rush of ten students came in at once, and one finally filled the spot next to yours. The two of you said hi and exchanged names (hers was Sarah), and were starting to talk about majors until you heard a loud scraping sound. The class turned their heads to the front of the room to see the professor pushing the lectern all the way against the wall. He finished and faced forward, noticing that the class had its eyes on him.

“Well, since I’ve got your attention, I might as well start,” he said with a smile and the class chuckled. “As it says in your syllabus, I am Professor Deacon, but as I know some of you know by your familiar faces, I am often referred to as ‘Deaky,’” he said, putting air quotes around the nickname, which earned another laugh.

“You can call me whichever you prefer, because I really don’t care. Alright, so obviously this is the class for Electromagnetic Theory, so if you’re in the wrong room, go ahead and leave now, we won’t judge,” he paused for a second and when no one moved, continued. “Good, we can get started.”

That first class was spent going through the syllabus mostly, and outlining the type of assignments and materials everyone would need for the course. He had a pretty dry sense of humor, and cracked jokes throughout the class, which helped to put everyone at ease. That being said, it seemed like it would be a very technical and involved class, and the assignments would require a lot of time and were process-heavy. Professor Deacon highly encouraged using his office hours for help or to answer any questions, and you made sure to highlight when they were on your syllabus.

When the class came to an end and everyone was packing up, you chatted to Sarah about it.

“Have you had Professor Deacon before?” you asked her.

“Oh, yeah, I had him for Introduction to Electric Circuits my freshman year. He’s a nice guy, and not too tough a grader. Everyone does really call him Deaky, just so you know,” she answered with a smile.

You nodded, “Good to know.”

She left for her next class and you said goodbye to each other before you walked down to the front of the class where Professor Deacon was.

He was writing something down in a little agenda and you stood waiting for him to finish when he looked up and saw you. “Hello,” he said cheerfully.

“Hi. I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” you said, extending your hand for a handshake. His hand met yours and shook it firmly, and you didn’t miss how warm it was against yours. “I just wanted to introduce myself because I’ll be in both of your labs tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s you. I had noticed that there was a student on all three of my rosters. Did I have a really good rating on ratemyprofessor?” he joked.

You laughed lightly and responded, “I couldn’t say. I just declared as Electrical Engineering at the end of last semester, so I have some catching up to do.”

“Really? Most people would have a lot of prereqs to get through first. What was your major before?” he asked warmly.

“Well, first it was math my freshman year and then it was physics last year,” you explained a bit sheepishly.

Professor Deacon didn’t seem to think there was anything unusual about changing your major three times however, and just smiled a toothy smile and said, “Ah, that makes sense. Well, welcome to the department, and I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Thank you. See you tomorrow,” you smiled back before turning around and walking out the door. You were relieved that the professor you would be seeing so much of this semester was nice, although weren’t sure you would be able to bring yourself to call him Deaky.

_____

The syllabus for the labs had said to only bring a folder, pen or pencil, and to wear at least short sleeves, long pants, and closed toed shoes, all of which you had to be willing to get dirty. As you got ready in the morning, you pulled on a faded pair of jeans, a shirt you had used in the past when painting, and your old pair of tennis shoes. You grabbed a jacket to wear over your clothes as you walked through campus and headed out with just a shoulder bag instead of the backpack you normally took to class.

You drove over to campus and parked in the engineering building’s parking lot. You had bought the parking pass for that building since three of your classes were in it, but hadn’t realized that the engineering labs were in a different building on the other side of campus until the day before. You sighed as you turned your car off, knowing you had close to a twenty minute walk, but put on your headphones, turned on some good music, and started walking over.

The building was old and the cinder blocks were painted white, though you could tell from where it was peeling that it had had many coats over the years of varying colors. You had heard from someone in your Computer Science class (which was an hour after your first with Professor Deacon on Tuesdays and Thursdays) that the building used to be the main Engineering building until the university got an endowment for the new, fancy one. Looking at the building, you thought that it must have been pretty cramped since there were only three large rooms and four little ones, which had since been turned into professors’ offices and what could be called the lobby with a check-in desk and no one behind it. There were two offices for the professors whose names you didn’t recognize and they were both of the left side of the building, opposite of the labs. The last one was on the right side, in between the furthest lab and the “lobby” itself, and had a nameplate labeled “John Deacon.”

Each of the lab rooms were designated for a different type of lab. Lab A was filled with cars and engines which you assumed was for mechanical or automotive engineering, Lab B was filled with drafting materials and models which you assumed was for civil engineering, and Lab C was filled with old computers and motors, which was exactly where you were supposed to be.

There were a couple people already in the room, milling about and chatting to each other. You were glad to see Sarah and went up to her to say hi. Looking around at everyone, the two of you laughed at how you all looked more like house painters than engineering students.

“I’m not entirely sure how our clothes would get dirty, but I guess it’s better safe than sorry,” she commented to you.

“I don’t know, maybe if we accidentally blow something up or it catches on fire, the smoot won’t ruin our clothes?” you guessed and the two of you laughed.

“I for one, wasn’t planning on any explosions, but I guess I know to keep a close eye on you now, Y/N,” said a voice from behind you on your right. Sarah and you whipped around to see Professor Deacon standing right there with a smirk on his face. You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment and Sarah had to hide her giggles behind her hand.

“I-I’m- that was just a joke,” you stammered out.

“Hmmm, I guess we’ll see,” Professor Deacon said, walking to where there was a chalkboard at the front of the lab. Before he turned completely away, though, he shot you a wink that eased your nerves about the joke you made, but for some reason sent a shock of adrenaline (or something else) through your body at the same time.

The rest of the lab went better. Professor Deacon started with introductions of everyone since it was a smaller class and people should definitely know each other by the end of the semester. He then went over the lab and safety procedures, congratulating everyone for their proper attire. He himself was wearing these old carpenter pants that looked straight out of a 90’s catalogue and an oversized t-shirt that seemed like it was a souvenir from Bali but had grease stains all over it. And he was wearing the same sneakers as the day before. You couldn’t help but think it was kinda cute that he wore the same sneakers all the time.

He also took everyone on a little tour of the lab building, starting with Lab A and B briefly and then a more indepth look at a room only accessible through the rear of the building. It was a storage/equipment room that housed a bunch of scrap metal, lumber, spare parts, abandoned student projects, and tools. Everything in there was for free use of students of all labs to work on their projects and the projects for the department. To a bunch of engineering students, it was a treasure trove.

Finally, he took everyone back to Lab C and pointed out all of the stations and larger equipment in the big room. After the tour, he had everyone do a little exercise with some of the tools to get acquainted with them. By the time everyone had completed the exercise, the two hours and forty-five had pretty much elapsed and Professor Deacon let everyone head out a little early.

Of course, since you were in his next lab that took place in 15 minutes, you stayed. And, it seemed that you were the only one in both of these labs, so you stood around awkwardly as everyone left. You were about to grab your phone from your pocket when you heard his voice.

“So you didn’t blow anything up, I’m relieved,” he teased from behind you.

You turned around to see him smirking yet again and laughed lightly before replying, “I mean, it’s only been the first part of the first day so I wouldn’t take your eyes off me just yet.”

There was a beat when both of you realized what that sounded like and you saw Professor Deacon’s ears get pink as you felt your neck heat up. Your eyes widened and you determinedly did not make eye contact.

Trying to relieve the tension, he cleared his throat and said, “Anyway, I’m sorry, but you’re about to have the same exact lab in 15 minutes. I would say you could leave but then you wouldn’t meet everyone else, and there are a couple different things that I talk about.”

You were glad that he changed the subject, and further tried to get things back to normal, “That’s okay. I’ll have a leg up on everyone when we try out the equipment.”

The two of you laughed, and you couldn’t help noticing what a nice laugh he had, “That’s the spirit. They’ll be baffled at your ability to use the air compressor slightly better than they can.”

“Hey, I was the best and fastest in the class just now. It might not have been a competition, but you know it’s true,” you said, still smiling, but pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“You’re very passionate. I like that in a… student,” he said, matching your intense gaze. Neither of you had time to think about his hesitation before saying “student” because a group of your classmates walked in at that moment.

Looking down at his watch, he noticed that it was only five minutes before class started, and he walked away, giving you a nod, to go grab the lab rules handouts.

You watched him walk away and sighed to yourself. It seemed the crush you were trying to fend off wasn’t going anywhere, and with all this time spent with him, was only continuing to grow.

💥💥💥

Taglist: @somekindof-cheese @gwilyoubemine @deacytits @supersonicfreddie @siriuslovesmarlene @bowiequeen @acdeaky @deakysgirl @sunflower-borhap-boys @deakyfordays @queensilveryrog @happy-at-home @ceruleanrainblues @briarrose26 @bensrhapsody @painkiller80 

I just kinda created this taglist so if you would like to be taken off or added, just send me a message or ask!

Reminder that my requests are open! If you would like something in a sort of one shot format/length or blurb, etc. send it in! I’ll write for any of the Borhap or Queen boys (Freddie only platonically), Lucy, Patrick Murray, Gardner Langway and adult!Tim Murphy or possibly any of the other characters these people have played if I know enough about them!

[thebookkeeperslibrary]

Lost Time: Chapter 1

Fandom: Time Warp Trio

Author: The_Bookkeeper_96

Rating: T

Summary: Another summer at Horae Manor begins, but before Joe and Tessa get the chance to train, they are sent out on a mission to explore the magic capital of the universe, Mancika. Rumors of illegal magic conversion spread throughout the city, and Joe and Tessa need to locate those responsible. But after the events of last summer, Joe isn't eager to work with his Aether partner, and the two are struggling more with each other than with their enemies.

A/N: It’s finally here! And I even got it up before the end of the year like I said I would. Enjoy!

I’m trying out a slightly different writing style this time around, so please let me know what you think!

Read on AO3

-----

Preview:

"It is said that all the Greats are connected. Some even believe they are one soul inhabiting nine bodies that is reincarnated every generation. I, however, in studying the history of the most closely connected Greats, those that control Aether and Time, believe that they are not one soul. Rather, they are inimitable individuals who are highly bonded to one another through the magics that unite us all. However, there is evidence to suggest that the Greats possess the ability to communicate with the Greats of the past."  Excerpt from A History of the Horae Greats, Introduction by Petra Abell

Last night I dreamt I was a king again. At least, I assume I was a king. I suppose I could have been an emperor or a lord or something, but I'm going to go with king for now.

As always, the dream starts like any other dream, a bunch of nonsensical scenes that somehow make sense while you're asleep, but when you wake up, you realize how crazy it all was. This time, I only got to enjoy a few bites of delicious marshmallow pizza with Babe Ruth before I was pulled away into the throne room.

The room looks the same as it always does. I sit up high on a marble throne painted green. There are nine other thrones spread out on either side of me all painted different colours. On the floor beneath me, an intricately carved flower is engraved into the tile.

I have no idea what kind of flower it's supposed to be. A lotus, maybe? I don't pay enough attention in biology class to know all my plants. And it's not like knowing that kind of stuff is going to help me out in life anyway. Sam would disagree and argue that everything we learn in school is important, why else would they teach it to us?

I am not alone in the throne room, and unfortunately, it's not Babe Ruth with the rest of our pizza. Instead, I gaze forward and see a long line of people each holding a random object. One man is holding a golden trophy. A woman farther down the line is leaning on a grandfather clock. The first person in line is holding an hourglass, the sand slowing slipping into the bottom. That's the only thing that changes with these dreams. The hourglass seems fuller and fuller every night. For a time traveller, that might be a bad omen. For the future Warp Wizard, it's definitely a bad omen.

One by one, the people in line vanish into nothing starting at the back of the line. They all fade until it's just me and the hourglass holder. I open my mouth to ask them all of my questions, but no sound comes out.

Sometimes, we stare at each other for what feels like hours. Other times, only a few minutes. But the dream always ends the same way.

The room darkens, shrinking down on us. The darkness creeps closer and closer until it's suffocating me, and I wake with a scream.

---

My body lurches up, my hand flying to my chest to make sure my heart is still inside. I take several steadying breaths as I glance around my room. Everything is exactly the way I left it the night before. Clothes in a messy pile by the door, backpack flung under my desk, and The Book sits on my nightstand, unopened.

Sighing in relief, I fall back onto my pillow. How many people wake up each day and are glad to stop dreaming?

I blindly fumble around for my phone and eventually find it on the floor. Before I even turn the screen on, I know exactly what time it is: eight thirty-six. If I really concentrate I can feel the seconds tick by. My phone screen blares to life and confirms what I already know.

After a whole year of being "magically awakened", all I have to show for it is always knowing the time and having disturbingly bright green eyes that practically glow in the dark.

My eyes wander back to The Book, landing on two small slips of paper sticking out of the top. Without thinking about it, I pull them out and read the words that I've seen a hundred times before.

Dear Joe,

Sorry to leave in mid-warp. I had some urgent business to attend to.

~ Uncle Joe

P.S. Congratulations on graduating to the next level! You are now a time page.

The edges of the letter are worn thin and torn. The pocket watch that came with my promotion rests next to The Book. Uncle Joe's been missing for over a year, and despite my best efforts, I can't find any clues as to where he is. It's becoming harder to believe he's okay and still alive.

I grind my teeth together. I know he's alive. My uncle is too clever and good at magic to be dead. He's just busy on some magic mission or something. Maybe even fighting off my other uncle, Mad Jack, who's also been MIA the past year.

I unfold the other piece of paper I keep stored in The Book. The gold script on the invitation is just as dazzling as it was when I first opened it last summer. I don't look at this one as often, other than a few random attempts to warp back to Horae Manor, it pretty much stays in my book.

Dear Mr. Joseph Arthur,

We would like to formally invite you and your closest friends to Horae Manor. A place for the magically inclined and gifted. Where people like you can learn to hone your craft.

We request that you join us at your earliest convenience. Time is of the essence.

Sincerely, 

WW

Now that normal school is officially done for the year, I'm going back to Horae Manor soon. Soon as in today, and I have no idea how I'm supposed to get there. Hopefully, the letter will do its thing again, and Fred, Sam, and I will just be warped there. But something told me that wasn't going to work this time. Rowena and Cassius probably expected me to warp myself there, maybe like some kind of test? To see if I'd been practising my time magic while I was away or reading any of the books Cassius lent me.

Had I been practising my magic? Yes, not that I'd had any real progress. Had I read any of the books Cas told me to? Yes. Well… not exactly. To be fair, I did skim through them, but there was a lot to read and take in. My normal school teachers wouldn't really understand if I skipped out on their assigned homework to do magic homework instead. Not that I could ask them to find out. I really hope my summer at Horae doesn't start with a pop quiz.

Maybe I could do a little last-minute cramming before it was time to go. I have a lot to learn if I want to catch up with Tessa.

The thought of my Aether partner makes me frown. She had gotten to Horae first because my letter had been sent to the wrong person. She also seemed to be just naturally gifted with magic. She could already tear herself pretty much anywhere she wanted and could manipulate space to create mazes to confuse and trap people. People like me.

I think back on everything that had happened last summer. Had I overreacted with Tessa? Maybe a little, but she had proven herself to be untrustworthy and selfish. We went from friends to enemies pretty quickly after that. Part of me wishes I could change out partners. I really don't want to be stuck with Tessa for the rest of my life. 

I collapse back on my bed with a heavy sigh. This summer hasn't even started yet, and I'm already done with it.

---

Time passes by quicker than I want it to. Maybe Cas can show me how to change that. Before I know it, it's after four in the afternoon and Fred and Sam are knocking on my door. Like always, Fred saunters into the room without waiting for a reply.

I shut the book that I've been staring at all day, the words still swimming before my eyes. I'd barely made a dent in it. Cas had given me five thick books packed with magical knowledge. There was a whole other world out there filled with magic users, literally. It was called Mancika. And there are more kinds of magic than just space and time. There are ten in total. Or was it nine? All the details were blurred together in my mind. I somehow had even more questions than I did before I started learning about magic and reading about its history.

I slipped the book into my backpack along with all the others I didn't read. My Warp Wizard mentor will not be happy with me.

I turn around to greet my friends, but Fred beats me to it. "Hey, dude. How excited are you right now? I am so ready to get back to Horae Manor. Man, I bet Cassius and Rowena have some amazing magic kung-fu skills they're going to show us this year. I mean, you guys saw how well Arwen fought off that drake last summer. I can't wait to kick some magic monster butt."

I shake my head at him. "You just can't stand that a Red Sox fan is stronger and cooler than you."

His cheeks flush. "She is not!"

"Sure."

Fred crashes on to my bed, mumbling something to himself that I can't fully hear. But I'm sure it's something about how much the Red Sox suck, and why anyone would be a fan of them over the Yankees is insane.

I nod to Sam, who smiles at me in greeting. "I'm actually pretty excited to head back too. Did you know Horae Manor has a library? I can't wait to learn about all the science of magic and history of it all."

"The science of magic?" I raise an eyebrow at him. "I don't think there is any science. It's magic. Kinda the opposite."

"Of course there's science. Nothing can break the rules of physics. Not even magic."

I roll my eyes, deciding not to argue. With Sam, you can't really convince him that he's wrong.

I grab the letter off my desk, hoping for something to happen. Of course, nothing does. Time to face the other problem I've been avoiding: how to get back to Horae Manor.

"You don't know how to get us there, do you?" Sam asks, guessing my thoughts.

I blush. "I totally do. I just need a second to, uh, figure out how to do it."

"We're never going to get back there, are we?" Fred turns to Sam, who nods in response.

"Hey! I can do this. I am the future Warp Wizard after all. Just give me a moment."

"And what I great Warp Wizard you'll be," Sam sighs.

"Oh, I don't know, I think with a little training Joe could be a great Warp Wiz. Of course, with me by his side, we'd be a swell pair," a new voice says.

We all jump. I slam my knee against the bottom of my desk, hissing in pain, and gingerly try to massage it away. My eyes narrow at the intruder. A mix of emotions fight it out in my chest. Anger ultimately wins out.

Tessa giggles from where she's perched on my window. "Missed you too, bunny."

"How did you get here?" Fred asks.

"The same way I get around everywhere. Magic. Duh." She flips her auburn hair over her shoulder and slides into my room. Her eyes roam around, inspecting everything, and land on my Houdini poster. "Cute," is all she says. Whatever, it's not like I care what she thinks. 

"Thanks," I say dryly. "Why are you here?"

She spreads her arms out wide, ever the showwoman. Her signature red leather jacket is like a cape on her. "Isn't it obvious? I'm your ride to Horae Manor. Seeing as you and Cas haven't started any real training yet, you can't exactly warp yourself there."

I press my lips together and decide to keep quiet. This summer, I'm going to start my magic training, and by the end of it, I'll be just as good as her. No, better than her. I had so many questions for Cas, and I'll finally be practising magic. Real magic. Tricks that I can use to find Uncle Joe.

"So, are you ready to go? Cas is kind of a bluenose when it comes to being on time. As if he can't just make more of it." Tessa rolls her eyes.

I sling my backpack over my shoulder and stand up. "Yeah, I guess." truthfully, I'm just as excited as Fred and Sam are to return, but I'm not planning on letting my guard down around Tessa. I square my shoulders and stare at my Aether partner. We're supposed to be partners for life, but neither of us signed up for this. We can be civil with each other, but until I know I can trust her, I have no desire to be her friend.

She stares back, frowning. I almost feel bad for her. Almost. "Are you going to be like this all summer?" she asks, guessing my thoughts. "You know we're stuck with this for the rest of our lives, right?" She gestures between the two of us, referring to our Great Wizard commitment. "And I did apologize."

Fred wraps his arm around my shoulders, pushing me over with his sudden weight. "Joe will be fine. He's just a little butt-hurt over everything that happened last time. He'll get over it."

I shove his arm off of me. "We should get going. It's already four thirty-six."

"What? No exact second this time?" Sam teases me, drawing attention to my weird ability.

I look down at the ground and can feel my face heat up. So far, none of my new abilities had proven useful for anything other than being teased by my supposed friends.

Tessa tilts her head, her purple eyes never leaving my green ones. "Would you like to know our exact latitude and longitude coordinates right now? Or how about our exact position within the infinite space-time continuum?" She shrugs. "Knowing what time it is seems better than that. At least you'll never be late to anything."

"And yet, he was still tardy to math class almost every day this semester."

I shoot a glare at Sam, mainly to distract myself from Tessa. Coming to my defence now means nothing. "Can we just go already?"

Tessa pulls out her sabre, the Focus she uses whenever she tears. "Fine by me. I'm starving, and they'll be serving dinner soon enough."

I can practically see Fred's mouth watering. He remembers the feast from last summer just as well as I do. To be fair, I don't think I've ever had more delicious food in my life.

Encouraged by the growls in our stomachs, Sam, Fred, and I stand next to Tessa, ready to be pulled into our next adventure.

[rorynne]

Time Lost Prologue

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/OC

Summary: An accident during a mission sends Shield agent Victoria Taylor back in in time to the second world war. There she enlists the help of Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers, and Bucky Barnes to find the object that can send her back.

Warnings: Nothing much in this one, No bucky in the prologue, Nazis are mentioned

Word count: 1.8k

A/N: This is my first go at a series in a long time, dunno how regularly it will be updated but im trying. It will end up being very canon divergent in later chapters most likely ignoring civil war onwards.

Tori adjusted her dress slightly as she watched the party from her perch atop a high bar stool. Who would have thought that experimental arms dealers liked 40’s themed parties? Apparently other arms dealers by the looks of it. “This place is a real who's who of people you don't want to fuck with, isn't it?” She stated more than asked as she stirred her drink with a mixing straw.

“Yeah, unless you’re us.” Clint's voice said through the communication device in her ear.

She chuckled, taking a sip of her drink. “Unless you're us. How is setting up that distraction going?” She peeked down the hall where two guards stood watch over the entrance to another corridor. “Macho Man and Biceps Mcgee don’t look apt to let me through.”

“Patience Tay-tay, patience.” She rolled her eyes as he continued. “The Blues Brothers should be off your back in a few minutes.”

“Stop calling me that. I didn't need to help you with this mission, remember?” She said, leaning against the bar. This was not how she intended to spend her day off. “Why did I agree to this again?”

“Because I’m your best friend and you love me?” He offered as the lights flickered. Tori looked down the hall again to see the two guards moving to investigate. Bingo.

“Oh, right.” She said as she slid off the stool. “You wouldn't stop begging me until I caved.” Head held high, she walked into the hallway as if she owned the place. “You owe me an introduction to Captain America when this is done.”

“You know, I wouldn't need to introduce the two of you if you just joined the avengers.” He said as she turned down the now unguarded corridor. “The door you're looking for should be on your left.”

“I don't like the limelight.” She defended, “Remember the entire reason why your asking me to do this is because you can't walk into a room without being recognized anymore. Not after what happened in New York.”

“Yeah, yeah. You would think people would have forgotten by now.” Clint grumbled making Tori stifle a laugh. Forget the people that saved New York from giant space whales? As if. She tried the door Clint had directed her to and found it locked. She sighed. “Probably should have expected that.” She pulled a bobby pin out of her hair and started to pick the lock. “So what exactly am I looking for here? Just some files?”

“That's what Hill said.” He confirmed. “Probably something on the tech they are trying to sell, you know, arms dealery stuff.” The lock clicked and the door swung open. Tori quickly slipped inside, closing the door behind her.

Wasting no time, she immediately started pilfering the desk in front of her, looking for anything that might be of note. “This guys desk is a fucking mess. Do you have any clue what I’m looking for specifically?”

“Uhhh.” Clint replied, making Tori groan.

“You didn't think to ask for specifics?” Jesus Christ, half of these documents are in German, do you even kn-” Her eyes went wide as she looked up. She didn't know how she managed to miss the giant, bell-shaped, hunk of metal with a fucking swastika in the middle of it, when she entered the room, but she did. Especially since, now that she noticed it, the thing seemed to produce a low, unnatural hum. “Uh, Clint?”

“What is it? Did you find something? You gotta hurry up the guards are on their way back.” Clint urged as she approached the Nazi bell.

“Are you sure Maria only said anything about files?” The bell seemed to grow more agitated as she stepped closer, vibrating strongly enough that its edges seemed to blur. “What the hell is this thing?” As she reached out, the door crashed open. She whipped around to see the two guards from earlier, their guns aimed directly at her. Thinking fast, she dove towards the desk as the guns fired. The bullets hit the bell with a thundering clang, causing the bell to go deathly silent before emitting a dull blue glow. The glow quickly intensified into a blinding blue-white light until a shock wave of energy exploded from the bell with a deafening gong.

Tori was thrown against the back wall with such force she saw stars. Groaning, she stumbled to her fee as alarms started blaring. Swearing to herself, she blindly grabbed a handful of loose papers, and ran out of the room, jumping over the two, now unconscious, guards in the process. Glancing both ways down the hall, she swore again as she saw a swarm of guards running down the way she came. Papers in hand, she sprinted down the corridor away from the guards.

“Clint? I could use a little back up right about now!” She hollered but got no response. “Clint!” she said again, raising a hand to her ear. Her heart dropped when she felt no communicator. “Son of a bitch.” Hooking a right down another hallway, she stumbled as the building shook, another loud gong ripping from the bell now rooms away. Damn that thing was loud. The walls began to crack from the force of the shock waves. It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize that bell was going to bring the entire building down.

Tori looked over her shoulder, the guards were nowhere to be seen. God only knew if they were going to come back or if they had decided to save themselves. With the noises the building was making, Tori honestly couldn't blame them if they chose the second option. The reg glint of an exit sign caught her eye as she turned down yet another hall. “Thank god.” She gasped, forcing herself to run just a little faster. She lunged at the exit as a third gong tore through the building.

She fell out of the emergency exit gasping for breath as the sound of sirens screeched over head. She froze as she took in her surroundings. Why was it so dark? Pulling her phone out of her bra, she checked the time. 5:36 pm glowed up at her brightly. She shook her head, that was impossible. It was far far too dark. She looked back at the building she escaped from, only to find it completely restored to its original state. Except, she noticed, there was no door for her to exit out of. “What the fuck is going on here?”

The sirens continued as she turned on her phone’s flashlight. No signal, she noticed, great. She walked out of the alley and down the street, not a single light was on anywhere, not even streetlights. Did that bell have something to do with this? She looked down at the papers she managed to grab as the sound of planes roared overhead. ‘Die Glocke’ was all she was able to read before being unceremoniously dragged into the shop next to her.

“What the bloody hell do you think you're doing? Walking around with a torch in the middle of an air raid? Are you mad?” The woman scolded, Tori’s phone in her hand. Tori’s jaw dropped as the woman fumbled with her phone: Peggy Carter. The Peggy Carter. The same one whose picture Tori passed every day walking into the shield offices. That Peggy Carter was now standing in front of her, trying to figure out how a cell phone worked. “How do you turn this bloody thing-”

An explosion rocked the street, shattering the glass of the shop they were in. Both women dove to the floor on instinct. Tori took the phone from Peggy and turned off the light. She popped her head up and peeked through the broken window. The building she had just escaped from was now reduced to a pile of rubble. Holy shit, she realized, That bell has sent her back in time. She had no chance to rationalize this information when she heard the signature sound of a gun being cocked. She turned to see Peggy pointing a pistol at Tori’s head.

“Who are you, what are you doing here, and what is that?” Peggy gestured to Tori’s phone. Oh god, how does someone even begin to explain time travel via Nazi bell.

Tori took a deep breath. “Do you want the answer that make me look like a nutcase? Or the quickly cobbled together lie you probably won't believe?”

“I want the truth” Peggy answered firmly, making Tori feel very much like a scolded child.

“My name is Victoria Taylor. I am here because of an accident.” She said slowly, trying to give herself time to plan out how to explain time travel. “I, well, I was sent back in time by a giant Nazi bell.” Tori glanced at the crumpled papers still in her hand. “Here!” She shoved the papers towards Peggy. “Die glocke, the bell! Maybe this can help explain it.” Peggy eyed her warily before taking the papers. Peggy squinted at them, reading slowly with the lack of light. Slowly, she lowered her gun, instead focusing on the documents.

Peggy sighed, “You're right. Your story does make you sound like a nutter, but these documents…” her voice trailed off as another bomb rocked the street. “It isn’t safe up here.” She said simply, grabbing Tori by the arm and pulling her towards the back of the building. “How did you get into this situation Victoria?”

Tori stumbled, trying to keep up with Peggy, as she dragged Tori through the shop. “I’m an agent of shield.” She paused for a moment, should she really be saying this? “An organization you help form after the war.”

“At this point the war doesn't feel like it will ever be over.” Peggy sighed again, stopping in front of a blank wall. She stepped forward and pressed an unseen switch. The wall opened up to reveal a small elevator.

Tori stopped just short of following Peggy inside. “Are you sure this is a good idea during an air raid?”

“We don't have time for this nonsense.” Peggy said, rolling her eyes and pulling Tori in by the collar just as the doors began to close. Peggy looked over the papers again in the dim light of the elevator. “You said you were an agent Victoria?”

“Yes.”

“And no doubt you want to get back to your time.”

“Well, yeah, that would be preferable.”

Peggy nodded. “Then I supposed, you would have no issue helping us find this bell HYDRA created.”

Tori looked at her, “Who is ‘us’ in this equation?”

“The Strategic Scientific Reserve. SSR for short. Have you heard of it Agent Taylor?” The elevator rattled as more bombs exploded above.

Tori scoffed, “Heard of it? I was named after one of the agents. Yeah, I’ll be glad to help, especially if it gets me home.”

Peggy furrowed her brow, “What agent were you named after?”

“Agent Victoria Rose Taylor? My family has been in  shield since its inception, I grew up hearing all the stories about her.”

Peggy shook her head as the elevator stopped. “There is no Agent Victoria Taylor. Unless you count yourself.” She said before stepping out into the hall.

Tori went wide eyed as Peggy’s words sank in. “Oh my god. I was named after myself.”

[brattywriters-anonymous]

I Dedicate.. II

Luke James x Reader story

A/N: This fic is heavily influenced by Love Jones (placed in an alternate universe, where the ‘movie’ didn’t exist but the ‘characters’ do. I’m straying away from Erik on this one, Hope ya’ll like it. Feedback would be appreciated. Yes, I wrote both poems. I’m a writer, in all meanings of the word. 

@chaneajoyyy I woke up around 8AM on a Sunday, the next morning. My head was ringing looking at the light shining through my semi open blinds. I'm definitely in no shape to go to church. Besides, I just moved to Atlanta last week and I don't even know which church to go to. There's literally one every quarter mile from another. I'll figure that out on another Sunday.

My phone starts buzzing, It's from a New York number that wasn't saved in my new phone. It could only be one person. My ex, Brendan. My ex fiancee, that is. We were together for about four years, engaged for two when he told me that he thought we weren't right for each other last month. I took his rejection hard. I drank myself into a downward spiral and knew I needed to leave my comfort zone to get out of it. I called my girl Stassi up, she took the first plane smokin' to scoop me up out of my depression and out of New York. I pressed ignore and roll back over to attempt to go back to sleep.

My phone starts buzzing, again. "Ugh. This better be my parents or God himself telling me to go to church!" I pick up the phone to see Stassi's name blinking, "Hello?" "Bitch, you hungover?" "Yes, Nastassia. I am. Obviously, you're not! What do you want?" "I wanna know, you gon call that walking Godiva God that serenaded you last night?" I grunt, "Ugh! Stass, I don't know! Can I get over my hangover first?" I heard knocks at the door, "Stass, don't tell me you're at my door." the knocks continue, "I don't know Y/N, open the door and find out!" I roll out of bed and kick a box out of my way to the front door. I open it to find my best friend with an ounce of weed in one hand and groceries in another, "I came barring gifts!" -- My apartment turned into a smokehouse. I was barely able to see my patio door from my couch. Stassi got me high as fuck. My hangover was long gone thanks to the sativa and my bestie's famous bloody Mary recipe.

"Girl, I am not ready to work with these uppity white folks tomorrow." Stassia groaned while she took a drag. "Mhm. Same, sis. Same." "Girl, give that man a call. You know Z is poppin' on Sundays?" I roll my eyes, "Damn, Stass! You killin' my buzz! I'm trying to calm my nerves and you getting on them."She hopped up  and got in my personal space, "You're either gonna call his fine ass or see him tonight at Z. I'm not taking 'neither' for an answer." I smashed my pillow over my head, avoiding her extreme gaze."ALRIGHT! DAMN. GET OUT MY FACE!" -- My best friend dressed me tonight (black). She claims I'm gonna call out to Luke with this dress even if I wasn't gonna call his ass on the phone. She told me that Sundays were strictly poetry and jazz nights. "You lit yet?" I look at the clock and shake my head. It's about 8:30 and Stassi got me set up to catch Pneumonia with what I got on and these open toed shoes. If I call in tomorrow, she's gonna do my work for me.

She rolls me two more joints, "We'll smoke one now, then smoke the other one when we get there. Here. Stuff it in your bra.. well, your bra area since you out in these streets with no bra or panties." She chuckles at her little jab. I let that one slide as I concealed the joint. --

"Hello, Hello! Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to welcome you all to Z. I am owner and operator, Zanobia Weber." Snaps filled the entire space as we marveled at the beautiful boss lady running the establishment. She's about 5'9", light caramel tone, she has beautiful hazel eyes with a contagious smile. She wore this bright metallic dress that accentuated her curves up top as it flowed to her feet. I didn't remember seeing her last night. Maybe she was somewhere I wasn't looking or something.

"As you all know here on Sundays, we highlight our poets talents. We also welcome any newcomers to step up and share their stories through their words. So if anyone else that isn't on the lineup tonight wants to perform their poetry, please let my fiancee, Zion, know." She pointed over to the right side of the stage to the sign up table, her fiancee was the guy who hosted last night with the soothing deep voice. "Alright, now that we got that out of the way, I wanna welcome our regular back to the stage! Please show love to Melanie Naomi." Stassi and I snap in applause as the poet approached the stage. She wore an all black ensemble, black boots, jeans, turtleneck, beret, and matched that with a dark plum lipstick.

My love for him was unconditional.His for me was somehow circumstantial.

Connecting when the timing was convenient for him.

Displaying his emotions for me on his own accord.

When I came to the realization that I need more

His distance became more distant

My means of communication, he'd ignore.Here I am frustrated with my pin and pad

fighting tears on my bathroom floor

When he's so closed off, I'm supposed to keep an open door?

Fuck that.I put in time

I put in work

Just for him to show his ass

To remind me that he was never mine.

His lack of response to my insecurities draw that line,

between what's wanted and whats real.

I look to the heavens for a sign

I grasp that his silence is one.

Tears fall one by one.

I mourn everything that could've been,

I mourn us.

I mourn the loss of trust.

I mourn what could've been me & him.

I mourn us.

Listening to Melanie's words made me reminisce on my relationship with Brendan. The first two years he was everything I could've asked for in a partner. After we got engaged it was like he totally withdrew from the relationship. I was planning a wedding completely on my own and spending all of my free time alone too. Her pain spoke to mine. By the time she finished her poem, I found tears falling down my face. "Y/N, you okay?" I'm startled to hear Luke's voice over Stassi's shoulder.

He found a chair and sat it next to mine, the back towards the table and straddled the seat. He awaited my answer as I was wiping my tears, "Yeah. I'm fine." "You sure about that?" I nodded. He trailed his index finger down my right cheek, "Hi." I giggled at his awkward introduction, "Hi. How are you?" He grinned, "I'm great now. I almost thought I'd never see you again Y/N." "Why was that?" I leaned my face sideways against my hand. "I dunno. Last night seemed too good to be true, I guess." I turned my attention to the stage so he couldn't see me beaming and blushing. "You didn't call me though." I bit my lip to hide my smile as I turned back to him, "I'm here though, ain't I?" He closed in and whispered in my ear, "You biting that lip is gonna get you in trouble, girl." I shook my head and whispered back into his, "I bet it's not." He scaled back as he had a skeptical look on his face, I shrugged and turned back to the stage where Zanobia came back to the stage,

"Alright fam, we got a newcomer hopping on the stage tonight. She hails all the way from England! Give your love to Miss June Riesling." Snaps filled the room as Stassi winked at me, I shrugged at her in confusion, she then makes the smoking motion, I pull the two joints out of my bosom. Luke exclaimed, "Damn, so it's like that? Ya'll just gon blow it down?" I looked around at people burning blunts and joints without any objection from Zanobia or Zion and nodded at him, "Yup." He dug in his pockets and pulled out three joints to match our two, "Well, I did say I wanted to smoke witchu."

--

The smoke session was like a never ending carousel of  joints being passed between the three of us. Every time I passed one to Stass, Luke would pass one to me. We watched three performers recite their poetry before we were down to the last one. Luke passed the unlit joint to me, "You do the honors baby." Stassi threw her hands up, "I'm done, ya'll got it. I'm about to step outside and catch some fresh air." She dismissed herself as I lit it. I let the smoke float up to my nose do french inhale, Luke narrowed his eyes at me. 

"You lookin' hella good tonight. You always dress this nice?" I grunted into a giggle, "Nah. I don't." He disagreed, "You two for two Y/N. I doubt that." I took another hit and he continued, "Unless..you wore this for me tonight." We starred at each other for a spell, I motioned the joint to him, he rejected, "Nah, that's all you." I ashed it and took another hit, he asked again, "So you just gon' ignore me?" I answered, "No Luke. I'm not. What if I told you I did..wear this for you." He looked over his shoulder then scooted the chair he was sitting in as close to me as he could get it. I briefly jumped up as I felt his large hand touch my knee, he mumbled in my ear, "May I?" The exhale he took after his question sent a chill down my body. I took a long drag, we sat eye to eye. He then put his lips close to mine, "Exhale." My lips made a small 'o' shape as I blew out the smoke, he matched his lips to mine and inhaled the smoke.

I let out the slightest whimper and bit down on my lip to silence myself. He went back to my ear, "I told you baby, that shit is gon’ get your ass in trouble." His hand traveled from my knee up to the middle of my inner thigh. He swayed his fingers back and forth stopping at that same spot, I tried keeping my composure using the joint to concentrate from his distracting hand. The more he was moving it back up the more turned on I was getting. I cleared my throat before taking another long drag, he used his other hand to make a 'come here' motion. I made the same 'o' shape with my lips, he shook his head, "Nah. I wanna try this.." He placed his lips on mine and forcefully tapped his other hand that was on my thigh. I subconsciously moved my lips as I moaned into his. He took that as an invite as the shotgun became a full on kiss.

His lips were so soft, the kiss was just the same. He wasn't too forceful yet he established his domination as his lips took mine in. He kept the same back and forth pattern underneath the table with his hand as he took his free hand to caress my face. I put the joint in the ashtray sitting in the center of the table and grasped on to his buttoned shirt, never breaking our kiss. He gripped my thigh as soon as I tugged his shirt. We both groaned at each other's motions.

"Daaaaammmn! I was only gone for like ten minutes and ya'll all over each other? Ya'll wanna get a room? You got an audience." Stassia's sarcastic tone breaks our contact completely, He placed his forehead on mine as I deeply exhaled, "Uhm... Things got a little carried away." We looked behind Luke to see a couple starring at us. They looked to be in their late thirties, maybe mid forties at the oldest. You know black don't crack. Luke gave the man a nod, they waved, "Don't mind us, we just having a uh..nostalgic moment." The man laughed at his mate, "You just remind us of how we were. We met at a place like this in Chicago twenty years ago." I asked, "Oh, really? You two do poetry or music?" She responded, "My husband is a writer, I write in my free time. I actually am a photographer." I nod, "That's cool. I'm Y/N, by the way. Nice to meet you." She smiled, "Nina Lovehall." The man interjected, "I'm her husband, Darius Lovehall." I gasped,

"THEE Darius Lovehall?! OMG I love your book!" I fanned out as he bowed in humility, "Thank you Miss Y/N. I appreciate it. I actually wrote it for her. The year it was published was a year after we met." I put my hand to my chest, "That's beautiful." "So how long ya'll been together?" Nina questioned us, we looked at each other and laughed, Luke retorted, "Actually Mrs. Lovehall, we just met yesterday." Mr. and Mrs. Lovehall looked at each other again and laughed, "This is like Deja Vu, man. This is trippy as fuck." Darius leaned back in his chair in awe, Luke and I looked at each other in confusion.

"Oh, man.. I'm sorry, I'm not tryna scare ya'll or nothin'.. I'm just sayin', when I met my wife..things got heavy, fast. Real fast." He kissed her on the cheek. She agreed, "Yeah. That it did." I was curious, "So was that a bad thing?" They shook their heads, "Not really. Sometimes the pace you need to go in is a little faster than you anticipated to get the love you're supposed to have." Nina's words stuck to me as Zanobia approached the stage again, "Fam let's welcome an audience favorite to the stage, from New Orleans, Louisiana; Mister Luke James." The audience snap for the man sitting in front of me. He held my hands, "I'll be right back." I nodded as he planted a kiss on my temple. -- The man I was just locking lips with less than five minutes ago hopped on the stage and became the center of attention as he announced, "I wrote this last night, awaiting a call that I never received. I call this, 'Calling out for you.' He took steps to the band without the mic so we couldn't hear what direction he was giving them on what to play.

All of a sudden, my favorite six key melody graced my ears from the piano. He requested Duke Ellington and John Coltrane's In a Sentimental Mood. I heard gasps from The Lovehall's table, "Deja Vu!" Darius yells out, again. Luke began,

"I'm sorry, I kept playing this over and over again until I finally fell asleep, so.. I figured it only be right. Yo, Milton..bring that back man."

The band started from the top as he cleared his throat.

That beautiful face that couldn't escape my mind

no matter how much I try to evade.I don't wanna wait

but...I gotta.

You see, I'm willing to wait a million moons.

I'm willing to travel any distance, just to see her face again.

Just to see those beautiful thighs clasp at my voice.

Just to hear her soprano make strides to my ears.

Just to hear her say my name. 

Even if it's through a phone. 

I want her presence. 

I no longer want to be alone. 

I'm willing to wait

All night if I gotta. 

I'm up late wondering what I've been doing without her.

3 AM. Damn I should've got her number.

I didn't want to pressure.

If I get her I want to treat her like my personal treasure.

I found this a thousand leagues under the sea, this was not just another fish.

She was a shooting star among a sky full of stilled.

Before the tempo could pick up, the song then switched over to Blue in Green by Miles Davis as Luke continued his ode, looking directly at me. Much as he did when he sang his song the night before.

As the clock ticks my phone still hasn't rang

My wish still goes unfulfilled.

But I'm strong willed.

This enigma of a woman, I'm calling out to you.

More-so like my body is..

I just hope you share a similar view.

You're not just something unfamiliar

or brand new.

Your aura exuberates through my mental as you inspire this

You're not someone I can just see through.

Maybe mine had been preparing for this moment, possibly my soul already just..knew.

You've been the person invading my mind before I ever had a vision, a face, or a name.

I'm calling out to you. 

And tonight,I hope you can do the same.

Thank you.

The crowd's generous amount of snaps had been the loudest they were the entire night, I was floored. I can't believed he felt all of this because I wouldn't call him. Truthfully, I didn't call because I was too prideful. I didn't want to give any of myself up to him too quickly. Too willingly. I wanted him to work for me. And me calling him last night wouldn't have warranted for that. At least so I thought. He shuffled back over to his seat next to mine, "So, what did you think?" He found my hand and kissed it, everyone trailed his movements to see where he was seated, as soon as they witnessed the gesture everyone let out a synchronized, "Awww!"

-- The night came to an early end at 11PM, Stass and I had to get to work promptly at 8:30, meaning we had to leave our houses an hour early to make it there on time. Her Uber was already outside so it was time to head out. We stood up as I put on my coat, Luke reminded me, "Y/N, you never gave me my coat back from last night." I snapped my fingers, "You're absolutely right, I'll have to return that to you." He nodded, "So that means you have to call me and let me know when you can return it." I turned back to him, "Yeah, I guess that's what that means."

Luke walked me outside as I had to wait ten minutes for my Uber. I confessed, "A Sentimental Mood is one of my favorite jazz cuts." He smiled then hung his head, "Mine too. Along with Blue in Green." I tilted his head up for his eyes to meet mine, "I see. Are you gonna keep dedicating these lustful pieces of art for me until I call you?" His stare became serious, "Is there a problem?" He wrapped his arms around me and I leaned closer to him in response, "Not at all, but if that's all you want.. I'm not the girl for you." He goes in, as I'm thinking he's gonna kiss me again, he kisses my cheek and whispers in my ear, "I never said that's all I want baby."

My thighs rubbed against one another by pure reaction, "Hmm.. If you say so." He leans back in his original space, "If you let me take you out, I can show you exactly what I want." We're looking at one another peering into one another's eyes, "I don't know about that." He objects, "Look, it's no pressure. We're two grown adults. I'm just trying to show you a good time. I know you haven't been here long--" "Wait, how you know that?" "Girl, you sound like you fresh outta New York. Like you ready to hop inna 50 Cent video!" Luke stepped back doing a shitty rendition of the Harlem shake. I scoffed at his accusation, "First of all, nigga, I'm from the Bronx. Second of all, I've been here for about a month now. I've only been here as far as going out goes." He gasped, "Oh nah baby, you haven't even enjoyed Atlanta! I'd love to give you a tour." I placed my index finger on my chin, pretending to think about his proposal.

"How about this, when I call you to get your coat, I'll let you know my answer." He wrapped his arms around me again, "Okay, you have a deal Ms. Y/L/N." My phone dinged, indicating that my Uber had arrived. The navy Nissan Altima approached us and came to a complete stop. I tried to break away from Luke, but his grip became tighter, "Promise you won't keep me waiting too long?" I nodded once, hoping he didn't notice. The grin on his face acknowledged that he did. He took my chin into his hand pulling my face up to meet his. We indulged in a goodnight kiss, similar to the kiss we shared inside. Softly placing our lips on one another.

I broke our embrace, "Goodnight Mr. Boyd." He retorted, "Goodnight to you. Sweet dreams, beautiful." He opened the car's back passenger door as I hopped in the car. He closed it leaving his hand on the window. I placed my fingertips on the other side where his palm lied as the driver rolled off to my destination.

--

[barnes-dameron]

No Mistake, Just a Happy Accident (Ch 6)

*not my gif*

Poe Dameron x Reader (Jane the Virgin AU) 

Summary: Your life couldn’t be more on track. You’re on track to graduate from college, you had an amazing relationship with your mom and grandma, and you had an even better relationship with your boyfriend of two years, Finn. It couldn’t be better. But after a medical malfunction, you find yourself pregnant with another man’s child; and that other man is your boss, Poe Dameron. You’re life gets turned up side down when this happens, but you try your best to look on the bright side.

Word count: 2k

A/N: Got caught up and loved Jane the Virgin, and I thought this would be interesting with Poe. Changed the story up a bit, but I’m excited. Taglist open. 

A few months have passed and you’re now in your second trimester. Everything was going great. Poe and Jess have been tagging along on your doctor’s appointments... well more Poe than Jess. She’s been caught up with work, and since Poe owned the restaurant his hours were more lenient. Finn has been a bit more distant lately, stressing about work and going on all night stake outs. You tried not to bother him; you knew how demanding it could be for him. 

Since the first doctor’s appointment, Finn asked you to move in with him, to which you happily obliged. Since the two of you decided to postpone the wedding until after the baby is born, you and Finn thought that sharing a place would be good for your relationship and give you both the idea that you were already married.

You sat in the waiting room, ready to be called into for your class. In all honesty, you were a bit embarrassed to be there. Different couples were all around you, happy and excited for a new member in there little family. You wanted a little family like that, but you were carrying a baby that you were planning to give away. But Poe and Jess are nice loving couple, you knew they would love the baby with all their hearts. Although there was little voice in your head telling you to keep it.

You rested your hand on your belly absentmindedly. Looking down at the clock on your phone, you saw that the class was about to start soon and Finn’s going to be late. Who were you kidding? He wasn’t going to show up. The instructor called out to all the parents and you to enter the room where she began the introduction of the class, providing the basic terminology and soon on. You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy when seeing the other soon to be mommies with their partners. You let out a sigh before hearing the door squeek open. You turned around to see Poe sneaking into the class, but failing to go unnoticed. 

“Sorry,” he said, holding up a hand in surrender. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, please go on.” 

He made his way to where you sat, and plopped himself next to you. He gave his endearing smile that warmed your heart, and rubbed your back. You two paid close attention to the instructor as she walked around the room, talking about what’s to come in the pregnancy and birth. 

“Okay,” she said. “Partners sit behind the mommies, and just let them rest on your chest and focus on deep breaths.” 

Poe moved behind you, spreading his legs for you to sit in between. You sat still, not moving. Is it weird to lay back on his chest? You thought to yourself. A gentle squeeze brought you to reality. You turned your head to look back at Poe, who was raising an eyebrow at you. 

“Are you going to lay back?” he asked, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Are you okay with this?” you asked. 

“Yeah,” Poe said encouragingly. “I want to know how to do this.”

You hesitantly laid back on his chest, your head resting on his shoulders. You began taking deep breaths, focusing on the directions your instructor was giving instead of Poe’s warm and hard chest. 

“Where’s Jess?” you whispered to him. 

“She’s busy with something,” he replied, his eyes trained on the instructor. “I don’t know what it is.”

“Oh,” you said, looking down at your growing belly. 

“Where’s your boyfriend?” he asked. 

“Work,” you simply stated. “And he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Sorry,” Poe huffed. “Fiance.” 

You rolled your eyes at his correction. Over the past couple of months, whenever Poe was talking about Finn, he would call him your boyfriend. You corrected Poe multiple times, but he always called Finn that. He wouldn’t even call Finn by his real name, just the boyfriend. 

The session moved on like that, a comfortable silence between the two of you as the instructor taught. You were so comfortable laying on his chest, his soft breaths making it rise and fall at a steady pace. Your eyes grew heavy as you let out deep breaths. You haven’t been getting a lot of sleep lately, the baby likes to move around at night causing you to stay awake. You gently closed your eyes, relishing in the comfortableness. 

But it was cut short when a ticklish feeling came over your belly. You looked down to find Poe’s hands rubbing your belly softly. 

“Sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t help myself, and I tried not to wake you.” 

“It’s okay,” you whispered. “You can keep going, I don’t mind.” 

You watched a smile appear on Poe’s face as he began to run his hands over your growing belly. You turned your head to the instructor, but your eyes were on Poe. You admired the little stubble that was growing along his sharp jaw, the little glimmer in his eyes, and his gentle endearing smile. He was so handsome. But he had Jess, and you had Finn. You were happy with Finn. But you were also happy whenever you were with Poe. 

The instructor dismissed the class, and you headed back to yours and Finn’s place, trying to keep your mind off of Poe.

Finn looked out of his hotel window, watching what Snap was doing in his apartment. It’s been months and Jess still didn’t break things off. He constantly sent her reminders, but she returned his messages with threats about his future; an unwanted baby. 

He watched through the binoculars as Jess enters the room and wraps her arms around Snap. It took everything in Finn’s power not to throw up. Jess made her way to his couch and sat down, Snap doing the same. They stayed there on the couch for hours, just talking. Finn was so tempted to get up and leave, but he can’t. He needs to stay. He needs to make sure she does it, today. 

After the fourth hour or so, Jess got up with Snap following her, grabbing Finn’s attention. Right before Jess left, Snap pushed her against the wall, holding her neck. Panic arose in Finn. Was he going to kill her? Well the opposite happened, Snap attached his lips to Jess’s, causing her hands to fly into his hair. 

“Dammit,” Finn said, running his hand over his face. 

You got home, dropping your bag by the door. You rushed into yours and Finn’s room, trying to find the one shirt of his that he loved to see you wear. You rummaged through all the piles of clothes you two collected over the past couple of weeks. 

While going through multiple piles, you began to search through the things on top of your drawers. You only moved in a couple of weeks ago, so you never really finished unpacking. While going through the multiple objects and stacks of papers from Finn’s work, you accidentally bumped into something that spilled on the floor. 

Crap. You bent down the best you can, and began to gather the papers that you dropped. But they were more like pictures... You couldn’t help but look. One peek wouldn’t kill. While looking down at the pictures in your hands, your stomach practically sank to the bottom of the floor. No the earth. You wanted to vomit from seeing the pictures of Jess making out with some guy. And not any guy, you knew that guy. That was Poe’s best friend from the flight academy!

Poe talked about him almost all the time. You’ve seen him at parties that you waitressed, and in pictures around Poe’s office. 

You got up, the floor swaying beneath you from every step you took. It got to the point that you needed to hold onto edges of tables and counters to keep you steady. You reached the sink in the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the dish rack and filling it from water in the faucet. You practically downed the water, trying to get your head straight. 

The closing of the door helped you to comprehend what’s going on. You felt Finn’s hand on the small of your back, his voice echoing in your ears. You turned around and backed away from him. Finn never kept secrets from you. The Finn you knew certainly wouldn’t keep a secret as big as this from you. You didn’t even know who he was at this point. 

“How long?” you asked. “How long did you know?” 

Finn took a step towards you, and you took a step back. You watched as Finn’s eyes turned from confused to pleading. 

“Y/N,” he began. “It’s not what you think-”

“How long?!”

Finn sighed, and rubbed the crease in between his eyebrows. 

“Since the first sonogram,” he said, his voice close to a whisper. 

Air struggled to enter your lungs at this point. That was months ago. Jess has been cheating on Poe for months.

“Why didn’t you say something Finn?” you asked. “You were about to have me give away my baby to a couple that is not even right for each other! Are you that selfish enough to let me do that?”

“No, Y/N,” Finn said. 

“No,” you said, trying to bite back the tears that were threatening to spill. “I’m done, Finn. I can’t be with someone who lies to me, especially with something that involves another life.” 

Your heart was pounding against your rib cage. Finn looked utter dumbfounded. 

“Y/N,” he began. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you, but please don’t end this.”

“How do I know that you’re not going to do this again?” you asked. “I have to put this child first, and if that means raising it myself, then I’ll do it.” 

You shook your head and walked past Finn, blocking out any words that came from his mouth. You grabbed your bag by the door, and left. 

The whiskey that was in Poe’s glass didn’t seem strong enough for him. He remembered the drinking contests that he and Jess had back in the flight academy. Through the years, Poe got tired from the drinking and partying, and redirected his life. He owned a successful restaurant, his baby was on the way, and he had an amazing girlfriend. Well, he thought she was an amazing girlfriend. 

Jess walked into his office and sat next to him on the couch. Her hair perfectly framed her face, something that Poe always admired but now it didn’t mean as much. As she began to ramble on about her day, Poe couldn’t pay attention. It was hard to concentrate on a person when he had so much on his mind. 

“So that’s pretty much my day,” she said at last. “How was yours?” 

“It was fine,” Poe said, looking down at his almost empty glass of whiskey. “I do have a question for you though.”

Jess leaned against the back of the couch, and tilted her head in confusion. Poe was usually a straightforward guy, but it never felt so hard right now. 

“How long have you been sleeping with my best friend?” he asked. He watched as Jess’s eyes grew ten times bigger, and her mouth opening the slightest in shock. “Snap. How long have you been sleeping with him?”

“Poe,” Jess said. “I can explain, you see I-”

“How long?”

“Since your trip to Guatemala.”

 Poe went to Guatemala almost a year ago. His best friend and his girlfriend have been sleeping together, going behind his back for almost a year. The whiskey in Poe’s glass certainly wasn’t strong enough for him. 

“Jess,” Poe said, slowly shaking his glass. “We’ve been through a lot. You were with me through my accident and the recovery. I feel comfortable with you, and I hate to ruin this. It just seems like things were better for us when we were back in the flight academy.”

“What are you saying, Poe?”

“We’re done, Jess.” 

Poe downed the rest of his drink, and set the glass on the coffee table. He got up from the couch, and made his way to the door. He ignored her pleas and apologies. It was the last thing he wanted to hear right now, and that office was the last place he wanted to be.

That’s it for chapter six! Sorry, if it wasn’t the best. Let me know if you want to be tagged. To be continued…

Taglist: @that-girl-named-alex @multific @lilrockstartitan145

[doodlelolly0910]

Close Encounters of the Spiritual Kind

Summary: Emma Nolan spent a lot of time alone, and that was fine by her. Because one is never truly alone. She should know. She can talk to dead people. What she didn’t expect was one of these spiritual encounters to hang around, taking her down a rabbit hole of missing women, revenge, and, least expected, love. Can she save the day and Killian Jones? Is there even another choice?

Read it from the beginning on AO3 and FFN!

A/N:  Okay y'all so this chapter is a big one. Big reveal! I'm a pickle! No wait, that's something else :P But there really is some big stuff happening here. A new character introduction, more Emma and Killian bonding, lots and lots of revelations that will even carry over to next chapter. I won't say too much. I hope you guys like it! And thank you so much for all your kind words and lovely reviews. They really mean more to me than you know, even if I don't always have the time to respond to each of them as I would like. Thank you guys, so so much. And thanks also to @kmomof4 who has already had her brain exploded by this chapter (lol sorry?) and to @courtorderedcake who made the beautiful art that goes with this story and I will never be over how amazing it is. Here we go with chapter 17! Almost at the end!!! EEP!!!

Chapter 17

Emma woke up feeling refreshed for the first time in a long time. Refreshed and warm. She snuggled into the firm pillow underneath her and sighed, content. The sound of rustling paper made her wrinkle her nose and grunt. It was just annoying enough to keep her from slipping into peaceful slumber again. A chuckle sounded from beneath her head and something tightened around her back and waist, causing her eyes to snap open, her head popping up from where it had been apparently resting on Hook's t-shirt clad chest.

“Good morning, darling,” his low rumble emanated from his torso and seeped into her middle where they were pressed together, his left arm sweeping soothingly over her back. “Sleep better?” The question was light but his eyes studied her face for any signs of nightmare induced stress. Emma cleared her throat, nodding and gently disentangling herself to a sitting position beside him on the mattress. His arm slipped from its place around her and back under the blankets, the only part of him to be covered by it.

Killian Jones in the morning was far more a gorgeous sight than any human being had any right to be. His dark hair was mussed, sticking up in directions that would look odd on someone else, but on him it only left Emma wondering what it would be like to run her fingers through it. His eyes were bright and playful, his dark lashes fluttering over rosy cheeks when he blinked. He seemed… softer somehow.

“You are positively radiant in the morning, Swan,” he murmured and Emma blinked twice, not having noticed during her perusal of his face that he had been observing her as well. She played it off on a scoff, scooping her sleep tangled hair off her neck and securing it in a messy bun on top of her head.

“I’m a mess,” she objected, stretching her arms languidly over her head and wiggling her hips to work out the kinks in her back. Her face felt swollen and puffy from her sobbing during the night.

“Radiant. Like the sun.” Hook's voice pulled her attention back and she looked at him curiously. He was staring at her so intently it made her squirm involuntarily, her gaze darting away from his. That's when she saw it.

In his lap sat her leatherbound sketchbook, page open to a portrait she'd done some time ago of her grandmother. He followed her gaze and reached up to scratch behind his ear. Emma's eyes shot back up to his, her face blanched as her mind raced through everything he may have seen.

“You looked through my sketches?” she whispered. Hook sat a little straighter, letting one of his legs fall off the side of the bed and his foot rest on the floor. His cheeks had pinkened a bit and the hand that had been scratching behind his ear had now moved to rub over the scruff on his jaw.

“I rolled over onto it this morning. I didn't know what it was,” he replied, and his hand came down to rest on top of the book, keeping it there with him when all Emma wanted to do was snatch it back and run away. “You're very talented.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Emma said, reaching for the book, but Hook's hand curled over the top of it, keeping it in place on his lap.

“I have a favorite,” he murmured and Emma swallowed thickly, frozen in place. He dipped his gaze down to the book and flipped through a few pages, stopping and meeting her gaze again. Emma looked down, her heartbeat thundering through her ears.

A landscape was on the page, the docks at sunset, one of her favorite places to sit and think. She had played with new pencils that day, the colors on the page vibrant and blended together in a riot of golds and pinks and purples. It was her favorite, too. But absolutely not what she expected. She looked down at the page in confusion and looked back up to Hook’s face.

“There’s a lot of emotion here,” he explained. “A real definition of character. I like it very much.” Emma blew air out through her pursed lips, flustered at the compliment and searching for words that weren’t what she was actually thinking. She had paused just long enough for him to continue on. “I suppose you were expecting me to show you this one.” While she had searched for words, Hook, had apparently thumbed the corner of the book to the exact page she had been dreading, apparently memorized in its place in her book by its subject.

Killian Jones himself stared out from the page, his monotone features punctated by those blue, searching eyes. It wasn’t until now that Emma realized just how accurate her sketch actually was, right down to the scar on his right cheek just under his eye. His hair was tousled almost exactly as it lay now on the real life version. When she looked back up to meet Hook’s stare, the same shade of blue on the page met her as well.

“When did you do this?” he asked softly, holding her gaze. Emma felt a heat creep up over her collarbones and onto her face.

“Almost a month ago,” she replied honestly on a whisper. Killian’s eyes turned wondrous, as if he were fully understanding for the first time that she truly had been sent to him by his loved ones in the beyond. The tension in the air weighed heavier on her skin, but it had changed. Instead of a fearful sliver that wove its way into it, it was warm now, and all she wanted to do was move closer to Killian. His own gaze dropped to her lips and Emma was sure he was going to kiss her again. Until he abruptly stood, pulling his left arm behind his back and extending her book back to her, still open to the page.

“I have somewhere I think we should go today. Get dressed.” His words were short, but not unkind. Emma was confused at the sudden change in him. As much as she thought she was prepared for Killian Jones, he still found ways to keep her on her toes. Keeping his arm tucked just out of her viewpoint, Hook moved to grab some clothing of his own, along with his prosthesis, and disappeared into the bathroom, Emma assumed to change. She felt a twinge in her heart that she may have made him slightly uncomfortable with the picture, and that he felt the need to hide his arm from her. Her thoughts were soon overrun by his words though, and she wondered briefly where he might be taking her.

Emma did as he bade, dressing quickly while Killian remained in the bathroom. He finally emerged, fully dressed, hooked hand in place, just as Emma was sweeping her hair up into a ponytail. He gave her a warm smile and a fond look, which she happily returned. She was glad to see he wasn’t upset with her. She stood and made her way to her duffel, retrieving her cell and shooting off a text to Jefferson to check in for the day. She had just received a confirmation from him when she looked up to see Killian making the bed.

“Old habits die hard, huh?” she teased, gesturing to the bed. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, completing the task with a smirk. “Navy must have made a real impact.” He chuckled.

“I should have known you’d know that. Fine policemanship, Swan,” he replied, smoothing out the blanket with his hand and hook.

“It wasn’t hard once Milah gave me your name. And Liam told me later on. And if none of that happened, those corners would have been a dead giveaway,” she said, the corner of her mouth lifting in a smile. He laughed out loud at that, moving from the bed to the door and sweeping it open.

“After you, darling.”

Hook drove this time. Emma was slightly nervous at first when he had rested his false hand on the steering wheel, but she relaxed as time went on. As with everything he did, Killian was in complete control behind the wheel, and his taste in music wasn’t half bad either. She hummed along to Bad Company, and found out he had a nice singing voice as well when he belted out Living On a Prayer. She did not blush when he complimented her own on Barracuda with a waggle of his ridiculous eyebrows. Before she knew it, she saw a sign that read “Now Leaving Boston City Limits” and she looked over to him curiously.

“Trust me, Swan,” he said, not taking his eyes from the road, but offering her a kind smile. “You should tell that Chapelle fellow that you’ve left the city.” Emma hadn’t even thought of that, though she was sure Jefferson was tracking her phone, and she was touched that he thought of a way to make her feel comfortable. He seemed to be doing that more and more, perhaps his way of making up for the fact that he hadn’t trusted her in the beginning, and earning hers in return. She didn’t make a move to get her phone out, and instead, set her bag on the floor beneath her feet, a small gesture of her own trust in him. He smiled broadly at that and they continued on their way.

They soon turned down a country road, a dirt stretch that ran past the horizon, and Emma was even more puzzled than ever, especially when Hook parked by some trees on the side of the road near virtually nothing. He looked at her sheepishly and something twisted in Emma’s belly telling her she wasn’t going to like what he had to say.

“I need you to leave your cell here, love. I can’t have anyone tracking us to where we’re going. I’m leaving mine as well,” he rushed to assure her but she was already shaking her head.

“That doesn’t sound like something I’m game for,” she said, gathering her bag into her lap. He sighed heavily.

“The person we are going to see, I’ve worked very hard to make sure she stays safe. And the only way to make sure she stays that way is if I’m the only one who knows where she is.” Killian ran a hand through his hair.

“But you’re taking me to see her,” she shot back, grip on her bag tightening.

“Aye. You, I trust.”

Emma eyed him, allowing his words to sink in. Going against every cynical bone in her body, she opened up her bag and fished out her phone, only hesitating slightly before handing it over to Hook. He captured her hand along with it, turning them over so he could kiss the back of hers firmly, keeping hold of her gaze as he did so. Something inside of Emma calmed again, and Hook joined her cell with his, opening the door and going to the tree nearest to them. He pulled out a lock box and unlocked it with a key from his belt, placing the phones inside and locking them again. He got back into the car and started it again, sighing in relief. Emma sighed for a different reason altogether as they made their journey another few miles down the road.

Emma’s anxiety and impatience grew until they had reached what appeared to be their destination, turning down a few side trails until they reached a short gravel road that her bug would have never made it through. A little farm house that looked somewhat like a fairytale cottage sat isolated at the end of the road, looking quite out of pace with it’s manicured green lawn, small rose garden, and white picket fence. Killian parked next to an older truck and gave Emma a nervous glance before darting out of the car. Emma took a few calming breaths, composing herself, and she didn’t even notice Killian had come around to her side of the car to open her door for her. She accepted his hand and they made their way to the house, him holding onto her as they walked in a way that made her feel more at ease and entirely unsettled at the same time.

As they walked up the path, the door opened and a wide eyed woman poked her head out the door. She looked at Emma fearfully, her throat working as she swallowed, but she relaxed immediately when she set her eyes on Killian. She opened the door fully, her light brown hair swinging down over her shoulders, and walked outside and towards them, wrapping Killian up in a warm hug. Killian returned the embrace one armed, his hand still wrapped firmly around Emma’s.

“Killian Jones. It’s been too long since you’ve come to see me,” the woman said in an accent that she couldn’t quite place. Nearly English, but not quite.

“Aye, I know, I’ve been a little busy. I’m sorry for that,” he said with a small smile as he pulled away. “I do have someone that I want you to meet, though. This is Emma Swan. Emma, Belle French.”

Emma wasn’t sure if his introduction with her alias was intentional or not, but she was grateful for it all the same. She reached out to shake Belle’s hand with a smile of her own.

“A pleasure to meet you, Emma,” the brunette returned and Emma replied in kind. “Come in and sit down. Tea for anyone?”

“That sounds wonderful, love, thank you,” Killian confirmed and they went inside the little house together. Belle heated the kettle on a little wood stove as she and Killian settled in the small living room, each in a plush armchair. Belle set up a tea tray and placed cups in front of each of them, pouring the water over tea bags and settling into her own place on the couch, her skirt flowing gracefully as she moved.

“So what brings you this way?” Belle asked, stirring her tea and adding a cube of sugar. Killian leaned forward and set his forearms on his knees, his fingers fiddling with his hook.

“I wish I could just say it was for a visit, love, but I’m afraid it’s business.” His tone was serious and every drop of color left Belle’s face. Emma sat more rigid at her change in expression, setting her own teacup back down on the coffee table.

“Weaver?” she asked on a shaky whisper and Emma was suddenly on very high alert. Killian reached forward and touched Belle’s hands where they had begun shaking around her teacup, removing the china from her grasp and setting it next to Emma’s.

“He hasn’t found you, love, nothing to worry about,” Hook told her firmly, grasping her hand once more. Belle let out a shaky breath, offering them both a tight, embarrassed smile and a brief chuckle. She nodded and rearranged herself on the couch, clearly trying to shake off some of her lingering nerves. Hook turned his attention to Emma, who had been watching the whole exchange with rapt attention. “Swan, do you remember the night we met, you were trying to take something from me, aye?” Emma felt her face heat again in embarrassment and fury. Her eyes darted to Belle, who didn’t look surprised at all and Emma didn’t know whether to be grateful for her lack of reaction or offended. She looked back to Killian and nodded. “And you had absolutely no idea what it was?”

“Not a single clue,” she replied, unwilling to divulge that she was associated with Gold once in any way in the presence of this woman who was clearly in hiding from him.

“It was a GPS device. It tracked a chip that used to reside with the lovely Miss French here,” Hook explained and Emma's head snapped back in the brunette’s direction. She was absentmindedly rubbing at a pink scar at the base of her wrist, and Emma assumed that was where the chip was.

“Why?” Emma asked, her heart breaking for the frightened woman. Her gaze turned back to Killian's again. “Why is he so desperate to find her again?”

“Belle was his wife,” Hook ground out the last word as if it tasted bad in his mouth. Emma's eyes widened in shock and Belle cleared her throat. Killian ducked his head, allowing her the opportunity to tell her own story.

“‘Wife’ is a bit of a strong word. My father owed him a debt. He took me as payment,” she said softly, picking at the blue cotton of her skirt as she made her admission. Emma felt rage on her behalf. How many women had he done this to?

“Belle,” Emma sat forward and spoke carefully, but her tone was serious enough to have Belle's eyes finally come up to meet hers again. “Has he taken any other wives before, since, or during your time with him? There are a lot of girls missing right now that are tied to him. I'm trying to help them.” Belle shook her head adamantly.

“It was just me. And Milah, before me,” she looked to Killian sympathetically. “Just us two. The girls he trades do usually owe him some kind of debt, though.”

Emma's breath completely evaporated from her lungs.

“The girls he trades?” she squeaked out and even Killian was sitting on the edge of his seat, eyes darkened in interest. It was clear this was all news to him as well.

“Well, yeah, the trafficking ring. Didn't you know?” Belle looked between the two of them, confused. Emma could only gape at her.

“No, lass, I'm afraid we didn't,” Hook murmured, his voice dark and dangerous. Belle’s cheeks colored and she began fiddling with her skirt again.

“If you want to save those girls, you're running out of time,” Belle said quietly with a sorrowful resignation.

“Belle, please,” Emma moved from her armchair to the couch and the other woman looked up at her, tears brimming in her eyes, “please, if you know anything, I really need your help. They really need your help, all these women that have been taken from their homes and families. Help me help them.”

Emma reached out and touched her arm gently, her eyes still shining with urgency. After a moment or two, Belle exhaled a shaky breath and nodded, giving Emma a soft half smile.

“Alright.”

The single word of assent was the biggest breakthrough Emma had gotten thus far, and none of it would have been remotely possible without Killian Jones. Whatever had set the two of them on their collision course towards one another, she would be eternally grateful.

The scent of jasmine crept up around her for the first time that day and Emma inhaled deeply, a smile spreading over her lips and she knew in that moment that justice was within her grasp. For Belle. For Milah. For all of them.

[arazialotis]

Hunters Academy - Part 3

Word Count: Around 3100

Summary: The reader is looking for a way forward in life. A cryptic business card may provide her with a new opportunity at an unconventional school. Catch Up Here -> Introduction Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: Language, Drama

Pairing: Dean x Reader

This is purely for a hobby and my enjoyment. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I am by no means a writer so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

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Things had finally cooled down between you and Serena. And by cooled down, you meant the two of you could at least be in the same room without getting the feeling she was waiting for the right opportunity to tear you apart. It was still a little tense but progress was being made nevertheless. Other than that, things had been going pretty smoothly. You took Sam’s advice and forced yourself to ease up a little.

One of your extracurricular activities included spending some time in the garage and not just to gawk at Dean; no matter how appealing his muscle looked popping out of that tank and smeared with a bit of grime. Honestly, you did try to focus on upgrading your ‘stang. You were surprise they had yet to mention anything in class, but you clearly remember the side panel of your mom’s car door concealing her stashed weaponry. With a hunt coming up in your second semester it would do you good.

Instead of a door compartment you opted for hollowing out the back seat and constructing the bench into the trap door. Dean was hard at work too, at who knows what. You knew when he was in the garage by the start and stop of his classic rock music. He’d been favoring 38 Special or Fleetwood Mac lately. As you worked you hummed along to ‘Caught Up In You.’ The melody was interrupted by the clang of metal and unintelligible cursing. Instead of checking on him out of concern, you stayed out of viewed containing your silent laughter. Several minutes passed without sound so you dared to peak through your rear window, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Nice.” You heard from directly behind you. You jumped in shock hitting your head on the car’s roof. Unlike you, he didn’t keep his laughter a secret. “But as usual, overachieving again. I have a good chunk of class time dedicated to this in... oh, let’s say seven weeks.”

You sighed rubbing the back of your head. “And how was I supposed to know that?” You lightheartedly defended.

“I guess I won’t hold it against ya, since I only decided to add it to the curriculum just now.” He playfully admitted. “Two pointers though.” You followed him pacing around the car. “First, you’ll want something built in with easier access. Say you become surrounded by a nest of vamps, you’re not going to have time digging through your backseat.”

You smirked and rubbed the tacky fin on the back of the car. “Precisely why I have this.” You found the switch and hit the button releasing a blade resembling a katana into your hand. You gave it to Dean to examine.

“Iron?” He asked surprised by the weight.

You nodded. “Coated in silver.”

Dean tried to hide it, but he was impressed. He cut threw the air getting the balance of sword before handing it back to you. You set it back into place.

“Second.” He didn’t miss a beat. “Ain’t no way a body is fitting into that trunk.”

“Maybe not in one piece.” You winked at him.

You waltzed back to the front and slid onto the hood. Dean cautiously followed you, hesitating to blur any boundaries. But something about you drew him in, made it hard to stay away.

Even though your nose was already buried in the first auto mechanics book that was in nearby vicinity, swinging your legs back and forth, you were painfully aware of him inching closer.

“So…” Your breath was shaky but you looked to break the growing tension. “When it comes to 351 V8s…” You honestly had no idea what you were talking about at this point. “Would you recommend…” You couldn’t help it any further. You lowered the book to find him practically leaning against the car between your legs. You instantly stopped swinging them and lost the ability to form sentences.

“Y/N.” He softly called.

Both your heads swung to the sound of the heavy garage door opening and Sam appeared to ruin the moment. You looked back to Dean who seemed to have magically been separated from you by several feet. “As I was saying,” Dean started lecturing. “351s are a piece of garbage. It’d do you good to upgrade to a 372 turbo. It’s significantly lighter…”

“Dean.” Sam interrupted. “Can I talk to you.”

Sam looked between the both of you and it was easy to take the hint. You went back to working on the seat contraption yet tactfully eavesdropped on their conversation.

“Check this out.” Sam handed Dean his phone. After a few minutes of Dean looking it over, he continued. “Usually I’d say we should had it over to someone else, but… I don’t know… this seems big.”

“Yeah.” Dean agreed. “What, we really only have a week and a half til break anyways…”

“Just let them off a bit early?” Sam asked, feeling a bit guilty for abandoning the group.

“Nah. Y/N’s been working on something I think that’d do them all good. I wanted to fit it into the schedule next semester, but if we need to be gone, maybe now is the perfect time.” Dean suggested.

You continued pretending to work as Sam loomed over your shoulder. “Yeah, that seems fine. I’ll break the news to the others. Let’s plan to leave in 30.”

“Hey!” You cut in before he was able to run out. “Um, since I am pretty much finished with the project, maybe I could come with you guys on the hunt…” You sheepishly proposed.

“No.” They both rejected your offer in unison.

“You’re not ready.” Dean ruled and cut off your protest. “I don’t have time to show you the ropes and worry about your ass. This is real life Y/N and as good as you are compared to the rest of the class, you still need more training.”

When Sam didn’t object the reasoning, you huffed in annoyance but didn’t push further. Instead you dove back into the work.

“Y/n it’s not that…” Dean started again after Sam left. “You’re… I don’t want to…”

You gritted your teeth together. “Whatever Dean.” You put in headphones to clearly show you were done with the conversation.

He sighed looking at his watch debating whether or not to open up, ultimately deciding it could wait another day. He headed out as well to start packing. The days were slow without them here. As anticipated, you finished up earlier than the others. You briefly considered following the boys, but didn’t want to risk being expelled. You honestly had no where to go. Going back to your foster family would only raise questions and most likely anger. You did miss them, but here you actually felt like you belonged. With graduation coming up only next year though, concern built. You would most likely end up like your mother, jumping from motel to motel, no real place to ever settle down.

Broseph and Serena took off early. He wanted her to meet his parents, who were also hunters. They would finish up their project there. Once Kaveri, Skylar and Ciara completed the assignment, they took off for break as well; leaving only you and Ned. Not that you didn’t like Ned… but you actively avoided him, trying to limit your social interactions to the rec room or the kitchen. Something about him gave you the creeps, you couldn’t exactly figure out what. Besides a bit of quiet time on break would do you good. Yet he always managed to find a way to follow you around.

The layout of the bunker was huge. And just when you thought you had discovered every inch of this place, another door always seemed to materialize out of thin air. You practiced your lock picking skills and popped the newly discovered door open. Another storage facility. Although this time it captured your eye. Instead of the usual piles of books; this one contained artifacts, reels from a super 8 camera, potions, and god knows what else. You were digging around for a film projector when Ned appeared from nowhere.

He was digging through another box. “Do you think Sam and Dean declawed this themselves?” He asked holding what looked like a raptor claw.

“Jesus Ned!” You swore out of shock. It seemed this was becoming a pattern. “What, is it like your semester project to follow me around?” “Pretty much.” He set the thing back in its box and flipped his hair aside. You couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or honest.

“Well, I don’t know, a lot of this stuff looks pretty old, I would say probably before their time.” You walked around the room, trying to create a bit of distance, until you noticed grooves along the floor indicating file cabinets repeatedly moved. “Ned.” You waved him over. “Take a look at this…” He looked at you and had the same thought. You both grabbed a cabinet and pulled it open revealing the dungeon behind it. A huge red devils trap and chair in the center, handcuffs hanging off the wall, devices that looked more of interrogation tools than practical hunting weapons.

Both of your mouths hung open. “Dude…” Was all Ned managed to utter in shock.

You cautiously advanced… “Do you think it is just for practice or they use it for real?”

“What would they need to practice?” Ned debated.

“I don’t know… maybe showing students a real life exorcism, um... “ You were at a lost.

“No, it’s definitely a torture chamber.” Ned decided.

“Stop.” You insisted “We are hunters not cold sadistic torturers…” You stepped inside the circle. “I bet it is just for role play…” Ned smirked. “You know what I mean. Learning through practice.” You clarified sitting down in the chair. “So… are you going to exorcise me?” You popped an eyebrow.

He tilted his head to the side.

“Exorci…” You egged on.

He jumped in. “Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas…” You sat up in the chair. “Once I get outta here. I’m going to kill you and everyone of your little friends.” “Hey..” Ned stopped the chant, offended.

“I’m making it life like…” You whispered. “Keep going…” “Uhh… omnis incursio… uh… infernalis adversarii…” He stuttered trying to remember.

“Omnis congregatio et secta diabolica…” You piped in.

“Yeah, real life like Y/N, I’m sure the demon will be all the more willing to help.” He rolled his eyes.

“Listen Blink-182, I know I’m screwed either way so the sooner I smoke out of here, the sooner I can crawl back out of hell and peel off those fake eyelashes.” You goaded covering your tracks.

“Uh, they are not fake.” He gasped.

“Really?” You jumped back out of character. “What kind of mascara do you use? Sorry… back to it.” You settled back into the chair.

“Ergo draco, um… maledicte, ut expelliarmus…” He continued “Harry Potter.” You whispered.

“I mean, ut ex…” “Ecclesiam…” You reminded.

“Oh, right. Ecclesiam tuam secura, tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos.”

You rolled your eyes back and shook for a few moments before going limp. “Y/N… Y/N?” He whispered concerned not daring to enter the circle. “Y/N stop it.”

You couldn’t hold back anymore and clutched your stomach in laughter.

“You’re not funny.” He scoffed and went to leave.

“I’m fucking hilarious.” You follow him out, closing the cabinets behind you. “But seriously, mascara?”

“I stole Serena’s Better Than Sex, alright.” He confessed.

Your hand came down on his shoulder to catch yourself  buckling over in laughter. “Does she know?”

“No… don’t tell her… I replaced it with E.L.F.” He continued.

“Dude! You don’t have to worry about demons, she is going to kill you herseself.” You had to wipe away a tear in your eye.  

You both walked down the hallway to your rooms rambling hypothetically making up scenarios about Serena’s revenge.

He stopped at your room and coldly shifted topics. “Y/N, Do you really like Dean?”

“What? Who told you that?” You demanded.

“Skylar.” He admitted without hesitation.

You huffed in annoyance. “No, I don’t like Dean.” You lied not needing more drama or especially the rumor to reach the man himself. “Why would she say something like that?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, I just wanted to hear it from you.”

“O.. Kay…” You went into your room more confused than you Eurasian lore test.

By the time Christmas rolled around, the realization hit you that it was only you and Ned. Everyone else was off home with their families and Sam and Dean were still not back from their hunt. It didn’t even feel like Christmas, there was no snow on the ground, no tree, no presents. Ned ranted about the mix of Christian and pagan lore to celebrate a holiday that only worships capitalism.

You half-heartedly listened to him as you reflected back on Christmases with your mom. It was usually in a motel room or a Denny’s. Even Charley Brown’s Christmas tree usually put the one she found to shame. Gifts would consist of knick knacks found at gas stations like hostess apple pies, crossword puzzles, a stuffed bear holding a rose. But there was one year she went all out and bought you a polly pocket Cinderella castle. Looking back, she didn’t have fake credit cards, she must have picked up an extra job to pay for it. But you did it justice, carrying it around everywhere with you and spending countless hours building your fantasy life. If you thought hard enough, you’d even make a bet that you forced Sam to play when your mom and his dad were on a hunt together, but those memories were so long ago.

Christmas never felt traditional until you moved in with the last of your foster families. Your foster mom would wake you up every morning and the whole family would be downstairs progressively working their way through stockings and presents. Your foster dad would eventually turn on the TV to TBS while brunch was being served and you’d manage to watch A Christmas Story at least three times intermittently throughout the day. Relatives would come over for dinner and you’d help your foster mom in the kitchen preparing ham, potatoes, salad, rolls, really a full out feast. She’d probably still have a place set for you this year, hoping you’d show up.

You had to stop lingering on these thoughts so you convinced Ned to indulge in the capitalistic lifestyle and make Christmas dinner with you. Thankfully, Skylar and Kaveri showed up later in the evening because you had not adjusted the recipes to only fit two people. Even with them, there would still be plenty of leftovers.

Days had passed and the rest of the students had returned yet Sam and Dean still remained unheard from with class on schedule to begin tomorrow. You had braved the courage to call Sam once, but he didn’t answer, you couldn’t muster the courage again. Instead, you stayed up later than usual with your door cracked open hoping to hear them come in.

You stayed up reading, with only your desk light on. Although late, a few others were still up. You could hear Broseph’s passionate hollers down the hall as his sports team seemed to be rising to victory. With a jolt, you woke from the bed, you must have drifted to sleep momentarily. Coming from the room next to you was the all too sweet music of Pink Floyd’s The Wall, which you had missed so much since arriving here. The record was the only Christmas gift you had purchased this season - for Dean and partially you - as you could enjoy it from next door. And if the record was playing, that meant Sam and Dean were back. You resisted every urge to run over a greet him. So instead, you waited for him to come to you.

You pretended to dive back into your book but very shortly felt yourself slipping back into sleep. You went to wash your face and then planned to head for the kitchen to try and elicit a run-in. However, ‘Young Lust’ came up next. You couldn’t help but mouth along to the words and swing your hips enticingly around your room. You danced over to your and Dean’s adjoining wall imaging some sort of connection as you pressed your back against it.

‘Oh, baby set me free.’ You mouthed as your continued rocking your hips and reaching your arms above you pressing harder against the firm concrete. ‘Ooh, I need a dirty woman. Ooh, I need a dirty girl.’ You slid down the wall onto your knees air guitaring your way through the solo.

A cough instantly broke your concentration and your eyes popped open only to discover Dean had pushed the door open wider and was standing in it’s entrance. God only knows how long he had been watching your humiliating display. You immediately stood up, nervously combing your fingers through your hair.

“So, I suppose I have you to thank for the shiny new vinyl?” He asked.

You pretended to be confused.

“Well, Sam already gifted me some lube.” Your face contorted. “... For my car, for the car…” He recovered. “So with him off the list, that leaves… well nobody really.”

“I guess you have a secret admirer…” You winked.

“And you are going to pretend it’s not you, even though you were clearly enjoying it…” He challenged.

You shrugged your shoulders. “I guess we just get to mutually benefit… Oooh! Next time leave a note for, hmmm, maybe some Rush. Oh, and chocolate.” He chuckled. “Well, perhaps they already left you something?”

You furrowed your brow analyzing him further. His eyes hinted towards the base of your bed. You crouched down, looking underneath.

“What on earth?” You pulled out a box wrapped in Snoopy Christmas paper. Dean smiled as you lit up tearing apart the paper and realizing what it was. “Dean… you didn’t have too… How did you know?” You held a brand new record player.

“Whenever you stop in my room, your practically drooling over mine.” He remarked.

‘That’s not what I’m drooling over.’ You thought. “Dean, I love it.” You set it down on top of your bed. You waltzed over to him. “Thank you.” And gave him a hug without second guessing.

He was tense at first, surprise by it but then wrapped his arms around you. When you pulled back he did not release you from his embrace. You looked up at him, weariness from the hunt still hanging in eyes. His mouth danced closer to your lips, only breaths parted you. He searched your face for permission, neither one of you daring to close the gap. You pushed up on your toes but were too late. Dean had let go turning away from you.

“Shit!” He ran his hands through his hair. He turned back towards you. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, Y/N.”

Before you could respond the sound of Sam and Joe’s voice grew closer from the end of the hall.

“Shit…” Dean muttered heading back to his room.

-------- 

Part 4

Forever Tags: @nanie5 @sea040561 @crushing83 @mogaruke @deanwinchesterforpromqueen @ginamsmith @jotink78 @deanwinchstcrs @sup3r-pott3r-lock3d @dancingalone21 @li-ssu @highonpastries @daddy-kink-confirmed @weewooweewoo1212 @carryonmyswansong @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @atc74 @superapplepie @coolness22 @cassieraider @winchesternco @adaliamalfoy @iwriteaboutdean @spnbaby-67

DeanXReader: @akshi8278 @mywillfulwinchester @dainty-hibiscus @boxywrites @its-not-a-tulpa @mrsbatesmotel53 @tacklesackles @creepykatftw @aubreystilinski

HA: @deansgirl215 @lupine-princess @faegal04 @eatshitcabbageperson @capsheadquaters @ellen-reincarnated1967 @daughterleftbehind @classy-sassyandsmartassy @clairese1980 @jennandthecats @jensensjaredsandmishaslover @babykay101 @spndeanlover1967 @lear1chmond @elizabeth-silverthorn @obsessivecompulsivespn @vaisabu @reagangeary @assass-is-here @firecrackersam @sasquatch5 @mina22 @allieyolo123 @vvinch3st3r @beffyblueeyes @ruprecht0420 @internationalmusicteacher @imma-winchester-addict @attractiverandomness @alinicole33 @earthtokace @quidigladioferit @brighter-daes @gh0stgurl

[clairekatswritingcorner]

Uncharted Territory

Word Count: 2,175

Summary: Alexys confronts the true meaning of terror one Halloween night when she finds herself wrapped up in a situation that’s sure to put not only her life, but the lives of many others, in certain danger.

*Author’s Note*: The first of another batch of commissions for @bad-blue-moon-rising! There isn’t a lot of info out about the characters yet, so I did the best I could interpreting them, and the premise was really interesting to work with. I hope you enjoy!

It was Halloween night, a night made for costumes and candy and scares. This was one of Alexys’s favorite holidays, and she was grateful that she’d managed to get some time off to enjoy it. Emily had already sent her son out into the neighborhood with his friends, knowing he’d be spending the next few hours trick or treating to his heart’s content. This part of town was generally safe, so she didn’t have to worry much about his safety. In the meantime, she and Alexys made themselves comfortable in the living room and spent a majority of the evening catching up with the TV playing absently in the background.

Even though Emily was her older brother’s ex-wife, Alexys got along wonderfully with her. She was sure her brother resented it sometimes, but she wasn’t going to let his personal problems put a damper on any of her relationships. She was staying at Emily’s place for the duration of her vacation, relieved and a little excited that she could actually participate in the holiday this year. Well, her participation consisted of lounging on the couch and eating candy with her friend, but she thought that still counted as a Halloween-y enough option.

The hours drifted by with the distant sounds of avid trick or treaters echoing between houses. The streets were filled with the usual noises one might expect to find on a night like this, but Emily and Alexys noticed one noise standing out from the rest. It wasn’t just another squeal from an excited child or shoes scuffing on pavement, but rather something much less decipherable, and much closer than either of them would have liked.

“Do you think we should go investigate?” Alexys asked, nervously twirling a strand of her hair. “I mean, it could just sound like it’s coming from somewhere nearby—”

“I’d rather be safe than sorry,” Emily replied, rising from the couch and turning her head as she tried to pinpoint where the mysterious noise was coming from. They both focused their attention on the muted sound of rustling that seemed to be coming from inside the house. A few minutes later, a loud crash drowned it out, almost startling the women out of their skin. Their eyes snapped to where they thought they’d heard it come from, both deliberating what their next best course of action should be. Emily tensed up and steeled herself for some kind of confrontation; if it came down to it, she was prepared to fight. Alexys could be useful in a scuffle, but she was really hoping things would turn out to be more peaceful than they seemed.

Emily narrowed her eyes in the direction of the noise. “It’s coming from the basement.”

“Are you sure?” Alexys asked with a slight quiver in her voice.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Emily answered, her tone grave.

Alexys shook her head, standing up as her limbs started to tremble. “Hey, maybe it’s just some kind of prank or something? It is Halloween, after all. I’m sure we’re just hearing things, I don’t think there’s any reason to—”

“And if it is something dangerous, I don’t want to wait for it to come get us.”

Alexys knew her friend was right, but that didn’t stop a chill of terror from sinking into her bones. This was supposed to be a relaxing night, just another fun part of her vacation…why did something like this have to happen now? No, she was getting too worked up like she always did; everything was going to be fine, it had to be.

Surely it would just turn out to be an appliance malfunction or a squirrel that’d snuck in through a vent, some innocuous and comical thing that she and Emily would be able to laugh about later. It would certainly make for an entertaining Halloween story, and Alexys did her best to remind herself that the source of the noise was much more likely to turn out to be something harmless rather than threatening. She took a few deep breaths and wrung her hands out of reflex, following Emily to the basement’s entrance after the blonde snagged a pillow she could employ as a makeshift shield if necessary.

It’s going to be fine, things are going to be fine. Alexys repeated in her head, trying to pay more attention to her self-soothing words than the noise that only grew louder the closer they came to it. The women made it to the bottom of the stairs and Emily surveyed the room first, trying to decide whether she should turn the light on or not. What looked to be the outline of a cell phone light was waving towards the back of the room as if it was looking for something. So, there was an intruder, and the reason for their break in had yet to be determined. Well, she was just going to have to take her chances with the light if she wanted to have any kind of advantage going into this fight.

She flipped it on and thrust the pillow out in front of her for some preemptive defense. The stranger let out a shriek as the room was flooded with light, one that Alexys parroted back out of reflex. She took shelter behind Emily as her adrenaline spiked and her vision started blurring, a bit surprised when she heard nothing more than the sound of a frustrated sigh hit her ears. Emily wasn’t panicking, or attacking, or even reacting much at all from what Alexys could tell. As her senses returned to her she took a chance and peeked around her friend’s arm, standing up straight and stepping around her as soon as her eyes fell upon the intruder.

“Quinn?!” He certainly was the last person she’d expected to find rummaging around in Emily’s basement, especially in such a suspicious and sneaky fashion. “What are you doing here? Why did you sneak in, what were you thinking?”

“No time to explain,” he answered frantically, turning back to the boxes he’d been sifting through. “Do either of you know where—?”

“No time to explain?” Emily snapped. “You sneak into this house like some dime store burglar and have the gall to say there’s no time to explain?”

“It’s none of your business, I’m just looking for something!” Quinn snapped back, and Alexys could already tell this exchange was going downhill fast. Silently taking her leave, she tip-toed back upstairs just as the two bickering voices really started heating up.

So much for a peaceful evening. She lamented as she turned to go back to the living room. But apparently, her worries weren’t going to be settled that easily. Outside of her brother’s senseless and risky stunt, she could hear a handful of unfamiliar voices floating towards her from down the hall. More intruders? They had to be, since neither she nor Emily had let anyone in. What kind of Halloween curse was this, making everything fall apart all at once? With Quinn acting like a madman and now real strangers breaking into the house…Alexys was thinking she wanted nothing more than for this night to end.

She grabbed the first substantial object she could find to use as a weapon and continued carefully creeping down the hall. There were multiple voices, and they spoke in deep enough tones for her to assume they all belonged to men. She couldn’t determine exactly how many there were, but the fact that there was more than one in the first place was intimidating enough. Alexys swallowed hard and adjusted her grip on her weapon, reinforcing her resolve as much as she could before storming the room.

“What the hell are you people doing here?” All of her energy went into displaying her weapon and strengthening her voice. “What’s going on, how did you get in here? I’m calling the cops!”

“Whoa whoa whoa, hold your horses.” It was Quinn again; she hadn’t expected to hear him return so soon, but it seemed he’d settled his argument with Emily well enough that he could slip away. Said blonde was hot on his heels and just as eager to hear whatever explanation he had to share about what was going on. “They’re friends, not foes! There’s no need to freak out or panic. Okay, well, there’s kind of a reason, but these guys aren’t it.”

“Finding four random strangers in the house isn’t enough to warrant panicking? Why are you acting so strange, why couldn’t you come in like a normal person?” Alexys asked incredulously, and Quinn placed a calming hand on her shoulder.

“I was hoping I could get in, find what I needed, and get out without you, Emily, or Rory being involved or even knowing I was here,” he explained before turning to address the men.

“Loonies, meet my ex-wife, Emily, and my little sister, Alexys,” he introduced oh so succinctly, and Emily and Alexys exchanged looks of confusion as he continued. “Em, Sis, meet the loonies.”

“Is that supposed to be a term of endearment?” Emily scoffed as she crossed her arms, and Quinn ignored her comment as he stepped across the room to elaborate on his introduction.

“More specifically, they go by Williams, Coyle, Baxley, and Lynch.” He gestured to each man before switching to the subject everyone really wanted to know about.

This Halloween was going to be a real one in every sense of the word. Apparently, Quinn had sent a package filled with alien tech to the house in order to keep it safe. He hadn’t told anyone about it because…well, he didn’t really know how to bring it up, and he hadn’t thought it would get messed with if it was stashed away in the basement. He’d stopped by at an earlier time and let himself in to take care of it, keen on keeping anyone else from even knowing it existed.

It seemed like a foolproof idea at the time, but somewhere down the line Rory had gotten into said package and utilized some of its parts to put together the ideal Halloween costume. Emily hadn’t asked too many questions, assuming they were all just parts that came with the suit she’d purchased for him at the time. As cool as it may have seemed, now his life and the lives of many more were in jeopardy of getting tangled up in some sort of alien hunting spree. The men standing in the living room all had sufficient training from their military backgrounds that made them eligible to combat the threat, and had been brought together to form a team, including Quinn.

It was a lot to take in, and Alexys couldn’t help feeling overwhelmed. Following Quinn’s hasty debriefing a bit of arguing ensued, some back and forth concerning what needed to be done next, and who was going to be involved, and how. He managed to convince Emily to stay home, promising her that he would take care of both the threat and their son. Alexys, on the other hand, wouldn’t go down without a fight. She knew she could be of some use to the team; she was decent enough with a bow, and she also knew she wouldn’t be able to handle just sitting around doing nothing while her brother risked his life against some extraterrestrial threat.

Two vehicles were waiting outside for the team, an RV and a less conspicuous car. Alexys managed to talk her way onto the RV with Quinn’s team while he took refuge in the car with one of the scientists that’d been roped into the project. It certainly wasn’t the way she’d expected the night to turn out, but there was something else that put some unexpected weight on her mind. One of Quinn’s team members, the man known as Baxley, had caught her attention in a way none of the others had.

He seemed a bit reserved and had some noticeable quirks, both physical and verbal, which she soon learned were a result of a disorder he’d had since he was young. Despite that, there was something about him that warmed her heart, a look in his eye that intrigued and charmed her. They’d barely spoken to one another, but Alexys could already feel something forming between them.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked oh so smoothly as he moved to sit beside her once she was situated in her spot on the RV. There was something about his demeanor that told her he was trying to reassure her, which only made her more grateful to have him there.

“Oh, uh, of course not,” she replied politely, although she could feel her anxiety starting to wind up again. They were entering dangerous and uncharted territory, and she wasn’t sure how things could possibly turn out alright. But as Baxley slid into the space next to her, giving her a warm and comforting smile, she thought that maybe as long as he was around, everything would be okay.

[notesfromthefielddesk]

Episode 3 - Talal Asad Khartoum International Airport

Episode link; https://open.spotify.com/episode/07Pf4STyxpY5EcMMvBv4uH?si=7b4b9c36d9f44368

(Beep indicating a voicemail message) 

Susan 

Do you think I’m stupid? You think I believe your flight got diverted to South Sudan? South Sudan? Oh and it just so happens that it’s thematically appropriate for your little podcast? Get back to London. Now. We need to have a serious conversation.

(Fade in on airport sounds) 

John 

That’s the voicemail I got just after I arrived at Juba airport. I’d been ignoring Susans phone calls, because… well because i was scared of talking to her and I knew I was in trouble. 

I’m going to level with you listeners, in the spirit of honesty and full disclosure which I have learned is important to some people in anthropology. For some reason. The truth is my flight did not get redirected to Juba. The trunk of ethnographies is real but I already knew about evans-pritchard. I saw he did research in South Sudan and I fancied it, I’d never been and what’s the point of anthropology but to visit new places? 

It was actually really hard to get there. I flew from Brisbane to Dubai then from there to Kenya. Stayed in Nairobi for a night then went to Juba. Took me almost two days. 

I think that that gets lost in all this. That I’m working really hard, and in some ways what i’m doing is very innovative! 

I had been planning to go to Indonesia, I was going to cover Geertz next but I suppose I should head back to London and placate Susan. I just hope she doesn’t fire me. God my dad and grandad would be so angry. Do you ever feel like the useless one? My sister works at Shell you know? What am I doing? Sitting in an airport talking to no-one. I guess Indonesia can wait, an airport is as good a place to do an episode. I guess we’ll cover Talal Asad, seen he did his first ethnography in North Sudan. And we are in Khartoum. I’m not going to describe it, you know what an airport looks like. 

In Anthropology we are kind of into liminal spaces like airports. Liminal is just a fancy way of saying between two places. Anthros like a liminal space because they tend to be areas where normal social rules break down a bit, witches in some contexts tend to live in liminal spaces for example. Usually between the village and the brush. 

In other good news I managed to lose that weird guy who has been following me around. Gave him the slip at the airport, I told him I’d go back via Nairobi but then I booked myself onto a flight here. I mean it sucks now because the flight back to London isn’t until tomorrow, if i’d gone to Nairobi i’d be home by now. Worth it to get away from that guy though you would not believe what he told me he was doing in Papua New - 

(Phone rings) 

John 

Hi Susan. 

Yes I got your messages. 

Well I think you maybe weren’t getting through because I was in umm south Sudan, signal wasn’t amazing. I called O2 about it, they said it was not really within their service area.

Yeah, no i understand why you’re angry, but really it was purely an accident that I ended up in Juba. Act of God is a pretty good excuse right? 

Where am I now? Well… you’re gonna laugh, I mean it’s pretty hard to believe but there’s this guy who has been sort of following me around and I was running away from him so…

No, it is the truth…

Right… 

No I understand why you wouldn’t believe me - and why you’re angry. In my defence though, and I was just saying this on the podcast - 

No! No, no, Don’t listen. - 

Just because it’s not very good. - What do you mean you can believe that? Anyway, in my defence I think what i’m doing is quite innovative....

Well Derivative is a little harsh - 

Well, that’s as maybe but I think they students are getting a lot out of this, you know they’re more engaged with the texts than if I was just in London talking dryly about them - no, not your lectures they aren’t dry. 

Ah, I hadn’t thought of office hours. No, that’s my bad. No I didn’t reply to the students email but again, the plains of South Sudan aren’t great for wifi - yes I suppose that is my own fault. 

Well I’m coming back as fast as I can. 

(We hear from down the phone “What do you mean as fast as you can? Where are you!?”) 

I’m in Khartoum, like I said I was trying to run away from that guy. 

(Down phone “You have a tutorial today! When do you fly?”) 

Sorry, not till tomorrow. But I can do it from here, the airport has pretty good wifi. 

(Exasperated noises “If I could fire you right now I would.”) 

Sorry, Susan. 

She hung up on me! Well I suppose I should give you guys a little bit of background on Talal Asad before the tutorial seen as the students have dictated that that is what we’re doing next. 

The students have been insisting on Talal Asad for a while. So here it is. I was honestly unsure if Asad really fits into the tutorial, but then I found out Evan-Pritchard’s was Asad’s doctoral advisor.  So we’ve got some continuity going on. 

Anyway, I have been getting insistent emails about Talal Asad for a while. Hold on, let me read out one of them. (shuffling noises) ummm “Dear Mr. Johnson, You still haven’t given me feed—” okay sorry wrong email. Oh, here it is 

“Dear Mr. Johnson, I actually enjoy your tutorials. But I have some suggestions for the future. Also, if you could check my latest assignment and” Blah blah blah this and that, oh here it is. “I think Talal Asad would be a good fit for your tutorials. Asad is a postcolonial cultural anthropologist, he is Saudi-born and brought up in Pakistan—”

Ok see, here is where I think we all go wrong as a generation. People think where this man was born and brought up somehow changes what he has to say? Is he automatically post-colonial because he was born in the Middle East? Anthropology in practice is about being objective, being the fly on the wall, I know we’ve talked about objectivity, but I still think being an outsider gives a less biased look. What does identity politics have to do with it?

And I know the students have been insisting on alternate field work and auto-ethnography, but the feeling of being on the field. Being part of somewhere different, the grass under your feet, water in your shoes? Slipping out of yourself and becoming someone else! That’s irreplaceable. 

Tannoy

“Can the owner of a large wooden trunk full of books come to the customer service desk. It is blocking the Mens toilets. If the trunk is not collected it will be removed and destroyed. The name tag says John Johnson. Again, can John Johnson come to the customer service desk and retrieve his large wooden trunk.”

Oh that’s my trunk give me one second.

(transition thing)

Okay, where were we? Yes, the student's email. She says “Asad is a post-colonial anthropologist. Much of his work focuses on anthropology of religion. He will fit right into the introduction to anthropology course we are studying because he moves away from locations and towards themes. 

Most of his work focuses on being critical about the things in anthropology which are taken for granted. 

Specifically, the conceptualization of Islam and human rights in the global arena. He said that a lot of the colonialist anthropologists concentrated on categorising different groups of people. They went to the field and found differences through limited observation which they then turned into official documents. Those documents were used to justify colonialism and/or to divide and conquer”

Isn’t that a bit harsh? I said as much in my reply to this student. Which I CC’d to the whole class. I said these are still the fathers of anthropology. And as Asad himself says, historical context is important (smugly) Besides what is anthropology without the field? “A move to themes” Sounds like someone didn’t like getting their hands dirty. 

The back of that guy's head looks familiar. Is that him again? But no, I’m pretty sure I lost him in Juba Airport. 

(Deep breath)

Besides I’m pretty sure that student is wrong. Asad did do field work. His first book was built on his ethnography in North Sudan hence why we’re in Khartoum. Although it is true that Asad is careful to specify that his work does not encompass the lives of the Kababish tribe but rather focuses on certain aspects of their lives, such as their ecology, economics and social organization of the tribes. That’s a big change from traditional ethnographers like Malinowski who said the aim should be to describe all of society. 

After that first work Asad shifts towards being critical; critical of secularism, critical of human rights, and even of what his peers had to say. 

Like there’s this guy, an anthropologist, Ernest Gellner, and he is not exactly what my students would call ‘woke’ and the thing is I am not much for “cancel culture”. 

But Asad really rips him a new one. Very unprofessional. Asad criticizes Gellner for having a limited perspective of Islam. Gellner thought Islam had a strict blue print, whilst there is more flexbility in Judaism and Christianity. So Gellner is kind of a structural functionalist for Religion. But Asad said Islam was also felixible and Gellner failed to apply his critique of Islam to other religions...maybe because he had other motives? Like my students and their “anti-colonial” issues with EP. 

And personally I don’t think EP or Gellner were intentionally being colonial. Gellner’s ideas are based on the Middle East aka the birthplace of Islam. So surely that’s the authentic form? Also, I mean Gellner is an older man, he can make mistakes and he was a product of his time…. wait what? Sorry, it says here Gellner is only 7 years older than Asad. (clears throat)

Regardless, I don’t understand why we have to cancel EP or Gellner for it. 

Oh shit it’s time for the tutorial. 

(Skype call sound)

John

Wait is this everyone? Should I wait five minutes to start or something?

Zahra

No...I think it’s just me. After they read your email where you kind of ranted about cancel culture they all said they weren’t going to come. 

John 

Oh… Right, I guess I should keep my opinions to myself. (kind of mumble this) 

Zahra 

Um, Mr. Johnson? Sorry, I don’t want to be rude. But I don’t think anyone is trying to cancel Gellner? I just don’t think you understand what Asad is trying to say with his criticisms.

John 

Well why don’t you just explain it to me then. Because clearly you all understand anthropology better than me.

Zahra

Well that’s kind of your job but okay. 

Asad is not just being critical of Gellner, to be mean. He is being critical of the kind of academia that Gellner represents. Especially in Anthropology, where much of the colonial discourse argued that when someone goes into the field the outsider has an objective idea of the field. Hence, Gellner believing as a non-Muslim, and as not being a part of the group, that he has a more neutral understanding of the group he is looking to study.

While Asad is criticizing this exact practice, he is also saying there needs to be more of a focus on the history behind how certain concepts come to be rather than just the group. So for example, Gellner says Islam is political, and Christianity isn’t. So Asad wants people to examine where that idea comes from. 

To do that Asad says there needs to be like frameworks that look at religious tradition not as static and the opposite of modernity, but rather look at tradition and modernity together and how they create specific social structures and varied collections of beliefs and customs. So we should think of  religions as conversations between lots of people throughout history rather than a monologue laid down by a handful of powerful people.

So it’s like academia, we build it together, Malinowski has an idea then EP criticises it and improves it and so on. It’s not cancel culture, we’re building knowledge as a community. Sometimes that means saying your hero is wrong, or even - maybe - like racist. 

Are you listening to me?

John Johnson 

Yeah, yeah sure...I - I just saw this guy who has been like chasing me. It’s definitely him! 

Zahra

Chasing you?

John 

Well not exactly chasing but like pursuing? 

Hey sir, can you help me take this desk into that toilet?

Yeah that toilet there. 

Hey Zainab, sorry I need to hide. Why don’t you just finish out the tutorial by listening to this extract. 

Zahra 

It’s actually Zahra--

Extract 

In 1975, while I was teaching at the University of Hull, I learned that my mother had advanced cancer. I decided to go to Saudi Arabia and stayed with her there until she died a year later. The political atmosphere and the social rigidity in a society awash with newfound wealth was very uncongenial, but the entire experience had a considerable impact on me and my ideas. I tried—unsuccessfully—to sort things out in my 1978 Malinowski Memorial Lecture (which I had been invited to give before my year in Saudi Arabia) in which I dealt with the definition of ideology, the classic Marxist theoretical term for false consciousness, as well as with the ‘authentic’ accounts of cultures studied by anthropologists. I tried to distinguish language in life from the language used by anthropologists about life, and to trace the slippery role of ‘meaning’ in anthropological accounts of other cultures. I tried to think in that presentation about matters that interested anthropologists of the time, as well as larger issues that had shaped my life up to that point.

Improbable though it may seem, my struggle to articulate my ideas and criticisms was largely prompted by my reflection on my mother's religious life. My father spoke and wrote impressively about the religion to which he had converted. My mother, by contrast, lived as a Muslim without expounding the doctrines of Islam, without defending it from attack or trying to persuade others of its superior virtue. My point is not simply that she was a pious woman—that she performed her prescribed prayers regularly, read portions of the Qur'an aloud early every morning, and fasted during the month of Ramadan. It is that I now realized I had thought of her life in terms of a lack instead of trying to understand it in her own terms, as she had lived it. I began to see that, like so many non-intellectuals, her religious practices were embodied, and that her embodied religion did not offer itself to hermeneutic methods—to the deciphering by observers of the real meaning of what she did—although it obviously ‘meant’ much to her.

In a very fundamental sense, these ‘religious’ activities had been no different from the mundane part of her life because they were mundane and integral to her everyday life. And while I had seen her act in this way as far back as I could remember, it was only after her death—when I turned in a sustained way to Wittgenstein for an understanding of religion (although he himself was not ‘religious’)—that I began to see her life differently. I saw it now not as an attempt to deepen and aestheticize her experience (as it is fashionable in some quarters to say), but as a way of being. My mother didn't intellectualize her religion, but by that I don't wish to say that she was ‘a blind follower’. Her prayers, recitations, and fasting were intended neither for other people to decode nor for enhancing her own experience; they were addressed to her God. During her married life she had not been always receptive to my father's enlightened arguments about changing some of her religious practices. Was this because she was irrational, incapable of responding to a rational argument, as I thought at the time? I have come to believe that I was wrong in thinking so: she didn't abandon particular practices because she felt that the change wouldn't fit easily into the entirety of her life as a Muslim. The idea that her feelings of fear, reverence, love, and so forth were to be understood as ‘emotions’ and therefore as ‘non-rational’ had for long seemed to me an unsatisfactory way of thinking about devoutness. This became clearer over time as I learned to think of embodiment not as mechanization but as the articulation of a particular encounter—in my mother's case, of her relationship to her God.

John

Okay, i’m safely in the bathroom, so sorry for any - (flushing) interruptions… 

I’ve been really struggling with my students. It’s like they want to challenge everything. What about theories that are good? Can’t we leave well enough alone? Do they think i’m like stupid or something? I just have respect for those that went before me. Even if I didn’t agree with EP, or Malinowski or Gellner, academic freedom is a thing you know? I’ll defend their right to say their theories to the death. Students be damned.

Zahra 

Umm Mr. Johnson - I’m still here. 

John 

Oh, hi Zahra, look I didn’t mean you. I’m sure you’re a very respectful - okay she hung up on me. Why is everyone doing that today? 

Gellner was trying to make an honest attempt to understand Islam. Objectively. Not with the bias of being a muslim. Isn’t that what we were criticising EP and Malinowski for? Their personal opinions affecting their theory? Sure maybe if you’re muslim you can have a more nuanced view and understand how it feels to be within that religion. 

And maybe people should have a say in how they are defined. Especially when those definitions can have a massive impact on your life. Like under colonialism. And maybe Gellner had a blindspot for Christianty, but so what? I like Gellner. His theories make the world simpler. Sometimes you need to use simple categories to clarify a complex world. Asad just complicates everything. And if Asad can see everything that’s wrong in Gellner, What’s his solution? 

Susan calls

What do you mean “a complaint”? 

The email? Oh my goodness I'm being silenced! I have complaints about them too like how they aren’t showing up to the tutorial. 

Well, yes the tutorial was a little short today but in my defence that guy is after me. And I had to run away. 

Well, You don’t have to believe me but it’s true. Do you think I usually take phone calls in a bathroom?

(flushing sound/bathroom sounds)

Yes I’m in a toilet. 

You know what, i’m sick of being told what to do and think by you and the students and my parents and my grandparents! I’m going to indonesia. And if you want to fire me then go ahead and talk to my grandfather, I believe he made a very generous donation that he would like back!

Ha! His time I hung up. Okay, I’m going to get a flight to Indonesia, hopefully that’ll shake this weirdo following me. 

Thank you for listening to notes from the field desk - this episode was written by Fatimah Ahktar and me. 

Lucy Hansen was supervisor Susan 

Our artwork was by Julie Karremans 

Our music was “dark side of my students” 

Asad, Talal The Kababish Arabs 1970

Asad, Talal Genealogies of Religion 1993

Asad, Talal Anthropology and the Colonial Encounter 1973

Asad Talal Autobiographical Reflections on Anthropology and Religion 2020

Gellner, Ernest Muslim Society 1981

Acclivity - Dubai Departures 

https://freesound.org/people/acclivity/sounds/49118/

Astounded - Christopher J Astbury Switzerland Airport departure lounge Zurich International

https://freesound.org/people/Astounded/sounds/481818/

Polymorpheva - London Heathrow Airport 

https://freesound.org/people/polymorpheva/sounds/104541/

Mario1298 - Waiting for passengers at the airport background. 

https://freesound.org/people/mario1298/sounds/155798/

For full Links visit us on Soundcloud, twitter and instagram at notesfromTFD

[humanintereststory]

7: Make Good TV

After that torrent of raw emotion, John closed inward. He never wanted to say any of that and he couldn’t imagine that he would have said it to someone who at most was an acquaintance. Despite that, she still persisted and not in a way that would be considered a nuisance but instead a gentle prodding to the next necessary step. Fortunately for Mike, John had kept a slip of paper with his boss’ business number in his wallet. The remnants of his cell phone were now swept away by the cleaning crew and in the near future were scattered about in a nearby landfill. John had insisted to Michael Saint that he needed to speak with Mike as it was integral that she join him as his, and he knew that he was being self-depreciating but it was also possibly what management wanted to hear, his handler. From there, Mike had, within thirty minutes, a private meeting with the general manager and walked out with provisional terms for a contract of employment. Once John had started to leave again so he could slip away into the night - perhaps satisfied that he did his good deed for the day, Mike stopped him once again. Her employee, a young college student, had bailed as he had class in less than seven hours so it was just Mike McGuire now. His conscious thoughts told him to pull away and to go back into seclusion - it was always how it had been so why stop now? But something else, unbeknownst to him, prevailed and he turned to face her. “‘Ay, are you stayin’ anyplace tonight? Got a hotel room or somethin’?” The answer was no. John had abandoned his apartment lease over a month ago now and now technically had no place of residence or any real intention to stay in any more hotel rooms. “I’m just going to hit the road. I usually sleep on the way there. Not really sure yet.” “Well, if you wanted, you could crash at my place. Ain’t the Ritz, but I got a spare room and it beats sleepin’ in your car.” John’s eyes widened as if he had been found out. She pointed at the piled up blanket in the back seat of the car and from there asked if he was really living anywhere. He shook his head. At that point she insisted. One night turned in two nights. Two into a week. That week had become a crash course in the mundane realities of life. John had taken the basic functions for granted and was finding that he was slipping further and further in an attempt to replicate what he had before. John had decided to let go and let Mike light the way. Suddenly he had a bank account. He had a new cellphone with the proviso that this one shouldn’t be broken into a million pieces. He had plane tickets to future destinations because Mike had emphatically stated that his vehicle wouldn’t survive much more criss-crossing of this great nation. Some astute observers could draw the parallel of John waiting for that slot in his steel door to open three times a day but Mike always insisted that he was going to do it next time because she’s not his goddamn Mother. But it wasn’t just that because John concluded that Mike just wanted to talk to someone and she tried repeatedly to strike up conversations. The first couple of nights, John had been regaled of tales of her past. Sometimes it was about business but John didn’t want to talk about himself much so he just listened intently. It was like listening to a good book. Most of the time, though, John kept to himself by reading the book he had lifted at the motel. John, much to Mike’s excitement, had been successful in his last few contests. He had some momentum, she said, and people were starting to take notice. He had recoiled from that. People taking notice meant attracting unwanted attention. It was hard for him to explain. The ring was a sanctuary and despite the viewing audience, it was really just between him and the opposition. The cruelty and negativity were no longer part of the equation - it was now a battle of wits and strength. Two or more opposing forces moving against each other in a violent but beautiful struggle. It was Tuesday afternoon and last night, John had earned a defining victory over a former television champion. Mike, out of nowhere, said it’s time and beckoned him to join her in the backyard. It was time to get in ring shape, she proclaimed. They separated briefly to change into workout gear. John stepped through the open sliding glass door into a yard surrounded by a ten foot tall wooden fence. In the middle of the yard was a ring. It was in a state of disrepair. The ropes looked loose and frayed and some parts were wrapped in duct tape. The turnbuckles were mismatched in color and shape. The canvas was soiled and the branches of a maple tree hung over the ring casting its shadow and depositing leaves and twigs throughout. John couldn’t help to think about that place he’d visit when he started to see red. That ring was his garden. It was where he would grow. “I like it,” John said with complete sincerity. “Aw, it ain’t nothin’ special. Got the thing for a song on Craigslist. It’s fourth-hand. Maybe fifth. Fuck, thing might even be eighth-hand, but it’s a damn ring and that’s what’s important.” “Craig seems to have a lot of things you’ve acquired.” “It’s a website. Kinda like a giant garage sale, aw, never mind, that ain’t important right now,” she slid into the ring and hopped up to sit on a turnbuckle, “I’m supposed t’ debut on May 11th. Still can’t thank you enough for gettin’ my foot in the door.” John walked tentatively around the ring, his fingers tracing along the stained apron, “Gives you plenty of time to prepare, I suppose. As for the introduction, I believe this last week has more than made up for one phone call.” “You can stay as long as you want, y’know. I’ve kinda liked having someone to talk to b’sides Mr. Met,”chuckling, she leaned forward a bit, somewhat like a perched phoenix, “Y’know, Church, I’ve been thinking. That was smart, what you said to get Saint’s attention, but I don’t think you could use a handler. Without gettin’ into it, I think you’ve had enough of that. My opinion, what you could probably use better,” she gave that same impish grin he’d seen on her face plenty by now, “is a partner.” John pulled at the bottom rope and it had too much give, “Mike,” he cleared his throat nervously, “I’ve been alone for a long time now but we just met. I mean not just met but in the grand scheme of time and all…” She giggled and then caught her hands on the ropes so she didn’t fall off backwards, “Church, hon, you don’t gotta worry about that. You’re a swell guy but you ain’t my type. Got the wrong, assets, if you get my drift. Naw, dude, I’m talking about being my tag partner.” John wasn’t really catching any drifts at this point, “I’m not sure what is my type, am I my type?” he looked up to her, “I’ve never had a tag partner,” there was a long pause as John paced back and forth in front of the ring, he mumbled to himself, seemingly assessing a complicated algorithm but then suddenly he stated, “Okay. We’re a team now.” “Fuckin’ A!” she gave a bit of a whoop and jumped from the turnbuckle to the mat. The ring shook in a slightly concerning manner, “Trust me. This is gonna be awesome,” she then scratched the back of her head, wearing the sheepish look of someone who may have done something she shouldn’t have, “cuz when I said ‘my debut’ I maaaaay have kinda meant our debut.” John looked at her blankly, which was the default expression seemingly and Mike braced herself for an objection, “Okay. Fine with me.” She let out a relieved ‘phew!’ and shrugged her shoulders a bit, “Sorry for jumping the gun. I kinda got excited and I probably shoulda asked you first.” “It’s okay,” and in what some would consider emotionless, “I’m excited, too. I can barely contain myself.” “You being sarcastic, man? I mean, seriously, you ain’t mad at me, are you?” “I’m not. I’m just not in the way of … I don’t know, I just,” he stumbled over his words, “I’m just not good with showing what I mean. Last person who talked me on the regular just told me the same thing every night.” “Oh, ok. Fair enough. Mind if I ask about that?” John rolled into the ring and sat in the middle with his legs crossed. He stared up through the branches of the maple tree into the sky. “John, you and me have a lot in common, you know that right? Let me tell you why. You should have seen it. You would have been proud. They didn’t recognize her face after what I did. They said I done it twenty seven times, Johnny, but all I know is that hammer was so caked in the essence of her that it excited me. I got all in them guts that night and she was still warm, you believe that shit? It excites me just talking about it. Makes me feel good inside. I’m touching myself right now, how do you like that, boy? How’s it make you feel? I feel like this vent is a one-way but I know you likes it, Johnny. You and me is kindred spirits. She did me wrong, too, and I made her pay just like you made her pay. Oh, Johnny, I’m so close, why don’t you talk to me, help me finish and whisper sweet nothings into my ear.” John sighed, “I never helped him for fifteen years and then one day he was gone. Every night, he’d say that. And then it was his time. I kind of missed him because no one talked to me much anyway. So I hope you understand that I’m listening and I hear what you say but there just isn’t much to say right now. I like being in this ring right now. I love this sport. And so I think he was wrong in the terms of commonality. You and me share the same passion so I hope that is enough for now. I hope what I shared provides some context to that I mean what I mean and I’m all for this arrangement.” Her expression was odd, somewhere between sympathy (meant for him) and disgust (directed at the other guy), as if she could understand the need for staving off isolation but was no less grossed out by what that other, now dead fucker had subjected her new friend to on the nightly. Mike sighed a bit and shifted her face to something more neutral and finally she nodded in acknowledgment. At least he’d shared something. Progress. Baby steps. And if he said he meant what he said, she’d believe him, 

“Alright. I read you. Anywho, I got a mini gym setup in the garage too. Nothing fancy. Some bags, weights, stuff like that. Mi casa es su casa, mi, fuckin’ train wreck of a training setup es su fuckin’ train wreck of a training setup. Which reminds me, you still got a single coming up. That Malice fucker, if I remember right. You got any idea what you’re gonna say?” “I don’t know. I’m not sure what to say right now. I really don’t want to talk to that guy anymore,”John meant Ace Heart - the lead interview man, “he doesn’t act like the way he does to anyone but me. He keeps asking questions he could answer himself.” “Hm. I don’t like the mustached fucker much either, but just to play devil’s advocate for a sec, maybe he’s frustrated that he’s not gettin’ nothin’ out of you. He’s nice to everybody else cuz they give him what he wants easy, but you’re not like everybody else. Which ain’t a bad thing but is driving him fuckin’ nuts,” she tapped her chin, and fiddled with the brim of her cap, “Got an idea. You don’t wanna deal with him, and I don’t want you dealing with fucking internet trolls. So, why don’t you talk to me instead? I got a phone with decent video. We could do a couple practice runs an’ then give ‘em the real goods. How’s that sound?” “Okay.” Mike directed him to stand in the middle of the ring. She stood on the apron with phone in hand and framed the video so one could see him from the waist up. She pinched in and out on the touch screen before she was satisfied with the shot. “Okay, tell me what you think about your opponent for Friday Night Rampage, Malice?” John looked directly into the camera lenses, “He seems nice.” She turned off the camera, her attempted veneer of professionalism falling by the wayside for the moment, “He’s not fuckin’ nice at all! He’s an asshole! And kind of a weirdo. I mean, I ain't no kinkshamer but I was waitin' for him and his chick to start suckin' on each other's toes or someshit. Eugh. ” “How do you know that? We never met them.” “Do you pay attention to other people’s video spots? He’s always going on about violence and suffering and shit. Not nice.” “I mean, yeah, but, okay, well, he’s not nice. I concede to that point.” She sighed once more, “Okay. Let’s try this again,” she pressed the button on the camera and started recording, repeating her previous question. “Malice …” She leaned forward a bit, a small look of anticipation on her face. “Did you know that an average person’s yearly fast food intake will contain 12 public hairs? I found that interesting.” “No, no!” she cut the camera off again, “Okay. I want you to please give me something fucking… real. Like, REAL real. Not random facts. Not goddamn touting of how nice your opponent is. Something real. You gave me something real in the parking lot. It was raw and uncomfortable but it was fucking REAL and that’s what I want. That’s what people’re wanting out of you. Fuck, it might even be cathartic. Can you do that, Church? Can you give me that?” John simply nodded. “Alright. Third time’s the fuckin’ charm. One, Two… MAKE GOOD TV,”

 she flicked the camera on again. She followed him with the shot as he paced in what she was getting used to as thinking time for the big man. Nearly half a minute past and Mike was about to switch off the camera and call it a day when John finally spoke up. “I’ve been here for just over a month now. I’ve won some and I lost some if you happen to be keeping track. I’m not going away. I thought about it. It would be easy to succumb to what some expect of me. I’ve been thinking a lot about that, too.” John stopped the pacing and then raised a balled fist in front of him. He then raised up his index finger, “Thomas, I heard you loud and clear and maybe if I were inclined to care, I would be devastated that your client got one over me. In hindsight, your sermon on who I am and just what effect your inflammatory statements would have on me were just a little flat. Maybe it had the opposite intended outcome because you don’t know one thing about me other then what you read. But what do I know? I’m not a mind reader.” Two. “Warrior. I have no doubt on what you may not fear. You blustered and puffed out your chest and you emphatically stated what you are. I am a professional wrestler and you are a fighter. You remember who you are and you remember back to that night on what being a fighter did for you.” Three. “Former champion. You made ultimatums. You questioned my dedication to this sport. You underestimated me. And so you have been weighed on the scales and have been found wanting.” Four, however at this point, he closed his hand. Mike zoomed in the camera closer on John’s face. “That, I guess, brings us to the present. The intention to cause pain and suffering; to do evil; ill will. That is pretty accurate. You and me stand at the opposite ends of the spectrum. However, you do not stand before me for judgment. I will not don the white hat that evening. I do however want you to understand that I do not share your willingness to do harm unto others. This is a sport and with your intentions you are a man out of time. You are a ruthless mercenary and you’ll do anything to survive the day.” He snapped his fingers. “Wake up from that day dream. The darkness that permeates every fiber of your being does not make me falter. I got biblical a little earlier and so maybe I hope you can understand this,” he cleared his throat, “Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance. I think someone like you believes in that whether you want to admit it or not. The wounds you accumulate and bestow are what you perhaps consider a character building experience. I’ve been stuck on it, too. The thing is, and believe me, I’m not entirely sold on the idea of a higher power but your idea of suffering is pointless. There is no reason to suffer if not for faith. Maybe not faith in a traditional sense but you know the idea of believing that there is a core set of values that tell you to love one another. That suffering eventually means something. I know what you bring and it amounts to nothing. So bring that value to a ring very much like this one.” He pointed down towards the canvas. “And get that if you go outside of the constraints of the rules, you will eventually lose and your suffering will be for nought. Glory is your God and you have repeatedly disappointed Him. Don’t take my unwillingness to live up to the moniker of this company as not being cut out for it. And on the flip side, don’t take as it a declaration of superiority. It’s just who I am. What I am capable of doing with my hands may be more than enough to sate just what defines you.” John looked past the camera and at Mike. She got the unvoiced cue and turned off the feed. “Something like that?” “Oh my fucking god, YES! Awesome! I’m gonna send that in as is, it’s absolutely perfect,” she grinned from ear to ear, obviously impressed, “Can you do that all the time?” “I don’t know. I mean, I don’t like the idea of just being awful to each other. I just wanted to let them know how I felt. Is that what they want?” “Well… it doesn’t matter what they want, exactly. I’m not asking you to be awful. Just honest.”
 John stared at her blankly and then just slightly his mouth curved into a semblance of a smirk. “I can do that, partner.”

[redhatmeg]

RedHatMeg’s Guide on Gyro Gearloose - Part 1: Walt Disney’s Comics and Stories

Considering that most of the time I have hard time finding stories with my favorite Duckverse character, I put upon myself to catalogue as much Gyro goodies, as possible

Let’s start with Walt Disney’s Comics and Stories, since this is the place where Gyro showed for the first time, namely in issue 140, in a short story where Donald and his nephews are following Gladstone Gander to find the source of his luck. On page 6, Gladstone encounters Gyro hopping on the pogo stick.

In next issue we have more proper introduction to Gyro and the main story is about him testing his Thinking Box on forest animals; and about Donald trying to discourage his nephews from hanging around with the inventor.

Then - for the rest of the fifties - Gyro pops up in WDCS only couple of times: in 152 (as an inventor of talking dog), 171 (where him purposedly hitting his head to find solution for the problem is introduced) , 199 (where Gyro puts Donald and his nephews in the machine that sends them to far out places imagined by Donald), 201 (where Gyro and Donald accidently cause Duckburg’s water to turn red) and 212 (where Donald and triplets are Gyro’s pilots in rocket race around the world). In the Mickey Mouse three-parter Fantastic Fog, Gyro is first mentioned to go missing, then in part two and three Mickey and Goofy are working out to rescue him from his kidnappers. In Knights of the Flying Sleds, Huey, Dewey and Louie are using Gyro’s eponymous sleds to perform knighty deeds. In The Village Blacksmith our favorite inventor is one of three customers of Donald Duck, the blacksmith.  Gyro plays minor roles in Balloonatics, Missle Fizzle and another Mickey three-parter, The Moon-Blot Plot, however, the issue 247 can be considered special - not only does Gyro appear the second episode of aformantioned three-parter, but also has a role in The Madcap Mariner; and stars in his own story, It Takes Two To Tangle.

From now on Gyro Gearloose starts to appear more often, many times in his won stories, here they are:

- Stranger Than Fiction (Donald uses Gyro’s transporting device to play prank of triplets, but it goes wrong.)

- Cought in the act (a rivaling inventor sabotages Gyro’s futuristic playground. Gyro decided to get to the bottom of this.)

- The Rescue Robot (Gyro invents a robot that reacts to people calling for help. The machine is idesigned to save drawning people, but - unfortunately - catches calls of people who are not drawning.)

- The Travel-Egg (Gyro, tired of his old car, decides to create new transporting device, in the shape of egg.)

- Jet Witch (Duckburg decides to organize “safe Halloween”. Unfortunately, Donald doesn’t get around to learn anything and he’s paranoid on Halloween night. It also so happens that Gyro is testing his newest invention - jet broomstick.)

- The Kitty-Car (Gyro tests his car, fueled by static from petted cat.)

- Expert in Exile (A small cameo - Gyro is one of many Duckburgians sending Ludwig von Drake on “vacation”.)

- The Double-Jointed Pointer (Gyro invites a machine that points where petroleum is. Beagle Boys are interested in using it.)

- All Invented Out (Thinking that he invented everything Duckburgians would need, Gyro moves to his hometown, Dullburg. Unbeknownst to him, Beagle Boys move to Dullburg too.)

- Almost a Leprechaun (Gyro’s machine calculating profits and taxes for Scrooge McDuck malufanctions. It turns out there are two veangeful leprechauns inside, hell-bend on ruining Scrooge for stealing their emerald.)

- Bubble Trouble (Gyro invents unpoppable bubbles.)

- Magic Rug Bug (Gyro creates rug that floats.)

- Budget Binge (Because he always has problems managing his money, Gyro creates budget managing computer. Unfortunately, the machine seems to be very strict.)

- Up and Atom (This time Gyro invents an “almost invisible paint” - a paint that makes object invisible when it passes certain speed. Beagle Boys want to use it.)

- The Life of the Party (Gyro makes himself an alien costume for a costume party. Unfortunately, it’s a bit too convincing.)

- Survival Kit Crisis (Gyro’s newest invention is a survival kit. He goes to the woods to test it, but meets two thugs, who complicate things.)

- Wayward Washer (Grandma Duck enlists Gyro’s help to solve the problem of washing cows.)

- The Monkey from Mars (Gyro tests theory about monkeys being able to write all every book ever written, while typing randomly on the typing machine. Huey, Dwey and Louie play prank on him.)

- The Beanie Brain (Gyro invents hat that enhences IQ of the wearer. He tests it on Donald, who can’t wait to show it to triplets.)

- Do Not Disturb (Tired of salesemen knocking to his door, Gyro asks Practical Pig for advice and upgrades his security system.)

- The Sneeze Machine (Scrooge McDuck urges Gyro to find cheap soruce of energy. Gyro decides to harness the power of sneeze.)

- Weather or Not (Gyro builds a weather machine. At first it’s to water plants, but then he tests it in the city. It doesn’t end well.)

- Duckburg Pet Parade (Gyro has there a small cameo as a contestant with a camel.)

- The Chicken Caper (Beagle Boys discover that Gyro created a giant robot chicken that eats money and multiplies it. The bandits decide to steal it.)

- The No-Snap Trap (When Beagle Boys learn Gyro Gearloose created a diamond, they decide to steal it. One of Beagles found out about Pluto serving as a delivery boy to the inventor, so the bandits plan to follow the dog and get the diamond from him.)

- Battle of Petras (Scrooge wants to get Battle of Petras Penny - a coin king Salamander the Great ordered to make to commemorate his victory. Gyro has one of the pennies and he said he obtained it by time travel. He lends his time wehicle to Scrooge and Donald, so they can get their own coin.)

- Trapped on Wreckers Reef (A Mickey Mouse three-parter: While fishing on the lake that is really calm lately, Mickey and Goofy get from Gyro a prototype of a portable wind-maker. Dishoners scavangers see the machine and decide to kidnap Gyro and force him to make one for them, so they can purposely wreck ships on the lake and charge people for towing them to the shore.)

- Rascoe the Robot (Gyro’s newest invention is a robot that can act on picking up thoughts. The inventor decides to test it by going through the not-so-safe part of Duckburg.)

- Fun Director (Once again Gyro has only minor role here: Donald is hired by Scrooge as a fun director and at some point takes from Gyro his engineless rocket.)

- Treasure Island A-Yo-Ho (In this retelling of Robert Louis Stevenson’s novel Gyro Gearloose plays the role of doctor Livesey.)

- The Wishing Well (Gyro tests a wishing well he built for one of his customers and gets transported into jungle.)

- The Wizard of Bahs (In this retelling of Wizard of Oz Daisy Duck’s house gets taken by a tornado and lands on the property of evil witch. Now Daisy has to convince the titular wizard - played by Gyro - to help her move her house before down or she will be cursed by the witch.)

- The Last Laugh (Tired of Beagle Brats laughing at his messy hair, Gyro is on for some revange.)

- Ting-Along Trouble (Being one of people with delicate nervous systems, Gyro gets easily spooked by loud ring of the phone. Therefore he decides to modify his phone to give him a light tap on the back whenever someone calls... This story is also the first appearance of Gyro’s nephew, Newton Gearloose.)

- The Trouble with Thudder (Newton sees his uncle throwing something into the lake. He soon discovers it’s a chemical which one drop gives any object enormous weight. Newton decides to look for good use of the substance, and soon angry Dcukburgians come to complain to Gyro.)

- The Real Cool Canoe (Due to canoe date going... not-so-well, Gyro builds a boat that both sails itself and plays on the guitar, Unfortunately, the boat malufunctions... This is a story in which Gyro’s girlfriend, Matilda, shows up for the first time.)

- The Unbirthday Birthday (Madame Mim uses magic to summon guests - Gyro included - for her birthday party.)

- Project: Fresh Air (Because of heavy smog in the Duckburgian atmosphere, Scrooge McDuck enlist Gyro’s help to find a way to put fresh air in the can and sell it to the public.)

- Fisherman’s Luck (After encountering an unlucky fisherman, Gyro creates a formula that attracks fish.)

- Fail Guy (Gyro createst a mechanical doppelganger to deal with angry customers.)

- The Case of a Shrinking Money (The Duckburg Council isn’t happy with the way square and ugly Money Bin presents itself so on Scrooge’s request, Gyro createst a way to shrink the Bin. Beagle Boys use this opportunity to steal Scrooge’s money.)

- Witch Bait (Madame Mim blackmails Gyro to modernize her broomstick.)

- Genius Go-Getter (Madame Mim has a crash on Gyro Gearloose and decides to get his attention by becoming an inventor herself.)

- The Go-Go Mobile (Gyro invents a new super-fast car. Donald borrows it to get to Italy and help Pinocchio, who sent duck the distress call.)

- Trapped in Time (another Mickey Mouse multi-chapter comic: On their way to Minnie Mouse party, Mickey and Goofy visit Gyro, who shows them his new space vehicle. Accidenlty the inventor gets thrown into space and our heroes have to use the older space vehicle to go after him. Due to some complications they get trapped in time.)

- Monster of the Deep (Gyro employs Donald to be his Bubblyscope pilot, while he would be exploring seas and looking for sunken treasures. Together they go underwater, but find odd creatures there.)

- Mr. Turner and the Magnarope (Gyro creates Mr. Turner - a robot that turns the skipping rope - for Daisy’s nieces.)

- The Reluctant Tycoon (Donald is forced to do business for Uncle Scrooge. Thanks to Gyro’s latest invention, some of Scrooge’s shrewdness is transferred into Donald’s brain. Soon Huey, Dewey and Louie decide to ask Gyro to reverse it.)

- The Lion Trackers (During Grant Annual Track Meet of the Junior Woodchucks, Huey, Dwey and Louie settle for tracking the lion in the Duckburgian woods. They find Gyro, who escaped to the forest to prevent his rival, Emil Eagle, from stealing his inventions.)

- Gyro’s Happy Invention (A short, written story - Gyro creates a machine that makes people happy.)

- Posty vs. Lampy (Jealous of Gyro’s latest invention - a walking lamp - his walking mailpost wants to fight.)

- Flight of the Dragon (another Mickey Mouse three-parter, this time Mickey and Goofy find a weird egg on the beach. Soon a dragon hatches from it and Mickey needs to know where the egg came from. In part two of the comic, Gyro joins them.)

- Gyro Goes for a Dip (Gyro wants to use in his new pool, but since he’s not a very good swimmer, he doesn’t want his neighbors to see him with water wings. So he decides to invent a way to keep himself afloat.)

- The Chipmunk-Mobile (Gyro enlist Chip and Dale to work in his new chipmunk-powered car.)

- Gyro’s Manicycle (Another short story - Scrooge McDuck is enraged by being stack in the traffic. Huey, Dewey and Louie ask Gyro to find a solution and he just so happens to have an invention for that.)

- Mailbox Baffler (During one slow afternoon, Gyro decides to take his mobile mailbox on the walk.)

- The Helping Hands (Because of a minor accident resulting in an explosion, Gyro attaches addition mechanical arms to himself.)

- Footloose Furniture (During soccer match, Gyro’s mechanical furniture gets carried away.)

- The Fiendish Furniture (To interest a wealthy investor in his inventions, Gyro invites him and his wife for dinner. During demonstration, Gyro’s mechanical furniture malufanctions.)

- The Rain Hat (Gyro creates a hat with an umbrella. Everything is fine, until wind blows him far away.)

- The Dream Duplicator (Gyro’s newest invention is a machine that makes dreams into reality. Soon a nightmare metrializes itself in inventor’s house.)

- Operation Cackoo (Gyro makes the cackoo in his cackoo clock more free. The mechanical bird is grabbed by the cat.)

- Backfire (Scared of burglars stealing his inventions, Gyro makes couple of anti-burglar devices. It backfires, when he accidently finds himself outside.)

- The Madball Pitcher (There is a baseball match between Northern and Southern Duckburg. Since he was a pretty decent pitcher in school, Northeners enlist Gyro to their team.Because he’s a bit rusty, Gyro makes bats that are attracting balls, but everything complicates when Southeners’ pitchers gets injured and they decide to force Gyro to play for them.)

- Mixed-Up Mixer (Grandma Duck asks Gyro to make a dam on a lake. Gyro brings his new concrete mixer.)

- The Bear Tamer (Gladstone Gander asks Gyro to help him to be elected The Royal Order of Horseshoe’s King of Luck by taming a bear. Gyro invents a cologne that prevents bear from biting Gladstone.)

- Buffloed by Buffloes (Duckburg sends Gyro to modernize Farbakishan.)

- Mighty but Miserable (One of the Beagle Boys get kicked out from the family and forces Gyro to make him smart. Gyro does it, but the effect is temporal, so it’s only a metter of time before the Beagle Boy comes back, therefore Gyro decides to make himself superstrong. It soon bakcfires.)

- Fishing Mystery (Duckburgian fishermen are curious about Gyro’s method of fishing.)

- The Cat Box (A cat at Gyro’s window makes a lot of noise. The inventor builds a machine that translate cat speech... This is a reprint of a story marking first appearance of Little Helper.)

- The Cube (Gyro looks for a usage of cubes he created.)

- The Sure-Fire Gold Finder (Gyro tests his newest invention - a machine that can find gold underground.)

- The Call of the Wild (Certain hunter asks Gyro to make a moose whistle that would sound like a real moose.)

- Predictor short (Gyro invents a predicting machine which predictions are always right. The tests reveal it to be a very tricky device.)

- August Accident (In search of fame, Gyro tries to invent a steam rocket ship. His invention proves to be a disaster.)

- Fish Warden (Because fish aren’t passing the jetty during their annual run up Duckburg River, the city of Duckburg enlist Gyro to help solve this mystery.)

- A Helper’s Helping Hand (The city of Chicago gives a reward to daredevils that will paint the Narrow Bridge. Gyro takes a chance, using his newest invention -  rocket belt and portable sprayer.)

- Grandma’s Present (Gyro gets tired of inventing, so he come to Grandma Duck to spend vacation on her farm. There he gets a brilliant idea for a machine making milk from dirt.)

- Snow Duster (It’s a time for a big game, but Duckburg’s stadium is covered in snow. One of Gyro’s neighbors sees him easily clearing the path to his shop with his snow dissolver, and calls the city hall. Soon Gyro is enlisted to clear the studium.)

- Finny Fun (The Duckburg Sea Carnival is coming and Gyro has to invent something for the show. He gets an idea for a wand that makes fish do tricks.)

- Oodles of Oomph (Gyro enters a boat race with a newly invented engine. Something goes wrong.)

- You Can’t Win (Gyro wants to go fishing but citizens of Duckburg urge him to use his intellect and modify the look of trees near certain Duckburgian buildings.)

- For the Birds (Gyro intented a machine that read thoughts. He tests it on a neraby bird and gets frustrated by machine’s amiguous answer.)

- Duckburg’s Day of Peril (A giant robot from the movie set breaks loose. It’s up to Gyro and Little Helper to stop him from distroying the city.)

- Man versus Machine (Tired of machines always breaking down, Gyro decides to abandon all technology and live a simple life in the wild. Too bad he gets poisoned. Little Helper to the rescue!)

- The Great Pop Up (Gyro tries to repair a toaster, which seem to have trouble popping up the toasts.)

- Posthasty Postman (Gyro is tired of inventing and so starts to work as apostman. New challanges call for inventions.)

- His Shining Hour (Gyro tries his new shoeshining machine.)

- Picnic (Since he got a lot of requests about solving picnic problems, Gyro decides to go on a picnic himself and find solutions to each and every problem.)

- Brain-Strain (Donald, Little Helper and Gyro get strainded on an uninhabitated island. Without his machines and tools, Gyro needs to find a way to save himself, Helper and Donald.)

- The Stubborn Stork (While trying to convince Scrooge McDuck to buy one of his bike-saucers, Gyro is employed to solve the problem of the stork having her nest on the Money Bin’s air vent. He and Scrooge try to find a way to remove the stork.)

- Loosing Sheep Over Nothing (Gyro has sleeping problems.)

- Dog Trouble (Gyro decides to help a poor, little doggy.)

- The Fishing Hole (Gyro is looking for a place to fish on the crownded lake.)

- Dirk Dinosour (Donald and nephews tell a story of that one time Gyro took them on the trip to the Jurassic Period.)

- Precision Painter (Gyro prepares to paint his ceiling and encounters slight disadvantage.)

- The Bicycle Thief (Encountering someone who’s bicycle was stolen for the third time, Gyro sets to invent a thief-proof bicycle.)

- The Terror of Duckburg (Gyro gives Donald a Resolution Hat - a device that helps people keep their New Year’s resolutions. From now on whenever Donald is about to lose his temper, he feels the need to sing and dance. But what happens when the Resolution Hat malufanctions?)

- The Universal Solvement (an Uncle Scrooge three-parter: On Scrooge’s demend, Gyro creates a solvement that can melt anything, aside from diamonds. Scrooge presents it to the public and recklessly purs it on the ground. Now Scrooge, Donald and nephews have to go down and gather the solvement to the diamond jar, before it reaches Earth’s core.)

- Monsterville (Gyro decides to completely modernize Duckburg, but it leaves Duckburgians without purpose.)

- Milktime Melodies (Grandma Duck asks Gyro to repair radio that was played during milking cows. He makes a new radio that works wonderfully until Little Helper gets magnetized and sticks to the radio.)

- Once and Future Duck (a Donald Duck three-parter: To safely test Gyro’s newest time-travel invension, he, Donalnd and nephews go to Stonehange. Accidentally they end up in times of real king Arthur.)

- Cave of Winds (Scrooge asks Gyro for help in securing his money. The inventor suggest exchanging the money for the bonds and hiding them, so the businessman does it. However, it turns out that hiding bonds in Aeolian Mountains wasn’t the best idea.)

- A Dolt fron the Blue (Launchpad McQuack always crashes airplanes, so Gyro shows him his new plane Zipcool 7 with foolproof anti-clash system.)

- Cought in the Cold Rush (While dusting thr snow, Donald accidently hits a lawyer specializing in accident lawsuits. The lawyer urges him to dust snow quicker, unfotrunately Donald’s shovel gets demaged and he needs a new one. Eventually Gyro lands him his new snow-melting gun.)

- The Pied Piper of Duckburg (scrooge has a problem with rats in his Money Bin and he employs Gyro to find a way to get rid of them. The inventor creates a cheese which attracts all rats and mice in Duckburg.)

- Just Another Hang-Up (Gyro hypnotizes Launchpad to be a bird that never crashes a plane.)

- Pork Barrel Politics (To win a telent show, Donald decides to train three pigs to do tricks. after encountering some problems, he asks Gyro to lend him his Thinking Box so he would make pigs more intelligent.)

- All Quacked Up! (Another of Gyro’s plans for stopping Launchpad of crashing, involves a plane that is made of rubber.)

- A Real Gone Guy (Donald has a problem with mosquitoes, so Gyro gives him a new mosquito repellent. But it turns out he mistakes it with a new spray that is a highly classified military project.)

- The Hopeless Helper (Gyro’s lab is a one big mess, so he employs Goofy to be clean for him. Unfortunately, Goofy uses Gyro’s thinking hat and builds up a disastrous floor swiping machine.)

- Personal Delivery (To avoid going out for a mail on cold mornings, Gyro invents a machine that takes the mail for him.)

- Party of None (Hearing his family and friends complain about his atttitude on luck, Gladstone asks Gyro to neutralize his luck.)

- 100% Pure Luck (Gyro takes some of Gladstone’s hair and extracts the essence of his luck. He lets Donald, Daisy, triplets and Grandma Duck to take the formula.)

- Avast All Ye Swabs! (Gyro spends an afternoon at the pond, when suddenly certain ship builder thinks Gyro wants to “take over his pond”, so he challanges Gyro into ship fight.)

- Fast Away Castaway (Gyro tests his new survival kit on the secluded island. It goes wrong, once the inventor goes asleep.)

-  Higher Learning (Donald is feeling a bit infeorior about his brains. Gyro lends him an invention that expands his mental capabilities. But the invention malufanctions and makes Donald grow into a giant.)

- To Bee or Not to Bee (Gyro’s new honey formula turns Daisy into a bee.)

- Full Circle (This is a story of carton of eggs in ehich a thief hid his loot. The carton goes from hand to hand of unsuspecting Duckburgians, among of which are Donald, Daisy, Gyro, triplets and Rumpus McDuck.)

And then comes Mythos Island Chapter 1 - Mything: One Island. This is a long, multi-chapter comic, one of those where each chapter has a different main character, but it’s a part of bigger story. Gyro appears in the first chapter, where Donald, Scrooge and nephews get the message from odd mechanical fairy. The message is actually a map and when ducks follow it, they find Mythos Island - an island inhabited by mythical creatures. Gyro - alongside with the inventor from Mickey Mouse comics, Doc Static - plays a bigger part only in Chapter 8: Inventors’ Task, where they both need to fix a machine that holds the Mythos Island in one piece.

Before the next mulitchapter, we have two stories:

- Krakenstein Gyro (After watching a movie about mad scientist, Doctor Krankenstein, Gyro decides to try and create a llife.)

- Washday Washout (Gyro visits Grandma Duck and sees her, washing an old cloth. Immediately, the inventor comes with help.)

Then there is Formula 1 comic which basically comes down to the bet between Scrooge McDuck and Flintheart Glomgold over who’s gonna win Formula 1 races. In first chapter - Wonder Down Under - it’s established that Gyro Gearloose builds Scrooge’s car, and he appears in chapter 2, but it’s really chapter 3 - Monstruck,-  where he has his own story: Glogold decides to sabotage Scrooge by taking Gyro out of action. He odes it by luring him into tech convention and shooting him into space. Now Gyro needs to use his inventive skills to come back, especially in the story conclusion in chapters 4, 5 and 6.

Another standalone stories before the next big arc are:

- Scream Team (Gyro presents Donald his newest invention - a phonograph that records things happeining in ten seconds in the future. To convince the duck that his invention is legit, Gyro settles the machine to play sounds from two hours ahead. The sound makes both friends nervous.)

- Snow Job (A Mysterious snowballer attacks people in Duckburg. Donald thinks it’s his mean neighbor Jones. Jones thinks it’s Donald. But it turns out Gyro Gearloose has a key to the mystery.)

Another big arc comic is the Orb Saga. It starts with Uncle Scrooge story Dimes are Forever, which concludes with Scrooge and Donald fiding odd Orb in the vulcano; and with Mickey and Goofy finding another Orb in Kidnapping in Yubet, and that’s how the story kicks in. Then we have a Donald chapter and Daisy and Minnie chapter, before Gyro plays his part. Since girls asked him to examine the orb, he sets a recording. While testing the orb, he gets sucked into the past, where he witnesses the origins of both orbs and what threatens the world on New Year’s Eve of 2007. The final is a two-parter.

Then for the most part we have another bunch of standalone Gyro stories:

- Inventor Contest (Gyro enters the inventor contest: each contestant needs to build a mouse trap. Unfortunately Black Peter also fights for the win.)

- Sit-Down Strike (Gyro’s newest invention makes furniture more sentient. All the couches and chairs are starting a protest.)

- In a Minor Key (Donald and nephews get shrinked. Now they need to go to Gyro, so he can reverse it.)

- Jean Therapy (Gyro creates pants that make people happy and productive. Donald, who wears them first, decides for a mass production and soon whole Duckburg is happy. But soon Huey, Dewey and Louie find out Happy Pants have a little bug.)

- Quacked Quest (Duckburg is crazy about a new movie Sword of the Kings. Donald doesn’t see the appearl, untile he watches the movie himself. Then he gets chellanged and ambushed by members of Renessaince Society, so he takes from Gyro a robot that played the part of sorcerer, Souron.)

- The Present Plot (Gyro and Grandma Duck conspire to take measurements of Little Helper for a surprise Christmas present - a warm clothes.)

- The Ro-Brat (Gyro finds a baby robot on his door step. Little does he know, it was programmed by Emil Eagle to distroy Gyro’s lab.)

- All Work and No Christimas (a two-parter: Huey, Dewey and Louie make a video game that takes world by storm. Now Donald’s nephews care only for their business. How their uncle will bring back their Christmas spirit?)

- The Great Swap Flop (Donald convinces neighbor Jones to dust the snow of Ducks’ property... if Donald go to Gyro for Jones’ toaster. Before he knows, things get complicated.)

- Close-Ups (Daisy gathers Donald, nephew, Scrooge, Gladstone, Rumpus and Gyro to talk about a weird feeling she has lately - a feeling of being watched.)

- The 70th Hevean (A comic celebrating the 70 years of Walt Disney’s Comics. In this story Donald, triplets and Daisy try to prepare a gala for the 70 years of their community paper. Meanwhile, Gladstone prepares his own gala for nobles and rich, but something wents wrong when Gyro’s invitation machine malufanctions and sends invitation to other Disney characters.)

- The Inventor’s Inventor (Because he has a lot of work and he doesn’t want to miss a TV show on giant-size nianites, Gyro invents a robot that makes his own invnentions.)

- Open Door Policy (Gyro invents portable door that open anything. Scrooge buys it, but the invention soon falls into Beagl Boys’ hands.)

- The Planet X Mystery (Ludwig von drake finds a new planet and wants Gyro and Donald to help him explore it.)

- Hocus Focus (Gyro tries to fix a weird dishwasher.)

- Which Switch is Which? (Donald is angry because Gladstone once again surpassed him with asking Daisy out. A bit desperate, he takes Gyro’s teleportation device that make two people switch places with each other.)

- Swallowed Whole (Gyro invents a virtual reality device. Donald takes it by the mistake.)

And that’s it for Gyro Gearloose appearances in Walt Disney’s Comics and Stories. Next time - Donald Duck!